by Ruby Dixon
We’re going to draw them to the building, and then we’re going to take them down. I feel a surge of elation as we move through the streets.
We’re doing this. We’re going to win. Azar doesn’t stand a chance.
“Is it working?” Amy whispers, clinging to my back as Zohr lumbers through the city. Above, Dakh and Kael dart through the clouds, their mates on their backs. They’re running interference in case another dragon decides to come and check out the scent trail we’re leaving.
“Oh yeah,” I say, and practically chortle with glee.
Come and get some, you son of a bitch.
AMY
It’s hot and sticky outside. The sun is baking me alive after months of hiding, and I’m pretty sure my scalp is burning from the rays that pound down relentlessly from above. It’s hot, and there’s a smell of char in the air, and there are ruined cars all along the road that we ride down. I cling to Emma, and the saddle pinches my butt uncomfortably, and my bad leg aches as if I’ve been standing on it for hours.
I’ve not felt so…alive…in forever.
There’s a fresh breeze. Distant birds are twittering. The air is full of all kinds of fresh smells—some good and some not so good. There’s no perfume. There’s no stagnant heat suffocating me in my little hotbox of a room. The sunlight is overwhelmingly bright and I love it.
I want to stay outside forever and be free, but I know I can’t. Even now, the thought of returning to my room, trapped and bored and oh god, so damn lonely, it makes me want to scream.
I pull a wad of fabric from my pocket and clutch it tightly in my hand. It’s my panties. No one saw me take them off when I was changing. I deliberately pulled my clothes off underneath my shirt and skirt, because I didn’t want Emma to see what I was up to. I mean, yes, I was shy at the thought of undressing in front of her and her dragon, but there was an ulterior motive. My panties are now clutched tight in my hand, and I’m waiting for the right moment to drop them. The breath catches in my throat and I can feel my heart pounding with both excitement and terror.
Do I want to do this? Can I? Do I know what I’m getting into if I do such a thing?
I close my eyes, and the cool breeze ruffles my hair against my sweaty face. It smells like grass and distant ashes, but it also smells fresh. Pure.
It decides me. I want this.
Swallowing hard, I wait until we pass a tall patch of reeds that overgrows the ancient curb and spills onto the road. We lumber past, the dragon moving slowly and pitching his tail back and forth. At the last moment, I flick my panties into the grass.
I hold my breath, waiting for Zohr to bellow a warning. Waiting for Emma to ask me what the fuck I’m doing. But no one says anything. No one’s noticed. Instead, Emma chuckles low and murmurs something under her breath, stroking her dragon’s scaly neck. I can feel a rumble deep in the dragon’s belly that sounds like laughter. They’re taking no notice of me.
I close my eyes and make a little wish.
Please come find me. Someone. Anyone. I can’t keep living in a prison. Come find me…and love me.
37
EMMA
Hour after quiet hour passes.
We wait, ready for Azar and his men in the building with the banner ruffling in the breeze. Amy’s back home, safely ensconced and perfumed in her hidey-hole, Claudia hovering over her and making sure she’s protected. I know Claudia’s frustrated at me for using her sister as bait, but she knows this is the right thing to do.
The plan should have worked perfectly, but as the night passes and daylight approaches without so much as a motorcycle zooming through the city, I’m forced to admit that Azar hasn’t fallen for our bait.
He’s not coming for “Felicia.” No one is. He’s not sending his men out to scoop up a young, fresh female for dragon bait. Either he’s onto us or he doesn’t need her. Either way, he’s not coming.
I clench my fists in my hiding spot on the third floor of the building, frustrated. I have a gun and three Molotovs at my side. Zohr waits in human form next to me, ready to shift to battle-form at a moment’s notice. Several floors up, Kael and Dakh wait, Dakh’s mate nearby and armed to the teeth.
All for nothing.
It is dawn, Zohr says. Claudia and Sasha are going to rest for a few hours. You should, too.
“I’m fine,” I tell him, picking up my binoculars and scanning the streets below again.
