To Bind a Dragon - Dragon Affairs, Book 1

06. Dragon of Daydreams

 — Hel — 

Hel rubbed her neck as if that could stop the pain in her throat. She hated all that shouting and cursing, but there was no other way the witch would believe she wasn't paying attention. She was furious back then, sure, but that was the quiet, freezing-cold kind of fury that she reserved for her enemies, not the dragons in her den—normally, she would never treat Horácio, Palito, and the others like that.

Horácio might've burned her succulent, but Oli had used Goddess-knows-what to bypass the den's signal jammer. In shock or not, that Olívia witch wasn't as innocent or as incapable as she looked.

With a scoff, Hel forced herself not to smile. Good, she thought. Dead prey is no fun.

She looked around herself and knocked on the door again, this time harder.

"Fran!" she whisper-shouted against the door. "It's me. I need to talk to you!"

Hel pursed her lips and glanced up and down the empty street. She was lucky Fran lived in the richest and emptiest part of the den. The three-story mansion Fran shared with her family—the mansion reserved for the Dragon Mystic—was the second biggest building around, and it worked pretty well to hide Hel from the rest of the den. As long as no one decided to drive past the conclave members' houses, she would be safe.

After the little show she had put on this morning, Hel had left to "buy some groceries." Luckily for her, Oli seemed to have a pretty long beauty routine, so she'd called Alex and asked them to keep an eye on her for an hour.

That was all the time she needed to sneak her way to Conclave District and ask her best friend—and ex-right-hand—for help.

"Fran! Open this fucking door!" she said a little louder. No one answered.

Hel tsked and sneaked from the side door to the big ipê tree near the entrance. She climbed it as if she was still a teenager and Fran still lived in that old, much smaller home in their original den. Hel jumped through the open window and into Fran's room.

Fran's scream got stuck in her mouth as Hel covered it with a hand. There wasn't anyone else home, clearly—she'd spent at least ten minutes knocking on that fucking door—but she didn't want to take the chance that a loyalist conclave member would know she was here. When she was sure Fran wouldn't scream, Hel stepped back and started to collect the clothes on the floor. She tossed a large t-shirt and sweatpants at Fran's bare chest, then threw Taz's heavy jeans jacket at him to wake him up.

Fran's eyes widened. "It's not what you're thinking," she mumbled. "He's here to...he's just...we were just...."

Taz sat up and rubbed his eyes. His right arm and shoulder were bandaged, and the smell of dragon magic came in strong waves of artificial sweetness, like cherry-flavored soda. "Goddess, why would you—?" He looked at Hel. "Oh no," Taz mumbled. "Oh shit."

"We wanted to tell you," Fran said. "You have no idea how hard it was to keep this secret from you."

Hel considered torturing them a little for the years of secrecy, but there was no time for that. "Please. We've been friends forever, did you really think I didn't know about you two? That hurts."

"I—" Fran blinked away the tears; her voice cracked.

"Ah, for the Goddess." Hel sighed and massaged her temple. "Relax, I'm not gonna tell anyone. And I'm not mad. I understand."

Taz reached for his jacket and put it on, cheeks burning. "You were Captain, and we were in the same squad, so—"

"Hey. It's okay; I said I understand, and I mean it." Hel tried on a smile. Even if she didn't understand why they kept the secrecy after she was kicked out of the defenders. Hel couldn't judge, though. She had her secrets as well, and they were much worse than a relationship. "By the way, it's healing pretty nicely, huh?" Hel pointed at the top surgery scars on Taz's chest, and he blushed even more. This time, though, he was smiling.