by Ruby Dixon
Irritated at my own thoughts, I drop to my knees and study the ground in front of me. I pretend to be looking for signs of Benny’s crossing this way, but the truth is that I don’t need to look at anything. I can smell him all over the place. He smells like sweaty young human, the corn cakes that make up so much of the diet of the fort people…and something else. Something that makes my nose twitch and my eyes water. A scent-disguiser, then. If I were in battle form and half mad with the world around me, I wouldn’t be able to pick him out. As it is, I recognize what he’s doing and applaud him for the cleverness of it.
He doesn’t want to be found, and he knows Andrea will be coming after him.
That concerns me a little. I like Benny as a person—he’s bright and inquisitive, even if he’s a bit wild. He’s young and wants to see the world, and he’s tired of being confined to one space. I know how that is, because I know how I was at his age. But if I have to choose between his happiness and Andrea’s? I’m picking hers. No question.
I don’t want her to know the lengths her brother has gone to hide his trail, though. “He went this way,” I say, straightening.
“He did?” There’s a fragile wobble in her voice that guts me.
“He did. Let’s go.” When I put a hand on her back, she doesn’t pull away like she did back at the fort. Interesting.
We walk, moving up the abandoned streets and past the rows of empty, abandoned houses.
6
LIAM
I eye the dwellings as we walk, trying to imagine the world before this, with people lined up in rows, stinking up their homes with as many scents as they can pile on, with layers and layers of their confining clothing. I imagine a male so dressed in layers that his arms puff out from his sides as if he's completely rounded, and I snort with amusement.
"What is it?" Andrea asks at my side.
"Just thinking about how humans used to live," I say. "I cannot picture it."
"It was wonderful," she says, her tone wistful. "I was safe and warm and had lots of friends. My father was an insurance salesman and Mom was a teacher. We lived in a little house with a great yard and a dog, and every Christmas there were tons of presents under the tree. There were lights on inside the house and you could flip a switch and watch a TV show or talk to people on the internet from all over the world."
I grunt. "Why would you want to talk to people from all over the world?"
"I don't know. It was just that you could." Her expression gets dreamy. "You know what was the best, though?"
"What?"
"Refrigerators. I would open the fridge and there would be tons of food in there, kept cold and ready to eat. You never had to hunt for anything. You could just open the box and there it was. And meat? It would last for a week without turning smelly or going bad."
"You're lying," I tell her with amusement. A magic box that kept food cold and unspoiled? No such thing.
"And bread," she says. "I really miss bread. The corn cakes don't cut it, but the first thing that went down were supply lines. The grocery stores didn't have anything within a matter of days and then people just started starving. But…before?" She sighs. "Before was magical."
I still think she's telling tales. "You never had to hunt? Not once?"
"No. I went to a building like the fort and they taught me lessons all day long. How to read and write and do math. When I grew up, I'd have to get a job, but the only thing children were required to do was school lessons."
I think of the young back in the fort, who help their mothers with the chores and who water the plants and pull weeds, who duck into the henhouse and get eggs from the chickens and change the straw. Even the youngest have their own tasks. "It sounds odd to me."
"I guess your world wasn't much like that?"
"Mine? No. Not like that at all." We walk as we talk, leaving the edge of the houses behind and moving to a long expanse of broken road lined with cars. A highway, I think they are called. Benny's trail—and whatever he rubbed himself in—continues this way, so I guide Andrea along in the darkness. "My home was…very different. My people —the free ones anyhow—lived in the deserts and hunted their food. We did not read or write like humans do. We lived in aeries—those are caves high in the cliffs—and fashioned our homes from those. We had some things like your people, like the bowls and such, but no clothing, no chickens, no strange buildings with water inside them." Those are Salorian things and for the longest time, I worried the humans were just as evil as them.
"So you guys were, what, living off the grid? Or just more primitive?"
"I don't like the word ‘primitive,’" I tell her. "It sounds like we were dumb and stupid. We weren't. It was just a much simpler way of life, provided you could stay out of the Salorian grasp."
