Fire In His Kiss: A Post-Apocalyptic Dragon Romance (Fireblood Dragon Book 2)

by Ruby Dixon

  I can get through this.

  I’m strong. I will survive whatever this dragon wants from me. I’ve survived Tate. I’ve survived the Rift. I can survive anything.

  I close my eyes and mentally assess my wounds. My broken arm is throbbing with pain, but I don’t think it’s any worse than before. My splint needs to be adjusted, but I can do that later, when the dragon’s not watching me like a hawk. Just the thought of the dragon so close by sends a tremor through me, destroying my Zen, and I take a few deep gulping breaths to try to get it back. When I settle my mind once more, I continue. My ribs hurt badly, but they’re survivable. I don’t feel as if my chest is collapsing, so they’re likely just bruises. My hip feels hot and painful, and my clothing is wet with blood. Okay, that means that I’ve been shot. It can’t be a bad wound, though, or I wouldn’t be conscious. I’d be dead. So it’s got to be insignificant. All right. I can deal with that.

  I take another deep breath, focusing on the bigger problem at hand.

  The dragon. Again, I shiver at the thought, but I force myself to stay calm. Rational. Claudia knows a dragon and she’s fine. She’s smart and I trust her judgment. If she thinks she’s safer with her dragon than in Fort Dallas, she must be right. Okay then. Not all dragons are bad.

  There’s the sound of teeth clacking together again, and I don’t have to open my eyes to know the dragon’s biting at the air again. What he sees there is beyond me, but whenever he does that, I wither a little more inside. What if he gets tired of biting at the air and decides to bite at me?

  But Claudia wasn’t scared of hers.

  And if he wanted to eat me, he’d have plenty of time to do so already.

  It’s time to be brave. Man, I hate being brave.

  I swallow hard and open my eyes. The dragon’s still staring at me, intent. The eyes flick from black to gold as I watch, and I dig my fingers into my jeans, wondering if that means something bad. Only one way to find out.

  “Hi,” I say softly.

  There’s no response. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. He’s a dragon, of course. I’ve never heard of them speaking. Claudia said hers spoke when he was in human form. “Can you shift into human form so we can talk?”

  The eyes blink at me slowly. I’m both fascinated and terrified by the whirling gold on gold of the dragon’s pupils.

  “Anything? Can you understand me?”

  The dragon shifts forward on its haunches, and the head zooms close in again. I inwardly cringe but force myself to remain still as the big nose runs up my arm and then sniffs my hair. I can feel his breath on me, hot and scary and smelling suspiciously of ash, and my mouth goes dry. His teeth are as long as my forearm and inches away from my face…

  But he only sniffs me, and then the nose drops lower, pushing at my hip and the wound there. A low growl escapes his throat.

  “Oh God, please don’t do that,” I whisper.

  The eyes flick back to me, and the growl stops. He noses my hair in a manner almost like a horse. A really, really, really big horse. With fangs.

  When I stop speaking, the head lowers again, and he inspects my wound, nosing at the blood-crusted denim. I suck in a breath as he examines me, then pushes at my side, knocking me over. I land on my bad arm and choke back a cry of pain, because the dragon’s busy being fascinated with my newest wound and I don’t dare push him away. So I lie still, twisting my torso slightly to keep the weight off my bad arm.

  Something hot and smooth moves against my leg, and I yelp to see the teeth come out, the dragon’s lips curled back. He growls when I move, and so I go still again, biting on my knuckle to try to stay silent. Is he attracted to the scent of blood? Is that why he’s so fascinated by my wound? Is this the precursor to his attack? I barely hold back another whimper as the teeth scrape gently near my wound, and I close my eyes. I’m such a coward for not wanting to look, but I can’t. I just can’t.

  The sound of ripping denim makes me open them again. I look up in surprise as the dragon tears at my jeans, already fragile and worn from years of use. The fabric tears with a mighty rend—all the way up to the belt—and then flies off my bad leg, and then my bottom half is partially naked.

