by Ruby Dixon
HIDE.
The thought roars through my mind even as Zohr trumpets furiously outside.
There’s no time to think; I do as he says. There’s a fallen bookshelf leaning against another a short sprint away, and I dive into the cubbyhole it makes.
I manage to squeeze my body under it a brief moment before the roof collapses.
25
ZOHR
The crazed red female attacks the roof of the building that houses my mate. Her claws scrabble against the roof, and she roars with frustration as she pries it open.
I call out another trumpeted threat, but she ignores it. She will not look at me. She ignores my insistent warnings for her to leave my nest. This makes no sense. Surely she can smell my mate, can scent that the human has taken my fires. There is no need for her to approach. There is nothing here for her. I shove another mental warning toward her.
She ignores it and changes her mental call. It is not an acknowledgment of my warning, but a blank request to connect minds. Over and over she sends it, wanting to touch thoughts with me. I Ignore it, though it goes against my instincts to do so. If she is in her mind enough to send out a greeting, why does she ignore me?
When the female peels back more of the roof with furious claws, I send another blast of warning and slam my tail against the building in frustration.
The female dragon looks up, hissing, and I realize her eyes are not the black of deep emotion, of crazed hunger. They are not the gold of calm, either.
They are a strange, thick gray.
I have seen that strange gray before. Azar.
When she lowers her head again and renews her efforts to claw at the roof, I realize that it is not me she is after.
She wants my Emma. My mate.
HIDE, I warn my mate, even as I launch myself against the building. I must get to the female. I have to stop her before she can endanger Emma.
I get a flash of Emma’s thoughts, and she acts quickly. I do, too. I dig my claws into the side of the building and begin to climb. My wings extend automatically, but they feel weak and will not support my weight. I will have to use my limbs to go after her, to fight on the ground instead of the air. But if she flies, I will not be able to go after her.
I must disable her wings, then. The thought sits ill with me, but when the female renews her attacks on the building that my Emma hides in, I have no choice.
I will protect my mate.
What’s happening? Emma asks. How can I help?
My mate is brave. The female is coming after you. Azar has taken her mind. Stay hidden!
I will, but she’s shaking the building, Zohr. Emma’s thoughts are worried. And I’m currently hiding in a mountain of paper. If she uses fire…
Terror courses through me, and I redouble my efforts to climb to the top of the building. I will stop her, I vow. Stay out of sight.
Don’t have to tell me twice! Emma agrees. I sense from the scatter of images in her thoughts that she’s crawling around on the floor, knife in hand, looking for a better hiding spot.
I haul myself over the edge of the building, my crumpled wings flapping furiously in useless frustration. I hate this. I hate how slow I am, how my claws dig into the stone, slowing me down as the stone crumbles under my feet. In the past, I would have flown to the female’s side and torn her head off in the blink of an eye. Now I am slow. Encumbered. I do not like it.
Most of all, I hate that it endangers my mate. Azar will pay for this, too.
I make it to the top and thump onto the surface of the roof, issuing a warning cry. She has one last chance to get away from my mate.
Again, the female sends her thoughts out to me, and her strange gray eyes whirl. I want more than anything to connect with her—or Azar—and tell him that I know what he is up to. That I am aware of him, that I will never let him have my Emma. But memories flash through my mind—of others who have lost all sense of who they are, carrying the hated Salorians on their backs as they stare ahead with cold, dead gray eyes.
Not again. I do not remember, but I sense that in the past, I have been where she is. I know I cannot go back to that. My thoughts are hazy, but I know it is wrong. It is bad. I will lose all sense of self.
I will become like this female—mindless. And I have been crazed for far too long, already.
I resist her mental entreaties and lunge forward, snapping at her. Vague memories of fighting tactics surge into my mind. Of tricking your opponent with feints. Of dodging and moving low when she moves high. Of feigning injuries to force your opponent to lower his guard and then moving in for the kill. Of training amongst other warriors and long-forgotten drills. Flashes of this wing back through my mind and I use these old memories. When she lunges for me with her claws, hissing, I slide to the side, then ram her with my bulk. I knock her off her feet and she stumbles backward. Her wings flare out to catch herself and re-balance, and that is when I use my claws to strike.
I go for the root of each wing, clawing and snarling. I know to dig where the scales part to expose tender flesh, just as Azar knew where to place the spikes on my vest to destroy my own wings. I remember that it is dishonorable to do such a thing to another, but my mate is in danger and I care nothing about honor when Emma’s safety is at stake.
The female bugles distress, releasing a torrent of flames in my direction. She tries to roll her body to protect her wings from me, but my talons are locked onto her and I gouge at her flesh with tooth and claw.
She gives another bellow of pain as I connect, and I can feel delicate membranes tear apart underneath my grip. Furious, she snarls at me and lashes out, trying to bite at my throat.
I shift my weight to avoid her, and then the surface we fight on crumbles and gives way. The roof collapses and we fall through into the store. Dust and paper and broken wood surround us in a cloud.
Emma!
I struggle to get to my feet, to right my body. At my side, the attacking female does, as well.
I’m okay, comes the thought. Look after yourself! She’s biting at you!