"Those are the bad guys, right? Did they steal you from your home?"
"Something like that," I say, keeping my answer vague. I don't like thinking about Salorians, because it reminds me that I was captured and held and tortured before the Rift opened up. It reminds me that I’m the only sane one of my people because I’d learned to wall off my mental connection and sever myself from the psychic touch that my people used as easily as breathing.
Instead, I change the subject. "What have I done to offend you, Andrea?"
The moonlight shines down on her pale hair as she turns to look at me. She's different in coloring than drakoni. Her hair isn't the rich gold of my people but a yellow so light it is almost white. Her face, in contrast, is a warm golden shade from being out in the sunshine, with hints of speckles on her cheeks. Freckles, I have heard them called. No, she doesn't look much like a drakoni woman with her flame-red coloring and vivid hair like fire, but I like the way Andrea looks.
"Offend me?" she says, her brows furrowing together. "What do you mean, Liam?"
It's the first time she's said my human name in a long time, and I ignore the wave of pleasure it gives me. She probably says it to distract. "You avoid speaking to me or being near me back in the fort. For a while, I could come and talk to you and be received warmly, but lately you have been distant, and I don't know what it is I did to offend you."
"You didn't offend me."
"But you didn't want me to come out here with you tonight. Not even to help you find Benny."
She looks away, staring ahead at the rows of metal hulks lining the highway. "It's…complicated."
"If you don't tell me, I can't fix it. I certainly can't apologize for it."
I'm fascinated by the emotion flitting across her face. She looks frustrated and sad both, and it makes me wonder what's eating at her guts that she won't share. "If I say it's not you, it's me." Andrea turns to look over at me again. "Will you believe me?"
"Isn't that something your people joke that women say to men when they want to get rid of them?"
Andrea laughs, and I feel my entire body warm in response to that sound. My cock responds, too, but I ignore it. "Yeah, I guess it is something women say to men to get them to buzz off."
"Is that what you want me to do? Buzz off?" We step around one car with its doors rusted open, and she moves closer to me, so close that her scent teases at my senses, making my cock strain against my damned clothing once more.
"I don't know," Andrea admits. "It would be easier if you left me alone, but…"
"But?"
"But it would…make me sad. So he came this way? You're sure of it?" She puts her hands on her hips, steps in front of me, and scans the landscape ahead of us.
That's a conversation shift if there ever was one. Amused at her boldness, I let it pass without calling her out. "I'm sure of it. Come on. The path clears out up ahead."
For all that Andrea's human, she's also one of the strongest, most determined humans I've met so far. We walk all through the night, our pace brisk, and she trudges on over hills and across bridges, keeping pace with my longer steps. I try to slow down to make the walk more comfortable for her, but she just speeds up as if silently challenging me, so it b
ecomes a game of sorts. She never shows her exhaustion, and never breathes hard even when we clamber up a steep hillside.
"I do a lot of hunting now that we're in Fort Shreveport," she tells me by way of explanation. "I don't have the luxury of being slow, not with forty-odd bellies wanting to be filled."
So a sense of duty motivates her. I add this to the ever-growing list of fascinating things I learn about Andrea. She's driven by family more than anything, and is fiercely loyal. Actually, she's just fierce overall, but there are hints of a softer Andrea, a dreamy one that has more in common with Rast's sweet, gentle mate than the sassy warrior at my side. It makes me curious as to which one is the true Andrea, and if they both are, how the two sides can co-exist.
I can't wait to learn more. This hunt for Benny gives me the opportunity to be alone with her, and I'm grateful. We've talked all night long, speaking of families and hunts, of worlds and the Rift and even our favorite foods. Out here with no one else around, Andrea is laughing and bold, teasing me back when I make a joke. I love this side of her, and it makes me ache whenever her laugh disappears and her sober, sad expression returns, because I know she's thinking of Benny.
