A Dragons Tale

Oryn Formally Meets The Man Who Could Make Satan Cry

The bread tastes stale in my mouth, but that could be the tension which hovers around us threatening to choke the first person to open their mouths.

    “So, Lia,” Cynthia breaks our silence. She’s sat on the right side of father who as usual sits at the head. I’m on the left of him with Oryn beside me. “How is school?”

    “Extraordinary, just this morning I helped the student council balance the budget for the spring formal. I’m going back tomorrow to help with the senior’s prom.” I speak smoothly, carefully I take a bite from the salad that takes up the biggest portion of my plate.

    “Fascinating,” She sounds everything but. “And you Oryn? Well, you attend the Academy what notable accomplishments do you have, other than accompanying engaged women?”

    No delicacy this woman.

    “Mother I think he’s hungry,” Gia intercedes, her mother shoots her a sharp look but like a seasoned veteran, Gia sips her water. “Let him eat before you pester him with questions.”

    “It’s alright. I have none.” Oryn smiles as if he hasn’t just dropped a bombshell at the table.

    I lift my cup of blood-red wine to take a long sip. If God doesn’t strike me down the next words out of my father might. The intimidating man has been watching the entire interaction by not watching at all. He had been entirely too focused on eating our Italian themed dinner to seem interested in any of us. But I know him too well.

    “Oryn Ásta.” He says the name as if the sound of it should be funny, but the humor is escaping him. I almost laugh in his place because yes, it’s hilarious.

    My fiancé picks a fight with the son of the man my father is seeking to strike a deal with, and somehow I wind up stuck in a s*x deal at the dinner table with my family and a boy who’s first haircut had been a few hours ago. It sounds like the bad plot to a shitty soap opera.

    Great now I cussed again.

    “What benefit are you?”

    “Pardon?” Oryn sounds confused. A bad sign when dealing with my father.

    “We happened to run into each other, Eugene is sick so I asked him to accompany me.” I clutch my fork tightly in one hand. I don’t have the confidence to stare my father in the eye as I speak, instead, I focus on the horrible painting that lines the overly decorated dining hall.

    Back in the day, the high ceiling had seemed to stretch on forever, the marble of the wall stands decorated only lightly with white flowers in crystal vases. My mother had been in charge then. Now the walls are full of ‘vintage’ art that singularly could have been beautiful but the way they’ve been stacked looks like a desperate cry for attention. All curtesy of my step-mother.

    “Is that so?” Father isn’t asking, not really. I want to grab Oryn’s hand and drag him out of the dining hall.

    My protective urge prompts me to add, “He’s a good person.”

    I know it is a useless bit of information, and by the disinterested look that crosses his face, I can tell I’ve bored him. He returns to his dinner. Lifting his wine glass he chuckles before taking a drink.

    “A good person.” He shakes his head. “What a foolish thing to say.”

    After that no one says a word. Once dinner is over Cynthia invites Oryn to the sitting room, and father tells me to meet him in his office.

    I catch Oryn’s golden gaze before I go, his eyes flash with fire and I feel a pulse travel through me. I blink and it’s gone but he’s still staring at me, almost expectantly. I smile at him and follow my father upstairs.

    His office is located on the second floor on the far east corner of the house. He has a great view of the scenery from his floor to wall glass panes. When I enter he’s seated behind his dark wood desk. The decoration in here has always been grim, a mix of muted wood tones and red. I remember sneaking in here once when I was a kid, it was just after my mother had died. At that time the way he’d looked at me made me feel as if I hadn’t lost just one parent.

    “Take a seat,” He doesn’t look up from the document he’s reading.

    I sit across from him in a crimson cushioned chair. Folding my hands in my lap I straighten my spine. I know better than to speak first, with my father it’s always speak when spoken too.

    “There was a fight today, John Mcintosh was involved. So was Eugene Willows.” The tone of his voice leaves no room for arguments. Not that I could give him any.

    “Eugene was goaded into fighting him. The situation was a misunderstanding.” I can feel my nails digging into my skin I’m clenching my fist so hard. Taking a slow breath I loosen my fingers. “I’ve spoken to both of them, I’m handling it.”

    Father finally looks up. His gaze is emotionless. “Your fiancé is costing me a 3.5 billion deal because he was goaded. As my daughter and the heir to my company I expect you to keep him in line.”

    Something in my chest constricts. I clear my throat, “Eugene is seventeen years old he should know by now how to control himself—”

    “You are his future wife.” He grounds out, slowly as if I’m some impertinent child. “You should know how to control him.”

