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

by Ruby Dixon

  The dragon-man ignores my little jab and puts his hand in my hair. He runs his fingers through it, and I notice that his hand is tipped with these wicked-looking claws. Double eep. He lifts a handful of my hair to his nose and sniffs, and then rumbles low in his chest.

  “I hope that’s a good rumble and not a hungry rumble,” I say, keeping a smile on my face. “Because I’m not much of a mouthful.”

  He doesn’t seem to pay any attention to my words, just leans in closer.

  “Boy, you’re not very good with personal space, are you?” I say nervously. I step back again, but I’m running out of room to step back in. A few more feet and I’m going to be against the wall. Still, if all he wants to do is sniff my hair…I’ve had worse.

  The dragon-man does sniff my hair again. But then he leans in and buries his face against my neck, inhaling even deeper.

  I muffle my little shriek of surprise and do my best to stay still, because I don’t want to make him mad. “This is just you getting to know me, right? Right. We’ll go with that for now.”

  Of course, that thought goes out the window a moment later. He licks the column of my neck, long and hard, and I wince. His tongue is as raspy and sandpapery as it was when he licked my wound. It’s not entirely unpleasant against unbroken skin, but it’s awful friendly.

  All of him is awful, awful friendly, including the hard dick that I’m pretty sure is pushing up against my hip. Yeah. I’m no innocent. I can guess where all this sniffing is going. Claudia said her dragon wanted a mate. I guess this one does, too.

  And I don’t know what to do. I’ve sold myself to Tate in the past for money and for help surviving, but that was because I was desperate, and it was only one person. I hated myself each and every time I did. I’m not sure how I feel about selling myself to a dragon.

  Scratch that. I know how I feel. I’m utterly and completely terrified.

  He keeps sniffing at my hair, caressing my skin, and generally invading my space. It’s uncomfortable to be the object of such intense fixation, especially considering he’s naked. I don’t know what to do; I certainly don’t want to piss him off considering he can turn into a fire-breathing dragon. But I worry all this touching is going to head in an unpleasant direction if I don’t speak up.

  I gently pull away, keeping a fixed, friendly smile on my face. “Thank you for the water. It’s really nice of you.” And when that doesn’t elicit a response, I take another step away. “So, do you speak English?”

  He cocks his head, studying me, and then moves away. I rub my arms, relieved to see him go. That was a little too close for comfort, and he’s far too unpredictable. I wish he’d say something. Anything. It would take away a bit of the strangeness and uncertainty, but he’s completely silent.

  As I watch, the dragon-man moves to the big stewpot and sticks his hand in. He scoops up a handful of congealed stew and turns, offering it to me.

  Oh. Um. I guess we don’t have bowls. I put my hands out.

  He ignores them and steps forward, raising his hand toward my face. It’s clear he doesn’t intend on passing off the food. Okay. I guess dragons feed their friends with their hands? Or something? I try to pick a chunk of meat out, but when he makes a low growl in his chest and pushes his hand toward my face again, I decide it’s not worth the fight and lean in.

  This might be the weirdest meal I’ve ever had. I gingerly nibble at one of the larger chunks, but I’m starving and the stew is delicious, even if it’s cold. I soon forget that I’m eating out of a stranger’s hand and hold onto his wrist as I eat, wolfing down the food. By the time it’s gone, I’m still hungry and I have to resist the urge to lick the grease off his fingers.

  His eyes gleam bright gold as he watches me. When I’m done, I take a step back, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment over what I just did. That was…strange. What’s even stranger is that I’d gladly take another handful if he offered it.

  But he doesn’t. Instead, he moves forward toward me, and before I realize what he’s doing, he presses his mouth to mine.

  Or rather, he presses his face to mine. It doesn’t feel like a kiss, not even remotely. Baffled, I stand completely still as he rubs the lower half of his face against mine. What is he doing?

