by Ruby Dixon
I limp down the next flight of stairs, and there’s a door there. My hands are shaking as I tug on the handle, but it won’t budge. Somewhere nearby, the dragon trumpets another furious roar, and the building shakes again. I abandon the door and continue down. I thought the stairs were safe before because the dragon was too big, but now I feel like a mouse trapped in a maze. I’m trembling with fear as I continue downward. No choice but to keep going.
I turn the corner on the next flight of stairs, hoping for another door. My heart sinks at the sight before me.
The fragile stairwell has crumbled away, leaving nothing but a gaping hole for at least two flights of stairs. There’s nothing but empty air and another glimpse of concrete stairs far, far below. Wind rips through the gaping hole, ripping at my hair and pulling away whatever breath I have left.
I can’t keep going. I’m trapped. I glance back up the way I came. I’ll have to go back, take a chance on the door—
The dragon strikes the building again.
Beneath my feet, the floor groans and shifts. The stairs crumble, and then there’s nothing to stand on any longer.
“No!” My scream echoes loudly in the stairwell.
As if in response, the dragon bellows again.
I struggle to grasp on to something as I slide helplessly toward the gaping hole so close by. My body scrapes against a long piece of rebar that sticks out from the now-broken concrete. I manage to grab it, and the momentum in my body as I slam to a stop means that it almost rips from my grip again. Somehow, though, I hold on, and it saves me from flying over the edge of the building and into the sky.
My naked ass hangs in midair. There’s no purchase for my legs, and my sweaty hands are gripping the only thing that’s keeping me from becoming a splatter on the pavement below.
Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.
I flail my legs, searching for something—anything—to step on. My hands are slippery on the bar, and I won’t be able to hold on for long. A sob rips out of my throat as the building groans and everything seems to shift a little more. “No! Help!”
There’s no help, though. My grip slips, and then I’m flying through the air—
Large scaly claws wrap around my torso half a breath later. I slam into the hard scales of his hand. Paw. Claw. Whatever. It wraps tight around me, and I’m no longer in danger of becoming a pavement pancake.
Now I’m just in an entirely new kind of danger.
I gasp for breath—I’m not sure I’ll have a decent lungful of breath ever again—and tug at the claws wrapped tight around my waist. My legs dangle free, one of my arms trapped against my body. With my free hand, I hammer at his scaly claws as he soars through the air. A squeak of alarm escapes me as the dragon lifts his claws toward his head.
Way to go, Claudia. You pissed him off and now he’ll chew you into pieces.
But all he does is sniff my hair again with that enormous snout. He whuffs his breath against the side of my neck, as if making sure I’m all right, and then flaps his wings harder, gaining air and heading back toward the top of the building.
Right back where we started, except now I’m even more injured, filthy, and being cuddled by a dragon. I could just cry.
The dragon flies right back to the open area at the top of the building where he found me. He lands, cradling me close to his scaly, enormous chest. He folds his wings in carefully against his body, just like a bird, and then sets me down gently on the ground in front of him.
Then he crouches low, waiting. His tail flicks. His gold-on-gold gaze is focused entirely on me.
I don’t dare move. Wide-eyed, I stare up at him, waiting. I’m half-expecting him to wiggle his butt like a cat ready to pounce. The stairwell isn’t too far away, but it won’t do me any good to run away, at least not in that direction. I’d only get stuck. I try to think of other options and come up blank except for one—flinging myself off the side of the building. I glance over at the wide-open skies just past the dragon and suppress a shiver.
Effective, but not quite the result I want. I want to live.
The dragon growls low in his throat, startling me. My gaze goes back to him, and as I watch, he arches his back and transforms. The speed of it is breathtaking. Before I can blink my eyes, he’s human again. At least, mostly human. He’s still got that little frill of horns at his temples and the mottled scale pattern on his golden skin. He gets up from his crouch, beautiful, perfect body uncurling, all six feet and change of him. And he moves to stand right in front of me, gold-on-gold eyes blinking.
He puts a hand out to me. “No.”
