by M. Barnette
He was starting not to care, and that was dangerous. Wrong or right, he wanted Nikki. The real question was did she want him? And if she did, what the hell were they going to do?
I've got to be out of my mind, thinking that she'd want me, or that it could work for us.
* * * *
Nikki lay within the circle of Bells's arms, thinking long after the slow, even breathing from him told her that he slept. She loved him. But she didn't want to make him feel trapped or pressured. He'd been saddled with the job of protecting her by Hawk, not of his own volition. And the way things had gone down, the attack on the farm house that had killed the others, had left him no other options.
She also knew he felt guilty as hell over Anya. He'd already said as much, telling her it had been his fault.
But it hadn't. Nikki never even considered that. He'd done everything humanly, and even probably inhumanly, possible to save both of them.
As fate—luck or destiny, karma, whatever label you slapped on it—would have it she'd been the one still alive out of their little family when the last bullet had been fired.
He gave a quiet sigh in his sleep, muttering softly. The words were something she'd heard him say before, always in his sleep. But she never understood what he said beyond, knowing it wasn't in English.
It was strange really. Not just the fact that he spoke other languages, and only when he was sleeping, but there was also tonight. She hadn't known he could play guitar, or sing. He'd never mentioned it. Hell, she hadn't even known he could dance. He looked so young, and she knew he wasn't. But he hadn't told her how old he was, even the one time she'd gotten brave and asked. It was very possible he didn't even know himself.
Maybe that's the answer. He just doesn't remember his life before the crash.
There was also the fact that they didn't really talk very often. Not about the past. His or hers. Or the future. Ditto. Everything they talked about was set in the moment. Immediate. The only plans for their future they'd made was the decision to leave Danbridge in favor of Colby which was even farther from Roderik's influence. Running away rather than facing the problem.
But what else could they do? Face Roderik? Hawk had told her only a Dragon could kill a Dragon. So the only way to get rid of Roderik once and forever was for Bells to kill him.
But the opposite was also true. Roderik could kill the smaller man.
Good as the blond was, Nikki wasn't sure he could manage to kill the other Dragon without help. And Roderik was incredibly dangerous, especially since he came complete with the Rangers and a whole damned army of like-minded homicidal goons.
She wanted to stay with Bells for the rest of her life, but what sort of future could they have? He was an Immortal, and in a few all too short years she'd die. Of course he couldn't love her. It would be a waste of his time.
She felt for his hand and gripped it gently, feeling him nuzzle her hair, but she could tell he wasn't truly wake. His body was relaxed in a way he only got when he was sleeping. She could feel calluses from the work he'd been doing around town, helping them refurbish different buildings, repairing their guns. Practicing his fighting skills.
Someone had even found a katana stuffed in an attic and given it to him. It wasn't in the best condition, but he'd said it would suffice for the time being.
* * * *
Bells squeezed Nikki's hand gently. “Sleep baby,” he murmured. He'd drifted off, but her tenseness had awakened. Something was bothering her. Probably upset about leaving, or just thinking about losing her friends, her family.
He couldn't replace them. He wanted to ease the pain in her soul, and he couldn't do that either.
"Jason?"
"Hmm?
"Have you ever been in love with someone?"
"Yeah.” He wouldn't lie to her about that. No real point in it anyway. “Why?"
"I was just wondering if an Immortal has the same emotions as other people."
"Oh.” He inhaled deeply, taking in her scent, the Dragon shifting in its chains. He wanted her, but pushed the desire away. But, persistent, it sat there coiling at the base of his cock demanding to be satiated. She was tired. He was tired.
"Do you?"
"What?” he asked. Her maddening fragrance and the thoughts it generated in his mind, the reaction of his body, had conspired to distract him.
"Have the same emotions us mortals do?"
