Fire In His Spirit: A Post-Apocalyptic Dragon Shifter Romance

by Dixon, Ruby

  She nods and shrugs her pack onto her back. "Ready."

  My feet hurt and for some stupid reason, I hate seeing Vaan fly away. It makes me feel…abandoned. Needy. That is not good, Gwen, I chide myself. How am I supposed to make sense of his feelings when I can't even make sense of my own, though? I do know we can't fly in to Fort Shreveport, though, no matter how tired I am of walking. A dragon arrival will just send everyone into a panic. It's best to walk…it's just, does Vaan have to go hunting now? When I'm feeling all needy after last night?

  Irritated at myself for my own wishy-washy emotions, I fling my pack on my shoulder. "Let's just go."

  Mara and I walk in silence. She's rarely in a chatty mood, and this morning I'm not feeling like being a tour guide. I'm too focused on Vaan and my conflicting feelings.

  His sad look last night.

  The way he touched me.

  The inexperienced way he touched me, as if he'd never been with another woman.

  "I smell smoke," Mara says after a time.

  "He's hunting," I reply, and then inwardly wince at how pissy my tone sounds.

  "Ah," is all Mara says, and I feel like an even bigger ass for being short with her. It's not her fault I'm unsettled.

  "I'm sorry," I say as we continue walking. "I'm really not used to all this."

  She doesn't reply for a long while, and my thoughts tumble around themselves again. I wonder what Vaan is thinking about last night. I wonder if he's regretting what we shared and that's why he's distant. Or maybe I did something wrong. Maybe it wasn't good for him and that's why he's avoiding me…but then again, I don't even know if he's avoiding me. He kissed me this morning.

  And yet I can't help but feel there's distance between us. I can't get that incredibly sad look on his face from last night out of my mind. Is it because he misses home? Regrets me? Is completely insane? I wish I had answers.

  I wish Amy were here to bounce ideas off of. I can't help but feel there's something obvious that I'm missing, some clue that will make me understand Vaan better that I'm just not grasping.

  Mara coughs into her hand, and in the breeze, the smell of smoke grows stronger. It makes me think of Vaan even more, and how beautiful he is both in dragon form and otherwise. How graceful and strong. The smooth lines of his back and the pattern on his golden body that looks like scales but when I touch him, it feels like skin.

  "You guys fight?"

  I glance over at Mara. "No, not really. It's just…complicated."

  "Figured I'd ask considering if you break up, he's going to eat me."

  I want to tell her she's wrong…but I don't know if she is. The thought's a sobering one. "I promise we haven't broken up. It's just complicated, like I said."

  "Because you're not used to dragons?"

  "Relationships," I admit.

  "Relationships are easy. He demands you suck his dick and make him food, and you decide if he's worth it or you should find a better protector."

  That's…awful. And far too accurate, considering her past relationships—and mine.

  We continue walking. After another pause, she asks, "So. You're in a relationship with the dragon?"

  "I think so. I don't know that he's getting much out of it, though."

  "Mmm. Are you?" she asks, kicking aside an old soda can. Mara coughs again, the smoke bothering her.

  That makes me think. Am I getting what I need? Ever since Vaan arrived, I've been struggling with feeling as if I've been exiled from the fort and everyone I know and love. I feel like I can't go back to them, and duty and guilt weigh heavily on me. Daniela needs her sister, and the fort needs a mayor to step in until Amy gets back. If nothing else, another set of hands would be helpful with the gardening, scavenging or monitoring the gate, because there's never enough people to do everything that needs to be done. I know our food stores were getting skimpy with more mouths to feed, but out here, I can't do anything about it.

  And Daniela needs me. I hate that I have to keep reminding myself that my sister's traumatized and just escaped an awful situation. She's family. I should be there for her.

  Instead, I'm running off with Vaan. I'm worried about Vaan. I'm thinking of a sexy dragon-man when I should be thinking about my pretty, fragile sister. I can't be in two places at once and I feel incredibly torn. I should be with Daniela. I should cross through the gates of the fort and never leave her side again.

