Fire in His Fury: A Post-Apocalyptic Dragon Romance (Fireblood Dragons Book 4)

by Ruby Dixon

  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.

  If. Big if.

  I rub my arms to ward off the high breeze. Figures that it’s normally blistering hot and the day I get kidnapped, it’s overcast and cool. I’m chilled, but there’s not much I can do about it except return to the dragon's side. I move away from the ledge and step back toward him, considering.

  I can't run from him. Even if I were in perfect shape, he'd be able to follow my scent. Kael can sniff Claudia out for miles around. And right now, my bad leg is throbbing and aching something fierce. If it hurt this bad back at home, I'd wrap it and stay off of it for a few days, but I don't have that option. I have to ignore it. My stomach growls, and it makes me realize just how dry and dusty my throat feels. I have to ignore all that, too.

  The dragon sleeps on, oblivious to my furious internal debate. Like this, with his head down and his eyes lidded, he looks almost peaceful, probably because I can't see his fangs from this angle, or the blood that's dried on his scales. But…he didn't rape me. He didn't hurt me, either. The moment he realized I was scared, he freaked out and flew off of me like I was diseased. If he'd wanted to hurt me he could have. I've been pinched and prodded far worse by the men at Fort Dallas. I don't think he aims to kill me, either.

  Which means he must think I'm his mate.

  I don't know how I feel about that. Part of me is utterly terrified at the thought, because he's a murderer. Part of me is also fascinated. How is he going to treat me if he thinks I'm his mate? Will he love me? Cherish me?

  Can I live with myself if I'm cherished by a murderer? I've never thought about that.

  But if he does think I'm his mate…he's definitely going to try to put the moves on me again. I feel flustered and nervous at the thought. I've never even been kissed. Groped, yes. Had my boobs squeezed and my ass grabbed? Yes. Been crudely propositioned? A hundred times. But no one's ever kissed me or been tender with me.

  I have to admit that part of me is yearning to learn what it's like to be kissed by someone that loves you. I know I'm a foolish romantic. I know that looking for tenderness from a murderous dragon is probably equally foolish. But I can't help the thoughts that pop in my head. Maybe it's because I'm trapped and the fact that I can't walk or run away has me considering what I'll do if I become his mate.

  After all, what other options do I have?

  The high winds bite at my skin, forcing me back toward him. He's warm, at least, and I'm cold.

  I move to his side, even though it feels like insanity to return to the one that kidnapped me, and curl up against his scales. His foreleg immediately moves to curl around me, and it's strange, but it's not so bad. The claws curl tight around my leg and I remember the way he shook his head back and forth, snapping the neck of his rival, and a cold rush of fear moves over me again. “Just don't kill me, okay?” I whisper, awkwardly patting his scales. “Maybe we can be friends if nothing else.”

  Here's hoping.

  I want to drift off back to sleep because there, I don't have to think. Unfortunately, I can't. I'm too scared and stressed, and so I just sit in place and think and worry and wonder if I'm going to die here, alone. Surely he didn't grab me to kill me, I remind myself. He wants a mate, not a snack. As my brain tumbles around my situation, trying to figure out what to do, I eventually decide that I'm going to have to be brave and befriend this dragon.

  Friends don't eat friends. Hopefully. And even though he tried to mount me like he would a mate, I'm hoping that if we establish friendship, he won't try it again.

  All right, then. I can be warm and friendly. I'll learn his name—somehow—and then maybe we can start a line of communication. I try not to think about the fact that Claudia said that Kael could only speak with her once they'd bonded. At the time, I'd innocently thought it was when they opened their minds to each other, and she didn't go into detail. Now that I've been taken by a dragon myself, I remember the way he looked at me and put his body over mine and think that “bonding” is going to be something very different entirely.

  That will just have to wait. I'm not doing that. Not with a murderer.