"Yes, Nikki, we do.” He drew in another breath of her, the perfume of her body, the sweet musk of female slipping through his defenses easier than any bullet could ever do. Closing his eyes, his cock hardening, he started to reach for her breast ... and stopped himself cold. Angry at his lack of self-control, he rolled over and stared at the wall. The desire coursed through his blood, making the Dragon strain at the hold he had on it. Soon, very soon, he wouldn't be able to control it anymore. And when that happened he had to be far from Nikki. Very far. She had to be safe. Safe with people who'd take care of her. Because he wouldn't be able to do it anymore.
Tears slipped from beneath his closed eyes. He had to stop thinking about her. Had to stop wanting her because his love would burn her to ash. Only a certain type of woman could stand in the combined conflagration of Warrior's Fire and Dragon's soul and not be scorched.
A woman like Kimiko.
And Kimi had been a Roe Deer like Nikki.
Maybe that's why I'm drawn to her, the animal is the same. But the women aren't. Nikki isn't Kimiko. His teeth gritted together, grinding, his whole body going tense with the effort to contain the tears and the damned Dragon.
A gentle hand touched his shoulder and he jumped.
"Jason, is something wrong?"
"I'm just tired, Nikki.” And that was definitely a lie.
Sometimes lies were easier and safer than truths. Truths could hurt so much more, and he didn't want to hear Nikki say he was a great fuck, but there was no possible way she could love someone like him.
Hell, she didn't even think he had emotions like other people.
Her soft lips touched his, and he turned his head away.
"Jason."
"I told you, I'm tired, Nikki.” His words came out as a snarl, voice a growl of repressed emotions.
* * * *
Angry. Bells was terribly angry with her, and she didn't understand why.
"I'm sorry,” she murmured, scooting away to lie there with her back to him.
His presence so near beckoned. But he'd made it very plain she wasn't wanted. She'd wondered what she'd done to upset him so much. Everything had seemed normal when they went to bed. And there'd been the song....
"Don't be sorry, Nikki.” She felt him turn over, his back to her. He was facing the door now, and she felt a chasm opening up between them. One without a bridge. Tears stung her eyes.
She told herself she was being stupid. Tired and weepy. A total moron.
He did sound tired. Exhausted, and she'd been trying to entice him into having sex, mistakenly thinking he'd want it. But he hadn't. Maybe he just did it to keep her content and quiet, though she wasn't so far gone into emotional self-doubts that she'd think he hadn't really enjoyed fucking her. But maybe he was tired of pretending he wanted to go through the lengthy foreplay, or letting her have control of the situation.
Or he might just be tired like he said.
She surreptitiously wiped at the tears in her eyes feeling all alone and lost. Confused over so many things. He'd sung a song to her. A love ballad, and he'd sounded as if he'd meant every word. Sex with him wasn't just a quick fuck and goodnight ma'am. He made love. Passionate, fiery love. He smiled and joked with her, became someone else when they were alone. Jason. Her Jason.
And he'd almost been that man tonight. Playing guitar, dancing with her. His eyes had been warm, friendly, and alive. The killer and the Dragon put aside for an evening.
But like all dreams, it had ended. The killer was back, the Dragon's snarl in his voice.
She didn't want the man who called himself
Bells—they weren't the same. Bells was a cold son of a bitch. Jason was a lover who played guitar and sang to her.
And it was Jason she wanted. It was him she loved.
Not the killer. Not the Dragon.
She loved the man underneath the power and death.
Tired as she was, it was a long time before she fell asleep.
* * * *
Black edged red scales, crimson wings, and ravening claws that tore flesh. A scream of rage burst from his lips and he recoiled from the attack. Acid pain burned through him his own Dragon answering the challenge, fighting back with claws that ripped his dark opponent's chest.
The black Dragon roared, talons raking for the aqua Dragon it faced.
Flames rose up around them. Inky black shot with crimson and burning emerald and aqua shot through with mist that burned like a glacial wind.
The blast swept outward from the combatants, a whirlwind of flame and destruction that charred the gathered armies into ash, melted the steel of vechicles and burned the images of the soldiers into concerete walls as the concrete itself cracked under the intensity of the unnatural fire.