  But she has an entire fort to support and help her. Andrea will be there for her. Cass, Luz, the others—she has a support system.

  Vaan has no one but me.

  It's not enough of a reason, I know. It's not the right reason. But it's the one that moves me the most. It's not that I'm sacrificing myself to save Fort Shreveport—it's that Vaan needs me, and I feel like he's a creature that's not used to needing anyone. I shouldn't think of him over my sister…but it's different. So different.

  "It's complicated," is all I say again, since Mara seems as if she wants an answer.

  "Can't be that complicated. I heard you last night."

  I stumble on a rock, embarrassment flaming over me. Of course she heard me. We weren't exactly trying to be quiet. I knew she was in the next room over. I just…didn't care much. Not when his face was between my thighs. "Ah…" Since she's so bluntly called it out—and me—I don't really know what to say.

  "It's fine," she tells me, her voice as casual as ever. "If it makes you feel any better, I had one protector that liked for me to service him in a room full of other men so he could show off. Said if I didn't, he'd pass me around like a church offering plate."

  Dear lord. I stop and stare at her in horror.

  "It's okay," she tells me, her steps never pausing. "He's dead. Had an accident. Real shame." She smiles brightly.

  I'm starting to think Mara's a harder nugget than I gave her credit for.

  "Well, I'm glad you're here with me now," I say after a moment. "Do you miss the other guy? The one you were with?" It's the first time I've asked, and I feel ashamed. Maybe she loved him. Maybe he was good to her.

  She only snorts.

  I smile to myself. Maybe not.

  "Sure you won't stay at the fort?" Mara asks.

  "I can't. Vaan needs a friend."

  "Everyone needs a friend."

  It occurs to me that I'm an asshole. "Mara—"

  She glances over at me, a smile crossing her dirty, thin face. "I'm teasing you. I don't need anyone, not really. I'm a survivor, even if it might not seem like it sometimes. I'll scurry on through. I can look after myself."

  "You mean find a protector."

  Mara shrugs, her feet crunching on a bit of gravel. "It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man inside a fort must be in want of a dick-sucking."

  "What?"

  "Jane Austen. Kinda."

  Weird. "Not many men in Fort Shreveport."

  "Well, I've never hit up the ladies, but there's a first time for everything," Mara says cheerfully.

  "You don't need a protector. You don't have to service anyone just to survive. We all look out for each other."

  "Mmm." She doesn't sound convinced. Mara glances over at me. "Sure you won't come with me into the fort?"

  I'm tempted, but only a little. I think of Daniela…and then I think of Vaan. Daniela's surrounded by people who love and care for her. Vaan's alone. "I need to stay with him. He needs me."

  "Figured I'd ask anyhow."

  "I know." I gaze down at the road, determined not to look back and scan the skies for Vaan. I don't want to seem too needy. Well, needier than I already am. Oddly enough, I miss having him here at my side, touching my hand and twining his fingers with mine. Such a small touch, but I find it's the small touches that linger in my mind.

  "Are we close?"

  "Pretty close." I hope Vaan returns soon. "Next exit ramp."

  Mara coughs again. "Weird question, but is your fort supposed to be burning?"

  I look up, startled. Sure enough, there's a column of black sm
oke dead ahead, right where Fort Shreveport is. My entire body freezes with terror. "Oh my god."

  28

  VAAN

  A nearby panicked scream pierces my soul. The storms rage in like thunder, a torrential downpour of fury and madness that threatens to suck my consciousness away. I immediately bellow an answering call, lost to emotion.

  My mate.

  My mate is in danger.

  With a furious cry, I wheel about, following her scent through the sky and tracing it down to the broken path she follows. Another female's stink pervades the air, and for a moment, bloodlust rages through me. The urge to rip, to rend, to tear apart snaps through my mind, lightning quick, and fire blossoms in my mouth. I open my jaws wide, ready to flame.

  The second female drops to the ground and scrambles under one of the metal carcasses that line the road, even as my mate staggers forward, running between them and climbing over rocks. She sobs, and I can smell the scent of her eye-sweat on the air. I can pause to destroy the other female—to claw open her hiding place and tear her limb from limb—but my mate needs me. I glide forward and scoop her up in my claws, clutching her against my breast as I bellow a challenge toward any attackers.