My fires, if he comes, I will smell him. Zohr brushes the hair off my cheek with his claws in a tender, loving gesture. You can rest. I will wake you.
“I’m okay,” I tell him stubbornly. “I want to stay awake. I know the moment I go to sleep, he’s going to show his ass up, and I want to be ready to put a bullet between his eyes.”
Very well. He drags his claw along my chin. But if you grow tired, you should rest.
I won’t grow tired. I know I won’t. I’m too keyed up. Too anxious to get this over and done with. I want to move on. I want our lives to move forward, and we can’t with Azar lurking in the shadows. But I nod at him and we settle back in to wait a bit longer.
I doze some throughout the day. It can’t be helped. The afternoon’s impossibly hot and the muggy heat gets to me. I drift back and forth between exhausted sleep and wakefulness. It’s quiet, the only sound that of the wind itself.
There are no motorcycles. No dragons, other than the one at my side. No nothing.
I eat my meals without tasting anything. I drink to stay hydrated, and I clutch my gun, hoping against hope that he’s going to show his face. It’s going to be at the very last moment I expect it, I know. That’s why I can’t leave my post. That’s why I have to stay alert and ready.
It’s my job to bring this to a close.
Dusk. Fuck.
I wake near dawn, only to realize two things.
I’ve slept for nearly ten hours.
And Azar still hasn’t arrived.
He’s not coming. He’s not falling into our trap. Goddamn it. I clench my fists even as I rub sleep out of my eyes. Still nothing? I ask Zohr.
Nothing. His eyes whirl with gold, a hint of black at the edges. He gazes out at the empty streets, clearly frustrated. Not a sound or a scent. There is nothing. No one has even come close. The others are giving up for now. Kael and Dakh will be leaving. Dakh’s mate needs to rest and Kael worries for his mate. We will regroup and decide a new plan after everyone has slept.
I should agree with this. Go along with what they have suggested. It’s nice and sensible. We came here for help and they’re going to give it to us. It’s just…we’ve now wasted two days being sensible. How many other dragons are going to die while we wait “sensibly”? What am I going to do if Azar snares my Zohr again while we are being “patient”?
Fuck that.
I agree, Zohr says, picking up on my thoughts. He puts a hand to the back of my neck and clasps it, his touch warm. Do we do this our way?
I’m filled with a rush of gratitude and love for the guy. He gets how I feel. He understands. I don’t have to explain myself to my dragon—he knows. I nod. Yup. We go after him. You and me. We do this the way it should be done.
The expression on his face is determined. We take care of the problem so we can focus on other things. His eyes grow hooded, sultry. Like ensuring you will carry my young.
Ensuring, huh? I think that’s a polite way of saying you just wanna bang a lot.
I do not want to bang things. I want to mate you. His mouth curls in a hint of a smile. There’s so much promise in that one small expression that it makes me breathless.
Same thing, babe. Same thing.
38
EMMA
Weirdly enough, Zohr remembers the way to Azar’s stronghold. Or rather, his own scent is still thick enough on the ground, weeks later, for him to be able to trace it back. I ride atop him, my gun hitched against my side, a helmet and goggles on my head. I’m even wearing a bullet-proof vest I found at an old Army Navy store. I’m ready for anything.
No one has been through here for weeks.
Okay, ready for anything but that. “What do you mean? Do you think they left?”
Azar has not left. That much we know. Zohr’s thoughts are wry. But it is odd. His humans have very few scent trails to mark that they have been here. I do not smell their metal mounts, either.
No motorcycles and no men. I don’t understand. “Do you think we’re walking into a trap, then?”
I do not know…but I know of only one way to find out.
“Yeah, me too.” Ugh. I’m not sure I like the thought, but as long as we know it’s a trap, hopefully we can counter it. “Still want to go ahead?”
Always.
Me, too. I won’t be able to sleep well until I know the bastard’s gone. “Then we keep going.”
