by Dixon, Ruby
Mara’s watching me, waiting for an answer. Her expression is impossible to read, but I sense worry and fear. Like it or not, Mayor Gwen comes surging to the forefront for the first time in a week. Can I control the dragon? I look over at Vaan, studying his eyes. They’re doing the mellow swirl of colors that indicates he’s relaxed. He’s not attacking Mara. He doesn’t view her as a threat.
Is it because he views her as a potential mate? I hate that my jealous brain goes to that. I should be thinking like Dragon Girlfriend Gwen and get rid of a potential rival, because what if Vaan mates her instead of me and she uses him to destroy my fort? Mara’s already had a crappy, abusive protector—what if she decides that a dragon is trading up and goes for him?
Why does that infuriate me so much?
Why is that even on my mind?
I’m ashamed such a thought ran through my head. Mara’s just trying to survive. It’s clear she’s been dealt a rough hand and I should feel sympathy for her. I shouldn’t be acting like a lioness whose territory has been threatened. Or like…a dragon.
That one hits a little too close to home.
I put a smile on my face, forcing Mayor Gwen back to the surface. “You’re right. We’re friends of a sort, and if he listens to anyone, he listens to me. I can’t guarantee that you’ll be completely safe, but I think it’s going to be okay.”
Mara offers me a tremulous smile. “There’s no such thing as completely safe anymore.”
How right she is. “Just stay close to me at all times, okay? Vaan tends to forget things when his emotions get the better of him, and if he forgets you’re a friend, we could be in trouble.”
Her eyes widen and she automatically steps closer to me.
“And if his eyes go completely black, get the fuck out of Dodge,” I tell her grimly.
“What happens when they go completely black?” she whispers.
Nothing good. “Just trust me.”
Mara nods. She looks around and then gives me a shrinking glance before gesturing at the nearby pavement. “Can I get my backpack?”
“Sure.” When she doesn’t move to get it, I head over a few steps and find that she’s practically my shadow, sticking so close that her stink is in my nostrils. I hold my breath and offer her a reassuring smile, then glance over at Vaan. The dragon’s settled in on his haunches, legs tucked under him like an enormous cat, and he’s studying me with whirling, calm eyes.
His gaze is entirely locked on me. I step away from Mara, testing something, and Vaan’s gaze follows me. Hmm. “Mara, can you go walk across the parking lot?”
Her face bleaches white. “But you just told me to stay close to you—”
“I know, but I’m testing how close he’s really watching me. We can’t be in arm’s length of each other always.” The look on her face tells me she thinks we can, so I make my expression more convincing, more soothing. “I won’t let him hurt you, I promise. But we need to test the boundaries.”
“Can’t we test after he’s used to me being around?”
I keep smiling, even through my next words. “If he’s going to attack, it won’t matter if it’s now or in an hour from now.”
“It matters to me,” she mutters. She shrugs her nasty clothes tighter around her and pulls a tattered brown hood over her hair, then gives the dragon an uneasy look before taking a few steps off to the side.
As she does, I wrinkle my nose, doing my best to keep the gesture looking as natural and normal as possible.
Vaan’s nostrils flare as he watches me.
“Keep going,” I tell Mara, my voice calm and even as I pretend to study my fingernails. “A few more steps outward.”
I can hear her bite back a frightened moan. She hesitates and then shuffles off to the side. I study my hands a moment more, then look up at Vaan. His gaze flicks over her and then moves back to me. He’s still watching me. Waiting. His eyes are swirling with that even color, and that’s a good sign. “Come shift and sit with me, Vaan.” I sit down where I’m standing and pat the ground, indicating he should join me. It’s a gesture he hasn’t learned yet, but I’m hoping it’s universal.
A split second later, the dragon vanishes and a crouching, golden-skinned man rises to his feet a short distance away. That’s my Vaan. He runs a hand through the spikes of his hair, mussing them in a very human-seeming move, and then saunters over to my side and crouches down next to me.
