by Ruby Dixon
I need something to block her sweet scent. Something that smells terrible and pungent and that other drakoni will avoid.
And a moment later, I know just the thing. I plunge to the ledge, flinging myself out of the strange square nest I have claimed for myself, and swoop to the ground below. There, at the edge of the nearest waters, is a half-rotted corpse of a beast with horns and hooves. It has been there for several days, long enough for it to bloat and for the flies to set in. The stench of it is strong enough that it carries for a distance on the wind, and so I carefully scoop it into my claws and fly it back to my nest.
I can smell her lovely scent before I arrive, and not even the stink of the rotten creature in my claws is enough to stop the growl of need that rises in my throat. When I approach the ledge, I see that she has gotten to her feet and is wandering close to it as well. The sight of me returning makes her scramble backward, her eyes wide with fear.
The female says something, hugging her arms close to her chest. I do not understand her words, but surely she will know that I am doing this to protect her? I drop the dead meat at the edge of the ledge so the putrid scent of it can carry onto the winds and cover her lighter smell.
She makes a little cry, raising a hand to her nose and backing to the far side of the room. This, I am pleased with. Perhaps she does understand what I am doing, then. I bugle a call of affirmation to her. I want to grab her in my claws and bury my snout in her hair, but I dare not. I must go and watch the other humans at the hive so I know how to court mine. Every moment I waste is another moment that a male could rise to challenge me for her. I devour my precious female with my eyes, memorizing her slight form, and then reluctantly turn away, launching myself back into the skies.
I circle the large stone building that my nest sits atop of, but there is still the faint, delicate scent of my female in the air. I need more distraction. Frustrated, I return up to my nest, and flame, setting the rotten corpse on fire. A horrible stink wafts into the air, and the female makes another cry as I take to the breeze again. This time, when I circle the building, there is nothing but the smell of rotten flesh and char.
Excellent.
I take off for the human hive, beating my wings as quickly as possible. I need to go fast, because not only must I outrun my rivals, but the ravens that live in my thoughts, as well. Even now, I feel them waiting, ready to destroy my mind. They will close in again all too soon, so I must be ready. I focus on my female, my mate. I do everything for her.
The human hive feels as if it is an endless flight away, and before I even get close, I hear an annoying sound rising in the air. A faint stir of memories tells me that this loud sound also happened when I snatched my mate. It is a warning of some kind, then.
Destroy it, the ravens whisper. Destroy everything. Burn the hive to the ground. You have what you need.
Fire licks at my tongue, and my claws curl with the need to hurt, to maim, to destroy. It will please the ravens. I circle around, contemplating. The stink here is ten times worse than anything I have ever experienced, and it makes my head itch. It feels as if my thoughts are full of birds, all angry and fighting to get out. They grow stronger by the moment, and I can feel them pecking at my eyes. I am going to fail my mate.
My mate.
Just like that, the birds scatter from my mind, and I can think somewhat clearly. I glide over the hive, high enough to see the humans scurrying into hiding. This is not going to help my task. I need them out and about, acting like normal humans. They’ll never do so as long as a dragon is flying overhead.
I should change into my two-legged form.
The moment it crosses my thoughts, I realize I’ve forgotten entirely that I have a two-legged form. It has been so long since I have been anything but in my battle form, and suddenly my skin itches with the need to transform. I will be vulnerable if I do, but only if they catch me.
I will just not allow myself to be caught, then.
I fly a short distance away and land on a flat area. My wings beat slowly as my claws click on the smooth surface, leaves blowing about. I crouch low, and then I try to remember how to shift to my two-legged form.
A moment later, I am staring down at my hands, flat on the ground. Human-like hands. I get to my feet slowly, flexing as I rediscover the feel of my two-legged form. My balance is different like this, and I feel a great deal lower to the ground, but it is not a bad way to be. My head is quieter, and that is nice. I curl my hand, gazing down at the talons tipping each finger. So similar to the human form, but still deadly. Humans seem to be soft all over.