The gold edges scales of the aqua dragon darkened under the assault, the red scaled Immortal's hide beginning to melt in the hellish inferno, the men that housed the powerful Beasts crumpling to the melting ground beneath their feet as the Dragons at the heart of their beings fought it out for supremacy.
But there was nothing left to win.
Both armies were dead or dying, and the town the Dragons had been contending over was in flames, the townsfolk killed in the backwash of the battle.
* * * *
The dream-memory dissolved, leaving uneasy images of death and destruction roiling around in his mind. But Bells was already rolling out of bed, leaving Nikki's side, a glacier wrapped in lava, igniting body into action, mind screaming the coming danger out to his nerves, supercharging him for action. Warrior's Fire burning in his soul. But that was safe because it wasn't part of the Dragon. It had always been there for him to tap, even before he stopped being Jason and became Bells and turned into the Dragon. “Nikki, get dressed. Fast! There's trouble."
He didn't have to repeat his warning. She sat up and reached for her clothes, rubbing her eyes. “What's wrong?"
"I think the Rangers have come back. This feels bad. Really bad,” he told her as he finished pulling on his boots. He already had his jeans and shirt on, his gunbelt around his hips. It was dark in the room. He could smell rain, feel the dampness in the air. He could also feel how late in the day it was. They should have been hours gone already.
"I don't hear anything,” she told him. From the corner of his eye he could see she was shaking as the adrenaline blazed a path through her, but she wasn't paralyzed with fear the way some women got, and her ability to function, to react in a crisis with calm self-assurance was part of why he was so damned attracted to her. She didn't run around screaming or looking for a place to hide. She looked for a gun and whoever needed to be shot. In a world like the one in which they lived, a man couldn't have found a better woman than Nikki.
He planned on making sure she lived by keeping her as far away from danger as he could.
Another plan he had was to get her somewhere there were men deserving of such a woman. Somewhere like Colby.
"Get our stuff packed. I'm going out to alert Luke and the others."
"I'm on it,” she replied.
She was already dressed and slipping into her shoulder holster as he left.
Hopping on the bike, he kicked it to life and roared down the street toward the southern gate, knowing that was the direction from where the Rangers were coming. He got there fast, kicking the stand down but leaving the bike running. He didn't even bother with the stairs up the wall, instead taking a few running steps and jumping to land beside a startled Murph.
"What in hell's fire are you doing out here?"
"We've got company coming, and it's not the kind you'd invite to dinner,” he told the other man.
"What company? I don't see anyone on the road,” Murph replied. The man squinted into the darkening evening, but the rain made a blur of the distance and there were too many rises and dips in the roadway out of town.
Standing there considering what he should do, Bells heard a faint sound far out into the rain soaked distance. A sound his memory knew but his conscious couldn't quite identify.
He leaned forward on the edge of the wall, eyes closed, straining to hear, to remember.
Eyes gone the grey of the storm clouds overhead, Bells turned to Murph. “Ring the alarm, Murph, that's a tracked vehicle I'm hearing. An armored personnel carrier, if I'm not mistaken."
The man's eyes bugged out and he mashed the button that would activate the town's emergency sirens. They'd been installed for tornado alerts back in the 50s, but every resident in town knew there were two different and very distinctive wails the sirens could make since they'd been upgraded. The long, slow wail was for weather advisories. Short honks were to alert the town to incoming warlord based activity.
The sirens were honking like psychotic geese as people boiled out of their homes, most of the women and every child in town were running to the emergency shelter hidden under the old fire station. Men and the more militant women came running to the gates, arms brimming with various combat related hardware.
Grinning, Luke and his lover's son Ted bounded up the stairs. “Bet that old bastard Roderik sent his boys back like they promised last month."
Bells nodded. “They've got heavy gear with them, an APC at least."
Luke's eyes widened, but he was grinning, “Well, damn boy, they must want your owner pretty bad then, huh?"