As for her brother, we've followed his trail all night but his scent remains hours and hours old and growing fainter by the minute. His trail moves all over the place, as if Benny is discovering freedom for the first time and wants to explore the world. His scent weaves between cars, moves over a bridge and then under it, then back over it once more. We follow it and I do my best to tell Andrea of the spots where Benny's scent is thickest, where he stopped to rest, where he paused to take a piss, as if this will make the reality of finding him that much closer.
When dawn breaks, though, there is still no Benny. His trail continues, winding down the highway onward, past the endless rows of broken cars that seem to stretch on to eternity. Andrea continues forward, her expression grim, her eyelids heavy and drooping over her reddened eyes. She looks exhausted, but when I suggest we rest, she ignores me.
We keep on walking for a time, but when she weaves and stumbles over a broken hubcap in the road, I slide an arm around her waist and pull her against me before she can tumble to the ground. "Andrea," I chastise her sternly.
"Is he close?" she asks, her expression dull with fatigue. She tries to straighten and pull away from me.
I pull her closer, selfishly. "No. Benny isn't any closer. We're still far behind him. You need to rest, though."
Her lower lip quivers for a moment, and then she firms her jaw in the stubborn expression I know so well. "I can keep going."
"You need to rest," I repeat, and when she tries to fight out of my grip, I lock my arms around her. The scent of her hair teases my nose maddeningly. "Andrea, I'm not saying this to be an ass. I'm saying it because you're no good to anyone dead."
"Dead?" She scoffs, trying to twist out of my grip. "From walking?"
"Not from walking," I correct, loosening my hold before she hurts herself. I let her go and she stumbles back a half step, leaning against the hulk of an old gray car that tilts heavily on one side. "From the fact that you'll be too tired to shoot your gun if we're attacked. The more exhausted you are, the slower your reflexes. Every hunter knows that."
She presses the heel of her palm against her brow, closing her eyes. "You're sure he's not close?" she asks again, and her voice is small and pitiful.
"I'm sure."
"But we're still following him? You've still got his scent?"
"I haven't lost it." I don't mention how it's getting cloudy over time, though, as whatever he's coated himself with gets thicker. "We'll find him."
Andrea sniffs and presses her hand over her eyes, hiding the water they make. "It's just…he's the only one I've got left, you know? Daddy died in the first few days after the Rift, and Mom was dead within the first year. We lost everyone except each other. And now Gwen's gone and Benny's gone and…I'm so tired of being left behind." Her shoulders slump.
"We'll find him," I reassure her. I move to her side, leaning against the car with her, and put my arm around her shoulders, tucking her close. I expect her to rebuff my touch, but she melts against me, leaning against my strength, and I feel a fierce surge of protectiveness for this female that tries so hard to be strong in such a cruel world.
"We'll find him," I tell her again, and I mean it. "But for now, you need to rest."
7
ANDI
I know he's right. I know stopping is the smart thing to do, because my vision's getting blurry with fatigue and I'm stumbling over everything. My feet are killing me, and I'm sure I'm going to have a million blisters from my old boots, but Benny's out there and I haven't found him yet. My heart hurts so badly that I want to scream, but when Liam looks at me, all I do is nod.
"Where…where are we going to stop?" Even now, I'm so tired that it's hard to form sentences.
He looks around us, at the dead cars lined along the sides of the highway, abandoned as they ran out of gas. He squints at one, then crosses the road toward it, and I see he's heading for a SUV, a gray one that looks less trashed than some of the others. The back is open and as I move slowly over to him, he climbs inside and rakes out the debris that's fallen in. There are dead leaves and twigs and airborne bits of old plastic that have drifted in over the years, but he swipes it out using his big hands and when the bed is mostly clean, he drops his pack down for a pillow, pats it and looks at me.
Right now, it looks like heaven.