My mate. She is soft all over, too. I growl low in my throat, pleased at the thought, and turn, looking for the human hive.
It is there, distant, the strange barricade stinking of fire and metal. I walk purposefully in that direction, though it takes quite a bit longer to travel in two-legged form than battle form. I had to land a fair distance away to make the humans think I had left the area. Even now, the siren blares a warning that makes me grit my teeth.
By the time I get to the barricade, the jarring sound of the siren is gone, and I can hear the low murmur of humans once more. The scents of the hive are overwhelming this close—fire and waste and sweat and skin and meat and— I shake my head to clear it. No sense in picking out each one. Best to ignore them all. I take a deep breath through my mouth and begin to climb the barricade. My claws make it easy to find purchase, and within moments, I have scaled the top of the shaky, teetering wall. I crouch low so the humans do not see me, and wait.
It does not take me long to realize that most humans are stupid. Once their sirens cease, they crawl out of their houses, laughing and talking that loud, strange gibberish. Cookfires are started again, and within a short span of time, the hive buzzes with activity once more. If they realized that a dragon yet watched them, they would probably be less boisterous and more reserved.
I watch as a human wanders near. It smells female, but it is small, much smaller than my female. An adolescent, then. The little one skips to the nearest fire, where a male stands, stirring something that smells like roasted flesh. He smiles at the tiny female, chatters something, and then picks up a round thing and fills it with the roasted flesh, then hands it to her.
Food. Of course. My mate is probably hungry. I should feed her when I return. Eating is instinctual in battle form, but of course I must remember to feed my human. She cannot leave the nest and will need me to care for her.
The thought fills me with fierce pleasure and pride. To think that I will be feeding my mate. Mine. I have waited for her for so long…
A female wanders into view. This one is adult, and she smells…different than my mate. Unwashed and sweaty and carries the stink of other males on her. My lips curl at her stink. She saunters toward the male at the fire, watching with interest as he stirs. The male looks up and gives her a stare, then says something. She points at his meat over the fire and then gives her hips a little wiggle. He grins and leans in, pressing his face to hers. A moment later, he gives her a bowl, and she eats quickly. Then they both glance around, whispering, and move behind a pile of debris. As I watch, the male throws the female’s strange clothing up and pushes into her from behind. Faintly, I can pick up the sounds—and scents—of rutting.
The ravens peck at my mind, but I push them back. Not now. I am trying to make sense of the human actions.
I am confused by them. The female did not challenge the male. She did not turn a mating color. She did not wait for him to subdue her or to dominate her. She laughed and chattered at him, and even now chatters as he grunts and pushes into her. I have seen no mating signs, yet they are undoubtedly mating.
I think about the way they pushed their faces together. Is…is that a human mating sign? I think of Kael and his human mate, trying to recall if they shoved their faces together, but my thoughts are blurry. I focus on the thought of my mate again, with her soft brown eyes and the tangle of her hair.
Perhaps taking care of th
e human female by feeding her is enough to bring her into heat? The thought fills me with excitement, and I fling myself back down off the barricade, hopping to the ground on the far side. I have seen enough of these humans and their smelly hive. It is time for me to return to my nest.
To my human.
I shall feed her, and care for her, and then wait for her to press her face to mine in her mating signal.
Of course, now I need something with which to feed her. I think of the humans and their pot of flesh.
Hmm.
4
SASHA
I. can’t. breathe.
Or I suppose I can. I just don’t want to.
I cough into my hand then pull my T-shirt back over my nose and mouth, breathing through it. The stench in the room is unbearable. I’ve never smelled anything so bad as the putrid cow corpse, until he lit the damn thing on fire. Now it’s smoking down to nothing but charred, greasy bone, and the stink feels like it’s in my entire body. Heck, in my soul. It’s so awful and invasive, and part of me wonders what the heck kind of message the dragon was supposed to be sending with that.