We move through the streets, Zohr’s big legs eating up ground. I’m not tired anymore. I’m too tense and ready for something—anything—to happen. Even a bunch of armed bikers jumping out at us would work for me, because then I wouldn’t have to wonder any longer.
But there’s just…nothing.
I mean, there are broken cars everywhere and empty shells of buildings. There are patches of burned grass on hills and weeds poking up through cracks and all the devastation that accompanies an old city that’s been abandoned. But as we get closer and closer and I see the old chain hotel on the horizon and there’s still no sign of Azar and his men? I worry. At this point, they should have had perimeter guards of some kind. A patrol.
Something.
“It’s too quiet,” I murmur to Zohr. “I don’t like this.”
Nor I. There are no scents, either. He lifts his enormous head and sniffs the air, then glances back at me with one big dragon-y eye. I smell Azar nearby, though. And one other. All of the other scents are…very old.
“How old?” I ask.
He lowers his head and sniffs again. Fresher than my trail but not recent. Maybe a handful of days or longer.
So sometime between when we escaped and the last week, all of Azar’s men disappeared? Did they leave? It makes no sense.
It makes a little more sense as we continue forward, and at the front of the hotel there’s an old flagpole. The metal is burnt and discolored, a dark circle of char marking the concrete all around it. There’s ash everywhere, and old rusty-looking stains that are obviously blood. On the pole itself, I see handcuffs, just as charred and burned as everything else.
I wrinkle my nose. “I guess we found how he’s luring the dragons.” My stomach is a little queasy at the sight, because mixed in all that ash are human bones and the remains of people I talked to and lived around for a brief period of time. I try to find sympathy in my heart for them for the ugly fate they’ve suffered…but they were awful people. Nomads—especially Azar’s nomads—are rapists, murderers, and outcasts. It’s hard to feel pity for them, though no one should die like they did.
He waits inside, Zohr tells me, shifting on his haunches. His thoughts show me a picture of the big double doors of the hotel, and I’m not surprised to see that they’re still whole, the glass clean of ash. Azar likes tidiness, after all. Maybe that’s why he kept someone alive—as a glorified maid.
And the other? I ask Zohr. The other human we smell?
Inside, as well. I do not think either will come out, not if they have heard—or smelled—our approach.
“Then we go in after him,” I murmur. “Be ready to dragon out the moment you’re in danger, though. I don’t care how much of the building you take out with you.”
Zohr rumbles in amusement. Very well. As long as you are safe, I will “dragon out” as needed.
I unbuckle from my riding harness and slide off his back, thumping to the ground. My legs are a little wobbly after the long ride, and I stretch cautiously, looking around to make sure we’re not about to get jumped. My dragon noses me with affection, his thoughts full of love, and then in the next moment, I hear the clink of harnesses as they fall to the ground. Zohr steps out of them, all naked, bronzed god, and moves to my side.
I swallow hard. He’s very naked, and it’s not causing me to think filthy thoughts but worried ones. All of that gorgeous skin is unprotected in his human form. “You want to borrow my flak jacket, babe?”
No. He leans in and pulls me close, rubbing his nose against my jaw and neck. I would keep you safe at all costs.
I’m not thrilled about that, but it’s too late to turn around and get a second one. “Then stay behind me.”
His eyes flare. No. I will protect you.
“With what? Your fabulous skin tone? Your shining golden locks of hair?” I snort and wave a hand at my gun. “Sorry, babe, but this trumps all of your good intentions. I have the gun and the vest. I walk in front.”
Zohr glares at me.
I glare right back.
If you are in danger—
“Then we’re both screwed. But let’s not stand out here arguing this all day, all right?” I reach up and pull him down, impulsively giving him a quick, hard kiss. “Let’s do this.”
Then lead, if you must lead. He doesn’t sound thrilled.
He doesn’t have to be thrilled. That’s fine. I tuck my assault rifle under my arm and move forward, trying to be stealthy and quiet. It’s not so easy with my vest flapping against my clothing and the strap of the gun jiggling, but I do my best.
