by Ruby Dixon
Oh gosh. When he smiles he’s…breathtaking. I smile back, and point up at the building again. “So shall we go there?”
RAST
It is clear my mate wants a new nest. This one displeases her, and she points and chatters at another tall, thin building nearby. She wants that one. I consider it. It is much higher off the ground, but that is a good thing. It means she will be safe from more foul-smelling humans if they arrive. But I do not like that it is so high up, because that means her scent will carry so much farther on the breeze. It will surely bring challengers who seek to take her from me.
But then she reaches out and caresses my face with her small, soft hands, and I can refuse her nothing. Just that small touch pushes back the smoke of anger that clouds my mind, and for a moment, it feels as if my mind has righted itself. It is only a fleeting moment, but it makes me hungry for what we can have if we are together. She must be comfortable enough to challenge me for mating rights, and if she wishes for a different nest, I will give it to her. I change back to battle-form, gently scoop her up in my claws, and then take to the air.
As always, I open my senses, filtering through the myriad scents on the breeze. There are no other drakoni in the immediate vicinity, but I can smell char and smoke in the distance, which tells me there are others nearby, but upwind from us. That is good. The stink of humans is all but gone, and I can also scent more of the grass-eating hoofed animals that make such tasty meals. Those remain nearby for easy hunting.
If her tall nest is as she likes it, this is a good place to stay for now.
I launch my powerful body into the air, cradling her close. She clings to my foreleg, making frightened noises, and I wonder at a creature that is so scared of flying. If she has a battle-form of her own, would she not embrace the air? There is something I am…missing. The harder I try to concentrate, though, the more my thoughts scatter and drift away like smoke.
She touches my foreleg as I circle the building, pointing over and over where she wishes to go. The very top. That makes it easy to land, then, but I am displeased at the thought of staying so high up in the open air. Surely she will draw others with her sweet scent. I growl at the thought, and then her fear-scent rises around me. I am scaring her, which only makes my frustration greater.
Very well. If she wishes to be high in the air, then that is what we will do. If this is so she can watch me challenge all comers for mating rights, then I shall destroy any and all that arrive. Whatever she wishes, I will do.
I land atop the roof with a heavy thud, shaking the building. Somewhere nearby, there is the tinkling crash of something breaking, and I go alert. There are no new scents on the air, though. Just a reaction to my weight settling here.
My human mate pats at my claws, indicating she wishes for me to let her go, and she gestures and babbles in her fluid, soft-sounding words. I reluctantly release her and she smiles back up at me, as if very pleased. I bite back a snarl of pleasure at her response, watching, waiting. Is this the moment she will assume her battle-form and challenge me so I can conquer her? So we can mate and bond?
But she only steps away, favoring her bad leg and heading for something across the flat rooftop. I realize a moment later that it is a door. She wishes to go inside this strange building. I will need to switch to my two-legged form for such things, then. I crouch low and shift, and when I get to my feet, I see her waiting patiently for me, her hair fluttering in the high wind. Her fear-scent is gone, and the sight of her fills me with such pleasure that I cannot help myself; I move to her side and pull her to me, burying my face against her neck and breathing deep of her scent, enjoying the feel of her body against mine.
She stiffens, but then relaxes against me. There is no fear-scent, not this time, and that fills me with joy. She is learning to trust me.
I can make a nest inside this ugly, tall building, then, if this is what she wants. Every time I please her, we are one step closer to mating, and my goal is to have her on all fours, shuddering underneath me as I fill her with seed.
Whatever she wants, I will do it.
I carry her down another set of stairs, and she puts her arms around my neck, holding herself close against me. I like this. I keep holding her, waiting for her next pointed direction even as we come to a flat area, but she slides out of my grip and limps over to another door, opening it.
The inside of this strange building is different from the last one. This is more like…something I have seen before. I frown as we step forward. There are trees inside, their leaves still bright, but they do not smell alive. They are in colorful pots in the corners, and the long hallway has a patterned floor that feels fuzzy under my feet. Along the corridor there are several sets of doors, and she casts me an excited look before heading toward the first one.
