by Ruby Dixon
And it’s completely my fault that I’m there. I’m the one responsible. I snuck out and went on the ledge. If I die—and it’s looking pretty good right now—it’s my own fault.
I squeeze my eyes shut again. I’m so sorry, Claudia. I asked for too much and look where it got me. I was just so darn lonely…
Even with my eyes shut, I can feel the air around me shift. There’s a hot breath against my skin and I snap my eyes open only to see the dragon’s moved his head down and is roaming over me, his snout inches away from touching my skin. I muffle a scream, because at this vantage point, I can see the long, white fangs jutting from under his lips. His scales are flecked with blood along his jaw and throat. Oh god.
I need to stop this. I need to be strong. Dragons are creatures that feed on prey, and humans have been prey far too many times. I lift my chin, trying to do my best to look defiant. Despite my best efforts to be brave, though, my body starts to tremble like there’s an earthquake in my belly. I can’t stop shivering with complete and utter fear as the dragon’s head moves over me, sniffing.
This doesn’t sound anything like how Kael and Claudia met. Isn’t he supposed to be friendly? Loving? Caring? I see none of this in the bloodstained muzzle before me, only death.
The snout touches me briefly and I flinch backward. I try to get a good look at his eyes—Claudia’s told me that black eyes means a lot of emotion, and that’s a bad thing when it comes to dragons. Their minds can be unstable and veer toward violence. A gold like their scales means that he’s calm.
“Hello?” I whisper to get his attention. I can’t quite manage to sound as brave as I want to be.
His head dips and one large, whirling eye focuses on me.
Great. His eye is equal parts black and gold, swirling together. I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean. I wish Claudia was here to interpret. Of course, if she was, I wouldn’t be in this mess. A hysterical little laugh bubbles up in my throat and I clamp a hand to my mouth, trying to swallow it back.
He studies me for a moment longer, and then his nose trails over my stomach. The dragon’s breath puffs out against my dress, and then he goes lower, nostrils grazing my hips and then moving to the dip between my thighs.
I freeze. He’s not…
The dragon places his snout directly against my pussy and breathes deep, as if he’s memorizing my scent through my dress.
He is! Outraged, a wordless sound escapes my throat and I can’t help myself—I push his nose forcefully away. “Don’t you dare!”
There’s a low, menacing growl, and that’s all the warning I get before the dragon grabs a handful of my dress, sniffs it again, and then rips it away from my body like he’s unwrapping a present.
I make another angry sound in my throat. My fear is creeping away to something else—outrage. Just who does he think he is? Dresses are precious in the After, and Claudia gave me that one for my birthday. “If you’re going to eat me, just do it,” I hiss at him, furious as I slap at the claws that descend toward me again. “Don’t toy with me like this. Just kill me and be done with it!”
His eyes flare with something—recognition? The clawed hand reaches for my nearly naked body once more, and I notice there’s a bit of grayish material tied over one claw, like tying a ribbon on your finger so you won’t forget. It’s the most absurd thing, and looks completely out of place on the fierce dragon. When he reaches forward with his claws, I can’t help but stare at that tiny scrap of fabric as it nears me.
No. I won’t allow this. I know I’ve been sheltered by Claudia, but this outrage is just as bad as the horrible men back in Fort Dallas. Groping and tearing at my clothes? Why did I ever imagine that a dragon-man would be any better than a human man? “You’re a monster just like the rest of them,” I tell him, shoving at his clawed foot when it nears me again. It’s like a game to him, but I’m not playing.
Screw this.
The dragon’s eyes whirl again, more gold than black, and then suddenly, it’s not a dragon any longer. It’s a man, crouching beside me on the concrete.