  The dragon’s head lowers again, and he sniffs at my skin. I can see blood all over my hip, and bruising. One of the bullets must have winged me. He growls once more, and then as I watch, his tongue flicks out and moves over the wound.

  It takes everything I have to stay still. The tongue is hot and wet with saliva, and feels like sandpaper being rubbed over my skin. It’s not comforting at all. In fact, it’s making everything hurt worse. It’s not like I can stop him, so I close my eyes and mentally go to my “good” place. In my mind, it’s back to the world that was before. There’s no Rift, no dragons, no death. It’s just nice and quiet and peaceful. I picture a meadow full of birds and butterflies, flowers blooming amidst the grasses. Today, I decide there should be deer. Maybe there’s one with a fawn that’s frolicking amongst the flowers, and the sky is so blue, without the Rift in sight. It’s calm and soothing, and I imagine a nearby creek full of fish, the water gurgling.

  Everything is bliss.

  DAKH

  I finish cleaning my mate’s wound with my tongue, and she does not move. My heart thuds heavily in my chest, and I nose her, alarmed. Surely that small action did not break her small body? But no, she breathes.

  She is just…not responding.

  I nose her again, but again she ignores me. Is she asleep? Perhaps she is tired. I inspect her, running my nose up and down her small form. Her leg is no longer bleeding, which is good, though I am concerned that her soft skin cannot withstand my ministrations. She is colored a deep reddish purple in the places I licked. I tried to be gentle, but perhaps I was not gentle enough. I touch my tongue to her skin again, exploratory. She tastes sweet, and part of me wishes that she still bled so I could continue to care for her wound, to continue licking at her delicious taste.

  Eat her. Let her blood wash over your fangs.

  The ravens are back, gibbering in my ears. I ignore them and take another deep breath of the human’s scent. It makes them go away again, for a little while. My female smells like the human hive, but underneath, I like her scent. I run my snout along her bared skin again and pause at the apex of her thighs.

  I can smell her cunt.

  Need washes through me, something I have not felt in a very long time. I am surprised at the intensity of it, and then I give in, letting it roll over me. Of course I lust for her. She is my mate. I have chosen.

  Weak, the ravens cry out.

  I ignore them. For the first time in a long time, it is getting easier to refuse them, to push them aside. It is because of her, and I welcome it. I would much rather focus on my human than on them and their terrible words and terrible wings. I run my nose up and down her body again and then press it against her thighs, inhaling deeply of her cunt’s scent. It is musky and pleasant. Not aroused—not yet. But in time, I will make her challenge me. I will welcome her attacks, and then I will subdue her like any good drakoni male.

  And when I have conquered her, I will claim her as my true mate and give her my fire. Until then, I must be patient.

  Reluctantly, I pull my nose away from her sweet scent and scoop my mate up in my claws. She is limp, and I raise her to my nose again to make certain that she breathes. When I am content that she does, I relax and settle on my haunches, tucking her body close against my breast. I will sleep curled around her, to protect her.

  From now on, she is mine to watch over.

  SASHA

  It’s weird to wake up and realize that you’ve slept all night in a dragon’s claws. I don’t think I’ve slept a full night since the Rift itself, because there’s always something to intrude on my thoughts and keep me from relaxing into a deep sleep. Things like starvation or worry over safety. Things like Tate.

  Things like dragons.

  But…I slept. I don’t know what time it is, and I open my eyes
, blinking at the daylight that filters into the chamber. It’s brighter than it was before, so time must have passed. I’m still resting on the dragon’s curled foot, the claws forming a cage around me. It’s warm here, and comfortable, but as I rouse to consciousness, the fear returns. I’m being held by a dragon, and I don’t know what to do.

  I lie still, terrified. The dragon isn’t moving, but from the angle I’m at, I can’t see his face to know whether or not he’s asleep. Baby steps, I decide. I test the different parts of my body quietly, flexing muscles to determine how things feel. My hip feels like a big raw wound—no surprise there. My arm hurts, but it’s gone back to the low, dull throb of the broken bones instead of sharp pain. My ribs and face ache, but they’re better than yesterday. My neck is stiff, I have to pee, and my stomach is empty.