I mean, Claudia said her dragon was a little crazy at times, but this is mega-crazy, where I’m concerned. I don’t know if it’s a warning to me, but I’m unsettled and on edge, waiting for the dragon to return.
Since he’s been gone, I’ve looked around for more stairwells, and there’s one area buried by rock that might be a likely candidate, but digging it out with one good arm means it’s a slower than slow ordeal. I’ve moved some of the rocks but stopped constantly, afraid that the dragon would come back and see me trying to escape.
But the stink is becoming pretty overwhelming. I want to kick it over the side of the ledge, but I’m terrified of how the dragon will react. Claudia’s so much braver than I am. I don’t know that I have a brave bone in my body. She’s brave, but…I’m a survivor, and that means that you’re not always brave. Sometimes you’re cowardly. I’ll do what it takes to come out the other side, just as long as I stay alive.
And if that means breathing in dead cow fumes while waiting for a crazy dragon to return, so be it. That’s what I’ve got to roll with.
I doze off on the floor, somehow, and when I wake up, my throat feels dry and my tongue feels like wool. I have a headache from lack of food, but the thirst is bothering me more. Is this how I’m going to die? Forgotten by a dragon and left alone to starve? It’s not how I pictured going out.
Funny, I always thought Tate would end up killing me.
Not that I want to die. I don’t. But I knew making deals with Tate was the equivalent of playing with fire, and I knew that it took more and more to satisfy him each time.
I was warned not to make deals with the militia. Claudia told me again and again that it was a slippery slope to whoring. But Tate seemed nice, and he offered me food in exchange for a “date.” And then he wasn’t as nice, and it wasn’t really a date so much as a quick, rough fuck. And later on, there was less food and more roughness, but I didn’t have a choice at that point. I was starving.
The thing with Tate was, if he’d just wanted sex, maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad. But Tate doesn’t get off on having his dick stroked like every other guy. Tate gets off on pain. When I agreed to let him do what he wanted with me in exchange for money or food, I knew what I was doing. When things got worse, I went with it, because a few slaps beat starving.
That’s how I got really, really good at blocking things out. I’d just think of my perfect place and zone out while he hit me and whipped me. Tate figured it out, of course. He didn’t like it when I went to my “Zen” place.
That’s how I ended up with a broken arm. I couldn’t block that out.
If this dragon turns out to be the same kind of bully as Tate, I’ll just deal with that, too. It doesn’t matter what he does to me as long as I stay alive. Maybe someday I can get back to Claudia or back to Fort Dallas. Back to safety.
As if my thoughts have summoned him, I hear the flap of wings.
I get to my feet. My bruises and aches protest the movements, but I feel more on guard when I’m on my toes. A second later, the massive form of the dragon descends onto the ledge. He steps forward, holding something carefully between his front feet, and as I watch, the head rises. His nostrils flare, and then he kicks the remnants of the charred cow-corpse off the ledge.
Okay, well that’s one way to clean house.
I huddle against the wall as he lumbers forward, his movements awkward. He uses only his hind legs to walk, which throws me off, until I see what he’s holding in his hands.
It’s…a bathtub with water in it.
That’s random. Does he want me to take a bath? I glance up at him, surprised, trying to read his draconic face.
He steps forward a few more feet and then gently sets down the tub, water sloshing over the edge. I’m so thirsty that I can’t help the whimper that escapes my throat at the sight of all that water splashing onto concrete. A second later, the dragon lowers his head and gently releases something he was holding in his teeth.
It’s a cookpot. One of the enormous ones from one of the Fort Dallas fires…and it’s still got stew in it.
Shocked, I stare at the dragon. He pulls back on his haunches and flutters his wings, settling in, and then watches me, waiting.
My mouth waters, and my throat feels so incredibly dry, and it makes me a little bolder, I think. I take a step forward and gesture at the tub and the stewpot. “Is this for me?” My voice is scratchy even to my own ears.