I suck in a breath at the sight of him, because blood-spattered, wild-eyed, crazy-haired and naked, he’s still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life. He’s far more wild and fierce than Kael or Dakh or any other dragon-man I’ve seen. His hair seems thicker than any of theirs, and it’s so snarled and matted that it looks like a golden cape down his back, and it’s so thick that it haloes his head like he’s an angel from one of the old stained-glass windows. His features are strong and proud, his brows and nose pronounced as if carved out of harsh stone. His body’s enormous, taller than any human man I’ve ever seen but still somehow lean, with terrifyingly long claws tipping each finger. The dapple on his skin is faint across his chest and deeper on his arms, which have long spikes along his elbows, reminiscent of his wings. His chest is taut with muscles, and I notice when he leans in, there’s a strange pale pattern on his neck. It takes me a moment to realize it’s scarring.
The dragon-man looks over my body with fascination, and I gaze at him, equally shocked. He’s…he’s really naked and really aroused. And oh my god. I’ve seen penises before. I grew up in Fort Dallas, which wasn’t the most private of places. But I’ve never seen one so golden…and so very erect. There’s no body hair to hide anything either, and he looks massive. My thighs tighten automatically.
He looks at me with fierce eyes, his lips curling in an almost smile, and then grabs one of my hands and pins it to the cement, over my head.
My terrified gasp echoes between us. What’s he doing?
The dragon-man leans over me and breathes deep, inhaling my scent in a way that makes me feel…strange. I don’t know what to think of how he’s acting, only that it makes me feel flustered and strange. Terrified and yet not at the same time. This is bizarre.
“Do you speak English?” I ask him. I know the answer is probably no, but the silence between us is far too charged for me to lie back and let him handle me and say nothing at all. “Let me go. Please.”
He keeps his clawed hand curled over my wrist and leans in. That “prey” feeling comes over me again. I push against the hand pinning me down, and that makes his eyes flare a deep gold with black at the rims. I suck in a breath, fascinated at the small change, and then I feel his weight settle over my hips, until he’s on top of me.
Even though I’m wearing panties, that feels too intimate. “No!” I cry, frightened. I buck up against him, trying to push him off, but it sends a tidal wave of pain through my bad leg—and only seems to excite him more. He growls low in his throat, a pleased sound, and runs his face along my shoulder, his hand tightening on my arm. His hips push up against mine, and I can feel his cock resting against my panties, and I’m terrified of the moment that he forces my legs apart. I don’t know what to do. Helpless and frustrated, I jerk my legs up again to kick him off—
And nearly black out at how much pain it sends through my bad leg.
I go still, trying to breathe through the agony. I know it’ll pass. I just have to wait for it to ebb. I close my eyes, trying to shut down to mentally protect myself, and as the pain slides away, I realize something curious.
The dragon-man on top of me isn’t moving.
I slide my eyes open, looking back up at him. He’s still above me, but the look of fierce need and pleasure on his face is gone. It’s been replaced by confusion…and frustration. He pushes at my arm again, as if daring me to fight him, and then watches my face.
It dawns on me then. He wants me to fight him. It turns him on.
I force myself to remain utterly still, taking in only small, shallow breaths and avoiding eye contact. I stare at the hand curled over my wrist instead. The golden skin, the heat of him that feels scorching hot enough to leave reddish marks against my flesh. The too-long talons that look dangerous and curious both. I try to recall if Kael’s were that long, and it feels strange to compare this dragon-man to my sister’s. They feel nothing alike. Kael is ut
terly devoted to my sister.
And this one…I don’t know what to think.
He growls low, and the sound is angry. Irritated. Frustrated. I continue to ignore him, trying to calm myself, to relax. I need to show nothing that will make him think I want to attack.
So I wait. And wait.
With a frustrated sound, he flings himself off of me, storming a few paces away.
I look over, scarcely daring to breathe. Is he…is he leaving me? But he only moves back and forth, flexing his hands in a fist over and over as if he doesn’t know what to do. His hair ripples out behind him like a messy curtain, and he looks as oddly beautiful as he is menacing. I think of the white scars at his neck…and then of the way he murdered my dragon. I swallow hard. I can’t afford to think he’s attractive. Not when he can snap me as easily as he snapped another dragon’s neck.
The dragon-man snarls and glances over at me again.
