by Ruby Dixon
Darknesshungerkillangerfrustrationragedarkdarkdarkragehungerfrenzyragedarkness
I suck in a deep breath, because so quickly, I am already back on the edge. One step forward and I can slip back into madness. But as I breathe in, I take in her scent. It is clean, and sweet, and feminine…and mixed with the bitter taint of terror.
I hate that smell on her. I want to smell her desire. Her happiness.
Does she not realize that I would never hurt my mate? Not even in the darkest hours of my madness?
But even as she crawls away from me, the hunger threatens to return. If I do not claim her, another might take her from me. If she is not mine…the madness will return. Only a mate can banish the darkness from my head.
I must do something.
I cannot help myself. I reach for her again, needing to touch that velvety skin, so very different from my own. She is so smooth, so soft. She flinches and turns away, and her lovely warm scent grows thick with fear. Madness churns inside me again, this time crossed with self-loathing. I cannot—will not—touch her while she fears me so. I close my eyes, willing the gnawing madness away. Only for a little while.
Pull her close. Taste her. Bury yourself inside her. Fill her with your seed. Claim her as your mate. Do it. Take her. Fill her veins with your fire.
No. Not yet.
First I must find a way to calm the fear that is choking her.
I get to my feet and step away from her. Walking in my old form feels different, but good. It has been a long time since I have experienced my two-legged form, and it feels like stretching unused muscles. I must walk away from her, though. If I stay close, I will not be able to resist touching her…and then she will fear me forever. Just the thought of sinking myself into her…
Darknesshungerkillangerfrustrationrage
No.
I think of her softness. Her scent. I close my eyes and picture her pale, round face, her eyes bright green. I like their brightness. I will think of them when the madness creeps in. I take a deep, calming breath. How can I make her happy?
Ah, yes.
I will feed her. That will bind her to me. She will see that I can provide for her, that I am strong and fierce. That I can protect her from any others that would try to claim her. Under my wing, she will no longer be afraid, and she will sweetly succumb to my advances. She will bare her soft body for my claiming, and her green eyes will be bright with passion when I push into her—
Darknesshunger—
No.
My mate comes first. With the thought of her in mind, I glance back. She’s sitting up now, curled protectively around herself. Her face is hidden under her bright, enticing red hair. I focus on that bright splash of color, feeling need race through my body—
But then I notice her shivering. Still frightened. I growl low in my throat at the sight. My mate should not be afraid.
I will fix this. I will show her she never needs to fear me.
I walk slowly to the edge of the crumbling tower and leap off. Instinct surges, and my form shifts instantly back to dragon wing and dragon scale. The moment I do, the wildness and the rage consume my mind. Darknesshungerkillangerfrustrationragedarkdarkdarkragehungerfrenzyragedarknessviolencekilldestroy
A small sliver of light remains in my mind—green eyes—and I cling to it through the fever of my thoughts. I flex my wings and dive deep, in search of something with which to feed my mate.
6
CLAUDIA
The dragon is…gone? I stare at the open expanse of sky in a mixture of disbelief and wonder.
No way.
I get to my feet slowly, my knees wobbly. It doesn’t seem real. It’s almost like if I close my eyes, I’m going to feel his big nose sniffing my hair, moving over me. I shudder, hugging my shoulders. I expected to be dead by now. The moment the soldiers hung the red banners, I knew I was a goner. I’ve been through countless dragon attacks over the years. I’ve seen the destruction they can wreak. I’ve seen people carried away in the mouth or claws of a dragon, and they never come back. Probably eaten.
So why didn’t this one eat me?
Or better yet…how the heck did it turn human? I can’t stop thinking about that. I’m twenty-four years old. The dragons destroyed everything seven years ago. Between now and then, with my hardscrabble life, I thought I’d seen everything there was to see. Every depraved sort of action, every death imaginable, every dragon attack. But I didn’t know they could become human.
More than that. He’d looked at me with intelligence in his gaze. He spoke to me.
Who—or what—was he?
I’m glad he’s gone, but I’m full of questions. Is he a shapechanger? Is this one not really a dragon and that’s why he’s not in pattern with the others? Or are they all shapechangers?
