Burn: Dragon Shifter Romance

by Ava Frost

  As they both spiralled down and their heart beats slowed, he buried his face in the crook of her neck and inhaled her, and for several minutes silence enveloped them as they both lay wrapped in each other’s arms.

  Chapter 16

  Alison sat quietly on the back of the donkey cart, camouflaged in rags with a cap hiding her face. Beneath the hot clothes she could feel sweat running down her spine, but even this situation could not dampen the high-spirited feeling of freedom she felt deep down. Oron had given her this new found freedom, and for the first time in her life she felt as if she could overcome any obstacle in her way. She glanced over at him where he sat next to an elderly man, and caught him watching her. She instantly felt aroused by that mere glance, and when he winked and those sexy lips curved up on one side, her heart fluttered uncontrollably.

  Askuwheteau had arranged the transport with a local trader and helped them with clothes in order for them to blend in. The trader was heading for the Mexican border. Oron reassured her that it was the only way they could get out from under the Ronuls radar since they had no jurisdiction in Mexico. They had to simply play it cool and tag along until they managed to cross over safely, then they would be home free. Home, Alison thought, that was something she never really knew, and until a few days ago she didn’t even know that shifters existed. She took in the passing scenery as she thought about the looming changes in her life, this was a whole new ball game, but she knew that with Oron by her side, she could conquer anything.

  The wagon drew to a halt and the people riding with them, all suddenly jumped off. Alison couldn’t understand what they were saying, but whatever it was it didn’t sound good. Oron was instantly by her side as he helped her off the wagon. A group of about five men, armed with guns and rifles blocked the road and by their appearance they seemed hostile. Alison realized immediately that they had been stopped by a bunch of bandits.

  They were all lined up along the side of the road while the robbers ransacked the cargo they were transporting. Fear gripped her heart and Oron inconspicuously reached for her hand and hooked his pinky finger in hers, “Just breathe and stay calm,” he whispered.

  She tried her best to do as he said, but as one of the men stalked towards her with determination, she knew she was in trouble. The man shouted something in Spanish and plucked her from the line, shoving her towards the wagon. She caught a glimpse of Oron and his face was blood red.

  “You, white whore, you come.” This time the man’s English was broken, but his words sent a cold shiver down her spine, they pushed her roughly from one to the other and laughed rancorously. Just then pandemonium erupted, and the last thing she heard was Oron shouting for her to take cover before he gave into his darker alter ego, a black raging bear. The traders and the robbers scattered in all direction trying to escape him.

  Oron in his shifted form had his eyes set on the robbers, and one by one he charged them down killing them mercilessly. And when all their corpses lay scattered across the ground, her bear shifter came towards her and lowered his head. Like a tame, plush teddy bear, he sought her approval, and for the first time in her life, she was not afraid of the unknown. He stood before her with his head lowered before he raised his eyes to hers. It was Oron inside this magnificent creature, and she could see her own reflection in those big dark pools. In awe she reached out and ran her hand along his neck, the thick fur felt like silk under her fingers. She took one step closer and then rubbed her cheek against his neck and closed her eyes as she caressed him. He was a splendid, dominant creature both in human form and his shifted form.

  Oron nudged her hand and then turned towards the tree line a few feet from the road, and she dutifully followed him, knowing that if they stayed there any longer, they would be easy targets.

  *******

  “How do you suppose we get across the border?” Alison whispered as they both lay on a slight hill overlooking the border post two hours later. She was still wearing her cap and rags while he was dressed in a pair of pants and a shirt that was far too small for him, but it was all she could find in the deserted wagon.

  “I don’t know. We’ll have to wait for nightfall and then try to sneak across.” he replied in a hushed tone before turning over and laying on his back.

  Alison shifted closer and leaned over him, her eyes searching his. “Do you think we’ll make it?”

  Even though her own fears were mirrored in his eyes, he gave her a confident smile and brushed a knuckle along her lower lip. “Do you trust me?”

  “With my life.” she said quietly and pressed her lips against the pad of his thumb.

  Alison knew the odds were against them and as she too, turned unto her back and stared up at the sky, she took stock of her life, and came to the conclusion that she had it all, and more. And now that she had come to terms with what Oron was, she was ready to take on any mystery that came her way.

  *******

  The small border town of San Ysidro was riddled with UN nationals and military reinforcements amongst the poverty stricken locals. Oron managed to find clothes that fit him far better than the ones he had on, which also helped him to blend in better. His arm was safely tucked around Alison’s waist as they walked along one of the lesser travelled streets in the small town. He had to keep a low profile until they were away from the border and well on their way into Mexico, where he would meet up with others of his kind.

  As they made their way through the town Oron noticed a wanted poster on one of the walls near a vendor stall, they fit their descriptions perfectly and a handsome reward was offered to whoever captured them.

