by Ruby Dixon
Funny—quiet and unobtrusive are two things I might have thought about Liam a month ago, but now that I know him a little more? It’s like they don’t fit in the slightest. “You’re not quiet and unobtrusive around me.”
“I don’t want to be,” he murmurs.
My body pricks with heat, and I become intensely aware just how alone we are in here. How close we’re standing. Anyone that saw us would get the wrong idea.
A battery-powered alarm blares over the compound, jolting me back to awareness. I can’t be caught here with Liam, no matter how distracting he is. “It’s obvious Benny’s not here,” I say, and push past him. “Thanks for your help, but I’d better get back to the others. Dragon attack incoming.” I point at the air, and then I’m out the door before he can reply.
3
LIAM
It’s been seven years since I took battle form, since I considered myself truly drakoni. In all this time, I’ve done my best to blend with the human populace of this world, to seem like them. I’ve never wanted to be one before today.
Right now, as I watch Andrea leave, I’d give anything to be human.
If I were human, her intoxicating scent wouldn’t make me wild with lust. It wouldn’t be so difficult to have a conversation with her, wondering if I’m missing subtle cues. If I were human, her nearness wouldn’t be driving me mad.
But I am drakoni, no matter that I do my best to seem human. It’s a good thing she left, because every moment she’s near, she tests my willpower. The smart thing to do would be to stay away, but I can’t seem to. It’s not because it’s a small fort. It’s because I can’t bring myself to hide away, not when I’m thinking of any excuse just to be in her presence, to drink in her scent or gaze at the shine of her pale hair. She’s pale all over, paler than any drakoni female, and leaner than them, too. I never thought the sight would inflame me so much, but just the sight of her makes me hunger for the things I cannot have.
She makes my dragon stir.
And that’s dangerous. Out of the thousands of my people that came through the Rift when the veil between our worlds tore open, I am the only one that has not gone completely insane. I know that my grip on reality has to be because I haven’t been in battle form. There’s some connection between that and the mental links that our people use, and I’ve cut myself off from both to be safe. I’m only half alive like this, though, and Andrea’s nearness makes me more and more aware of it.
The siren sounds again and following it is the low roar of the incoming dragon. I’m used to how the humans handle the attacks, but it still tears at me to know that one of my people is out there, utterly lost in their own mind. I want to help, but I can’t. If I shift to battle form, I’ll be just as lost as they are. In two-legged form, I’m just as vulnerable and helpless as any human. So I can only sit and do nothing as the female dragon screams her fury overhead and spits flames at the building.
I sit down amongst the plants that these humans take such intricate care of, and close my eyes. Overhead, the smell of smoke and drakoni scales and char hit, and they bring about a wave of homesickness. The scents remind me of home, of the bleak sandy landscape and red cliffs. Of a fresh-caught lizard, blood hot on my tongue. Of females rising to mate, a challenge in their eyes.
Instead of those females, though, I think of Andrea. Andrea, who incites my drakoni senses more than she ever realizes. For a human, she is fierce. She is tall and bold compared to some of the others, and ferociously protective of her younger sibling. She is always busy here at the fort, assisting the leader or guarding the gates. She walks with a cocky swagger to her hips when she has her shotgun over her shoulder.
It’s that little swagger I love the most, I think…or maybe her scent, which invades my dreams.
Her nearness makes it difficult to stay in the fort. My senses tell me that I should leave, slip out during the dragon attack and abandon this place. Head for another fort, another settlement, one where she is not there to distract me.
But that would mean leaving her unprotected, and the drakoni male I am cannot have that. I rub at my arms, my skin twitching with the nearness of the shrieking female drakoni in the skies. She wants a male to cover her, to challenge her, and the fierce need bleeding through into even my deadened senses is affecting me. Even though I have cut myself off from the drakoni mind-links that our people use to communicate, I can sometimes still feel them in the air, and it's never more apparent than an attack.