  Then he growls low in his throat, and the sound isn’t angry. Rather, it’s low…and pleased. He grabs me by the shoulders and turns me around, pushing me forward. I grab the edge of the tub to steady myself, and as I do, he tugs at the waistband of my half-torn-away jeans and rips them completely off.

  Oh God. I know where this is headed.

  I bite the inside of my cheek and stand still, my eyes closed. Dread and loathing fill my mind. This dragon wants sex—and I shouldn’t be surprised. Claudia said hers wanted a mate. It isn’t any different for this one.

  Thing is, I’m not interested in a mate.

  I hate sex. I hate being touched. I hate all of it, and I have Tate to thank for that.

  But even Tate wasn’t like this. With Tate, I knew what I was getting into. It was my choice, every time. I was the one who walked to the barracks and sold myself. If nothing else, I was in control of that part. This?

  I have zero control. I have zero say in the matter. He’s going to take me whether I want it or not.

  And I’ve got a broken arm and bruised ribs and a wound on my side that aches even as he pulls me backward and positions my hips. This guy is a dragon. He’s taller than me, built with muscle, and incredibly strong. He’s got me captive up here. To fight him would be a death wish.

  So I won’t fight. I need to stay alive.

  Still, I can’t help the tears that slide down my cheeks. Just put up with it until it’s over, I remind myself. You can go to your happy place and zone out for a while. This won’t last forever, and it’s the only way to survive.

  I feel him rub the length of his cock—thick, hard, and hot—against the crease of my backside. That invasive touch shatters any hope of going to my happy place. I can’t. I’m too freaked out. I gasp out a sob, unable to help myself.

  The dragon goes still behind me.

  I freeze, sucking in a breath. I’m terrified I’ve somehow made him mad with my crying. Tate liked tears, but what if this guy—this dragon—views it as an insult? I need to stop. I sniff and rub my face against my sleeve, trying to compose myself, but then a hiccup escapes my throat, and I can’t stop crying.

  Even after all these years in the After, years of doing anything and everything to survive, I have my limits. I still feel small and unsafe and vulnerable, and I hate it as much as I hate his touch.

  My humiliation grows when I can feel him drop to his knees behind me. He grabs my ass and buries his face between my thighs, inhaling deeply.

  God.

  But then he stands. Hands touch my shoulders. They’re scorching hot like the rest of the dragon-man’s skin, and he straightens me and turns me to face him. I flinch, expecting the worst.

  The look on his face isn’t one of anger, but confusion. His eyes flicker black, and he raises a hand to my cheek, wiping away my tears with gentle fingers. He studies the wetness on his hand, then lifts it to his mouth to taste it and gives me a curious look.

  “Sorry,” I sniffle. “I just…I’m scared. I know what you want, and I swear I’ll try to be accommodating, but I’m not ready. I need a little more time, okay?”

  DAKH

  The human female leaks from her eyes again. I know what it means now, because it is accompanied by her fear-scent.

  She is scared. She is scared of my touch.

  I smelled her cunt and there is not a hint of need in her body. If I touched her, it would not be because she wanted it. It would be because she was too afraid to say no.

  I do not understand. I thought I did the human mating signal. I pressed my face to hers, and she accepted it. Why does she not wish to mate? Do I still do something wrong?

  Her eyes water more, and she looks sad. It hurts me to see that. It hurts me to think that she is scared of
me when I want nothing more than to please her. I caress her soft cheek and wonder what it is I need to do to make her welcome my touch. My cock aches and my fangs burn with the need to give her my venom, but I will not force her to bend to me. There is a difference between a mating battle and simply conquering a female without her permission. To do so is appalling.

  The female says something in that soft voice of hers, and she sounds sad. I stroke her cheek again, frustrated. If we had the mental bond between mates, she would understand me and I her. But until we mate and I give her my fires, we are strangers. And as long as she is covered in her fear-scent, she will never challenge me.

  Humans are…difficult.

  Rid yourself of her, the ravens whisper, swooping into my mind once more. The human hive has more females. Take one of those. Rend this one with your claws.

