Page 6 of Upon Buried Embers (Upon Buried Embers #1)

Elf

I jolt awake, my eyes flying open, and I groan in pain.

Gods, everything hurts.

My head, my face, my hands… even my teeth seem to hurt.

Warmth at my back has the fog of sleep lifting more, and I bring my hands up to rub my eyes, feeling the dried blood at the side of my head.

I didn’t mean to fall asleep, I was just so warm, and the bed roll is really comfortable. Dammit all to Elvanan, I may have lost my chance.

I blink my eyes open again, the nose of a dark dragon filling my vision. A scream lodges in my throat.

I jerk backward, but a quiet grunt from behind me has me stilling. Then an arm around my waist pulls me further into a hard chest.

“Drogonah isn’t that scary, Elf,” Rohan rumbles, his breath tickling the top of my head. I wiggle, trying to break free of his hold on me. He growls. “Stop that.”

I freeze, the tone of his voice scaring me.

I’ve never had a man wrapped around me like this, and it makes me fearful in a different way.

The words he used when asked about sharing me come to mind, and I tremble, a whimper of terror spilling from my lip.

“Hush, you don’t want to wake the rest of my clan, unless it’s to battle, or to fuck. Otherwise they don’t take kindly to being awoken.”

I try to calm my racing heart and watch Drogonah. He moves his head, giving me a view of the side of his face, and he seems to be… snoring. His tail is between his front legs, the spike at the end flattened as he rests his head upon it.

Seeing him curled up, as big as he is, he doesn’t seem so scary. His ears, though longer and tapering off into a point, remind me of my own a little, and they flick in his sleep.

I wonder if he just ate me in a dream.

A rustling behind me has that arm slipping from me, and the warmth removed from my back. I’m instantly colder, but I don’t dare move, clutching my hands together in front of me.

“Let’s wash.” Rohan says it casually, but ice runs through my veins.

“I-I’m okay, thank you.”

“So polite,” he grumbles. “But it wasn’t a question.”

Two large hands grab my waist and I’m hauled up into his strong body.

I yelp, but quickly smother it, remembering his words about waking his people. I quickly look around, finding them all sleeping in their own bed rolls near the small campfires, the other dragons also huddled together in a pile.

Rohan jostles me until I’m plastered to the front of his chest, my arms around his neck, and legs around his waist. He keeps a forearm lodged under my ass, pressing me against him.

My cheeks heat, but thankfully he’s not looking at me, he’s focused on taking a tunnel.

“I can walk,” I say quietly. I don’t think I can, but he doesn’t need to know that.

He huffs. “You’re too small, it would take twice as long, and we don’t have time.” My grip on him tightens when I see a bridge, the dark cavern below making me squeeze my eyes shut.

Oh Elvanan.

I feel the moment he steps onto the rope bridge.

He wobbles a little, and I nearly strangle him with how tight I’m holding onto him now, uncaring that this man could crush me with one hand.

I’m not good with heights.

“Scared I will throw you down there? It would be so easy,” he murmurs. “You weigh as much as a leaf.”

“Please don’t,” I squeak.

“Scared of heights?”

I don’t answer, digging my hands into his back. We bounce a little as he walks, and I think he did that on purpose just to hear me cry out, which I do, multiple times.

I feel the moment we hit solid ground, a sigh of relief coming from me and a rumble coming from him. My feet are on the floor next, then a hand at my chin as he forces me to look at him.

In this position, my head coming below his shoulders, it makes me feel as small as I am.

As weak as I am.

Rohan looks me over, then lights a torch he pulls from his pack and throws it to the right. I turn, seeing a pool of water and what seems like steam rising from it through the flickering torchlight.

My brows furrow.

“Undress.” I blink, turning to look at him and stepping away, wrapping my arms around myself. He eyes me. “I won’t ask again, I’ll just do it for you.”

I don’t say anything, terror freezing me, but then he’s on me, keeping his word.

Despite my cries of pain and fear, my slapping hands, panicked noises or my feeble attempts at pushing him away, I’m standing naked before him in mere moments.

I cover my small breasts, a hand hiding what’s between my thighs as I stare at his chest, tears rolling down my cheeks.

“Go,” Rohan mumbles, turning his back to me. After a moment of peeking at him facing the wall, I turn and walk to the water quickly.

I tentatively lower one foot, readying myself for the cold, but what I find is… warmth.

I gasp quietly, swirling my foot deeper, spreading my toes. I put my other foot in, slowly wading deeper to make sure I can stand in it, then I drop my arms, my hands sliding over the surface as I eventually dunk under the water, relishing in the cocoon of warmth.

I don’t think I’ve ever been surrounded by this much heat before. It feels like a hug, the deepest of hugs. I want to stay here forever.

A hand grabs my arm, yanking me up and I gasp for breath, water trickling down my face as I look up at a stern one.

My eyes track down and with a start, I realize he’s naked, apart from the ribbons around his forearms. His golden, tanned skin is on display from the waist up, marred with scars, a story of battle and adventure, of a Dragonbond, a true rider of dragons.

His muscles flex, his body strong and resilient, reliable and terrifying. I take in the width of his shoulders, the tattoos I can’t make out on his right arm, the bulging abs, the dark hair below his navel trailing down and the…

“What are you doing?” he growls, and my head snaps up, seeing a purple sheen flashing in his eyes. I swallow, crossing my arms again even though the water is up to my shoulders.