7
CLAUDIA
No?
No what?
I stare at him in surprise. “What do you mean, no?”
“No,” he says again slowly. He says it with an unusual inflection, as if he’s tasting it and finding it foreign. “No.”
Then he looks at me, waiting.
He’s parroting me. I said no, and he remembered it. Actually, I’ve said ‘no’ to him quite a bit. It shouldn’t be surprising that he picked it up. He probably doesn’t know what it means. On a hunch, I sidestep toward the stairwell again.
“No,” he repeats, and there’s a warning note in there.
All right, maybe he does know what he’s saying. I put a bright ‘who me?’ smile on my face. This is just another captor. Instead of the fat mayor, I get a dragon. All right. I’ll just have to deal with this. “All righty then, we’ll play the ‘no’ game.”
He tilts his head, trying to decipher what I’m saying, and then takes a step forward.
“No,” I say, putting a hand up to stop him.
He stops where he’s at and crouches low, the avid, hungry look in his eyes locked on me.
Erm. He’s really, really naked. I shift my hand a little lower, letting it block his anatomy from my sight. When he sits like that, well, it’s easy to see he’s excited. More than a little excited. Does the man have a constant hard-on around me? Jeez. “So, hey, do you speak English?”
His brows go down, and he concentrates. “Sohay…du…ewww…spek…Ayne-glehs.” His mouth moves over the words slowly, with great exaggeration. I notice again that he’s got a pair of big fangs, like a vampire. Or you know, like his dragon form.
Well, isn’t that comforting. “I’m guessing that’s a no.”
“No,” he repeats.
“Right. No. Thumbs up.” I make the gesture. “We’ve got that part down. So I guess if you don’t speak English, I can’t ask you if you’re going to kill me and eat me before or after you rape me.”
“Rrrrape,” he thrums, testing the word.
Aw, crap. Did he have to pick up on that word? “No rape,” I tell him. “No. Rape bad.”
His eyes narrow, and I realize with an anxious stab that he doesn’t understand me at all. He’s guessed ‘no’ at this point, but ‘rape’ could be ‘pickle’ for all he knows. And the more words I spit at him, the more agitated he’s getting. He gets to his feet again, moving a bit closer in a slow, steady motion, watchful gaze on me. I know if I try to bolt again, he’ll catch me.
I’m stuck here.
Okay. If that’s what I’ve been dealt, then I’ll handle it. He’s not eating me, so that’s a plus. And he freed me from the chains, which is another plus. Maybe he doesn’t want to hurt me, after all. I glance over at the dead goat. It’s not a reassuring sight. And when I drop my hand, I see his giant erection again, reminding me that just because the dragon hasn’t eaten me doesn’t mean that he’s safe.
All right then. Time to make a friend.
I think about how I’m going to approach this. I don’t want to startle him, that’s for sure. And I don’t want him to think I’m too interested. I sneak a peek over at his naked body, just in case I’m imagining things. Maybe it’s a nervous boner. Except no, his erection hasn’t gone down in the slightest. The thick, heavy crown of his cock is beaded with pre-cum.
Definitely not a nervous boner.
He makes a
low rumble in his throat, wild and animalistic. Startled, I meet his gaze and realize he’s caught me checking out his junk. And he likes it. The look in his eyes has gone predatory, and they’ve flicked back to black again, which worries me. It worries me even more when he begins to prowl slowly toward me.
Think fast, Claudia, or you’re going to end up flat on your back for that dragon-man. Mind racing, I tap my breastbone quickly. “I’m Claudia.”
He stops. Thank god. His brow furrows as he tries to process my words. He gets to his feet, stretching out and standing tall. He takes a step toward me and gestures at his mouth, as if indicating he wants me to speak again.
All right, communicating is more important than sex. That works. I tap my chest again and enunciate slowly. “Clawwww-deeee-uhhh.”
Gaze fixed on my lips, he repeats it. Or tries to. “Clawwwww-duh.”
“Claw-dee-uh.”
His mouth purses. “Clau-dah.”