    I want to point out the flaw in his logic, how I’m a whole year younger and I shouldn’t be in charge of him. I want to point out that I’m not Eugene's mother.

    I bite my lip.

    “I’ll fix it. Laxon Holdings won’t lose a single cent.” I vow.

    Father raises a thick brow, “Well, of course, we won't. If we do it’ll be on your shoulders. Have I made myself clear?”

    Then he turns back to his documents, I’m being dismissed.

    Standing I make it all the way to the door before his heavy voice stops me again.

    “And next time, do not bring someone so worthless to my table.”

            #

I’m coming down the stairs when I run into Oryn. His golden eyes survey me quickly, for a second, I think he’s checking to see if I’m hurt. I almost want to laugh.

    My father has only ever hit me once in my life, and I think that was better.

    “Did he say something to you?” Oryns voice is thick with worry, even thicker with that accent of his. Here I was more worried about what my step-mother was possibly doing to him and he was worried about me.

    “Thank you for coming with me tonight,” For the first time all day I feel my shoulders sag. His hair is more tousled than it had been at the beginning of the night, it fits his style more. “It’s fine, I can deal with my father.”

    “What about John,” His eyes flash.

    “I’ll figure something out. I always do.” Truth be told this isn’t the first time Eugene’s rash actions have resulted in me having to clean up his mess. Probably won’t be my last.

    The thought seems almost sadistic.

    “Let's go.” Oryn’s gaze is serious when we lock eyes. “Let's run away.”

    “I can’t,” Something inside me is aching to accept, grab his hand and run straight into the night. “I have responsibilities.”

    His gaze darkens for a split second, he stretches his hand out to me. “Then just for tonight. Runaway with me. What do you have to lose?”

    I stare at his hand brows furrowed.

    Oh, what the hell. Maybe it’s the wine talking but I place my hand in his and smile, “Let's run away.”

            #

“Cynthia buys all the most expensive pieces of art she can find wherever she goes on her travels. It’s the reason why the house looks like an art museum vomited all over the place.” I laugh as I plop a French fry into my mouth.

    Cleft hill diner is beaming with life at eleven at night. The place is sixties themed with black and white checkered floors, red booths, and a counter with stools. The walls are decorated with pictures of celebrities each scrawled over in their signatures. Oryn sits across from me, watching me munch on the greasy food in front of me while he enjoys a similarly greasy plate.

    “I was wondering why it looked like a horribly planned art exhibition.” He laughs loudly.

    “And poor Gia has to wear those awful dresses because Cynthia thinks they’re ‘fashionable’.” We both laugh again. Still giggling, I shake my head, “I feel like I’ve been talking about myself all night. What about you? What’s your family like?”

    He stills for a second but nods swallowing a bite from his cheeseburger. “My father inherited his position, my mother used to be a seamstress before she married him.” He pauses for a second before continuing. “I have an older brother, his names Kade. We look nothing alike. He resembles my mother's side of the family more.”

    “You say that like it’s a bad thing,” I point a fry at him. “Now I gotta see a picture. What, you met my insane family tonight I think it’s only fair.” I add when he rolls his eyes.

    “I don’t have one.” His lips curl into a sad smile. His eyes peer into me as he sighs. “I left my family, and anything that could remind me of them, behind when I moved here.”

    “I’m so sorry.”

    “Why? It was a choice I made.”

    But he seems so sad about it. I want to hug him, tell him everything will be alright. He looks away.

    “Where are you from?” I ask gently.

    “It’s a small country, you wouldn’t know it. What about you, were you born in this city?” He diverts and I let him.

    “Yes, my mother liked the idea of being close to the beach. Or at least that’s what I’ve heard.” According to the servants my mom used to go around saying she wanted me to be close to the sea. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been to the beach.

    “You know, I passed through here when I was younger. I stayed for a year and then I left. But I always felt something calling me back.” The way he’s staring at me fills me with a soft feeling like my insides are melting. The corner of his lip twitches as if he can sense what I’m thinking.

    His penetrative gaze holds me and I get lost in the golden swirl of his eyes. Let me just clarify his eyes are the literal color of gold, they glow like the sun blindingly and powerful. I can feel myself leaning closer to him. I study the way his lashes frame his eyes thick and fully, there's a gap in his right brow where there's also a faint scar. His tan skin is unblemished but I can just make out the faint hints of another scar at the base of his chin, at the edge of his hairline, at the tip of his nose.