  I growl at them, because the very thought makes me angry. I would never hurt her. She is the female I have chosen. I want no other.

  The female goes still, her eyes wide with fear at my growl. I have to bite back another one of pure frustration because it was not intended for her. Again, I wish for the bond in our minds. I must go to Kael, I think, and ask him how he brought his female into a mating heat when she will not change to battle form. I must—

  Defend, cry the ravens, even as I smell it—an intruder.

  An interloper.

  Someone thinks to take my female from me.

  The snarl of rage that bursts from my chest comes with flame.

  5

  SASHA

  The dragon-man pulls away from me with an angry snarl and a rush of flame rising from his throat.

  I draw back, startled, wondering what I did to cause him to change moods like that. A moment later, I hear a faint, angry cry—that of a dragon. And then I grow cold with fear.

  Another dragon.

  Before I can blink, the dragon-man takes two leaping steps away, and then he erupts into a flash of golden wing and lashing tail. He can transform so fast. I stare as he takes to the air, sailing off the ledge and out into the sky.

  Almost immediately, I see a flash of red and another angry cry as the second dragon dive-bombs him.

  I choke, stumbling backward. The need to hide, to protect myself, grows with every moment. After seven years of dragon attacks in the After, I don’t feel safe out in the open with a dragon nearby. I have to hide. I’m not safe here.

  I look around the big, empty floor, but there’s no place for me to take cover. No concrete rooms or reinforced doors, no metal shelters to protect me from dragon fire. There’s nothing but empty, open floor.

  I’m screwed.

  I don’t know what to do.

  A flash of wing tumbles past, and I gaze out into the open sky, shocked. The red and gold are intertwined, fighting nearby. Another horrible thought crosses my mind: What do I do if the gold dragon—my dragon—loses? Even if the other dragon flies away again, I’m going to starve to death up here, abandoned.

  I’ve got to get out of here.

  I rush to the ledge and grip the edge of the wall, gazing out. There’s no walkway, of course. No fire escape, not even a concrete lip that would allow me to drop down to another level, provided I had two good arms and a healthy amount of daring. But I don’t have either. Nor do I see the dragons—the sky in front of me is clear.

  A terrible roar comes from overhead, and I feel a rush of flame sear at my curls. I scream and duck inside, backing away, my hand on my hair. It’s not on fire, but the stink of singed hair permeates my senses. I move away from the ledge, standing next to the bathtub full of water, when a dragon thumps down onto the floor, landing.

  It’s the red.

  My eyes widen in shock. It’s smaller than the other dragon, its muzzle slathered with white scars. Blood pours down its neck, dotting the scales with more pulsing red. Smoke curls from its nostrils, and as I watch, those great, black eyes focus in on me.

  The dragon inhales.

  Gold slams into it from behind, sending them both tumbling. Fire flies through the air, and I duck against the side of the bathtub, trying desperately to stay clear. The two dragons thrash, and there’s more fire, smoke filling the enormous chamber as they wrestle, claws and wings and tails everywhere.

  The red spouts flame again, and it comes awfully close once more. My heart hammering, I realize that they could torch me even as I sit here, trying to stay out of the way. Even if I avoid their crashing bodies, I could end up a charred heap regardless.

  I huddle against the tub and then realize what I’ve got.

  Of course.

  I climb into the bathtub, even though every inch of me is screaming to duck down near the floor again. I ignore the protesting throb of my broken arm and sink down into the water, and when the thrashing dragons spin closer, I suck in a breath and duck under the surface.

  A brief moment after I do, heat crackles over the water, and I can feel the temperature rise in response.

  Shit. That was too close.

  I open my eyes underwater, letting up bubbles. I can’t see much, except the occasional lick of flame. I want to stick my head up and take another breath, but I worry I’ll pop up just in time to take a faceful of fire.

  So I push my hands against the sides of the tub…and wait.

  I hope I can hold my breath long enough.

