Son of the Dragon (Sons of Beasts Book 3) by T. S. Joyce

Author:T. S. Joyce [Joyce, T. S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Wicked Willow Press
Published: 2017-09-15T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Vyr couldn’t feel her.

“Riyah?” he asked for the fiftieth time, at least.

Silence.

He couldn’t reach her. There was only emptiness where their bond used to be, and now he was truly alone, down here in a cage called The Dungeon. This place had been built with dragons in mind. No one knew about it but Vyr and the guards. This was the prison’s well-kept secret. While life went on far above, as the inmates worked, ate, exercised, had time in the yard, fought, showered, visited the commissary, slept…Vyr had just died. Again.

He’d been lying here for hours after Changing back from the dragon, unable to even sit up. Every three weeks for six months, he’d been dragged down to the lowest level of the prison and forced to Change, and it was always the same afterward. He had to burn off the gallon of meds they’d filled him with. His blood was on fire as he lay curled on his side in the middle of the concrete floor. This place was cavernous, much bigger than his cell, to give the Red Dragon space to move, but it was narrow one way and long the other so he could never have enough room to stretch out comfortably and spread his wings. So there he sat for hours on end, blowing fire and magma, unable to move, feeling trapped, feeling claustrophobic, and missing the sky. And by missing the sky he meant that bone-deep, marrow-deep, soul-deep yearning for something he would never see or touch again. Instead, the Red Dragon sat in a steal and cement cage, burning himself with his own fire until he got sick, or gave up and disappeared into Vyr’s skin. And for longer and longer periods of time, the dragon would leave completely, and it was just the man named Vyr left. The media called him the Son of the Dragon, but Damon’s legacy would end the day the Red Dragon failed to return to Vyr after a Change.

This one was bad. It was the worst one yet. Too many meds, too little time Changed, and the dragon had given up faster than ever. And now, he’d been lying here for three hours at least, and he still couldn’t feel the dragon.

And there was the scrape. He’d landed hard when he Changed back and the side of his forearm was covered in road rash. It seeped still, hours later, and hadn’t healed even a little bit. It was a really bad sign.

Body burning from the inside out, Vyr slammed the side of his head on the cement three times and gritted his teeth, wishing to God the dragon would push a pissed-off rumble up his throat, but there was only silence.

There was scratching noises above him. Rats maybe. The dragon hadn’t eaten any ashes since Chad, but not even the rats were waking up the monster. Emmitt and the New IESA knew exactly what they were doing. They’d stunted the Red Dragon. Beat him into submission. He’d been defeated, and in this moment, he hated the world he’d been born into.

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