Rage (Her Monsters Book One) - K.A Knight Page 0,26

magic do not mix so the screen wavers before it asks for the amount. I withdraw the max, holding my hand as the machine spits it out and tells me to have a nice day.

Grabbing the stash I look back at the homeless man, who is wide-eyed and pale. “For your troubles,” I say, passing over some notes.

His mouth drops open as he grabs them, wetness gathering at the corner of his eyes. Not wanting to dishonor the man, since feelings should not be shared—it is the dragon way—I head back to the hotel.

When I get through the door, the kid is gone again, so I ring the bell.

“For fuck’s sake,” he grumbles as he throws open the door again. “Oh, it’s you.”

“Here.” I thrust half the money at him and grab the key waiting on the desk below.

“Hey! You can't just—” He starts counting the money, his words cutting off as I leave the room in search of my bed for the night.

The room number is printed on the key, so I find it easily enough. He did, in fact, give me the room at the end of the place. Outside, the overhead light flickers on and off so I twist the bulb, making it go out completely. I feel instantly better in the darkness and it might give me the few seconds I need to escape if there is an attack. Sliding the card key into the door, I try to open it only for it to blink red.

“Stupid human contraptions,” I growl, as I ram it into the reader again and again until it finally blinks green. What happened to a good old key?

I don’t bother flicking on the lights. I can hear the humming of them background, and my eyes see even better in the dark than they are in the light. It would be stupid to turn them on like a beacon when I don't need them. Kicking the door shut behind me, I grab the wooden chair from under the window and ram it under the door handle.

The few seconds it will take for someone to break down the door will act as an alarm. Running my eyes over the room, my mouth twists in disgust. I’ve slept in some worse places for sure, but my body itches from being trapped inside. It would rather find a nice cave somewhere to crash in, but I need to shower and integrate myself back into society.

Rolling my shoulders to try and relieve the tension, I take in the ugly, flowered bed sheets and the rickety table under the window by the door, which I’m currently backed against. An older TV with a silver antenna on the top sits upon a dresser against the opposite wall of the bed. A depressing painting of a sad looking flower in a field takes up the wall across from me and a door sits next to it, obviously leading to the bathroom.

I check around the room for other openings, apart from the tiny bathroom window, which only a midget would be able to climb through, the door is the only way in or out. It relaxes me enough to go and sit on the bed. Scooting back until my head meets the backboard, I rub my forehead where a pounding has started, a sure sign I need to rest.

Sitting here allows my mind to wander, and when it does I start to notice the yelling of someone in another room, the hum of the lights, the sound of cars and street noise. The more I try to ignore it, the louder it gets until I can’t dismiss any of it. I forgot how loud the world is, and I’m clearly not equipped or used to it.

Groaning, I reach over and grab the small black remote. Pushing random buttons, I shoot it at the TV. Eventually, the picture flickers to life. I leave it on whatever channel it’s on, but turn up the volume until all I hear is the man talking about who is or isn’t the father.

Frowning, I lean forward and watch in awe as the man reads out that he isn’t the father. Chaos ensues and my eyes widen at the screaming as the ‘not the father’ yells at a shocked looking woman. Where is the gold that they’re fighting over? It is like a behind the scenes look at every dragon family ever.

Sitting crossed-legged, I concentrate on the show until my eyes are sliding shut. Burrowing down