My body responds, my cock hard and aching with need. I'm not thinking of the female in the skies, though, attacking the human settlement simply because it offends her crazed senses. I'm thinking of Andrea, her golden hair, the flash of her eyes, and the way she moves. I think of her scent and it nearly overpowers me with how much I need her. Time to retreat to my quarters, I think. There, I will be alone. There, I can take care of the ache of my cock without worrying if someone else will happen upon me. Almost desperate, I push forward, striding out of the gymnasium and down the halls of the fort. Voices buzz in the cafeteria, and no one's around. Good. I manage to make it back to quarters without being stopped, and there, I rip at the constricting, confining clothing on my body. My blunted claws can't tear the fabric like they should, and with a growl of frustration, I manage to shove the pants down to my thighs and take my cock in hand. It's hard and throbbing with need, and I grip it tightly as I press my other hand to the door so no one can try to enter.
I imagine Andrea on the other side of it, her hand on the handle as if she's teasing me, daring to enter. She's got that fiery look on her face, her chin lifted as if challenging me to say something.
I growl as I roughly stroke myself, my grip tight as I drag my hand up and down my shaft. Only Andrea makes me this hard. Andrea and her gorgeous smell, her little smiles, and that cocky shake of her hips… With three quick strokes, my release boils over and then I come, hot seed spurting forth as my body shudders with release. My spend spatters on the door, steaming as it does. The sight of it hissing and sizzling against the peeling paint is a sobering reminder that what I want can never be.
A drakoni male can only give his seed to his mate, the one that has taken his fires. Andrea could be my mate, but I'll never know because that part of my mind is closed off, shut down so I don't go insane and turn as wild as the dragon attacking overhead even now. I cannot give her my fires, because to do that, I must reopen that part of my mind that is completely dead.
I cannot have her. I can never have her, or I will lose myself in the process.
But that does not mean I don't hunger to touch her. With an angry growl in my throat, I grab a nearby blanket and swipe my seed off the back of the door. Even that release did nothing to abate the aching hunger I have for her. I should leave, I remind myself again. Leave and never look back.
But I won't.
I spend the day making myself scarce. After the dragon finishes her fiery burst of anger, she wheels away and the oppressive heaviness of her thoughts lifts. I avoid Andrea and the other humans as they head back outside, dragging their plants back into the sunshine and then going about their chores. It pains me to not help out, to sit about and do nothing, but I learned many years ago that the less I'm around other humans, the less likely I am to unnerve them. So I sit back in the shadows near one of the doors and tinker with a knife, running a rough-sided rock along the edge to sharpen it. Such a human tool, only useful for a people that don't have claws or battle forms. As I pretend to look busy, I watch the others. Amy—the new leader of the fort—and her drakoni mate Rast return. Amy talks with people for a few minutes, checking on families and chatting as Rast hovers protectively, and then they head inside with newly found supplies. Rast glances over at me, but I ignore him. I know he has to be puzzled by me, and seeing him standing nearby, eyes whirling, his mane long and tangled and as wild as he is—it reminds me of how far I've had to go to change myself. I dress like the humans, hold human objects, and even talk like the humans. Even if I were to approach Rast,
we wouldn't be able to speak without his mate as a go-between. I can't connect my thoughts to his in mental speech, and like most drakoni, he doesn't know the human tongue except for a few words.
It just adds to the sensation of isolation that has been my constant companion for the last seven years.
Andrea is at the gate, her shotgun cocked on her shoulder as it always is, and she talks quietly to Cass. I can't hear her from across the compound, even though her scent tickles my nose and fills me with need. I'm still thinking about the rough way I stroked my cock earlier, imagining my hand as hers, and shift uncomfortably in my seat. I watch her even as the others move about, watering plants, weeding, or just sitting in the afternoon sunshine with their young. They are all happy and content, because the dragons are gone for a few more days and they fancy themselves safe once more.