The way he crouches leaves a lot of, ah, dangling bits. I smile at him, stroke his arm, and do not look down. He covers my hand where it rests on his bicep, and his fingers tangle with mine.
It’s the most intimate touch and I’m entranced by it, and by the smile Vaan gives me. There’s a soft rumble in his chest, and I can practically feel the pleasure he’s emanating.
“So he really is human?”
Whoops. For a split second, I’d forgotten Mara was there. I can feel my cheeks getting hot. I’m holding hands (more or less) with a naked man. Awkward. “There’s a lot I should probably catch you up on. For now, though, Vaan, Mara. Mara, Vaan.”
“Hi Vaan,” Mara says.
He glances over at her and his lip curls slightly. He gets to his feet and puts a hand to my elbow, helping me to up like he has for so many days with my injured hands. Instead of letting me go, though, he holds me close and gazes into my eyes like they’re the key to his salvation. “Gwen,” he murmurs, and lightly runs his claws along my jaw. It’s like Mara isn’t even there.
That shouldn’t warm my heart like it does, but I’m a petty, selfish woman when it comes to this dragon apparently.
Mara’s watching us from a distance, and her eyes are wide. Her gaze slides down Vaan’s body, lingering below the waist. My cheeks get even hotter, because I know what she’s looking at. I can feel it prodding against my side. “I don’t think he wants you as a friend,” she says dryly.
Maybe there’s not as much to catch her up on as I thought.
22
VAAN
My mate is so happy to have the new female here.
The new one is not mated. When she stands close to my Gwen, I can smell her mating musk under the layers of filth. It is old and faint and nearly drowned in the stink of her, but it is there and it is not touched by another male’s fires. Unmated females in a nest are trouble, because other males will want to find her and take her for themselves.
…at least, they will until they smell her. Then the stench will likely drive any but the most ardent of suitors off. She is not sweet-smelling like my Gwen. It takes everything I have not to drive her from the camp, but my mate wants her here, and I will do anything to make my female happy.
That includes breathing through my mouth.
I can always hope another male will show up and claim her, but the stink of her hides her unmated scent far too well. I am more worried about my Gwen's delicious musk attracting another to her. I will fight to keep her at my side if need arises. Just thinking about it makes me flick my claws against a nearby stone.
The smelly female shivers.
Gwen looks over at me and frowns.
I rumble in irritation. The females have been wandering around in the rubble of our old den. The place Gwen and I have slept in for the last few days is destroyed, the roof caved in. I do not recall how it happened. The sight of the destruction worried me, but I can smell no other drakoni scent in the area, and there are distant storm clouds in my memory that tell me I am the one that created this problem.
We need a new nest. Every time I shift to battle form, though, Gwen makes unhappy noises and gestures at me until I change back. She does not want me to fly. I change back, and the females fuss over our den, looking for items and putting them in bags. I want to leave, to find a new safe place, but they do not seem to be in a hurry. I scan the skies, looking for other drakoni who might think to approach my territory, but things are quiet.
My thoughts are quiet, too. The females babble on in their soft voices, and I ignore the smelly one, listening only to
the pleasant sounds of my mate's voice. She sounds lovely and refreshing, like cool water on sun-heated scales, and I try to pick out words I recognize. They speak so quickly to one another that I am not able to understand, so I simply watch my mate's expressive face, memorizing her features. My memory is better when I focus on her. I do not mind this, as she is my favorite thing to watch, to scent, to touch. I fill my senses with her, and when Gwen's bag gets too full, I stride forward, ignoring the cringing, smelly one, and take the satchel from her hands.
She looks at me in surprise, and then her pretty lips curve up. "Vaan, thku," she tells me, in words that she uses when she is happy. Her eyes are not sweating, but it has been a while since she has had her hair stroked, so I reach out and do so until I am satisfied that she will not be troubled any longer. I look over at the other female, and hers are watering. Of course they are. She has no mate to stroke her hair. I flex my claws and then close my fist, biting back a shudder. She will have to wait for one. I do not want to touch any female but mine.