Close enough. I smile and nod, gesturing at myself. “Claudia.” Then I gesture at him.
He’s not interested in talking about himself though. His black gaze moves over my naked limbs, and the low rumble starts in his throat again. “Clau-dah,” he says, and it’s practically a purr. I could swear his cock twitches as he says my name, too.
Yiiiikes.
I smile brightly at him again. “Claudia.” Then I point at him all over again and again a second time, hoping it gets the message across.
The dragon-man’s eyes flick back to the deep gold, which makes me sigh with relief. I think that means he’s happy. He puts a large, claw-tipped hand to his chest and taps it. “Kael.” The syllable is quick and hard, almost like a guttural version of ‘Kyle.’ I repeat it back to him.
Pleasure flashes over his face, and I could swear the man practically purrs in response. He creeps a bit closer. “Clau-dah Kael,” he says in a low, rich voice, and moves closer yet again.
I scoot backward and flinch when I run into a wall. Trapped like a rat. Damn it. He moves closer, and I close my eyes, hoping he’s just gonna give me a friendly dragon-hug of some kind.
I feel the warmth of his naked body press against my own. He’s scorching hot, this dragon. Not surprising given that he breathes fire, but feeling it against me is startling. “Clau-dah,” he murmurs in that low, rumbling voice, then leans in and sniffs my hair, practically nuzzling me.
I remain utterly still, not sure what to do.
His claws drag through my tangled hair, and as I open my eyes, I see that he’s got a fascinated look on his face. His eyes are gold, so I relax. His touch is gentle enough, and his eyes are calm. Maybe he doesn’t realize he’s scaring the piss out of me. That people don’t get in each other’s personal space like this. He’s a dragon. Maybe they do things differently.
Up close to him like this, he seems way more human. He looks like he’s about my age, his face unlined. The spicy scent of him is pleasant, and the form looming over mine looks human enough. His golden skin isn’t scaly, but more dappled. It’s curiously appealing, and I kind of want to touch him to see what it feels like, but I’m pretty sure he’d take that as an invitation to do more.
Kael drags a handful of my hair to his nose and inhales sharply, his nostrils flaring. “Clau-dah,” he growls, and rubs his face against my neck.
That…sounds like things just went a step too far. And when he lifts his head, I see his eyes have gone black again.
“You’re scaring me,” I whisper.
When I speak, his attention goes back to my mouth. His claws brush over my lips, fascinated. I’m relieved that his touch is gentle enough. Maybe I need to say more.
“Scary,” I say, not entirely sure how to convey this. I decide to shiver and huddle, exaggerating the movements. I cringe like a puppy and then point at him. “Kael scary.” And I shiver again for good measure. It’s not hard to do considering his eyes are black as he rubs my hair against his cheek.
But once I point at him, understanding dawns on his face. He blinks at me, and the black leaches out of his eyes, returning to gold. “Clau-dah…no?”
Oh, thank god. He understands. “No,” I agree, and put a hand on his chest to push him away.
“No?” He bites out the word.
Fear pools in my belly, but I need to make him understand. “No.” My voice is a little wobbly. “Scary.”
“Clau-dah no,” Kael echoes, his voice flat with anger. He slams away from me so fast that I have to stifle my squeal of fright. He storms away, raging across the room, and then stops, his back to me. As I watch, he clenches his clawed fists. His big shoulders heave, as if he’s trying to contain himself. The low snarl starts in his throat again, and he throws his head back, giving way to a full-blooded roar of fury so loud it shakes glass out of the windowpanes.
I collapse where I stand, drawing tight into a little ball of fear. I wrap my arms around my head protectively, and tears of fright leak down my cheeks. I’m so scared I can’t move.
I’ve made him mad.
He holds my fate in the palm of his barely human hand and I’ve made him mad.
Bad move, Claudia.
KAEL
Clau-dah.
She has a name. My mate has a name. I repeat it to myself, over and over again, and it helps keep the darkness at bay.
Clau-dah. Clau-dah.