  “Whatever you do, do not look up at anyone,” he whispered in her ear and tugged her even closer. “The hunters put a prize on our heads, dead or alive.”

  “But I thought you said they have no jurisdiction here.” she whispered through clenched teeth.

  He turned left onto a narrow street and looked for the fastest way out of the small town. “They don’t, but they must have someone on the inside.”

  As soon as they were out from under watchful military eyes, Oron decided it was time to find alternative transport. He skilfully broke into a car that was parked on the side of the road. By foot it would take them weeks to get where they need to get, not discarding the fact that they would be easy to capture, with a reliable vehicle it would take three days at most.

  They took turns driving, day in and day out, avoiding busy roads as they travelled. “Bonnie and Clyde,” Alison said as they travelled along a deserted dark road in the middle of the night.

  “Excuse me?” Oron said, a smile tugging on his lips.

  “Bonnie and Clyde, we go around stealing food and fuel, not to mention the car. We’re wanted criminals now,” she said and although there was a hint of humor in her tone, her smile was somewhat somber.

  “Bonnie and Clyde died in the end; we’re not going to die,” he chuckled and reached for her hand lacing his fingers with hers, “I promise you this; no harm will come to you as long as I am alive.”

  “Then you better make sure you stay alive,” she said and then rested her head on his shoulder.

  *******

  Three days later, they arrived at an abandoned, demolished building that resembled that of an old factory. Corrugated roof sheets lay strewn everywhere; it was like a big pile of rubble that someone left behind in a hurry.

  Oron held Alison’s hand in his and then whistled twice, and one by one men and women sprouted up out of nowhere. The eldest member of the Bear Clan came forward and wrapped his arms around Oron hugging him firmly.

  “Oron, brother, I’m glad you finally made it back. I was beginning to wonder if the hunters got you,” he said with a big grin, and slapped him on the shoulder.

  “Not a chance in hell, they tried, and they failed,” he replied and wrapped his arm around Alison’s shoulders.

  “Mike, meet Alison. Alison, this is Mike, he is one of our elders.”

  Alison was in awe, she may not have been one
of them, but she felt at home straight away. She smiled at Mike and shook his hand, and the old shifter grinned.

  “Looks like you already have a bun baking in the oven,” he commented and winked at Oron.

  “A what?” she asked confusedly.

  “You’re pregnant,” a woman said who came to stand next to Mike, “I can smell it.”

  Alison reached for her stomach and looked up at Oron, “I’m pregnant?”

  He nodded and pulled her into his arms, “I only figured that out when you came to my rescue, I didn’t want to add more stress.”

  Alison blinked away at the tears that threatened to spill.

  “I love you Alison,” Oron mumbled against her lips as he bent his head down, brushing his nose against hers.

  “And I love you Oron,” she responded before kissing him.

  THE END

  Claimed By The Wolf

  Chapter 1

  In Russia, there were two types of men who transformed into wolves. The first type were not unlike wandering dogs, sweet and gentle but cursed to roam for their entire lives, always searching for something they cannot ever find. And the second sort were those who wished to be wolves in the first place, but whose intentions were always unclear.

  Natalya was not sure which sort of wolf-man her boyfriend was, but she suspected he was one all the same, though she suspected he might be too American to understand her superstitions.

  Perhaps boyfriend itself was a misnomer, a word which applied but did not quite fit, for Rhys was nearly twice her age at forty years old. And he did not even live in Russia, was not even on the same continent. Surely he could not be her boyfriend in the same way as her friends had boyfriends, with whom they flirted and had sex, and could physically touch whenever they wished.

  And yet she did not know what other word might describe what he was to her. Despite their time differences, they exchanged messages and emails every single day. They had exchanged pictures, though not yet of anything intimate. And she had heard his voice on the phone, tinny over such a long distance but with a strange accent –even for an American- she couldn’t quite place; at least he did not make fun of her speaking skills as other foreigners had, and perhaps that was a perk of his age. And he sent her gifts through the website they both were part of. At least once a week, some small form of candy or flowers arrived for her. Sometimes the flowers were dead. She never told him this, as it was sweet enough for him to try.

  Natalya found herself in such a strange situation because of a drunken dare one night. Her friends urged her to sign up for a mail order bride service via russiandelights.com, simply to see what would happen. Of course she remembered very little of the process, and when she checked the website later she found multiple emails and messages from moderators across the site requesting verification on her identity, or approving other aspects of her profile. And slowly an image formed of what was also ironically a misnomer. American men seeking exotics to marry could not simply buy a bride, as they apparently once had. Now, mail order services had become little more than fancy dating sights.

  And she had forgotten all about it until about three months ago, when a notification arrived in her email that one of the men browsing the site had come across her picture and found her interesting.