  I sit quietly and close my eyes, trying to enjoy the fact that I'm in the sunshine and the open air. Isn't this what I wanted? It's ironic, because all my dreams are coming true and I've never been more terrified in my life. I need to pee, but I don't dare budge. What if dragons are like other predators and the moment you run, it makes them want to chase? It's best to just remain calm and wait and see what he does. I can do this. Claudia and Sasha and Emma all confronted a dragon and ended up happy. If they confronted a dragon, I can do it, too. I think. My leg hurts, reminding me that I'm not quite as strong physically as them. That's all right, though. That just means I can't run away. Really, I wasn't going to do that anyhow—he could outrun me in an instant. My plan has to be something non-physical, which is why I'm going to go with friendship, as corny as it sounds.

  My stomach growls, loud. I wince as the dragon's eye pops open and he glances down at me. The black swirling in his gaze fades to a pale gold and he lifts his head, nudging at me with his nose. I quiver with fear under that touch, but when he doesn't do anything else, I wonder if he's waiting for me to do something, to make a move. Oh boy. “Um, hi,” I say softly and wave my hand. “I don't know if you can hear me like this, but it'd be really nice if we could talk in person and then maybe find a restroom. And lunch.”

  The head lowers immediately, gaze focused on me, and I cringe. Not only did I sound silly demanding lunch from a dragon, but I don't know if he even understands me. God, I'm such an idiot. What was I thinking? What—

  A moment later, the dragon shifts into human form and I nearly fall backward in surprise, after resting against his scales. He uncurls his naked body, standing straight in a fluid motion that I've seen Kael do a hundred times, and I automatically avert my eyes so I don't look at his nudity, staring at the ground at my feet.

  Of course, the whole “not looking him in the eye” thing works for about all of two seconds because he crouches in front of me and touches my chin, forcing me to look into his face. When he does, I'm struck by how handsome and strong his face is. He looks a bit like Kael, but his features are sharper, his eyes longer and leaner, his lashes not as thick. His nose is more prominent and his gold is different. And then of course, there are the scars along his neck. He studies my face and then reaches down and pokes my stomach before I can push his hand away.

  I flinch back and gasp in surprise, because, well, I wasn't expecting that. The dragon-man growls low, as if displeased with my reaction, and his nostrils flare. He studies me hard, and it's like he's waiting for something.

  “You scared me,” I whisper breathlessly.

  I also notice for the first time that he’s not completely naked. There’s a faded bit of material tied around his wrist. I’ve noticed it before, I think, the small tangle of thread on his claw in dragon-form. I didn’t realize it carried over to his human form, but of course it does.

  “Do you want me to get that off your wrist?” I ask, gesturing at the threadbare bit of material.

  He leans closer, and I forget all about what he’s wearing on his wrist. He’s so close. I feel my cheeks scalding with embarrassment because he's very, very naked, and the crouch he's in leaves nothing to the imagination. I can see every muscle on his flat stomach and the way his cock hangs between his l
egs, and it's utterly shocking. I'm starting to realize just how sheltered I've been, thanks to my sister, and I think all of that innocence is going to get stripped away hard with this guy around.

  I kind of want to stare, too, but I'm not brave enough. So I close my eyes again.

  “Huuussss?” he murmurs, the words weird and swallowed.

  I open my eyes again, surprised that he spoke. “You can talk?”

  “Huuu,” he repeats, and then pokes one long, dangerous claw at my chest.

  Oh. Does he think that's my name? I hesitate out of fear, but this is the opening I've been waiting for. I paste a bright smile on my face as if this is the best thing ever, and then tap my chest. “Amy.”

  The dragon-man tilts his head, animal-like, studying me. Before I can figure out what he's thinking, he grabs my jaw suddenly, and I whimper in fear as he squeezes it. It's not a hard squeeze, but it's also not a comforting touch. He frowns at my mouth, pursing his lips, and then scowls, settling back on his haunches and gesturing at me with impatience.

  I don't know what he wants. I remain perfectly still, doing my best not to tremble—and failing miserably.