She opens it to reveal a small room that smells musty and bitter at the same time. My mate looks unhappy at the sight, moving forward and picking through the cluster of objects on the shelves here before sighing and shaking her head. I notice something fastened to the wall and pick it up. It looks like a long stick with thick ropes of hair on one end. Curious. I sniff it, but it smells like mildew and dirt. With a snort of disgust, I return it to its spot.
My mate says something else and then indicates I should follow her to the next door. Whatever this is, it is not what she seeks.
The next door opens up and she makes a sound of pleasure at the sight of it.
8
AMY
We've found the penthouse.
I bite back my little squeal of joy when the second set of doors (the first led to a broom closet) open up to an expansive suite of apartments that must have been pretty swanky once upon a time. In fact, they're still rather swanky to my eyes. This place looks untouched from all of the chaos and destruction below. There's a living area, complete with delicate green sofa and chaise, a carved wood table, and a faded intricate rug underneath. Mounted on the wall is a large flat-screen television that has a series of hairline cracks running through the screen, but is otherwise whole. Washed-out art hangs on the wall across from the still-open windows, and the bed in the next room is freshly made, the blankets and pillows perfectly unmussed.
It almost feels like we're walking into someone's bedroom, it's all so perfectly set up. I'm fascinated by all of it, right down to the wilted flowers in a crystal vase on one of the tables.
“If there's anything good to be found, it'll be here,” I tell Sam, and start exploring. It's all so beautiful and luxurious. I peek into the bathroom and I'm delighted at the large glass-enclosed shower with multiple spray-heads. If even one works still, I can have a real, honest-to-goodness shower. I'm thrilled at the thought. I head into the bedroom and the closet there doesn't have real clothes in it, just a white, fluffy bathrobe with dust accumulating on the shoulders. I flick it off and pull it from the hanger, hugging it to my body. It's the softest thing I've ever felt. I'm not even mad that it's the only thing there and it's impractical. I'm tired of being practical. I slide it over my arms and bury my face in the soft fluff of it, sighing happily. “I already love this place,” I tell Sam.
“Aahm,” he says, a frown on his brow as he gives me a curious look. It's clear he doesn't know what to make of my excitement over the robe, and I bite back my giggle at his expression.
“It's all right,” I tell him, and move toward the bed. It looks just as fluffy as the robe. A little dusty, sure, but I live in the After. Dust is the least of my problems. I test the edge of the bed with my hands like they used to do in movies, and then fall backward onto it with a sigh of delight.
That earns me a rumbling chuckle from the dragon, and I can't help but laugh myself. “It's such a nice bed,” I exclaim, as if he can understand me. “It's amazing. So soft and pillowy.” I lie flat on my back and close my eyes, happy as could be. I don't even care that it's stuffy in here and smells musty. This is the nicest place, ever.
The bed bounces hard, and I open my eyes with a squeal to see that Sam's
flung himself backward on the bed just like I did. His expression is half-frown, half-thoughtful, as if he can't quite figure out what he's supposed to enjoy about it. I laugh at that, and then gasp when his arm spikes tear at the blankets, making a ripping sound. “Oh no, you're trashing it,” I tell him, reaching out for him.
He sits up on one arm, ignoring my protests, and gazes down at me. His eyes are pure gold.
Just like that, I lose all of the breath in my body. I've never seen anyone look at me so…intensely. It's almost too much. It makes me feel dizzy. I remember to breathe, but I don't dare move. I just remain completely still, waiting to see what he does. Is he going to attack me? Try to mount me?
Sam reaches out and very gently caresses my jaw with his claws. It's the lightest of touches, so achingly gentle for such a brutal dragon-man that it steals my breath all over again.
I should push him away. I know I should. But there's something deep inside me that wants to see what happens if I let him continue. If I enjoy his caresses. So I just wait, gazing up at him and scarcely daring to breathe.
