by Ruby Dixon
That’s all right, though. There’s an entire store to explore, and if we’ve found two cans of food, there’s bound to be more that we can eat.
As we venture on, I keep filling the cart. There’s plastic dishes. Forks. Knives. Hairbrushes. Sneakers. Warm, fuzzy socks. Sunglasses—I put them on just because it amuses me, and then Dakh steals them and tries to put them on himself. He looks a bit like a rock star in his tighty-whities and sunglasses and nothing else, until he does that tight, awkward walk that tells me he’s not used to wearing underpants, and then I start giggling again.
I’m still laughing as we turn down another aisle, and then I gasp.
Jackpot.
9
SASHA
I move past the faded rows of magazines toward the paperbacks lined up on the shelves. My hand moves over the once-glossy covers, touching the images of glamorous couples in exciting landscapes. Romance novels. Oh my God, it’s been so long since I’ve read one, and there are dozens here. I clutch one to my chest, thrilled, and then grab another and stick it in the cart. A few of the books have been attacked by mice and rats, but there are plenty that are intact, and I start shoving them into the cart, pausing to read the back descriptions with sheer joy. Oh, a highlander romance. I love those. And there’s one with a sheikh, and a billionaire.
They might as well be fairy tales at this point, but I don’t care. I love them. I can’t wait to escape into their pages for a few hours.
Dakh picks one up, sniffs it—he seems to be sniffing everything—and then flicks at the pages. I hear paper tearing.
I shriek and jerk it out of his hands. “No! Dakh! Don’t rip them! They’re stories!”
Dakh looks surprised at my reaction.
I hug the book to my chest—precious, precious book—and frown at him. “You have to be careful with books. You can’t just rip the pages out or the story is ruined.” I hold the book out and show him how to delicately turn the pages. “See? Like this.”
He takes it from my hand and moves a page from left to right carefully, glancing at me. It looks tricky for him with his claws, but he’s trying. It’s something, at least.
I give him a nod of approval and then add the book to the cart. “We’re getting some reading material.” I’ll cull it later if I have to, in favor of needed supplies, but if I can take books with me, I want to. Seeing them has made me realize how much I’ve missed reading. I love a good story, and it’s been so long. I used to read all the time Before. And there are so many romance novels here on the shelf that it makes me giddy. I pick another one up and flip it over to read the text on the back, smoothing my hand down the cover. Billionaires. Seems kind of silly to read about billionaires now, but I’m game. I just want a nice, romantic story to take me away for a few hours. I add this one to the cart, too, and then pick another one with a bright blue cover off the shelf.
I’m so entranced by the books that it takes me a moment to realize that Dakh is sniffing at the air again, a frown on his face. I glance over at him, and then I smell it, too—a skunky, terrible smell. He glances around, then stalks down the aisle past me, searching for the source.
“Is something wrong?” I call out.
“Dakh,” he says.
“Right. I keep forgetting you’re not gonna answer.” I finish pawing the book in my hands and put it with my things, then turn the cart around. The dragon’s blocking the end of the aisle, so I push the cart in the other direction, and as I do, I see something move between two circular racks of clothing.
It looked human, too. Female.
Hmm.
“I’ll check in this direction, Dakh,” I call out, pushing my cart along as if it’s no big deal. As if I didn’t just see a woman duck past. “And I’m going to look for more books.”
He grunts something, acknowledging my words. I doubt he understood them, but he doesn’t move, still sniffing the air at the end of the aisle like it’s bothering him.
I push my cart down into the main aisle of the store, nearer to the rounded racks of clothing. I’m not afraid—the person I saw looked female, and if she’s hiding out here by herself, there’s got to be a good reason. Unless she’s not by herself, of course, but I feel strangely fearless. Maybe it’s because I’m with a dragon and he can toast anyone that threatens us.
The racks of clothing look innocent enough. I eye the garments hanging there. They’re nightgowns—ugly ones—and I pretend to consider them, fingering the material of one. “I saw you,” I whisper. “Who are you?”
Two of the nightgowns push apart, and a face gazes back at me. It’s a woman, about my age. She’s not as thin or dirty as most of the Fort Dallas natives, and her thick black hair is pulled into two clean, shiny braids. She’s wearing a shirt I passed on one of the racks from earlier. I don’t recognize her, and I wonder if she’s been here a while.
She glances over at the book aisle, where I left Dakh, and then back at me. “This is my home,” she tells me, lifting her chin in a defiant gesture. “I want you and your boyfriend to leave.”
My boyfriend? If only she knew what he really was. “I can’t tell him what to do, I’m afraid. And there’s more stuff here than you could possibly use. I promise we won’t take much.”
She gives a little shrug and straightens, standing up. “Take what you want. There’s plenty of clothing.”
Well, that was easier than I expected. I smile at her. “I appreciate it. I’m Sasha. I used to be from Fort Dallas. Are you…” I hesitate, trying to figure out the best way to ask. Nomads aren’t well thought of back at the Fort. They tend to be outcasts, murderers, or thieves that have gotten booted from their forts and have taken their lawlessness on the road with them. “Are you from the nearby Fort?” I ask politely, even though I know the answer.
The woman shakes her head. “I come from out west. There’s a fort near here?”