  "No, Vaan," my female chokes out, her hand slapping at my scales. "Ptmdn!" She points at the distance, where the familiar, pleasing scent of ash tells me that one of my brethren has been here.

  My senses flare with alertness. Another scent is upon the air. Another drakoni in battle-form. I snarl, bristling with anger as I tuck my wings close. The scents here slide together, flooding my mind in a never-ending storm. Humans. Smoke. Humans. Char. Ash. Humans. My mate.

  I struggle to think of her name. Her face. I know she is in my clutches, but I cannot see her.

  I cannot see her. The storms threaten to tear her away from me.

  I force my snarling, surging thoughts to focus in on her. The thunder in my head eases just a little, just enough for her worried face to come through.

  Gwen.

  She is Gwen.

  I pull her to my muzzle and run my nose over her soft face, her hair. She likes it when I stroke her hair. It makes her eyes stop sweating. I remember that. I croon softly to her, sending mental link after mental link to her, desperate for her to pick up the connection between us, to touch her mind to mine and anchor us both. There is nothing there, and despair makes the storms rage once more.

  A soft brown hand caresses my nose. "Vaan. Ptmdn, please." Her voice is soft, so tender. So beautiful.

  I nuzzle her close again.

  She gestures at me repeatedly as I caress her, and eventually I realize all these hand-wavings are supposed to communicate something. Ah. She wants me to set her down on the ground. Reluctantly, I do so.

  Gwen immediately races for the metal carcass and talks to the other human, pulling her out from underneath it. The other female stinks, but even so, I can smell her fear above all else. Good. I lower my head and whip my tail back and forth, agitated. If another drakoni is nearby, I will possibly have to fight him for my mate, since she does not carry my fires yet. He can have the other female, though. I will not fight over her.

  My mate pulls the trembling, filthy female forward and approaches me. She makes the gesture for me to shift forms, and I growl. I can protect her best in battle form. Why would I switch to a weaker body? But she insists, over and over again. I pretend not to hear her entreaties, even though it eats at me with every call of my name. The urge to protect her is too great to be ignored.

  As she continues to beg me to shift, though, my resolve weakens. Would it be such a terrible thing to please her? I could switch forms in an instant, the blink of an eye, really. Any drakoni arriving to challenge for her would be scented on the wind, and the smell here is hours old. The only other scent on the breeze is more humans and their hive. I can handle humans.

  Reluctantly, I shift forms and straighten, flexing my tense body as I look around, half-expecting to see a challenger attack from the shadows, seeking my glorious, desirable mate. When no one arises, I relax, just a little.

  Gwen comes to my side, touching my arm and speaking so fast that I cannot follow her words. Her eyes are sweating and she is panicked, gesturing at the fire in the distance. Ah. She worries over her human hive. This I understand. I cup her face in my hands, crooning at her until she calms and the deep, gasping breaths she takes slow down to more normal ones. She gives me a tremulous smile and points at it, indicating she wishes to go and see the damage herself.

  I can do this with her. I nod and gesture that she should lead the way. She gushes out a stream of relieved words, a brief smile returning to her face despite the sweating of her eyes, and then grabs my hand and drags me after her, yelling for the other human female to catch up.

  We race along the paths, the females panting hard at the strenuous journey, their bodies sheened with sweat. My mate wants to hurry to her hive. I jog at her side, pacing my footsteps with hers. The stink of the human hive grows greater with every breath, drawing the storm clouds ever closer to my mind. I hold tight to my Gwen's hand, repeating her name over and over in my head to anchor myself. It will not be easy to enter the human hive, but I will not leave Gwen's side for a moment.

  Where she goes, I go.

  My mate chokes out a patter of words too quick for me to decipher. With her free hand, she swipes at her sweating eyes and then gestures at the hive up ahead. The smell is overwhelming now, threaded with the scent of ash and smoke. In the distance, I can hear the movement of dozens of human feet, hear the low buzz of many voices. I do not like even one human accompanying Gwen, and now I must deal with handful after handful of them, it seems. But this is what she wants. If this is where she wishes to nest, I will not be happy, but I will endure it until it breaks my mind.