He brushes his fingertips along my face, tracing it with tiny movements. It's like he's fascinated by me, and I love the attention, even if it's coming from a fearsome, murdering dragon. There's something inside me that's achingly thirsty for attention, and he's giving me exactly what I want. I'll feel bad about it later, I decide. For now, I just want to enjoy feeling like the center of someone's universe.
Sam continues to gaze down at me, touching my face with careful precision. His claws skim over my skin, but he never quite scratches me with them, and I feel oddly safe despite the fact that I know he's a murderer. The way he's touching me, I know he wouldn't harm me. Not like this. It isn't my pain he wants or he'd have already done terrible things to me.
I know exactly what he wants. The thought makes me breathless and excited—and terrified—all at once.
Fingertips move over my forehead, tracing my brow. I close my eyes, letting this simple pleasure wash over me as he caresses my face. “Aahm,” he murmurs, stroking my hair back. Oh gosh, who would have thought it would be so very nice to be petted by someone? Have I been craving touch so badly?
I think I have.
When I open my eyes again a moment later, he's still watching me, his gaze intense, pure gold. His hip is near mine and when I glance down, I can see that his cock is completely erect, so close to my leg that he could stab me with it. The thought makes my pulse flutter hard, and my nipples feel tight. Oh. As I watch, he skims his claws lightly over my ear and then down my neck, moving to the open neckline of my robe. One claw drags between my breasts, over my T-shirt, and I can't bring myself to tell him no, that those areas are off limits. Because I don't know if they are. I'm suddenly very aware of the fact that I'm wearing no pants and that he's so much bigger and stronger than I am.
I'm also very, very aware of the fact that he's incredibly naked. My mouth goes dry. It wouldn't take much for him to just roll forward and get on top of me again, and…
And would I stop him? I don't know. Because when he looks at me like this…I think I could have what Claudia and Kael have. But he's a murderer, and unstable, and he's not the dragon I was supposed to have, and that's confusing. I don't know what to think.
“Aahm,” Sam murmurs again, and I tense, wondering if he's going to go under my shirt. But he takes my hand in his, cradling it with infinite gentleness, and then presses my fingers to his chest.
Oh. He wants me to touch him.
“You want me to do the same to you?” I whisper, and his eyes flurry with gold, utterly beautiful in how deep and rich the color is. I'm fascinated by him when he's like this. When he's tender and gentle and fascinated with me. Do I dare touch him and encourage this sort of thing? If I'm trying to escape, shouldn't I keep him at arm's length?
But he's warm and hard under my touch, and I'm so very curious.
And there's no one here to know if I'm behaving. It isn't like before, when I was living in a room off of Claudia's apartments, where Kael could scent everything I did and my sister had to warn me not to masturbate or dragons would smell it. God, that was an embarrassing day.
And of course, now I'm remembering just how long it's been since I've masturbated. I wonder…I wonder if he'd be content with just touching and nothing more? “Is it okay to fool around with you, Sam? Or are you going to want more?”
Of course, he doesn't answer me. He just watches me with those intense gold eyes, waiting.
I'm far too tempted to walk away. Biting my lip, I lightly trace my fingers over one rock-hard pectoral, along the scale pattern on his golden skin.
Just that small touch makes him close his eyes and groan deep, as if pained. He looks blissed out, and I'm utterly entranced by his response. If just touching him like that makes him go wild, what would he do if…if I touched more?
Suddenly, I'm feeling really, really bold and curious.
“I’m going to keep going,” I warn Sam, even though I know he can’t understand me. “And if things get too intense, we’ll just back off, all right?” I drag one fingertip along the edge of his muscles. There’s not an ounce of fat on his lean, hard body. Whatever he does in dragon-form, it must be an intense workout, because he’s covered in rippling muscle. I never really paid too much attention to how Kael’s body looks, because he’s my sister’s. Most of the time I’m averting my eyes from his nakedness, and the only thing I do pay attention to is how he gazes at Claudia.