  More out of idle interest than thoughts of anything serious, she did a search right back for him.

  In his profile, and in all the other pictures of him she received, he was a remarkably muscular man for his age. His face was lean and fine, with a strong jaw covered in reddish stubble. His hair also was reddish-brown, almost the color of fox fur in summer sunlight.

  Looks weren’t everything. Natalya knew that. But she did not reject him from looking at his profile. And the next day, he messaged her with a simple greeting and a gentle inquiry as to how her day had gone.

  This is madness, she thought wonderingly at the time, and often afterwards, too. But perhaps even more madness was the sudden realization, looking into the eyes of the pictures he sent her, that there was a yellowish cast to his pupils. She would have put it down to being the light from the camera taking the picture, or perhaps a fault of her computer screen, but then she noticed his leanness bordered on gaunt. It was as though he hungered.

  And when they spoke on the phone for the first time, a growl echoed in the back of his throat as a distant, uncontrolled thing. It never came again after that, but she did not forget.

  “I am being superstitious,” Natalya murmured to herself as she sat at the desk before her computer, fiddling idly with the mouse as she waited for Rhys’s green light to fill in, to signal he had come on for their nightly conversation. But, she decided, even if she was a superstitious old maid at heart, she did not have to risk her life uprooting herself overseas like some of the other women on the same site had done. She could bask in the affection of this gentleman, and still enjoy her youth properly.

  I honestly can’t see the downside to this, she thought, almost happily, as his light finally blinked in. She waited a few seconds longer for the screen to finish loading up on his end. And if he is a wolf, that’s exciting. But it is excitement I am enjoying from the safety of my own apartment.

  “Hello, my dear Natalya,” Rhys typed, the text box popping up on her computer and filling in as his fingers all but flew.

  “Rhys,” she typed back in greeting.

  She expected their usual night of casual, friendly chatter, but the next message chilled her almost to the bone. Reading again provided no relief, either. The meaning of the phrase did not change.

  “I have chosen you.”

  She thought back to the sweet werewolves who imprinted upon families and followed them as part of their endless wanderings, seeking food and affection.

  Hesitantly, trying not to slip into her native language as she tended to do when her mind blanked on English, she wrote back to him. “What do you mean?”

  “I saw you hesitate,” flashed back at her quickly. “I just meant that I was speaking with some other girls while I’ve also been talking with you.”

  Somehow, that hurt. But hadn’t she just been contemplating doing the same thing to him?

  “And I have decided that I like you best, Natalya.”

  “I like you best, too.” He was the only man she had ever spoken to through this service, but perhaps it was best not to bring that up just now.

  “I’d like to come visit you.”

  And now she spoke out loud, a soft guttural sound of surprise for which there was no word equivalent in either language. It was more akin to a gasp. “And?”

  “And that is all. I’m neither asking nor demanding. All I’ll say is I am quite fond of you, my dear. This old man would like to see the woman who spends so much time with him.”

  “You’re not so old!” she protested.

  She almost felt him laugh through all the miles separating them, and felt her lips curve upwards at the edges in response. And with his next message, he simply asked about her day. Just like that, they slid back into their old routine as seamlessly as though the first few minutes never happened.

  Natalya still didn’t know what to think of that. She was too wise, she hoped, to fall for any traps, but lying over long distances could not have been any easier in this day and age. There also was his voice to base assumptions upon but even though he sounded genuine enough, sometimes it was hard to tell what might nourish and what might poison, or kill, or worse.

  And so she did not bring it up, and neither did Rhys. Not for the rest of their half-hour communication, during which a moderator also messaged her to ask how things were going, and not for the next night, or several other nights after that.

  A week later, she convinced herself it was nothing but a harmless little joke. Or maybe Rhys, for all his hard physique, was growing soft and sentimental even over the short time she knew him. Soon enough, she thought, smiling to herself on the train headed home from work, she would find him reminiscing mournfully about his younger days, with a pipe
held unsmoked in one hand.

  But then, he mentioned it again.

  “I really would like to come visit you, Natalya. Is there any reason I can’t?”

  They spoke on the phone this time, a rare luxury he paid for –all the men of the mail order bride websites were expected to pay for everything, with pleasure for the opportunity even to do so.

  Laying on her back in bed, Natalya closed her eyes. “I am not sure, Rhys. I have responsibility, a job. I can-not be able to afford this.”

  “I assure you, Natalya,” he crooned, intentionally botching her name in an attempt to make her laugh, “that I would cover all the expenses. I am a gentleman, after all. You would have nothing to worry about. I just want to hug you.”

  She was so startled she couldn’t speak.

  “Is that so strange?” Suddenly, he sounded so terribly lonely she hurried to fix it.

  “No, of course not! I just thought man like you might want more.”