Andrea isn't happy, though. Even from here, her scent carries a sour tinge to it, one of fear and worry. That makes my senses prick, and I remain utterly attuned to her, watching from afar. She has been at the gate for most of the day, but she will switch shifts with Luz soon. I know her schedule from many days and nights of watching her closely. Soon she will be free, and then she will go hunting for her brother.
My nose tells me he's not in the fort. Not any longer. I think Andrea knows this, too, though she will not admit it to herself. She's stubborn like that. But there are only so many places an adolescent boy can hide in the compound, and his scent is on none of them. I've already looked.
Sure enough, the moment the sun begins to go down, Luz heads out for her shift. She talks with Andrea for a moment, and then the two women switch out. Andrea strides away from the gate, and there's no cocky, casual sway to her hips today. Her movements are brisk, jerky, and stiff. I know she's worried about her brother. Instead of heading toward the cafeteria to grab herself her evening meal, she heads for Benny's quarters. I get up from my spot and follow after her. The scents of human children are thick down this hall, but Benny's scent is stale. I catch Andrea just as she's turning to head toward the gym again—as if he'd somehow head there despite checking it earlier—and match my longer strides to her shorter ones. "He's not in the fort, Andrea. You know this."
"Benny wouldn't leave," she tells me tightly, refusing to look over at me. Her hands smell like metal and wood, her shotgun in a holster over one shoulder. "Not without talking to me first."
She's wrong, but I don't say that. "His scent is old down this hall."
She looks over at me, and then turns to go down another hall. Stubborn, determined Andrea. Just being near her makes my dragon half stir. I remain at her side, even when she heads down another hall and then checks inside the room where Gwen keeps her birds. After another few minutes, she casts an irritated look in my direction. "Why are you still here?"
"I'll help you look."
As she always does, she glances around to see if others are nearby before giving me another look. "Why would I need your help?" The accusing note is gone from her voice, but her scent is still filled with worry.
"Because dragons can smell things humans can't." I can smell you all through the fort, and it makes me hungry to put my mouth on you. To lick all those spots that smell so intoxicating, to bury myself in your perfumed heat.
"Oh." She chews on her lip, but when another human heads down the hall with a stack of linens, she stiffens and takes an angry step back. "I don't need your help."
"You do," I tell her, keeping the amusement in my voice.
She says nothing, her arms crossed over her chest, her body practically bristling with anger and dislike. I don't get that from her scent, though. She only acts standoffish and remote when other humans are around, so I assume it's something I don't quite understand yet. There's a reason she doesn't like to be seen with me. Is it because they know I am drakoni now? But the others welcome Rast warmly, even if they are intimidated by him. Amy's presence at his side and his utter devotion to her make it clear he is here to help.
Perhaps that is it. I don't have a mate to smooth things over for me. For a moment, my skin itches fiercely, as if my scales want to burst through my hide and make their presence known. I could shift to battle form, reclaim that part of my mind that is completely shut down, and claim Andrea as mine…
But if she's not mine, I lose myself for good. I will be another monster in the skies, empty of everything but anger and instinct and flame.
I can't take the risk. As much as I want Andrea, I don't know that I won't just tear her in half the moment I shift forms.
Andrea smiles tightly at the woman watching us, silent, until the other disappears down the hall. The moment the second female is gone, Andrea moves to my side and touches my arm, her expression changing from intense dislike to one of worry. "You can scent him?"
I arch an eyebrow at this sudden transformation, but I don't comment on it. "Of course. If I'm familiar with the human, I can follow their scent trail all over the fort. I could follow yours from many, many lengths away."
"Miles," she corrects absently. "Not lengths. Can you tell me where Benny's been?"
"I can follow his scent," I offer, and put my hand on her elbow to steer her. She hesitates, but then moves closer to me, and a predatory surge of pleasure rushes through me at her nearness.
We move through the fort, heading down halls and going across the yard, checking sheds and every possible nook and cranny that might hide a fourteen-year-old boy. I'm not ashamed to admit that I choose certain paths because I don't smell others nearby. I want to keep Andrea close to me, and if that means taking winding paths instead of the straightest ones, I'll do so.