Gwen notices me looking at the other. She touches my arm, says something too quick and tongue-tangling for me to understand, and then slides her hand along my shoulder as she moves past me. The other female watches me, and it is obvious even to my storm-filled mind what they are thinking.
Gwen is being possessive. She is claiming me as hers in front of the other female. It does not matter that we have not mated fully yet, or that she does not smell of my fires. She is showing the other that I belong to her and she belongs to me.
My chest puffs up with such pride, such utter joy that I want to turn my Gwen on her belly and claim her right now. Let the other watch, since it will just stamp into her mind even more that I am claimed. I move forward to take Gwen in my arms…only to notice she is absently rolling one wrapped wrist, as if it pains her.
Not yet, then.
I can be patient. As long as she claims me in front of the other female, I can be very patient. Rumbling my pleasure, I give my mate a look of promise that makes her cheeks go dark with color. Instead of giving me another touch, though, she moves over to the other female's side and urges her forward. Good. We are finally moving somewhere instead of standing in the rubble. I suppose I can wait a bit longer to tease my mate, then.
Gwen and the smelly one walk down one of the long human paths that are littered with weeds and strange-smelling heaps of junk that perch on four dark circles. I shift to battle form and move to scoop up my mate in my claws so we can travel swiftly, but the other female screams in terror, her eyes sweating, and my mate makes the unhappy “no” noise at me until I shift back.
Fine then, we will walk. I bite back my irritation because when I shift back to my two-legged form, Gwen touches my arm and makes soothing sounds at me.
Clearly I am a male easily swayed by a pretty mate. I do not mind this, though. Not at all.
So we walk. The two females stick to the human paths, weaving between the metal boxes. I stay wide, doing my best to ensure that they are not bothered by other predators - human or otherwise—and keep an eye out for game. They walk so noisily and chatter so much that any game is scared away, though, and by the time the sun goes down, I have nothing to feed my humans. I have smelled things on the horizon, of course, but I will not leave my Gwen's side. If she wants me to catch food for her, I will need to shift forms. She knows that, and I wait for her to ask.
She does not, though. Instead, they point at a small, squat building in the distance and it is clear this will be the new nest. It smells of human worse than the last nest.
I did not think such a thing possible, but I am learning I have underestimated some humans and their stench.
I step in front of the females, growling low at Gwen before she can go through the door and inside the human hive. I have to make sure that it is safe, first. Normally the breeze would carry any scents toward me, but the more something smells like humans, the more difficult it is to pick out new scents versus old. I think of a few days ago, when the male was threatening my mate, and anger boils in my gut. I did not smell him because the human aroma was too layered, too overwhelming. I will not let such things happen again.
So I go inside first and scan the area. A variety of scents are here—rodents, dust, dead leaves, but the human ones are old and distant. I continue to move through the dwelling just in case, looking for danger. When I am satisfied there is nothing, I return to the front where Gwen and the other female are waiting.
"Come," I tell Gwen, using her human words. Out of habit, I try to connect my thoughts to hers, but I meet nothing. She has not taken my fires yet. Frustrating, to be so close to speaking to her—truly speaking and sharing our thoughts—but to still be so far from it. There will be no mating this night. I can tell just by looking at Gwen that she is tired, her eyelids heavy, her steps slowing. I have been carrying her pack all day, and when she reaches for it, I bare my fangs to let her know my displeasure.
She rolls her eyes and bats lightly at my arm, taking it anyhow. She is less and less afraid of me, which I like.
And she is touching me again, which I like even more.
Gwen takes charge once more, moving ahead of myself and the female and surveying her surroundings. She picks through two of the rooms before deciding on a third, and then the females both begin to make their individual nests. The small, dirty one gives me worried looks that fuel the predator side of my mind, the part I fight hard to keep under control. I resist the urge to snap my teeth at her and instead focus on Gwen. Gwen with her soft skin and dark eyes. My claws itch to run through her hair, but I tell myself to be patient. It will be time to sleep soon enough.