  So pretty much it’s a normal day for me, except the dragon.

  I wonder if he’s awake. I shift slightly in his grip, moving to the edge of the foot that holds me. He doesn’t move, and so I scoot a little farther to the edge, then land on my feet on the floor and glance back to see the dragon’s reaction.

  He doesn’t move, his head tucked against his other paw. As I watch, one large, gleaming eye opens and regards me, the pupil a dark, smoky gold instead of the black it flickered yesterday.

  The dragon knows I’m awake. He just watches me. Okay then.

  “Hi,” I say softly. “I’m just stretching my legs.”

  When the dragon makes no move, I get up and stretch, trying to make my motions as unassuming as possible. As I do, I scan the area. The edge of panic is starting to disappear. It’s clear the dragon doesn’t want to eat me. I don’t know what he wants, but it’s not my death, so I can focus on other things now. I decide it’s time to check out my surroundings.

  It’s immediately clear to me that we’re up high. There are holes in the ceiling of the cavernous room, letting sunlight in, and the view of the sky through those holes is uninterrupted. Off to one side, there’s an enormous gap in one wall, where plastic sheeting flutters, and I can see nothing but open sky up ahead. An unfinished building, maybe? I look around, but there doesn’t seem to be furniture of any kind, just empty concrete floors and a few shattered walls. The room is big, bare, and full of dust.

  There’s no place to sit, and it doesn’t look like there’s a toilet of any kind, so I rub my bad arm absently and begin to walk around. My hip burns with each step, but I ignore it. There has to be a way down other than just the hole in the side of the building. It’s clearly how the dragon got up here, but surely…

  Surely I’m not trapped.

  I move to the far side of the big, empty room and stifle a scream when the dragon rises to his feet, stretching, and yawns with an impressive show of teeth. He moves like a cat, all sinew and grace, and if I wasn’t so terrified of him, I’d be fascinated by that. As it is, I freeze in place and hug my arms close to my chest, waiting to see what he’s going to do.

  The dragon moves to the edge of the ledge and lumbers there, tail flicking back and forth. He moves until he’s blocking the ledge from me and there’s no way for me to get to it.

  Obvious dragon is obvious.

  I get the message, though. I’m not to go out. It’s not like I can get very far anyhow—there’s no way I can climb the side of the building and get down myself. From what I can see, it looks like we’re pretty high up. I’m stuck here, unless I find a stairwell or a working elevator. I turn around and pace the rest of the room, and the dragon follows me as I do. The unease returns to my stomach, and it grows when, despite my survey of the room, I don’t find a stairwell. I do find a couple of spots where rocks have crumbled and the floor and wall are destroyed, and I suspect that maybe that was the way down.

  Either way, I’m stuck here until the dragon decides to fly me down.

  More distressing than that, there’s no bathroom that I can see. There’s no water, no toilets, no nothing. This building must not have been finished—even the ceiling is little more than bare beams in places. This is about the worst place to be held captive, and my throat’s starting to hurt and feel scratchy. My stomach growls, but I ignore it—I’m always hungry in the After.

  I turn to the dragon and decide it’s time to try to communicate again. “Can you understand me?” I keep my voice low and smooth, because I don’t want to alarm him. When that elicits no response, I bite my lip. How the heck did Claudia communicate with her dragon? “I don’t mean to be a bother, but I need something to drink. Or a bathroom.”

  The dragon just stares at me, watching me like a cat with a mouse.

  I pantomime drinking as best I can with my good arm. “Drink? Water? Please?” When the dragon only stares at me, I bite back my sigh of frustration. I’m not getting anywhere, and I don’t know what to do. I glance around, looking for a different way to communicate, and see a piece of rock near my foot. I pick it up and begin to write on the concrete floor, the rock scraping against the cement to make poor lettering, but at least it’s lettering.

  W A T E R.

  I write it out and then point to it. “Can you read?”

  He watches me, tilting his head ever so slightly, like a cat when it’s trying to understand something. I don’t think he’s stupid. I think I’m just not getting across to him. Again, I make a gesture for drinking water.