Oh god. Can all of them speak? Are they all intelligent? It’s never even crossed my mind that they might be smart underneath all that viciousness. I’ve thought of them more like…sharks or snakes or some other nasty predator. I’ve never considered there might be a person underneath it all. That makes the destruction and rampage all the worse.
And yet…the man-dragon I met didn’t kill me. He hadn’t even hurt me. He’d touched me, and when I told him no, he pulled away.
He was almost kind.
Almost.
Is this how the girl from Fort Orleans tamed a dragon? She met him as a human? I think about the man-dragon and his really, really naked body with his really, really big equipment and the really, really possessive look in his eyes. I’m pretty sure he didn’t want to play checkers with me. Did…did the Fort Orleans girl ‘tame’ the dragon with sex?
Was that what they expect me to do?
Are they fricking crazy?
I can do a lot of things to save my hide, but I’m not sure I can do that.
I take a few steps forward, scanning the skies for a flash of golden wing. Nothing. He’s gone, then. He might be gone for good. I’ve possibly missed my window of opportunity to ‘tame’ him with my vagina. Yeah, not like I was planning on doing that. Besides, Fort Dallas and its citizens sure were quick to throw me to the dragon. I don’t plan on helping them ever again.
All I care about is Amy and Sasha. I need to get free from here, retrieve them, and then figure out what to do next. Maybe we can hightail it down to Fort Orleans. Maybe we can hide out in a safe place and wait for a brave nomad or two to swing through the area again and hitch a ride with him. As long as I have a plan of action, I’m good.
And none of my plans involve sitting around here waiting for another dragon to come by.
I move to the pole that I’m chained to and tug on the cuff binding me there. Still solid. Damn. That sucks. I was hoping I’d missed something in my panic. Guess not. I stare at the cuff on the pole and then look around for something to use as a saw. I find a long, thin piece of metal as wide as my finger and grab it. It won’t work as a lockpick or a saw, but I jimmy it in between my ankle and my cuff and push against the two, hoping to somehow stretch the metal. It’s a long shot, but it’s what I’ve got. My ankle’s bleeding and the cuff gets slippery, but I keep going. There’s no option to stop. I have to get out of here.
I have to get back to Amy.
As I work, I can’t stop thinking about the dragon. The guy. Whatever. I had no idea they were human…or could pose as human. I try to think—have I seen anyone in Fort Dallas with golden hair, golden skin, and golden eyes? I don’t think so. But if the dragons have a human side, maybe we can communicate with them and ask them not to attack the city.
Then again, why do I want to save the city? Those assholes left me for dead. A friend sold me out. The guards didn’t help me. The mayor thought I was a piece of shit criminal. No one’s on my side. I rub my ankle, smearing blood everywhere. To be fair, the captain hadn’t been happy to leave me up here.
To be fair, it was also his idea. He’d still offered me up like a sacrificial lamb. So screw him.
A sharp stab of pain moves up my leg,
and I pull the piece of metal free, gazing at my handiwork. I think I’m doing the opposite of helping, because now my ankle is swelling. Well, crap. I toss the metal aside and sigh, staring out at the wasteland of what used to be an office building. There won’t be any knives or saws here. If I’m lucky, I’ll find a stapler. And then what? Threaten to staple the dragon to death if he comes back? Frustrated, I thump down onto my butt and stare out at the trashed ruins. The dragon’s gone, but I’m still screwed. I can’t get free, and no one’s left me a canteen of water or a bite to eat.
They didn’t expect me to survive.
I think about Amy and Sasha. They’d have been waiting for me to bring home a score, because we were broke and there were no food supplies left. We had no one to turn to to help out, either. In Fort Dallas, there are only a few ways to feed a family if you don’t have a male protector that can work in the militia. You can scavenge, which is against the law, or you can whore, which is, ironically, not against the law. Sasha has a ‘friend’ in the militia who she trades favors with, even though she hates him. It keeps her from having to trade favors with a lot of friends, though, so she puts up with it. I’ve spared Amy from the worst. With her bad leg, she can’t scavenge. She barely leaves the broken-down school bus hull we call our ‘house.’ She’ll wait for me to come back…and then what? Go to the soldiers herself? See if Sasha knows of another friend that needs favors?