The eyes flick golden, and he nudges the stewpot in my direction. Okay, definitely for me. A tiny smile curves my mouth, and I rush forward, heading for the water. I’m going to drink my fill before this turns into a trick of some kind and it’s taken away from me. I lean over the edge of the tub. The water looks clear enough, even if there’s a bit of debris floating in it, and I don’t doubt that it was scooped up from one of the nearby rivers or lakes. Not the Trinity River, I hope, but I cup my hand and take a drink anyhow. The water’s cool and sweet…and has a hint of a fishy taste to it. I don’t even care. I gulp down mouthful after mouthful, water streaming down my chin. When I’ve drunk my fill, I collapse against the side of the tub, mentally exhausted.
Thank God I’m not going to die of thirst. One worry down.
I rest my cheek against the side of the bathtub, eyes closed. I’m so tired and weak. I need to get my strength up to eat something, but right now I just want to lie down and relax without this knot of tension in my belly. It’s not going away, though, not as long as I’m being held captive by a dragon.
The dragon. I can’t hear him.
I open my eyes and sit up again, curious. As I do, I see a naked man standing on the opposite side of the tub. The dragon’s nowhere to be seen. Panicked, I grab at the edge of the tub and shove myself to my feet. “Oh, no, you have to get out of here. You—you—” I pause as the man gazes at me steadily with the most intense gold-on-gold inhuman eyes.
This is the dragon.
Oh.
I feel a little stupid. Of course it’s the dragon. Claudia said hers turned human, too. I just thought…well, I don’t know what I thought.
It’s startling to see a man standing next to you when a dragon was once nearby, but it can’t be anyone else. Those gold-on-gold eyes flick with a little bit of black and then back to gold again, and I know it’s him. I can’t help but stare. I’m just so surprised at the sight of him.
He’s…handsome.
On second look, he’s not entirely human, of course. That doesn’t surprise me. His skin is a deep, rich shade of bronze that looks to be covered with a shadowy scale pattern of some kind. His body is bigger than any guy I’ve ever seen, and extremely muscular. His biceps are enormous and taut, and I notice that his lower arm seems to have draconic-looking spikes, even in his human form. The spikes continue along his hairline at his temples, neatly holding back the tangle of equally bronze-looking hair on his head. He’s go
ld on gold on gold, and he’d be breathtakingly beautiful if I didn’t know that he was a dragon.
His face is something else. His features are a little too strong to be completely human, with a nose strong and proud, high cheekbones, and a heavy brow. His jaw is chiseled, though, and his lips look like they’ve been sculpted by one of the greats, back when marble statues filled museums and society mattered. And even from here, I can tell he’s got long, thick lashes. He’s…really easy on the eyes. Really easy.
My eyes could easily travel all the way down the dappled six-pack on his abs, for example, all the way down to his—
I force myself to stay locked with his gaze and put a smile on my face. “So you’re human after all. I was starting to wonder if I was crazy. Or Claudia was crazy, since she was the one who told me you guys shift. But I guess she was right. Can I say I’m relieved?” Oh great, now I’m nervous-talking. It’s a bad habit of mine. I give him an anxious smile.
He smiles back, revealing long, thick fangs and pointed teeth.
Eep. That’s a little more sinister than I care to see. I keep smiling, but it’s a bit more difficult. They’re just teeth, Sasha. They don’t mean anything other than he’s a meat eater. Like, you know, sharks.
Yeah, somehow that doesn’t make me feel any better.
I remain in place as he comes around the bathtub and moves to my side. I can’t stop staring at him. I’m just surprised that he looks so very human…and so very not at the same time. It’s fascinating and a little bit eerie, too. Up close, the scent of him wafts over me, and he smells a bit like cinnamon and warm male skin. It’s an unnervingly appealing combination.
He leans in and sniffs me, hard.
I give a little jump of surprise. “Oh. I’m sorry. You just scared me.” I back up against the side of the tub. “I’m just…jumpy, of course. You would be too if you’d been left here with a rotten, burning cow all day.”