I reach out to her mind, to connect with her as I do other drakoni. There is nothing there, only silence.
I close my eyes, fighting off the rage that burns through me. It is a helpless rage, a rage with no focus. I know it—like poison in my mind, it destroys all thought and leaves me nothing but a snarling beast. I cannot be that way around Clau-dah, because she is already scared of me. I must woo her, court her with caresses and gifts of good food. I cannot let the madness cloud my mind.
My reason for existing crouches nearby, trembling. For her, I must be strong.
So I say her name again, chanting it in my mind. Clau-dah. Clau-dah. If she cannot hear me, she will when I claim her as my mate.
I glance over at her. I can smell the fear coming off of her in sheets, overriding my own musky scent of arousal. I want to touch her again. Touch her silky soft hair, her pale skin. See her strange green eyes light up with pleasure. I want her to welcome my touch instead of flinching away.
Clau-dah is not like other dragon-mates. The females of my kind are aggressive. If they wish to be courted by a male, they flare red and attack him to determine if he’s worthy to mate. After many long, drawn-out battles, if the male conquers the female, he will win mating privileges. The mental bond will be formed, and they will make a strong hunting pair, no matter in two-legged form or four. Some drakoni prefer the two-legged form because it allows for clearer thinking.
At least, I think that is how it was. My memories are a jumble, no longer coherent in this strange new land where everything triggers madness. I cannot tell my dreams from reality. Not anymore.
I hate it here, hate everything about it. The strange, ugly metal buildings, the stench of the skies. The two-legged ones that swarm over everything and attack with pellets of fire. I hate all of it, and the urge to destroy and conquer writhes like a snake in my gut. Even now, just thinking about it makes me alert with the hunger to attack, to switch back to four-legged battle form and wreak havoc.
Except…my female is right here.
I turn to look at her again. Soft. Vulnerable. Fragile. Her hands swipe at her cheeks and the curious wetness there. Her hair is a glossy tangle around her head, the beautiful mating red that my kind loves so very much. Her big green eyes gaze at me with defiance, even as she inches backward.
It makes me smile. She is trying to be brave.
I do not blame her for her fear. It is the rage. It has consumed me just like it has consumed all of my people, ever since the heavens opened up and pulled us through to this strange, awful place. Knowing she is here feels like an anchor to sanity. With a mate, the rage will dissipate. When I mate her, our minds will link, and
the shining star of her in the black void of my thoughts will keep me sane forever.
I hunger for that, almost as much as I hunger for her. I reach down to stroke my aching cock, thinking of Clau-dah under me. The sensation is incredible, and I growl low in my throat. I’ve been in battle form too long, and this is a pleasure only for the two-legged form. It has been far too long since I touched a female, and I ache to make Clau-dah mine, to feel her small hand upon me like this.
Clau-dah gives a small, muffled noise of alarm.
I immediately drop my hand from my cock. I want to tell her that she is safe. That I will never touch her while she is frightened of me. That she is my mate, and I wish nothing more than to care for her and protect her from this harsh, awful world I have been exiled to.
But I cannot speak to her, not yet. Her words are strange ones, and we have no mind-link yet. We will not until we mate. Until then, I must be patient and speak the few words of her language that I know. “Clau-dah, no,” I reassure her. “No.” I will not touch you until you hunger for me as much as I hunger for you.
She doesn’t understand what I am saying to her. Her expression is still full of defiance masking her fear. She was frightened of my gift of fresh meat, too. Clau-dah was so frightened she did not take her battle form. Perhaps the humans here do not have one. That could explain why they die so easily and frighten all the time. If I had no battle form, I would look at life very differently, as well.
But…perhaps that is why they are not crazed with madness and my people are.
It does not matter. I will win Clau-dah by feeding her. She will realize when I feed her that she is my mate, and then she will relax.
I stalk toward the dead animal and examine it. Less than a mouthful in my battle form, but plenty to eat for any two-legged creature. It looks tasty enough. I lean over and use my claws to slit the belly wide open and expose the tender organs.