The thought leaves a sick taste in my mouth. My little sister with her bad leg, forced to approach one of the dickish militia… I grab the piece of metal again and jam it back into my cuff with renewed vigor, ignoring the discomfort.
I have to get out of here.
The thick, heavy beat of wings breaks into my frantic thoughts, and I freeze. My hair whips around my head as I look up, scanning the sky nervously. Is this my ‘friend’ with the gold eyes, or is this a new dragon? A red dragon, drawn by the remaining banner?
A flash of gold wing at the fringe of my vision makes my breath come a little easier. Okay. Probably the same guy again, which means he’s friendly…unless he’s decided he’s hungry. I watch in vague dread as he circles lower in the sky, then descends. The building shakes as he perches on the edge, wings flapping hard before he draws them against his body. The damn dragon’s as big as a city bus—two, maybe. Is it the same one as before? I scan it, looking for hints, and am relieved when I see the faint scar running along his cheek.
The dragon scans the top of the ruined building, and then the eyes lock on me. Dark pupils fix on my face, and as I watch, they flick from black to the deep amber gold. I shiver, my throat dry, and give my bloody cuff another yank.
He opens his mouth, gaze locked on me.
I flinch backward. Here it comes.
Something thumps to the ground. The dragon whiffs out a breath, as if irritated.
Er, okay. I cautiously open one eye.
There’s a dead creature in front of the dragon. It’s a goat, the neck snapped at an awkward angle. A chill creeps up my spine. Poor goat. Is this what’s going to happen to me? Is this a warning? I move behind the skinny pole, as if it’ll hide me.
The dragon just stares at me with those gold-on-gold eyes. Then he noses the dead goat toward me, pushing it with his long snout. He nudges it, then lifts his head and watches me. Waiting.
Is it…trying to feed me?
Surely not.
I blink at the dragon. Then down at the goat. Then back at the dragon.
He makes another noise deep in his throat, as if trying to get my attention. Then, he picks the goat up gently in his sharp teeth and drops it a few feet closer to me.
It’s a present.
Yippee.
A hysterical laugh bubbles up in my throat. What am I supposed to do with that? I twist my ankle in the cuff again, desperate. I just want to get away.
The dragon cocks his head at my movements, and takes another graceful step forward. The entire wreck of the building shivers in response to his weight as he settles down on his haunches. Then he nudges the goat towards me again.
He wants me to take it. “No, thanks,” I say, breathless. “I really should be going and all.” And I jerk on the cuff on my ankle again.
The car-sized head tilts. He bares his teeth, and my entire body breaks out into goosebumps of alarm. He seems so inhuman that I’m not entirely sure his human form was real. Maybe I imagined it. Maybe I’m having a psychotic break of some kind. Staring into the eyes of the monster, I have no idea how I ever thought this thing was anything but pure dragon—one hundred percent killer.
He lowers his head to me, and I can’t help but quail backward, raising my hands to shield myself. One enormous golden eye gazes at me, unblinking.
I jerk at my cuff again. Can’t help it. Need to get away.
That gets the dragon’s attention. It nudges past me, the enormous head shoving me aside as it studies the chain, sniffing it. I retreat as far as I can, until the chain is taut and the cuff is tight against my bloodied skin.
The enormous, fanged maw opens. I smother a cry as it takes the chain into its mouth, teeth brushing against my leg and dangerously close to breaking the skin.
Metal crunches. The chain goes slack.
The dragon sits back on its haunches, spitting out the length of chain.
I stumble backward, falling onto my ass in my haste to get away. I don’t get up, though. I just stay down and stare. Why did he free me?
The dragon leans in and whuffs my hair, as if testing my scent. I force myself to remain still for the inspection, even though the head is so big he could swallow me in a bite. I could lose a fist in one of the enormous nostrils that sniff me.
Then the dragon’s tongue snakes out, and he licks me from belly to collarbone.
Well, that’s friendly…I think.
His pupils go black.
Uh oh. Maybe not so friendly. He licks me again, this time a little slower and more deliberate.