"Well, don't just stand there! Get your shit, grab your girl, and take the north gate out of town,” Ted told the blond. “No sense hanging around here."
"If it comes down to a fight...” Bells started to argue.
"We'll handle them, is what. Now get going. Leastwise when Sheriff Dobbs and me tell them you're not here, we won't be lying.” Luke patted the blond on the shoulder, “Besides, you'd already be gone if we hadn't had that party."
Bell studied the man for a moment as Sheriff Dobbs puffed his way up the stairs.
"Boy, what you doing standing there, get the fuck out of town!” the man ordered. He grinned, “Well, git!"
He gave the old man a brief nod. “Luck."
"You, too, young fella. Take care of that girl of yours, she's a special one,” the elderly sheriff said.
"Yeah, she is,” he agreed. He jumped from the top of the wall and headed for his bike as the rain started to pelt down.
* * * *
Nikki peered from the door of the motel. There was no sign of Bells, and it was raining hard.
The siren kept blaring and she glanced at the office of the motel, wondering if anyone would know what was going on.
Women and children were pouring out of their homes, heading for the emergency shelter.
An elderly woman she recognized, Mary Kate, waved at her. “Come on, girl, time to get under cover and let the militia handle whatever's going on."
"Does anyone know is happening?” Nikki asked, taking a step out of the door to glance up the street.
"Not a clue, honey. But if that siren's going it's not something good,” the old woman told her. “Johnny, go on with your sister,” she urged a young boy, gently pushing the girl after her brother before she walked over to Nikki.
"Your man gone to the gate?"
"Yeah."
"Best grab a few things and come on then, honey. He knows what he's doing, let him do it."
"We were supposed to leave."
"Not much chance of that now.” She looked into the motel room, “You're all packed. Best grab that stuff, I'll help. But we need to get you hid. Pretty girl like you, and a doctor, too, like as not if whoever's at our gate gets in they'll make a grab for you."
"I know, Mary Kate. But ... I can't just hide. People might need my help if t
hey're injured."
"Well, come on then, we'll go over to the clinic and get things ready."
Nikki nodded, pulled the door of their room closed, and followed the elderly woman to the clinic. They turned the lights on and started getting out things they would need to treat injuries like gunshots.
She was just starting to organize a few more volunteers, older women mostly, when she heard the sound of her lover's motorcycle.
"Nikki!"
The door flew open, and he came running, dripping water. “Come on, we're leaving. Sheriff's orders."
"But, what if someone is hurt...” she began.
Mary Kate shook her head, “No, girl, if Dobbs wants you out of town, you just go. Those men are probably here looking for you, and if that's the case the sooner you're gone the better."
Bells was taking his jacket off, water running in a puddle onto the floor. “Come on, Nikki,” he told her as he held out the coat.
She gave Mary Kate and the other pair of women quick hugs and hauled the heavy armored jacket on, shivering at its chilliness.
Sweeping an arm around her, Bells led her to his bike, which was already loaded with their things.
From the doorway of the clinic Mary Kate called, “Be well and happy girl! You've got yourself a good one there, don't ever let him go!"
As they got on the bike Nikki glanced at Bells. At the cold grey eyes and the emotionless mask of his face. He was being unusually brusque as he fitted the helmet over her head and slipped onto the seat behind her, kicking the bike to life without a word.
She waved to the elderly woman watching them as long as she could. Within a moment they were racing through the driving rain, speeding through the open north gates of Danbridge into the growing darkness.
Chapter Ten
Bells stopped the motorcycle, pulling off the road into a parking lot filled with rusting, weather battered cars. Most of the plants in the medians between parking areas were dead, though a few hardy perennials struggled for survival in a weed choked flower bed.
He rolled the bike slowly through the one of broken doors in the shopping center, choosing the furniture store both because it offered somewhere comfortable for them to wait out the storm, and because it looked to have suffered the least from the depredations of the looters that had ravaged the rest of the businesses.