The female pounces onto my back a moment later, snarling, and goes for the roots of my wings. I roll my body, trying to prevent her from grabbing hold. Over and over we roll, trying to get the advantage on the other. My claws slide off her scales only to have hers do the same. She snaps her teeth at me in a warning, her mind pressuring my own to accept her call, but there is no recognition in her blank gray eyes, only madness. There will be no stopping her until one of us dies.
She lunges for my throat, and I duck my head, and then we flip over again. This time, the female lands on top of me and her jaws close around the back of my neck. My scales are heavily plated here, but it is a warning and request for submission.
That will not happen. Not this day.
A book comes sailing through the air and smacks the female on the nose. “Leave him alone, bitch!”
Shocked, I realize that it is my small human mate who attacks. Another book flies across the room and hits the female, and she lifts her head. A moment later, she bounds off of me and heads for Emma, who has another book in her hands and readies to throw it.
No! If she takes Emma…
I snarl and lunge at the female’s wing, tearing at the wound I created. She bellows in pain and retreats, and I move between Emma and the female protectively. She will not touch my human.
I send out another surge of warning through my thoughts, increasing the force of them. Emma is mine.
The female pauses, and the gray flickers out of her eyes. They sink to black for a moment, and I sense that Azar’s hold has grown weak. A moment later, her eyes return to gray. The insistent call she is sending out in her thoughts disappears. She bellows another warning at me, snaps at the air, and then spreads her wings, launching herself into the sky. I note with pleasure that she struggles as she goes aloft, and I can smell her blood in the air.
Good.
I watch her go with grim satisfaction. Azar is taking her away to regroup an
d decide upon a new plan.
For now, though, my Emma is safe.
I turn to my human, nuzzling her. Her hair smells of dust and she’s panting and sweaty, her eyes wide. There’s a faint scent of fear on her, but she seems more confused than anything. “What just happened? Why were her eyes gray?”
Azar has her mind.
Emma’s eyes widen. “I knew it! And was he trying to take you over, too?”
Possibly. I think he was more interested in stealing you and forcing me to come after you. The thought is a horrific one. I nose her to make sure she is all right, that she has no wounds. She does not smell of blood, so that pleases me. You should have stayed hidden, my fires.
“Right, like I’m going to sit with my thumb up my ass while she tries to kill you? Not likely.” Her hands move over my snout. “Are you okay? You have blood all over your face.”
It is not mine, I reassure her.
Her small nose wrinkles at the realization, and she looks at the smear on her hand and then wipes it on my scales. “I should have guessed.” She pats my scales. “You’re too fierce for it to be yours.”
I nose her again. I like her affection, but I worry that we cannot stay here. Gather your things. We must leave this place before Azar sends the female back.
She nods quickly. “Since we can’t fly, we’ll need to travel on the ground. Will she be able to follow your scent?”
My mate is clever. I nod. We will need to find a way to cover our trail. How, I’m not exactly sure. In the past, I would simply take to the air, but without the ability to fly, everywhere I step will leave a scent trail.
My Emma gets a devious smile on her face. “You leave that to me.”
26
ZOHR
A pained groan slips from between my teeth.
Standing on one of my wings, her hands covered in lotion, a sweaty Emma looks over at me, a hint of alarm in her thoughts. “Did I hurt you?”
Only with your scent, I tell her sourly, and concentrate on breathing through my mouth.
Laughter peals from her throat and she wipes her forehead, then returns to working on stretching the tight tendons in my wings. “Quit being such a baby. It’s only perfume.”
It is terrible. It makes my face hurt.
“It’ll hurt a lot more if Azar’s dragons find us again,” she says, her voice cheery. Her hands work over my wings, pushing hard, and I can sense her exhaustion despite her upbeat manner. She is tired, but she is determined to not give up. “How about the wings? How are they feeling?”
They ache, but I hope the ache means good things, so I ignore it. Well enough. You should rest. Do not work yourself so hard. We might need to travel again tomorrow. When she ignores my suggestion, I nip the back of her shirt and drag her off of my wing.
“Hey!” she protests. “I’m trying to help, dammit.”
You are helping, I assure her. But it will not be fixed tonight, no matter how hard you work. It is time to rest. I set her gently on the ground between my forelegs and then nose her sweet mane. I take a deep breath, wanting to savor her scent—and then choke on the perfume that overwhelms my nose.
She sighs and sits down on the ground, crossing her legs under her. “I guess you’re right.” She swipes at her arms and legs, which are covered in more of the lotion and rubs at them. “Least my skin will be soft, right?”
You are already soft, I reassure her. I want to grab her in my claws and clasp her against my scales, but I know she does not like that. My Emma does not like to feel trapped. Instead, I just nudge her with my nose again. You will rest now?
“I’ll rest,” she agrees, and flops down on her back, closing her eyes. “Glad we found this place, though.”
I send a thought of assent, though it does not matter to me where we go. I have no home here in this strange world. I do not care where I am as long as she is at my side and she is safe. As long as Emma is pleased with where we are at, I am content. Emma calls this strange building a “wholesale club.” I do not know what these things mean, but the ceiling is high and there are many boxes of human things up high that intrigue Emma. She wants to explore them tomorrow and I have promised her we will…as long as it is safe.