Then I will see if she challenges me with her mouth again.
The smelly female sets her bedding down next to Gwen's, thinks for a moment, and then looks at me. When Gwen turns her back, the female picks up her blankets and moves them across the room, as far as she can. She looks at me again, then lies down and pulls the blankets over her head and faces the wall.
23
GWEN
Even though it's humid and warm in the room, Mara gets into bed, fully dressed, and pulls her blankets (beach towels, really) up to her chin and goes to sleep. I glance out one of the broken, dusty windows of the old bed and breakfast, and it's not quite sundown yet. Maybe she's just tired. I know I am.
It's been a long, hot day of walking. The sun beat down on us all afternoon, and with little breeze to cool us, I've sweated in my T-shirt until it's completely wet against my skin. I feel gross and like I need a shower, but it'd be useless without new clothing to switch into. Several times through the day, I thought about turning to Vaan and asking him to shift and carry us in flight, but Mara's terrified of him. I didn't want to make things worse than they already are.
Plus, there are reasons to keep Vaan in human form and at my side. A dragon overhead calls all the wrong kinds of attention—not just human attention, but dragon attention, too. He'd be a beacon for anyone wondering why a dragon's moving through an area and not attacking. And while a dragon can't be hurt by bullets, it doesn't mean that people don't try to shoot them down…and that would mean Mara and I would be in danger of being hit if he was carrying us.
Walking gives us time to scavenge and look for food or supplies. More than that, walking gives me long days to watch Vaan and see how he reacts to Mara's presence. If he can be around her without attacking her and she's not his mate…then that means there's no reason not to go back to Fort Shreveport.
And I want to go back. I already feel like I've been away for too long.
Vaan moves restlessly back and forth as I take my time putting together my bed. The floor here is dirty and creaky, and I’m not entirely sure the wood boards are completely stable, but luckily for us there’s an old, grayed Persian rug holding everything together. Of course, it’s also filthy and so it’s not ideal to sleep on either. So I carefully lay out my beach towels until there’s a decently clean spot for my bed, and then I stuff a few rolled ones int
o my backpack to soften it as a pillow. I keep one towel out for a light blanket, but it’s so hot I want to strip all of my clothing off as it is and run naked through the streets hoping for a breeze. In fact, the thought of lying down in a bed in this heat with my clothes sticking to my body doesn’t sit well with me. I consider my bed and then glance over at Vaan. He’s watching me intently, eyes whirling, and I feel more restless than ever. He’s watching me, not Mara.
That’s something at least. My earlier jealousy of her feels foolish, since Vaan has made it abundantly clear that he wouldn’t care if she fell off the earth. I’m an awful person for being so damn pleased with that. After all, I’m not exactly making the moves on him myself, am I?
Then again, I’m not exactly pushing him away, either. I’m in a limbo state when it comes to Vaan. Am I attracted? Yes. Far too much. Do I hate that I’m not given much of a choice? Yup. Do I worry what’ll happen if I succumb and how it’ll affect the people that depend on me back in Fort Shreveport? Oh yes. I worry about all those things, but little by little, the worries are being resolved. With Mara here and Vaan tolerating her, I think he’ll be fine in the fort. I think I’ll be fine with him as my boyfriend, or mate, or whatever you call it. If Vaan taught me anything while I was injured, it’s that he would care for me as intently and as wholeheartedly as Rast cares for Amy. There’s so much appeal to that.
So what’s stopping me from jumping his bones right now?
I think I’m afraid.
Not of him, but of me fucking it up. Everything I touch seems to go wrong, and I end up only making things worse for everyone around me. I left Fort Tulsa with friends and established Fort Shreveport to make a safe place for families. Fucked that up. I tried to invite all refugees in because I thought at heart, people just wanted a safe place to live and raise their children.