I move to the double doors and peer through the glass, trying to see inside. The lobby’s empty. No surprise there. The walls are covered in graffiti, but the floor is spotlessly clean. Huh. I pull the door open, gesture for Zohr to follow me, and in we go.
Inside, it’s quiet. I don’t hear anything at all. Smell anything? I ask.
The other human is that way, Zohr tells me, and points at a door at the far end of the lobby, behind the desk.
Let’s take him out first, I tell my dragon, and stealthily creep forward. There’s no one behind the desk, so I move to the door and then listen quietly. There’s a low snuffling sound, and I wrinkle my nose in surprise, trying to figure it out. What the hell is that?
Zohr has no idea, either. His thoughts are one big shrug.
I suppose we go find out, I tell him. Love you, babe. I send the thoughts with a fierce push and then fling the door open, stepping through with my gun.
Inside, the room itself looks like an office. Or it used to be an office. The desks have been pushed back against the wall and the floor itself has a few empty bunks comprised of sleeping bags. Titty magazines are neatly stacked in one corner, and there’s a half-empty water bottle next to them. On one bunk, someone lies with his back to the door. His shoulders shake and tremble, and he rolls over to look at us, his face wet.
He’s surprised to see me. I’m just as surprised to see him, and crying to boot. “Old Jerry?”
“Emma? What the fuck are you doing back?” He swipes at his lined face then runs a hand down his beard, sitting up. “You’re here to kill him, aren’t you?” His shoulders sag. “Good. Bastard needs killing.”
I lower my gun slightly. “Jerry, what happened here? Where’d everyone go?”
“Go?” He begins to laugh, his voice taking on a hysterical edge. “No one went anywhere. They’re all dead except for me.”
I swallow hard. “Dead? All of them?”
“All of them,” Old Jerry confirms, wiping at his sweating brow with a pudgy hand. “Fed ’em to dragons.”
Bait, Zohr confirms in my thoughts. But the females cannot be brought to sanity. Not like I was.
I turn toward my dragon. No?
They must be conquered in order to give in to the mating request. A female would approach a male and then initiate an attack, expecting him to attack in return. Only if he conquers her is he deemed worthy of mating with her.
Eesh. And if he doesn’t?
Then it is one less weakling to be bred.
The dragon form of Darwinism, I guess. Kinda ruthless, but I guess it makes sense for a warrior race. It also explains why there’s not
hing left of Azar’s men but a few splatters on the pavement. I guess he lured them in close enough and was somehow able to hook into their minds. Terrible for both human and dragon. “And you’re next?” I ask Jerry, nudging him with my shoe.
He shakes his head, trembling. “I told him he needed someone to cook and keep the place tidy. Azar don’t like messes.”
Well, that explains why the interior of this place—even this room—is so clean. A very terrified Old Jerry is housekeeping within an inch of his shitty life. I have no doubt he bargained his way into safety over someone else, because that’s how Azar’s crew works. Throw someone else under the bus, just as long as it isn’t you. That’s how you survive—by stepping on others.
I don’t know if I feel pity for Old Jerry or disgust. He swipes at his face again, wet from either sweat or tears—or both—and gives me a pitiful look under his mop of stringy gray hair.
What do you want to do with him? Zohr asks. Shall I change to battle-form and devour him?
Ick. No, babe. I’d wonder if you had bits of Old Jerry in your mouth every time I kissed you, and I like kissing you far too much. But he’s got a point. Old Jerry’s a piece of shit no matter how you look at it. We can’t let him go. He’s still Team Azar. You don’t turn your back to someone like that. He could show up again a year from now and make our lives hell. He could turn around and murder a mom and her kids for their shelter. He has no scruples.
I raise my gun to his head.
Old Jerry starts to cry again. He closes his eyes. “Make it quick, girl.”
Fuck. I stare at him, his greasy forehead an inch from the barrel of my weapon. I know he’s a bad man. I’ve seen him do bad things. I’ve heard him talk about worse things. I know letting him go is a mistake. I know it. I know this is the smart thing to do. Jack would have no qualms about this.