Page 11 of Upon Buried Embers (Upon Buried Embers #1)

I come to when I’m pulled down, landing clumsily on my feet, and I blink my eyes open, finding multiple sets on me, especially a sneering Darcia.

Tents have been set up, small campfires lit, and a group of dragons are sleeping off to the side. Drogonah being the largest, his ears flicking.

“Gather water and some cloth,” Rohan directs Kaldar, and he goes off to do as he’s asked after glaring at me.

Rohan loosens a buckle on Serah’s saddle as she shifts on her feet. “Easy, girl,” Rohan says, and I stand there, shivering.

When Kaldar arrives with the items, Rohan grabs me and pulls me into a crouch, the water and cloth next to me.

“Clean her.” He nods to the horse’s leg, and the wound there, bleeding a little.

“I-I don’t know how,” I say softly, apologetically.

“You caused this by running off, you will fix her.” His stare is hard and guilt sits heavy in my stomach.

Nodding, I slowly dunk the cloth in water, my fingers instantly feeling like ice, then I gently press it to the wound as the horse squeals, kicking out. I land on my back with an oomph .

I hear laughter, people snorting at my expense but Rohan crouches next to the horse, waiting for me.

Ignoring the pain in my shoulder from the kick, the pain in my foot from the wolf biting down on it, I tentatively move back to the horse. Tears are now stinging my eyes at the comments from the others.

“What a weakling.”

“She wouldn’t survive a day in our clan.”

“Even as a slave, she’s useless.”

“She must’ve had other uses,” Darcia says, making it loud enough for everyone to hear as they laugh. “Though who would want to bed that ugly thing?”

“Enough, go about your duties,” Rohan commands.

I press the cloth more gently to the horse’s leg, dabbing first around it before rinsing it off and pressing it slowly to the wound again. Every movement of my fingers is painful, but I deserve it. Serah shifts a little, but she doesn’t kick me again, thankfully.

A cleaner piece of fabric is given to me next, some sort of paste inside of it, and I look at Rohan, puzzled.

“Wrap it around her wound.”

I do so, fumbling my way through it until I reach the end and Rohan ties it off, batting my hands away.

“Come.” Rohan takes me away from the group, looking up into the skies. “Drogonah,” he calls, and my body tenses.

Is this it? Am I going to be burned alive?

A roar, and then a heavy thud as Drogonah lands in front of us.

“Let’s go.” Rohan nods in front of him, and after a snarl in my direction, he walks off and we follow.

A little while later, we come upon a frozen river.

Rohan takes us off to the side, and Drogonah releases a stream of fire onto it. It’s controlled, brutal and bright, yet so very destructive.

Eventually the ice melts, giving him access to water.

While he drinks, Rohan moves me over to a tree, wraps a rope around the trunk and restrains me to it.

“So you don’t run off,” he says, a gleam in his eyes as he towers over me.

He turns, walking over to Drogonah before he takes some cloth and dips it into the river.

Drogonah’s tail moves back and forth in frustration as he growls and grumbles.

“She isn’t anything to worry about,” he tells the dragon. “We need to clean those wounds.” Growl . “It has been a long day, Drogonah, do not start.”

His tail smashes on the ground, and Rohan rises, turning slowly to the dragon.

“I’m not in the best of moods.” He tilts his head. “Let’s not fight, hmm? I won’t hold back…”

Another growl, but then Drogonah huffs, two rings of smoke hitting Rohan, causing him to roll his eyes.

“Now, stay still.”

Rohan goes underneath Drogonah and wipes his belly. I see the cloth coming away red, and I gasp.

Rohan looks over at me. “Drogonah is strong, the strongest, but even he’s not immune to injury from another dragon.”

The wild one?

“I take care of what is mine, whatever that may look like,” he continues, rinsing the cloth and going back to Drogonah who rumbles. “I also punish those who deserve it. Do you deserve it, Elf?”

I don’t speak, a lump forming in my throat at the memory of Master’s punishments.