I freeze in place, biting back a whimper of fear as our eyes lock. I’m half expecting him to come to my side again and tear off the rest of my clothes, or get on top of me once more and finish what he started. When he stalks toward me, I flinch back, raising a hand to my face.
That stops him. He looks at me and I could swear the expression on his face is shock. It’s gone as quickly as it flashed over his face, but a moment later, he grabs the remnants of my dress from the rooftop and buries his face in it, breathing in my scent. He stays like that for such a long, long time that I wonder if he’s even breathing.
He lifts his head again a moment later, and his eyes are pure gold. There’s a look of such intense loneliness on his face that it feels as if he’s stabbing me in the heart. Oh. I know that look. I know that look all too well.
I want to say something to him. To communicate with him somehow. Even though we’re enemies, I feel sorry for him.
Then his gaze moves back to me and his eyes surge with black again. He lowers my dress, and I think he’s going to drop it, but instead, he wraps it around his cock. His hips surge forward and his mouth flattens. He grunts, and a moment later, I realize what he’s doing.
He’s…mating my dress. And he’s doing it with such an accusing, defiant look on his proud face that I don’t know what to think…
Other than I suspect that my sister didn’t tell me the entire truth about her first meeting with Kael.
5
RAST
She is terrified of me.
It is unbearable, this fear she has. To think that I have found my mate after so long only to find her so full of fear that she will not change to battle-form. Angry, I push my cock into the soft skin that carries her scent, but it is not the same as touching her. It is not the same at all, and from the look on her face, she is not pleased at my actions. This makes it even worse, and I am so full of need and frustration that I want to scream with it.
To burn something.
To destroy.
I shake my head, trying to will those thoughts from my mind. I must focus on my mate. She is all that matters now. There is no need to burn or destroy. Not right now. There is no war to be fought. Until I am called back to…
To what? I search for an answer and have none. My mind is too full of smoke and haze. I pump my cock into her soft, shedded skin again, but the scent of her fear permeates the wind around us, and it is impossible to keep my erection. Not when she watches me with her lips parted in shock, eyes wide.
Challenging me is the last thing on her mind in this moment.
I toss aside the skin in disgust, my cock limp. If my mate does not want me, I must think of another way to entice her into battle-form. She must challenge me so I can conquer her. No drakoni female will allow herself to take a mate unless she has been conquered first. My need for her gnaws at my mind, but I try to remain focused. She is my mate. She is here. Her scent is all around me and calming my thoughts. I need to figure her out, like any other puzzle. Unlock her secrets and make her realize that I am here, her mate. That I am waiting for her to challenge me, and then get her to shift to battle-form.
I will not let her out of my sight until then.
I change to my battle-form and settle on my haunches, watching her.
The best way to understand a foe is to watch their actions, and I settle in to watch her.
The female remains utterly still for some time, the only movement that of her chest as she breathes. She watches me with wide brown eyes, but they do not change color to indicate her mood. They do not need to. Even from here, I can smell her fear. It threatens to drown out the sweet scent of her body that wafts on the breeze, enticing me. I am patient, though. I keep my senses pricked just in case another drakoni catches wind of my mate and seeks to claim her, but my gaze never leaves her small form. Slowly, she sits upright, her hands moving over her body. She pushes her long hair out of her face and gazes around her, wary, then gets to her feet.
As she does, I notice one of her limbs is crooked. Her knee has healed badly and the bone juts at an awkward angle, but I do not smell blood. An old wound, then. The thought of someone harming her fills me with black rage, but I force myself to focus on her. On the light, sweet scent of her body. There is no blood, I remind myself. There is no one to attack for harming her.
But…it does explain why she is so fearful. She has been hurt in the past and expects me to harm her. I have vague memories of this. Of others so badly wounded that they hide in two-legged form, their battle-thirst destroyed with fear.
I must gain her confidence, then. When she relaxes enough to mate, she will assume battle-form.
She steps forward, her arms crossing over her chest, and shivers, her fingers digging into the flesh of her pale arms.
Cold? She is cold?
I reach for her with my claws, intending to pull her against me and share my warmth.
