Her Dragon Captor (Her Dragon King Duet 1)

I narrow my eyes, and not just because no one else I know would dare to hate on Mozart, but also because I think I might have heard a compliment buried deep inside of there. “So music…that’s the one thing you like about humans?”

Damianos sniffs. “Music is the sole place humans excel. Drakkon do not have such a concept, so yes, I suppose it was somewhat fascinating to watch the upright primates go from singing their unintelligible throat songs with only rude hand carved instruments as accompaniment to composing symphonies.”

The superhero on screen is headed toward the World War II trenches now. We’re almost to my favorite part where she fucks a bunch of Nazis all the way up.

But I stay turned toward Damianos, strangely fascinated for reasons that have nothing to do with my Uncle Kyle impression. No, I hadn’t missed all that disdain for humans in his voice. But it was hard not to appreciate his short and concise summary of music from the Ice Age until “Mozart came along.”

“Okay, you loved music pre-Mozart but hate the modern stuff. So what do you do for fun then?” I ask, honestly curious.

He shrugs one huge shoulder. “In truth, not much these days. I do not wish to have your inferior technology attached to my brain stem, which means nearly all manner of interactive entertainments are inaccessible to me. It’s unfortunate that live entertainment can no longer be easily curated, as it was before the Middle Ages. During the peak of the Roman empire, I had a stable of gladiators acquired from all over the world who fought exclusively for my entertainment. I had merely to wonder who would win in a weaponless fight between a Berber and a former centurion, and that night I could watch it unfold over dinner. The answer, if you’re wondering, was the Berber.”

“Okay, I was totally wondering,” I admit, leaning even further in. “I would’ve loved to have watched that fight.”

“It was quite the spectacle. The guests at my party talked about the surprise upset for years afterward. You see the Berber was quite small, but he figured out how to use this to his advantage…”

And that’s how I ended up spending the rest of the afternoon, ignoring the superhero movies playing in the background, and listening to stories from my captor's Roman Empire days.

His actually-lived history was more than a little fascinating and probably why I didn’t notice who was missing until Damianos stands up and says, “Stay here while I heat up our dinner. I am afraid we must make do with leftovers until I can make alternative arrangements with a food delivery service.”

“Where’s Colby?” I call after him, realizing for the first time that I haven’t seen him all day.

Damianos answers, “I imagine Colby is back in England now. I released him from his generational service.” Then he disappears through the sliding door.

Forget staying put, I follow him into the kitchen. “Wait, you released him? Just like that? But I thought you had no problems being a modern-day slave owner.”

“All the Colbys have been paid. Quite handsomely I might add,” Damianos answers as he scrolls through the current items list on the fridge’s digital display window. “And no, I did not have any problems at all with acquiring his life for my beckoning. But that was then. This is now.”

I shake my head, unable to believe that he actually gave his manservant his walking papers. “What happened between then and now?”

He stops scrolling and turns his intense glowing gaze on me, magnetizing me with just a look. “You. You happened. And you changed everything.”

I don’t believe him. I shouldn’t believe him. It’s obvious that this is a trick. So obvious.

Still, he’s looking at me in that way again. Like he adores me more than anyone else on Earth.

But why? I don’t understand how he transformed from an arrogant asshole to an adoring companion overnight.

The answer is he didn’t, I tell myself over a dinner of overcooked lamb chunks and mashed potatoes. I’ve got to stay on guard and I’ve really got to figure how to escape my now weirdly pleasant imprisonment.

For those reasons and those reasons only, I continue playing along. The conversation flows over dinner and though we do end up back in the living room to finish watching the rest of the movies in superhero’s personal series, the television never gets turned back on. We talk and talk until Damianos informs me it’s time to go to bed if I wish to be well-rested.

He walks me to my bedroom door like we’re kids in one of those pre-biochip movies from back when teens still dated in person instead of via avatars.

Then he dips his head low, his lips hovering directly above mine.

Is he going to kiss me again? I’m still a prisoner, looking for a way out. But my heart beats silly and stupid with the question.