    “I’m happy to oblige if what you really wanted was a picture of me.” Our faces have gotten as close as the table between us is allowing. My face flushes and he smirks.

    “Sorry,” I mutter sitting back.

    “Don’t be I was enjoying the view.”

    I silently return to my meal expertly avoiding his gaze. But his eyes never leave me, it’s almost as if he’s attempting to engrain everything to memory.

    “You two run away on prom night?” The only waitress working is a woman in her mid to late thirties with crazy red hair and soft charcoal eyes. She points with her pen pointedly to our flashy outfits.

    “What gave it away?” I joke.

    “Now, will that be all for you two or can I get you some more?”

    “Just the check please,” Oryn responds and I feel my heart sink. When the waitress leaves he studies me with a smile, “don’t worry, the night’s still young. Plenty of time to break some laws.”

    I giggle at that.

    “I could’ve paid for my half at least,” I tell Oryn as we step out into the dimly lit parking lot of Cleft hill diner. The car that had dropped us off is parked near the door of the diner.

    “What kind of gentleman would I be.” He chides. “Now are you ready to see the best place in the world?”

    I can’t help bounce a bit, “Where are we headed?”

            #

The sky seems to stretch out for miles and miles, the dotted landscape of the stars circling us. I can’t do anything but stare up in awe.

    I know the handbook of life says you shouldn’t ever follow a stranger to their house in the woods, but Oryn isn’t a stranger. Not anymore. I can’t fight the feeling of trust I have for him, I don’t want to.

    “It's beautiful.” I manage to say. We’re laying out on the terrace of his roof on our backs, me going one way and him the other. All we have to do is turn our heads to look at each other.

    “That’s Cassiopeia, Queen of the night sky,” He tells me hands pointing at the mess up there. “Right next to Polaris, forever chained to her seat.”

    “I only know Orion’s belt.” I point as well.

    “Placed in the stars by the lover that killed him, my aunt had a great story about that.” He chuckles. We sit together in comfortable silence.

    The stars are all around us and it feels like I’m floating. As if at any second it will all come crashing down on me.

    I turn my head to stare at the side of his face.

    “Why did…why did you agree to be my date tonight?”

    “Because I wanted to.”

    “I’m engaged, the daughter of Laxon holdings, you learned my name this morning.” I bite my bottom lip. “Why did you want to help me?”

    He stares up at the sky a second longer, but then his golden gaze sweeps over to me. He smiles and it’s so breathtaking I can barely think, “Because I wanted to.”

    “Do you only do things because you want to?” I accuse.

    He laughs, the sound piercing the night air.

    “Who knows,” he hums mysteriously.

    I know, I want to say. Instead, “Why do I get the feeling you’re not telling me everything?”

    He hums again.

    I huff haughtily and he laughs, eventually, I’m laughing alongside him. I don’t know what it is, I can’t explain it.

    Oryn is different in so many ways from Eugene. He’s warmer, his touch is like a bolt of electricity through me, his eyes are mesmerizing to the point I feel I could look at them forever and never once get tired. There's a pull in my chest, a pull towards him.

    “I feel like I can breathe again,” I say into the air, “like all this time I’ve been struggling to breathe. Tonight, right here, for the first time I can breathe again.”

    He’s quiet a second. The stillness of the air wraps around us, and I fit into the silence comfortably. I could be quietly here for ages and I don’t think I’d mind.

    “Du er mitt livs kjærlighet, du er min Sjelen,” He sits up and stares at me in a way that is so intimate I wish I could understand what he’s saying. I sit up and comes closer his hand brushes my skin as he pulls a loose strand of my braid behind my ear. “Så vakker.”

    We stare at each other; I can feel the heat of his fingers as he trails down my cheek. My eyes flutter shut, and I lean towards his touch. When I open them again I can see the desire in his eyes. We sit there and time seems to stand still, this moment stretches forever as I wait.

    “Jeg er så lei meg,” He smiles sadly, like he did at the diner, brushes his thumb against my cheek, and drops his hand.

    He stares at me for a little while longer, as if looking away would be the most painful thing to do. Eventually, he does and clears his throat.

    And just like that our little spell is broken. The disappointment in my chest gives me pause.

    A fiancé Aurelia, you have a fiancé.

    Not that Eugene matters, not that anything else matters.

    Right here right now, only this one-second matters.

    Only Oryn.