She shrieks and collapses to the top of the building, shielding her face with her arms.
I growl low in frustration at her reaction and pick her up anyhow, moving her against my breast and cradling her there to share my warmth. She must learn I will not harm her.
My female trembles against my scales, her body stiff in my grasp. I settle on my haunches once more and do my best not to flick my tail. As skittish as she is, my mate will likely be terrified with any sudden movements. For some reason, even though I am annoyed with her, I want to make her happy. I do not like the fear emanating off of her. It makes me…upset. I do not like that she fears me.
I want her body to smell of mating perfumes. Of the sweet scent of her cunt when it is wet with need, not fear. So I nuzzle her hair and tuck her against me, then lower my head, trying to seem as if I am resting. I slide one of my protective eyelids over my eyes, but I can still see shapes and forms, and I watch her like this.
It is clear she does not know what to make of this.
She remains completely still in my grasp for some time. Then, her movements so subtle I almost miss them, she nudges at my claws. Not much, and if I were not so attuned to her presence, I might have missed it. She pushes them away, just a little, and then relaxes. A moment later, another subtle shift, and then she waits some more.
This clever one is trying to sneak out from my grip while I “sleep.”
Amused, I pretend ignorance at her actions, fascinated. She continues to slowly detangle herself from my clutches, and eventually dares to pull one leg free. It is the wounded one, and as she carefully lifts it over my foreleg, I notice the mass of scar tissue on her skin. I want to study it closely, to understand what it is that happened, but that must wait. A moment later, she loses her balance and tumbles forward over my claws. The breath hisses from her throat in pain, and then she lies completely and utterly still.
Is she waiting to see how I react, then? I oblige her, yawning to show off my sharp teeth and then settling my head down once more as if I am returning to my nap. I can see the tension ease in the slim set of her shoulders, and it makes me want to run my muzzle along her soft skin, to brush her long hair aside an
d breathe deep of her scent, to flick my tongue at the base of her neck and see how she reacts.
But I cannot have these things yet.
I remain in place as she gets to her feet—noting the wobble in her movements—and then creeps away with quiet steps. My senses are alert, now. Is she looking to escape or merely exploring? Surely she knows I will not let her go. Even if she were to climb down from our perch, I could follow her scent anywhere. She is burned into my soul.
The small female moves to the edge of the building and gazes out, one hand shielding her brows from the sun. A look of frustration crosses her face, and then she swipes a hand over her cheeks and turns back toward me. She thinks for a long moment, and then limps in my direction. Her arms cross back over her chest and she hugs herself, hesitating.
She looks so lost and forlorn, so fragile. It is strange to think of a mate as fragile. Drakoni females are fierce, vicious creatures. But…she is not drakoni.
After a moment, she gives a little sigh and moves back to my side, tucking her small body against my scales to share my warmth.
She is not fleeing. She is staying with me. My heart is so full of pleasure I could trumpet my joy to the skies, but all I do is slide my foreleg around her and hold her close.
AMY
There’s no point in trying to escape. The hopeless realization occurs to me as I stare out over the ledge of the building. We’re up on the roof, and even from here I can tell it’s way too high for me to get down from on my own, unless there’s a ladder. Somewhere. This building is utterly massive, though, and as far as the eye can see, there’s nothing but rooftop and air vents. It isn’t until I gaze out on the “lawn” that I realize that it’s not a lawn at all. It’s an old parking lot that’s cracked and grown over, and this building isn’t a mall like I first thought.
It’s a casino.
I’m a little disappointed in that, because a mall would have clothing and goods I could use for survival. I don’t know what a casino will have. I’ve never been to one. Right now, the lack of clothing is bothering me more than anything because my pack’s gone. Somewhere between my kidnapping and our landing, it fell from my arm and now it’s lost somewhere between here and the wilds of Old Dallas. That means I have no comb, no food, no panties, and no clothes. I glance backward, where the dragon is sleeping, and near his foreclaws are the tattered remains of my dress. If he didn’t come in it, I guess I could try to put it on again…but I shudder at the thought.