It’s kind of like how Sam is looking at me, and it makes my silly, romantic little heart flutter with joy.
I don't know how bold I should be. Of course I want to touch and explore him, but I also don't want things to get carried away. I can't stop myself, though. I keep touching, sliding my fingers along his collarbones and tracing the veins under his skin. The scars on his neck are vicious, crisscrossed slashes. I don't know if they were made by teeth or something else, but they look as if it was a brutal fight. “Who hurt you, I wonder?”
“Aahm,” he murmurs, rubbing a knuckle against my cheek.
“Right. I hate this language barrier stuff.” I move my fingers along his arm, fascinated by the strength there, the hard muscles of his biceps, before sliding down to his elbow. Here, he starts to look more draconic than human, because he's got those enormous spikes that don't quite lie flat, and his hands are tipped in the biggest claws I've ever seen on a dragon-man.
Not that I've seen a ton of dragon-men, of course. But out of Sasha's Dakh and Emma's Zohr and my sister's Kael, Sam definitely has the biggest equipment.
Of course, thinking that makes me remember other equipment, and I pause. Is he hoping I'll touch him…there? That might be too much for my virgin mind to handle. I can't help but contemplate it, though.
Who would know?
What's the harm, if I want to do it?
Strangely enough…I do want to do it. Biting my lip, I glance up at his face and let my fingers skate lower on his belly, a clear indication of my intentions.
RAST
I can scarcely breathe with anticipation as my mate's questing hands slide lower, and lower. She has been so shy up until this moment, but her boldness pleases me. It suggests that there is more trust than I thought. I can smell the faint perfume of her arousal. It is but a mere breath, a tiny, almost unnoticeable scent upon the air, but it is there.
I want to make it stronger. I want the air to be saturated with her mating scent. I move closer to her, rubbing my nose against hers. She gives a sweet little sigh and tilts her face toward mine, as if asking for something, but I do not know what she seeks. I rub my nose against hers again, hoping that will suffice.
She only sighs, a smile playing on her lips. Her fingers skate low on my belly. My cock aches in response, my entire body anticipating her touch. Lower, I silently demand. Go lower. But her hands only caress and slide against my skin and then pause, as if she is reluctant to take the final step forward.
Perhaps she is waiting for my to
uch, for me to caress her like she does me.
Or does she wish for me to take the lead? I take her hand in mine, and she presses her palm against my own, gazing at our entwined hands. She seems fascinated by the sight of her smaller hand in mine, a dreamy look in her lovely dark eyes. Her scent grows stronger, and I rumble my appreciation. I lift our joined hands to my face and inhale deeply, breathing in her scent. She watches me, fascinated, and I lick her skin, wanting to taste her.
If she would let me, I would taste her all over.
Her eyes are soft as she watches me, but her scent grows thicker with arousal. Her gaze is locked on me, and again, I wait for her to take the lead, to challenge. She does not, though, and I feel again as if I am missing something.
Perhaps she waits to see if I will challenge her.
The thought intrigues me, and I growl a low challenge to her. I take her wrist in mine and pin it over her head once more, holding her down on the soft bed.
Then, I wait.
Wait for her to fight me. Wait for her to show her anger at being trapped. Wait for her to shift to battle-form.
But she only gasps and shrinks back, her sweet arousal scent replaced with that of fear.
This is not what she wants. Even as I realize it, I snarl with frustration and fling myself off the bed.
Does she not wish to be my mate? I do not understand her. I move across the room, pacing. I do not know how to get her to shift. It is like there is something wrong and I am missing it.
She makes an unhappy noise behind me, and when I turn, she sits up in the bed, her eyes full of sadness and confusion. The smoke that clouds my mind threatens to sweep forward once more, drowning out everything but the fires of rage.
Perhaps I am a fool for even trying to fight them. Perhaps I should just sink into the rage, let it take over. Wallow in the mindless nothingness of it. Let my thoughts disappear and just…exist.