It has been a strange afternoon. Once the female drakoni flew off, retreating to Azar, Emma wasted no time. She put on her strange “clothing” skins, gathered her bags, and climbed onto my back. From there, she directed me where to travel. We crossed many streets, and when we found a stream full of murky, scum-covered water, she got excited. That was our way to hide our scent, she told me.
We traveled for many hours wading through the water. I did not like the scent much, but it was cool on my scales and Emma was pleased. Truly, pleasing my mate is all that matters. I caught her a fish that wiggled against my claws and she was delighted. We paused to cook it on the shore of the stream, and Emma ate her fill of the white, flaky flesh and then gave the rest to me. It tasted fine, I suppose, but her giggles as I ate were far more pleasing.
Apparently humans do not eat their fish whole, scales and all.
After that, we continued on through the stream until we saw this place—the wholesale club—in the distance. Emma directed me toward it, and I changed to human form so we could enter its doors. They are made of more of the glass that humans seem to favor in their buildings, but heavily cracked and smeared with dirt. Emma picked the locks with ease, and then we went inside. I explored it first to ensure that there were no humans waiting to harm my mate, but the scents here were old and stale. No humans have been here for many, many days.
I expected Emma to rest now that we were relatively safe, but my mate had other plans. She immediately raced through the building, looking for specific items. I was surprised when she grew excited at the discovery of the perfume aisle, and even more surprised when she had me sniff each one until I told her which smelled the worst.
I should have chosen more carefully, because she promptly took several bottles of the foul-smelling perfume and smashed them at the entrance and then insisted we rub ourselves down with it. Even now, I still smell of something called “patchouli” and it makes my eyes water and my snout itch.
She is not wrong, though; no dragon will come near this scent. You cannot smell anything under it. I do not even think I can smell my own hide.
After that, my Emma did not stop. She stripped off her skins—which excited me—and then insisted I change back to battle-form so she could work on my wings—which excited me less. I let her push and pull and stretch them for a long time, and now they ache.
I lift one of my sore wings, examining it. I cannot tell a difference despite Emma’s long hours of work. The wings still look small and crumpled, and the tissues feel thicker than they should. She is wearing herself out for nothing.
“Not for nothing,” she mumbles, yawning. “Give it time. We’re not going to give up on them.”
I want to ask her if she has decided if she is going to stay with me, but I do not press her on it. Instead, I shift to my two-legged form and move to her side, intent on kissing her. I lie down on the hard ground next to her, but when she does not open her eyes, I realize just how tired my Emma is. There will be other times to claim her as mine.
Tomorrow, I think. We have been interrupted too many times, and I want to replenish her scent with mine. A drakoni’s mate’s scent is strongest when she has been repeatedly claimed by her male. Emma’s scent is pleasant, but I want her to be so covered in my scent that I can smell it even through this terrible perfume.
Tomorrow, I vow. Tomorrow Emma is mine.
She turns toward me and slides her arms around my waist, tucking her face against my arm. “Floor’s hard.”
Shall I find you something soft to lie upon?
“Nah,” she says, not moving. Her voice is sleepy. “Just let me use you as a pillow.”
Gladly. I hold her close, tucking her head under my chin.
“How do you think he got her?” Emma asks after a moment. “Azar and the fem
ale?”
I think for a moment, tracing my claws down one of her arms. She is so soft and fragile, my mate. Nothing like the fierce drakoni female that attacked us earlier. It would not take much for my human to be injured, and the thought fills me with deep-seated fear. I must find a way to make my Emma safe. As long as Azar exists, he will try to harm her, because he wants to control me. I do not know. Likely he lured her as he did me.
“With scent?” Emma snorts lightly. “I doubt Azar has any male virgins lying around.”
They do not need to be virgins. She would have looked for a challenge.
Her nose wrinkles and she opens her eyes, sitting up to frown down at me. “So he challenged her?”
I do not know if he did. I think all he would need to do is touch his mind to hers, and then he could capture her. The minds of the Salorians are like poison. One touch and they can take over. I tap her temple lightly. If I had connected my mind to the female’s without realizing she was controlled by Azar, he would have trapped me, as well.
She looks miserable at the thought. “That’s awful.”
I suppress a shudder, an old memory playing at the back of my mind. I think it has happened in the past. I do not recall, but it seems familiar. Terrible and familiar.
Emma caresses my chest with her small hand. “How do you break free again?”
I do not know.
And it worries me that I do not.
EMMA
The desert air is warm against my scales. I spread my wings in the sunlight, soaking in the heat. It will be a lazy day, I think, with no plans but to sun myself on the nearby rocks.
But then…she calls.
I take to the air, gliding away from the distant, jagged mountains and heading over the reddish sands. Toward the central nest, where the sands give way to gardens of the most incredible greens. I pick up her scent on the breeze and follow it in. She is there, sitting near a fountain, her fingers touching the cool water. Her scent is the most incredible thing I have ever smelled and I am impossibly drawn to it. I dive, changing to two-legged form just before I hit the ground, and bow at her feet.