I don’t dare move. Inwardly, I shudder at the sensation…and the wetness. The tongue felt raspy, like a cat’s, and I’m reminded of the enormous, mushroom-headed erection he was sporting earlier. Suddenly the lick he just gave me is less innocent, as is the sniffing nose that ruffles my hair even now.
Tame the dragon, they said. Do it for Fort Dallas. Tame the dragon—this thing the size of a small plane, this thing with fangs and claws that breathes fire and kills people by the hundreds.
Clearly they’re insane.
I stifle a whimper when he licks my shoulder again, and then the enormous snout moves lower. He tries to push it between my sprawled legs to scent my sex, and I can’t help it. I’m terrified, but I’m not going to have that. I push at the nose with my hand, shaking my head. “N-no,” I tell him, and add a mental, please don’t eat me.
The big head lifts sharply, as if recalling something, and as I watch, the eyes flick from the black pupils back to gold. With another guttural whuff of his breath, the dragon turns his head and glances back at the goat. He looks to me, and then turns, heading toward the goat. I just know he’s going to try and offer it to me again.
But his back is to me.
And I’m free now.
I glance at the nearest stairwell, the one I came up with the soldiers. It’s about fifty feet away, just a quick sprint.
I’ve only got one chance. I look over at the dragon, and he’s gently picking up the dead goat in his teeth again.
Time to take that chance. I scramble to my feet and race for the stairs.
I fling the battered door open and launch myself down the stairs in a rush. Panting, frantic, I ignore the fact that I’m naked and shoeless—all that matters is getting away from the dragon. Now that I’m free, I can escape. I thud down the stairs at high speed, relieved that he’s so large. His enormous bulk is way too big to fit in the narrow stairwell, and if he keeps to the top of the building looking for me, I can hide in the rubble on the street until it’s safe to—
An ear-splitting roar of rage interrupts
my wild thoughts. My steps falter, and I stumble down the next few stairs, thudding a couple of feet to a debris-strewn landing. The stairs turn and twist down another story, and I pick myself up and keep going. I didn’t count how many floors there were on the way up, and now I wish I had. It doesn’t matter, though. He can’t get to me. I know I can get away. Back to Amy, I tell myself. Back to Fort Dallas. Back to safety.
The building shakes, and the dragon gives another enraged roar. Plaster rains down on my head, and a chunk of ceiling drops onto the stairs next to me. I bite back a yelp and keep going. Each step takes me farther away from the dragon and one step closer to my sister.
As I turn to go down the next floor, everything is silent. I pause to catch my breath, the only sound the rasping coming from my throat. I glance up at the ceiling, but no more plaster is raining down. The dragon’s silent. Did he fly away? Give up on—
Something slams into the side of the building.
The entire thing shakes, and I nearly lose my balance, careening into the wall. My scream dies in my throat. I can’t make a sound. I can’t. I know if I do, he’ll find me. I cling to the railing and begin to descend again. Another crash into the wall, and bricks crumble inward. The wall sags, and the stairs give an ugly, frightening shudder under my feet. I whimper as the world rocks to one side.
Part of the wall falls away, and I gape at the expanse of open sky that’s suddenly revealed, not five feet from where I’m standing. Far, far below, I can see the broken, overgrown streets of Old Dallas and the other decimated buildings nearby, sticking up like jagged thorns.
Gold flashes past. I hear the beating of wings. I lean forward, trying to get a glimpse of where the dragon is. My heart’s pounding so wildly in my breast that I’m sure he can hear it.
A shadow falls over the hole, and in the next moment, an enormous black-on-gold eye scans the stairwell.
I stumble backward, gasping. As I do, the eye focuses on me, and another ear-splitting roar shakes the building. My footing slips on the garbage-strewn stairs, and I half-slide, half-tumble to the next flight, bouncing down to the landing in a rain of drywall and brick fragments. Pain slams through my body, and I struggle to get back to my feet. My ankle hurts like a beast, my ribs will have new bruises by morning, and I’m covered in dust and dried leaves, but I’m away from the dragon. For now. I need to find a safe spot to hide. Somewhere. Anywhere.