  He growls low and then reaches forward, long claws drifting over my cheek. I suck in a terrified breath, but he only gives my jaw a slight squeeze again. I'm not sure what he wants, so I open my mouth. He gives my face another squeeze and then sits back, waiting, and makes another impatient gesture with his claws.

  Then he taps his chest and makes the impatient gesture once more.

  It takes me a moment to realize that he wants me to speak again. Is…is that why he's grabbing my face? I touch my chest again. “Amy—”

  He reaches for my face before I can finish, and I bite back my name in a wordless shriek, cringing. He studies my jaw with those long, gold-and-black eyes, and then opens his mouth slightly. With his grip, he works my jaw again, and I'm reminded of a wooden puppet I saw back in Fort Dallas once. For some reason, the absurd visual makes me want to laugh out of horror. Is that what this is? He's forgotten how to talk? “Amy,” I say again, drawling the word slowly.

  Sure enough, he watches my mouth with intense fascination, his lips parting as I sound my name out. I think he has forgotten to talk after all. I say my name again, and a third time. “Aaaaaamyyyyyy. Amy.”

  “Aaaaaah,” he tries, and the sound is guttural and angry, his nostrils flaring. He looks irritated, and I cringe when he releases my jaw and narrows his eyes at me once more.

  “Aaaaaa,” I try again, flattening the sound and opening my mouth wide. “Aaaaaa meeeeee.”

  “Aaaaahm,” he echoes, biting off the sound. Then he smiles, as if pleased he was able to kinda-sorta make the sound of my name. Of course, his smile is equally terrifying, because his teeth are long and sharp like a predator's. If I hadn't met Kael and seen this sort of thing in the past, the sight of this would have made me pee on myself, but it's almost comforting. Almost. I've never seen Kael smile quite like this.

  And I can't forget the way he snapped that neck, like it was nothing.

  “Amy,” I agree, repeating and tapping my chest. To move things along, I timidly reach forward and tap at his breast, indicating I want to know his name.

  His nostrils flare and black swims over his eyes. The smile fades and turns to something angry, and I shrink back in terror when he jumps to his feet.

  I guess I don't get to learn his name.

  6

  RAST

  She asks what I am called.

  I do not remember. The angry smoke that clouds my mind hides this bit from me. I sound out syllables, trying to stir something loose, but all I get are vague, angry feelings, made worse by the fear I can feel coming off of her. Aahm is frightened of me, no matter what I do, and her fearfulness is endlessly frustrating. At this rate, she will never be confident enough to shift to battle-form.

  I hate that my mind is so far gone. I curl my claws against the ruff of my hair and feel its wild, overgrown tangle on my shoulders. It should not be like this. Hair that is long is far too easy to grab in battle, but…but…

  The fleeting thought drifts away as quickly as it arrived, and I growl in frustration.

  I glance back at my female, but she is watching me with big, worried eyes, as if she expects me to challenge her when she is not ready. As if I would ever harm her. But she lifts her chin as I gaze at her, and I feel a surge of pride at that small action, and it turns to pleasure when she gets to her feet. Her gaze is on me as if she expects me to snap at her, and when I do not, she sidles away a few steps and scans the area, as if looking for something.

  Curious, I watch her. If she wishes to explore our new nest, I do not mind as long as no other drakoni arrive to challenge me for her. She seems to be pleased at my two-legged form, so I remain thus, moving into a low crouch to watch her.

  Aahm studies me and then limps away, her steps ungainly as she walks. Would it not be easier to fly? I wonder at her determination to remain so. There must be a reason. Maybe her mind is clearer than mine. Maybe the angry smoke does not hide her memories and she knows why she should remain thus. I will follow her lead, then.

  I remain in place as she moves around the flat, warm surface of our nest. It is hard here, but the sun is warm and the breeze light and clear of any interlopers. I smell humans, but their stink is faint. I smell prey, too, but it is also faint. I am far more interested in the light, delicate scent of my mate all around me and I focus in on it.