  My mind is shattered anyhow. More chaos on top of the existing chaos will not change much.

  I clutch my mate's sweaty hand in my grasp and try to focus on the world around me. Up ahead, I see gates and flimsy, honeycombed walls that stink of metal. If they are made to keep the nest safe, they are a poor defense. A memory flashes through my mind—white stone walls rising out of a reddish desert, hiding verdant green behind them. In the distance, the shimmer of the ocean, the smell of salt spray.

  And darkness. So much darkness and hate.

  I growl at the thought, because just that very flash of memory makes the storm clouds push inward.

  "No, Vaan," Gwen murmurs, squeezing my hand. "Sokay."

  Some of the clouds vanish, but I continue to rumble low in my chest, wary. My scales prick with the sense of wrongness that teases at the back of my mind. The honeycombed, thin walls of the human hive flick back and forth with the memory of white stone, displacing over and over. The two worlds blur together, and with them, my sense of unease grows.

  "Stop," a human calls out ahead, speaking a word I understand. It is a female, unmated. So many here unmated. It makes me restless, knowing that there will be other drakoni males lurking nearby, waiting to snatch one up. This is unsafe territory, and the growl rises in my throat once more.

  Gwen steps forward, pulling her hand from mine. She says soft words to the females standing in front of the gate, her hands in the air. They make happy noises at the sight of her, but their gaze flicks over to me repeatedly. It is clear they do not know what to make of me. I bare my teeth at them menacingly, and one averts her eyes, her fear smell growing. She gestures at Gwen's smelly human that has been traveling with us, and then my mate steps forward again, this time with her arms in the air.

  One of the new females has the audacity to put a hand on her.

  I snarl, leaping forward. I grab the female by the throat and raise her into the air. How dare she touch my mate? Thunder blackens my thoughts, and there is nothing but rage and storms crashing through my mind, the urge to kill rising steadily. It does not matter that she is female—she will die for touching what is mine.

  "Vaan," a female calls out. A familiar voice. The clouds drift
apart, and I turn my head, ready to snarl at the voice.

  It is my female, with her big brown eyes. I struggle to think of her name, hating that the storms have stolen that from me, time and time again. I know who she is. I do. But as I try to focus, the female in my grip twitches, and the lightning surges in my mind.

  "Gwen," my female says softly.

  Gwen. I remember. "Gwen," I rumble, pleased at the sound. I like her name on my tongue. I remember another word that goes with it, the human word for mouth affection. "Ksme."

  "Vaan." Her tone is gentle even as she puts a hand on my arm, lowering it. "No." When I turn to look at her, she makes the hunting gesture and shakes her head again. "No."

  No hunt? Does she wish to keep this human, too? With a disgusted sound, I drop the human in my grip, casting her aside and moving toward my Gwen. She is the only one I tolerate. I bury my claws in the thick, dark tangle of her lovely hair and rub my face against it, saturating my senses with her scent to drown out the others.

  Her hands lightly touch my back and then she caresses my arms, all the while murmuring soft things to the other humans.

  I do not like this habit of keeping other unmated females, but I am a strong drakoni warrior. If I must fight off others looking to claim my human's pets to make my mate happy, then I shall do so.

  29

  GWEN

  Cass rubs her bruised throat, casting hurt looks in my direction as Vaan nuzzles at my neck, rumbling his pleasure.

  "I'm sorry," I tell her for the tenth time as Becka pats down Mara for weapons. "He's possessive."

  "I thought when you guys mated it was supposed to make everything better. Isn't that what Amy said?" She shakes her head at me. "Andrea said you left to fix him, but he's just as crazy as before."

  "I'm not fixing anyone." It irks me that they think he's a dangerous mess. Wild, yes. Different in his thinking than we are, sure. But Vaan doesn't need to be fixed. He needs to be loved for who he is. "He's not broken."