I crawl inside, and I'm so exhausted that I don't even care that it smells musty and slightly like mildew. I toss my pack down to use for my own pillow, and close my eyes. The sun is coming up, but now that I've stopped moving, it's a little chilly and the sweat drying on my skin is making me cold. I rub my arms a little and then Liam lies down next to me.
The man's like a furnace. I'm a little shocked at the heat he's putting off, but then I remember that dragon-kind breathe fire. Of course their bodies are going to be warmer than ours.
"Come lie against me for warmth," he murmurs, touching my shoulder.
It's as if he can read my mind. I don't even hesitate, because Liam is big and delicious and warm and there's no one else around to see me slide over and pillow my head on his chest. My hand moves to his shirt and I close my eyes as he puts an arm around me. God, this is nice. It's been a long time since anyone held me with tenderness, and I didn't realize how badly I've been craving it until he touched me.
Now that I've had one touch, he might have to pry me off of him with a crowbar.
I snuggle closer, breathing in the slightly spicy scent of his skin, and he strokes my back idly. I'm so tired that I can't even truly appreciate this, and I know I'm going to drift off to sleep in moments, even with the sun in my face. "Thanks, Liam."
"Why are you thanking me?" His deep, rumbly voice sounds amused.
"Because you're here with me even though I was a bitch to you."
He just chuckles, the sound moving through his chest and reverberating against my ear. "I like a female with spirit in her."
"Sure, we'll call it spirit," I say, yawning again. "Promise me everything will be all right?"
The hand stroking my back pauses. "I can't promise you that, Andrea. But I can promise that we'll find Benny as long as we stay on his scent. We won't go back to the fort until you're satisfied."
For some reason, that response is oddly comforting. It's not a total reassurance, but it's a truthful one and I'll take it. I smile, tuck my head closer to him to blot out some of the sunlight, and drift off to sleep.
The angry sound of a crow cawing nearby wakes me from my sleep. Biting back a sleepy moan, I blink my eyes and try to figure out where I am. Sunlight pours in from the broken windows of the SUV, and a slight breeze ruffles my hair. It's afternoon, I think, and we must have been sleeping for hours because it's hot as hell now. The big body I'm snuggled against feels like cuddling an oven, and my thin T-shirt is sticking to my sweaty skin.
Ev
en so, I'm oddly comfortable. Liam's just so darn nice to sleep against, or I'm hungry for affection. Maybe both. His arms are still possessively around me, and my head's resting on one hard pectoral, my hand on his lower stomach. One of my legs moved over his hip while I slept and I'm practically curled around the man. I hope he was able to sleep all right. I blink again, biting back a yawn, and start to creep my hand carefully off his abdomen.
As I do, I notice that there's a protruding tent in the front of his pants. A very large, very obvious protruding tent.
Oh.
I look up, and as I do, my gaze meets Liam's. He's watching me, his eyes heavy-lidded, and they're so very gold that they look like a sunrise. It's utterly beautiful, and this close to him I can see the colors swirling in his eyes as if they're a thousand flecks of gold of every shade. I'm also close enough that I can't help but notice how beautiful his mouth is, his lips utterly perfect for kissing.
I lick my own lips as the thought occurs to me. "Do your people kiss?" I whisper to him, unable to stop myself from asking.
"No." The sound is soft and oh-so-sexy. His gaze practically devours me and his hand slides to my hair, as if holding me closer. "But I'm willing to learn."
I’ll be the first one to kiss this sexy, gorgeous man. Oh wow. The thought fills me with curious pleasure and I reach up and touch my fingertips to his jaw even as he pulls me close. I lightly brush my lips against his, testing his reaction, and he closes his eyes and groans as if he’s dying.
I love it.
I nibble at his lower lip, teasing it with tiny nips and then soothing with my tongue. I’m in a frisky mood and my kisses reflect it—they’re all playfulness. With each flirty little touch of our lips, I just want more, and when he groans again, I take advantage of his parted lips to deepen the kiss. My tongue flicks against his and when he stiffens underneath me, his hand clenching in my hair, I feel a giddy rush of pleasure.