  Aahm studies her surroundings and then heads to a jutting outcropping, putting her hand on the flat surface. To my surprise, it opens, showing a cave inside. That is…a door. I vaguely remember such things back…back where? The thought is gone as quickly as it came, but I know doors lead somewhere. I get to my feet and follow her as she goes inside it, fascinated. She is smart and clever to know of such things, and I am interested to see what else she can show me.

  Inside the door, there are curious metal steps descending down a long, narrow hallway, far too small for any battle-form. The smell of humans is stronger here, and I breathe through my mouth at the dirty, choking scent. My female heads down the steps, pausing slowly with each one as she moves over it. At first I think she is scared to descend, but when she sucks in a breath as her foot lands, I realize she is in pain.

  That is easily solved. I move to her side and pick her up by the waist, carrying her down several more steps. She gasps at my touch but does not fight me, and her hands are small and cold on my shoulder, clenching tight as if she is afraid I will drop her. The thought is absurd; her slight weight is nothing to me. I hold her tighter to reassure her, and I am pleased when her arms go around my neck.

  Perhaps I will carry her more often. I like the feel of her touching me.

  The steps lead down to a small, dark room, and though the darkness does not bother me, I can tell that Aahm is lost in it. Her hands fumble along the flat walls, and she eventually finds a long, hard bar and presses on it, opening another door. Fascinating.

  We step out into a massive indoor cave. Distant windows overhead provide enough light for her to see by, because my Aahm makes a sound of pleasure as she glances around. I do not see anything worth the excitement, myself. It is full of debris and garbage, big square metal things turned over on their sides all around us. It stinks of humans and dust and mildew. Even in the half-dark, I can see that there are colors everywhere, enough to give me a headache. I see mating red on the walls, and the floors are a brilliant greenish-blue that reminds me of water. Are these humans pleased by this riot of color? It makes my head tired.

  I wait to see what she does, and she glances around, then covers her breasts with her arms and heads forward, moving as if she sees something specific. I follow, curious. She glances back at me to see if I am still behind her, but does not pause. After a moment, it becomes clear to me when the smell of human refuse wafts to my sensitive nose. Ah.

  She opens another door into a dark, stinking room and makes a “wait here” gesture to me. Amus
ed, I hold the door and do not follow her inside. Even I can tell just from the smell that this small cave of a room has no outlet for its stink. I do not plan to hover over her as she relieves herself. She disappears inside for a moment and then I hear a hiss, smell water, and then she returns to my side, her cheeks pink and a look of embarrassment on her pretty face.

  Humans are strange.

  Her stomach growls again and she puts a hand over it, grimacing. She asks me something, but her mouth moves far too fast for me to follow, and then she waves a hand and shuffles off once more. Perhaps she knows where to find food here, then? I trail behind, curious. After a few steps, her bad leg buckles underneath her and she makes a cry of pain.

  That will not do.

  With a low growl of displeasure in my throat, I move forward and scoop her up into my arms before she can fall to the ground. Aahm makes a startled noise as my arms go around her again, hauling her against me. I wait patiently, and she says something and points in the distance. Very well. I can carry her if she wants to go there. I stride off in that direction, and she murmurs soft things and puts her arms around my neck, and I decide I enjoy this very much. Just the touch of her skin against mine, with the scent of her in my nose, makes the angry clouds of frustration waft away. For a moment, I do not mind that this world stinks and tears at my mind, that I am trapped with no way to return home. She is here, and everything is perfect.

  It is fleeting, though, because in the next moment, the stink of humans grows overpowering and I realize that there are others here.

  AMY

  Everything seems to be going all right for a while. The dragon holds me against him and carries me, one arm under my butt and another around my waist like a long-legged child. It’s kind of strange, but I don’t mind because my leg aches too badly to protest. He seems to like holding me, though, and he goes wherever I point.