Kneeling on stones.

Climbing back up from the well.

The cane.

The barn, the barn, the barn.

“Come.” Rohan unties me from the tree, and I blink, as Drogonah takes to the skies and he walks me back to the camp in silence. Once there, he guides me through the tents, the members watching me.

“Ohhh, the slave girl is going to get it!”

“She’s in trouble now for having his horse hurt.”

“Don’t be too harsh, Rohan, she will snap in half.” That was from Kaldar, and though he sounded somewhat concerned, they all cackle.

Rohan pushes the flaps aside to his tent, then I’m untied and thrown in, landing in a sprawl of limbs on something soft. Gingerly moving to a sitting position, I bring my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around them, watching Rohan move about the space.

Everything hurts; my side, my head, my fingers, feet and legs… I just want to sleep for eternity and never wake up.

I ran from him, and now I’m going to pay for it. I should just die now.

I look around for something, anything I can use to escape, but there’s nothing other than the axe Rohan places down, the blood of the wolves now dried on it.

I can’t help but tremble. There’s a table in here with some sort of cushions scattered on the floor around it. A few chests too, one open as Rohan rifles through it. I think there are clothes inside.

Further in the tent, an almost sheer fabric covers the fur bed beyond it, the warmth of it calling to me. I notice what must be the pole that holds up the tent at the end of the bed.

The chest closing has me looking at Rohan, who still has his back to me. He drops his pants and puts on new ones. My cheeks heat at his bare ass, toned and nicely shaped, as are his thighs.

On closer inspection, he has some tattoos on the backs of them, lines of inscriptions running down them, but I’m too far away to see what they say. His tunic is off next, replaced by a new sleeveless one, ribbons still wrapped around his forearms

He turns, moving toward me with fabric in his hand and I swallow around the lump in my throat.

He pulls me to my feet and throws clothes at me, a silent command in his eyes as he moves to the table, rifling through some papers there.

I stare after him and then down at the clothes, my fingers shaking.

“Hurry up,” Rohan barks, his back to me, and I jump, quickly changing into the large, single tunic that smells smokey and woody, like burning embers.

Leaving my boots off, I wait for his next instruction. I can’t make him any madder than he already is with me.

Rohan looks me over, his eyes assessing, and I keep my head down when he decides to re-tie a rope around my waist and attach it to his. With that, he pulls me to the back of the tent, through the sheer curtain and onto the furs.

I freeze, and then I fight, frightened sounds coming from me as he maneuvers me roughly, nausea rising.

Oh Gods.

“Still, Elf.” I don’t, I continue to scratch at him, tears falling as the tunic bunches up at my thighs.

He curses, then he’s holding my wrists in one of his hands, while he shoves his other hand between my thighs to grip my ass and pulls me to him. He lays half on top of me, crushing me between the furs and him.

“P…please,” I cry, and he looks down at me frowning, his dark eyes holding mine.

He looks down between us, where the tunic has ridden up and he sighs, removing his hand from my ass and reaching for it.

I freeze. I don’t even breathe when I feel his hand on my bare skin, so warm compared to my cold one. When he grabs the hem and yanks it down as far as it will go, I slump back against the furs, completely drained.

“If I let you go, will you stop scratching me like a little mouse?”

I would be insulted, but he’s not wrong.

I nod.

He grunts, and releases my wrists. I hold my hands to my chest, waiting for my next instruction, hoping the numbness takes me.

“You think I would rape you?” His voice is low, an edge to it.

I say nothing.

Everyone knows about the clans. They don’t ask, they take… and share. It’s why I’m here, after all.

He tsks, looking me over again. “I would snap you in half, Elf.” He shakes his head, then lays on his side, throwing an arm over my waist, his breaths reaching the top of my head. “Sleep.”

How in the Gods am I supposed to do that? My breathing is too noisy, too harsh, and my heart races.

Rohan rumbles, then a hand is on my chin, turning my face to the base of his neck. I have no choice but to obey his silent command.