“Feeling the warmth,” I mumble. “I haven’t felt it like this before.”

He tilts his head, looking from me to the water, before he slowly lets go of my arm.

Unsure of what to do, I just stand there, and the longer I do, the angrier he looks.

“Go on,” he says, and I stare at him in confusion. “Wash yourself.”

Oh.

Something splashes in the water, and I grab it before it sinks on instinct.

Picking up the pale red-colored block, no bigger than my palm, I run a thumb over it, watching suds form.

“Soap,” I bring it to my nose and smell the scent of roses. It’s so nice, so clean, so… un-slave like.

I drop it like it burned me.

“What are you doing?” Rohan barks at me, grabbing the soap.

“I… I’m not… I don’t.” My hands shake, and my head bows.

Slaves don’t use soap.

They are not worthy of the luxury.

We are dirty, rotten, and are beaten for daring to touch such a thing.

Is this some sort of cruel trick?

My hands go to the collar around my throat, my lungs seizing. I can’t get enough air in, I can’t breathe.

I’m not allowed to touch such things.

That’s bad.

I’ve been bad.

Hands grab mine, so large to my tiny ones, and my eyes shoot up to Rohan’s. He’s frowning.

“You haven’t used soap before?” His nose wrinkles, and shame fills me.

“I … I don’t think so.” I can’t remember much before I was sold, just a hazy memory of another girl, older than me and cleaning my knees. I think I had fallen.

“Why?”

“W-we’re not allowed.”

He scoffs. “You’re filthy and bloody, you smell worse than a pig farm and dragon shit.”

“S-sorry,” I wheeze, still trying to get my lungs to work.

“I don’t want a sorry, Elf, I want you clean. You’re mine. I stole you, claimed you. You can’t go around looking like actual shit.”

He hands the soap to me again, and with shaky fingers, I take it. Rohan turns his back, washing himself and I rub my fingers over the soap.

My breathing eventually steadies, and I slowly put the soap against my pale, bruised and torn, skin, rubbing in circular motions.

It stings with the cuts all over my body, far too many to keep track of, but somehow during this, the suffocating feeling vanishes, and I realize I have a tiny smile on my face.

I watch as the dirt and grime are removed from my body in fascination. I’ve never been so clean before, always having some dirt on me and with only cold water to wash myself with, it never fully came off.

I take my hair in my hands next and sigh at the tangled, curly mess.

How do I even begin with this?

I pick up a good chunk of hair and rub soap into it, starting at the ends and working my way up to the top of my head.

Maybe this will work.

I hiss when I hit a spot that really hurts, my vision blurring for a moment.

“What is it?” Rohan asks, and I peel my eyes open. “Let me see.”

I drop my hand, and he moves my hair out of the way, pressing down on it. I cry out, trying to back away.

“Still.” He wraps an arm around my shoulders and pins me to him.

My cheek hits his bare chest, and more warmth fills me as I feel the thunder of his heartbeats against my ear.

It feels strong, a steady rhythm that I match with my every breath.

“It may need stitches, turn around and I’ll wash your hair, I’ll be quicker than your fumbling.”

He turns me, then pushes me under the water without warning. I come back up spluttering, but he pays me no mind as he scrubs my head none too gently before shoving me back under.

When he’s done, I’m lifted back up. By the time I wipe the water off my face, he’s out of the water getting dressed. I avert my eyes from his bare ass.

“There’s a large towel to dry yourself with there,” he points to the floor next to some clean clothes without looking at me. “Hurry up.”

I bite my lip, looking at him and the clothes, and deciding speed is better than hesitation. I go to the edge and grab the towel, mindful of my injuries and wrap it around me as I get out. It reaches just below my thighs.

Rohan pays no attention as I fumble to get dressed, my ribs and ankle aching, my head feeling like it’s being battered by a rock repeatedly. The cuts are a stark red against my pale skin, the bruising easily showing.

It will all heal in time, they always do.

The tunic is long, and goes down to my knees. I have to roll up the pants at the ends and at the waist, but it’s so nice to be in something clean. Something thicker than my threadbare old clothes.

Rohan comes over, lifting a cloak and putting it on my shoulders. He shakes his head at how big it is on me. “You’re too tiny.”

I know that.

He lifts a hand, touching my neck. “You’re red here,” he runs a finger just beneath the metal. “And this? What’s it for?” His finger goes to a small loop at the side.

“It’s for Master to attach me to the home.”

His brows furrow. “And why would he do that?”

“So I won’t leave when I’m not allowed to.”

A pause. “And did you leave?”

My eyes go to his, wary. “I tried.”

“What happened?” He moves hair out of my face and puts it behind my ear. I flinch again. “You are a scared little thing, aren’t you?”

I’m alone, in a cave with a man, of course I’m scared!

“Nothing good came if I tried to leave.” I only tried it twice.

“Did you leave when you stole bread?”

“No, that was at his home,” I whisper.

A dragon roars, and he turns toward it.

“Do not try to leave me, it’ll be far worse than the consequence your Master gave you.” He ties the rope back around my waist. “Now, keep up.”