  DAKH

  Tearing out the throat of the female interloper does not fill me with satisfaction. There is no joy in destroying another of my kind, especially a female. Not when I know she is as crazed as I am. The ravens shout in her mind as well as my own, making it impossible to think clearly. Her madness was overwhelming, and every attempt I made at communicating was drowned out by her own wild thoughts. She sensed an unmated female and wanted to destroy her, seeing her as a rival.

  I could not let her harm my human. Never.

  As her blood washes over me, I wait for the calm my human brings to my thoughts. I wait for my female to chase away the choke of birds fluttering through my head, for her presence to silence the litany of voices in my mind until I hear just one—hers. But there is only silence, and the fury in my mind continues.

  I cannot calm.

  The urge to destroy things—to destroy others—rocks through me. I cannot shake it—or the obsessive need to use my claws to rend and tear. Kill, the ravens caw. Hurt. Destroy like you have been destroyed.

  But I cannot. Not without a mate to care for—

  My mate? Where is she?

  I send a bugling call into the air, but there is no answer. Panic makes the ravens attack, pecking at my eyes, my scales. They swarm over me, and I fight to push through the bad thoughts they loose in their wake.

  My mate. I must focus on her. She is everything.

  I scan the room, but there is nothing, no small human figure cowering in a corner. There is only the round container full of water with a shadow floating atop it…

  With an angry bellow, I bound across the room and snatch my human from the water. She is limp in my claws, and I give her a little shake, nosing her as delicately as I can to try to rouse her. She hid in the water to avoid the fire of the female attacker? My clever, clever little human.

  The female is still for a long moment, then begins to spit water, gurgling and coughing. She clings to my claws, and I pull her tight against my breast, protective.

  She is not leaving my grip. Not now. Not ever. I inhale deep lungfuls of the foul air of this place, but I cannot clear my thoughts. All I can see is rage. Rage that the female dragon dared to attack my mate in her nest. Rage that the ravens continue to mutter their dark thoughts in my head. Rage that I am trapped here, in this terrible place. Rage that I almost lost my female.

  Rage. So much rage.

  My female says something, interspersed between coughs, and the sound of her raw voice just fuels my anger. She should not be hurting. She should be safe with me. She should be my mate at this point, and yet she will not give me a mating challenge. All of this fuels the fire burning i
n my belly, until smoke is pouring from my nostrils. I am a mere breath away from losing control.

  She touches my claw and says something, but it is drowned out by the angry maelstrom of my thoughts. Her hand moves on my scales, but I am barely aware of it. All I can see is fury. All I can hear is anger.

  Then, something soft and sweet pierces through the darkness. The dark clouds in my mind rise, and in their place, she is there.

  My human.

  Her voice is gentle, and she is making a strange little sound that is not quite speaking, not quite humming. It is calming and pleasant, and I feel the ravens ebb away as she continues to stroke my claw, making those soothing noises.

  My mate.

  I focus in on her, letting her noises wash over me and fill me with peace. She eventually stops and says something to me, the curious note in her voice telling me that her chant has finished and she is asking a question.

  And the question…it sounds like my name.

  I forgot I had one.

  6

  SASHA

  When I finish singing the nursery rhyme to the dragon, the curls of smoke have stopped pouring from his nostrils.

  Thank God.

  It’s taken every ounce of courage I’ve had to remain calm and collected in the face of his— I don’t know, whatever fit he was having. His eyes had gone completely black, and smoke was coming from his mouth and nose, as if he were barely holding it together. The claws wrapped around me were tight. Blood and gore dripped from his muzzle, a reminder of what he did to that other dragon, who lies in a pool of blood entirely too close by.

  This is the stuff of nightmares, but I can’t be upset that the other dragon’s dead. I’m too relieved that I lived. I suppress a shudder, thinking of the drowning feeling, of being underwater and too afraid to surface. I stayed under longer than I’d realized, because I must have blacked out. I woke up in the dragon’s claws, confused and lungs heavy.