Even so, at the end of our search, there is still no Benny. His scent trail leads to the edge of the tall chain-link fence that surrounds the fort and disappears underneath it.
Andrea's full, pink mouth flattens with displeasure at the realization. "Why would he leave the fort? It doesn't make sense. On a dragon attack day? Do you think someone took him?"
"I don't smell anyone else. His scent is old enough that it's obvious he left long before the dragons. Long before breakfast, I imagine." Humans carry the scent of their food for hours sometimes. Benny likes sweet things with his morning meal and sometimes smells like the sugary syrups he hoards away.
"That dumbass." She shakes her head and then lets out a huff. "He didn't talk to me about this at all."
It takes me a moment to realize that she's hurt. She won't look over at me, but her body is stiff and her mouth pulls down in a scowl. Her anger is to mask her pain, because she doesn't want to show it to me. The protectiveness in me rises, and it takes everything I have not to reach out and touch her to comfort her.
"He is a boy. When I was his age, I did many stupid things," I admit.
She's quiet, her hands on her hips, and just stares at the hole in the fence for so long that I start to wonder. Then, she swipes a hand over her eyes and I realize she is making water with her face. Crying, they call it. She is upset. “Andrea?” I ask, reaching out to her.
“I just…” She sniffs hard and then swipes at her face again. “I’m not crying.”
“You look as if you are,” I say, suspicious.
Andrea turns and glares at me. “I’m not.” And then she bursts into tears, burying her face in her hands
I freeze in place, uncertain of how to act at her vulnerability. A drakoni female would never show weakness before any male other than her mate, and I know Andrea struggles not to show weakness before me. It’s clear she doesn’t like this, but her emotions are spilling out of her. Her sadness tears at me and I know I shouldn’t touch her, but I can’t help myself. I reach out and pull her into my arms, stroking her hair. “Shhh,” I say, remembering how other humans comfort one another. They tell each other not to cry, I think. “Don’t cry.”
She hesitates for a moment and then buries her face against my chest, her tears wetting the front of my shirt. Just like that, she is in my arms, her scent enveloping me, and my thoughts blaze into lust. I bit
e back a groan, ignoring the fire burning through me at her touch. She is sad and miserable, and she cannot be mine. I should not be thinking about how hard my cock is at her nearness, or the smell of her hair or the way the loose strands brush against my skin.
I should leave this place, I think with agony. Being near Andrea is too much. Her touch makes me hunger for things I can’t have, and it’s going to break me.
“He’s all I have,” Andrea sobs against my chest, her fists curled in my clothing. “He’s only fourteen. Why would he leave here and not say anything to me?”
I stroke her hair and fight back the urge to bury my face in it and breathe in her scent. She needs comforting, not lust. “He was afraid of what you would say,” I guess. “Your brother does not like to be told what to do.” He’s like her in that way.
“That little shit,” she weeps. “He’s going to get himself killed.”
“Benny is clever,” I reassure her. “He won’t do anything foolish. He knows how to take care of himself.”
She’s silent for a moment, and I wonder if I said the wrong thing. Sometimes it’s hard to tell with humans, but I thought I knew her better. Her shoulders shake with her tears and she clings to me as a new round of tears hits her. “Why does everyone leave me?”
That splinters me. Her sadness tears at my spirit, and I know that no matter how torturous my need for her becomes, I won’t leave her side. Ever.
Andrea needs me.
“I’m here,” I tell her, stroking her braid and holding her close, my arm over her shoulders. I press my mouth to her smooth human brow, determined to hold her for as long as she needs. Another scent touches the air and I glance over her head to see one of the females walking, a basket on her hip. She glances at us and then quickly hurries on. Something tells me that Andrea won’t like that—she doesn’t like others to see her making water from her eyes. “Whatever you need,” I murmur, holding her close. “I’m here.”