  It’s no use, though. I might as well be asking a horse to bring me a Happy Meal. I press a hand to my forehead, exhausted. “Never mind. I guess taking care of your captive isn’t high on the to-do list.” I let the rock tumble from my fingers and retreat back to my corner, sagging against the wall.

  3

  DAKH

  I watch, confused, as the female collapses against the wall and sits down. She closes her eyes and sighs heavily. She looks exhausted by that simple movement.

  I do not understand.

  I want to go and nose her again, to demand that she wake up and speak some more. I do not grasp her words, but I like the sound of her voice and the babbles she makes. More than anything, I just want to hear her speak, to see her face move as she talks, to see her strange dark eyes fix on my face.

  I want her to look me in the eye and challenge me. I want her to change to her battle form so that I can accept her challenge and make her my mate. Every hour that she is out here is another hour that she is vulnerable to being snatched by another male, hungry for a mate.

  Just the thought makes me growl in frustration. This human is mine. I want no other.

  At the sound of my growl, the air changes, and I can feel the fear-scent rolling off her again. Frustrated, I retreat a few steps to give her space. I do not know what I am doing wrong. Did Kael not get his mate to challenge him? They are mated, so she must have. His scent is all over her, his fire in her blood. I want this human to accept me as hers. But to do so, she must begin the mating process.

  I study her, waiting to see if she shows any outward signs of changing forms. There is no reddish mating flush to her pale skin. In fact, if anything, she looks less healthy than before. No scales are in sight, either, nor a hint of wing. There is nothing to encourage a mating.

  I don’t know what to do. Never have I encountered a female that did not challenge a male unless she was a fledgling…or already mated. I scan the female again. She is not underage, I do not think. Her body smells like that of a mature female. Nor do I scent another on her.

  Kill her, the ravens whisper in my ears. She is no use to you. Destroy her.

  I shake my head to silence them. I want this female. She is mine. Perhaps…perhaps it is I who is not giving the correct signals. Perhaps I am doing something wrong.

  But what? My mind is muddy from years of violence and rage, and my memories are full of vultures. I cannot pick through them without encouraging my tormentors forward. Only my female keeps me sane. There has to be an answer.

  Maybe…maybe humans think differently than drakoni. Maybe I am the one doing something wrong.

  Lies.

  I s
nap at the raven before it can say more, chasing it off. If my female’s signals are different, I need to learn them. But how? I think of Kael and his human female, but they are happily mated. I will not know how to recognize a courting signal in one that is already claimed. I need to see other humans.

  I must go back to the human hive.

  I rise to my feet and give my wings a satisfied flick. Of course. That makes sense. There are many female humans there. I can observe them and see what signals they give to males. Once I recognize it, I will know what to look for in my female. I reach out to her mind, to try to let her know where I am going, but there is no answer. Her thoughts are closed to me.

  Not for long, though.

  Once I mate her, she will hold nothing back from me. The thought is a satisfying one—of claiming my female’s body as well as her mind. I like this very much.

  You will leave her? They laugh furiously at the thought. You are a fool. She will get snatched by another.

  No, leave her, adds another. Leave her behind and get yourself a new mate at the human hive.

  Leave her? they laugh at the thought.

  Leave her! they demand, whispering insidiously in my ear.

  I am torn. I cannot claim her as she is, but if I do not figure out how humans act, will I ever be able to claim her? But abandoning her is not the answer, no more than anything else. She is mine. It does not matter that I have not mated her yet. She belongs to me and only me. I contemplate bringing her with me to the human hive, but they carry fire spitters. The spitters do nothing to a drakoni’s thick hide, but my human is soft and fragile and already wounded due to my clumsiness. I will not put her in more danger.

  Then…what? Someone will scent her, and if I am not here to guard her, they will claim her…

  Scent her…

  Through the incessant chattering of ravens in my head, I try to think. I need something to cover her scent. To put a male drakoni off, to confuse him so he does not realize she is there. The human hive stinks of waste, but I cannot go there and come back quickly enough to satisfy my protective instincts.