“Well, not too near. If you follow the highway it leads through the ruins of Old Dallas and there’s a fort there. But there are also a lot of dragons.” I glance around. “Are you here alone?”
She bristles, looking nervous. “Does it matter?”
“Oh! No, I was just curious.” I give her another friendly smile, because I can see myself in her eyes. She’s young, alone, and scared. Who hasn’t been there before? “I’m just shocked this place hasn’t been raided, is all.”
“Nomads come by every now and then, but I make sure they don’t stay long.” She sounds tougher than she looks as she says it. “Not too often, though—the highway’s pretty clogged with dead cars, and so it doesn’t get much travel.”
She’s got a point. I remember seeing lines of cars on the highway here. You don’t run into many with cars or motorcycles because gasoline’s non-existent at this point. Travelers that do have bicycles would probably avoid coming out this far. No one in Fort Dallas ever goes beyond the gates. Well, in theory. In actuality, the city still gets a fair amount of exploring, but it’s all on the hush. “I haven’t been this far out myself. Are there other stores?”
The woman shrugs. “If there are, I haven’t looked.” Her head tilts, and she studies me curiously. “I’m Emma, by the way. Emma Arroyo. How did you get out here without being eaten by a dragon?”
“What?” I’m a little nervous at the question, because Dakh is just a short distance away.
“They chase women,” Emma says flatly. “I’ve seen it with my own eyes. Saw a dragon tear open a building once just to get to the woman inside. And I’ve seen dragons snatch women out of nomad camps. They leave some chicks, and others, boom. Grabbed up by the claws.”
I stare at her, wide-eyed. Her description is hitting a little too close to home. “They…go after women?”
She touches the side of her nose. “I have a theory. They can smell ’em. That’s why I’m safe here. Been covering my scent.”
Oh, is that what Dakh’s been smelling? I’m surprised at her—and a little impressed at her ingenuity. “If that’s the case, then why are you out h
ere alone?”
Her expression goes flat. “I wasn’t always alone.” Emma ducks her head and slides out from under the clothing rack to stand next to me. She fills out her T-shirt and jeans enough to tell me that she’s been eating well, and her skin is clean, her dark hair shiny, and I’m envious of her appearance. She’s also wearing, I notice, several knives strapped to her leg, and a belt with the same. A handgun pokes out of the back waistband of her jeans.
And again, I know I should be wary at the sight of her, but I feel like Dakh has it covered. Funny how that works. My captor won’t let anything happen to me, so for the first time in what feels like forever…I’m unafraid.
It’s a weird realization.
“If you’re asking how it is I’m safe, it’s deer urine,” Emma tells me.
“What?” I’m not sure I’ve heard her correctly.
“Deer urine.” She pulls a bottle out of a pocket and sprays a puff into the air. Immediately, the same stink we’ve been smelling perfumes the air, and I take a step backward, coughing. Emma just looks pleased at my reaction. “You want to know how I’m safe? That’s how.”
“H-how the heck did you get deer urine?”
“They sell it in the sporting goods department. I knew a hunter back when the Rift first hit. Told me he used it to disguise his scent from dragons. Apparently, they’re really keen on smells. He said he used deer scent to keep himself safe. I know it stinks. You get used to it after a while.” She shrugs. “I didn’t believe him, either, until my friend Antonia got snatched and I didn’t. Only thing I can think that was different was that I had a can of deer urine that busted in my backpack way back when, and so it smelled.” She shakes her head. “After that, I’ve been keeping a steady supply of the stuff. I—” Her eyes widen, and she stares behind me.
I glance over my shoulder. Dakh is there, and he…well, he doesn’t look happy. His jaw is tight, his fists clenched, and his eyes are whirling a deep amber and moving suspiciously towards black.
“Um, Emma? I know this is your place, but you might want to leave,” I murmur to her. “It’s not safe—”
Emma pulls out her gun with shaking hands and points it at Dakh. “W-what the fuck is he?”
I gasp, freezing in place at the sight of the gun. “He’s just a guy—”
“Bullshit! Look at his eyes!” She blinks, staring. “And horns. What the fuck?”
A low growl starts in Dakh’s throat. I’m both frustrated and worried. I wanted to talk to Emma longer, but it looks like that’s not going to happen. “Put the gun down, Emma,” I say in a low voice. “You don’t want to shoot him.”
“The fuck I don’t!” Her hands are shaking, and she’s making me nervous. “What is he?”
“He’s a dragon,” I say quickly, before Emma gets trigger-happy. “But not a bad one! I promise.” I might be lying about that, but I also don’t want Dakh to get shot. “And I can explain everything.”
“But…how…” Her gaze moves from him and back to me. “How can he be a person if he’s a dragon?”
“I’ve been asking myself that a lot lately,” I tell her, giving Dakh a wary look. The rumbling in his chest is increasing, and it’s not friendly. “I think you should get out of here for now, okay? Come back when we’re gone. It’s not safe for you. He’s really possessive.”
“But…”
Dakh flicks a hand out. Faster than lightning, he knocks the gun from Emma’s grip and it goes skittering across the floor. Her face goes pale, and she takes a shaky step backward.
Oh God. I can’t let him kill her. “I’m going to distract him. Run away when I do.”
Emma’s focus darts between us again, and then she nods, trembling.
“Dakh,” I say in my sweetest voice. I put a hand on his shoulder. “Pay attention to me, all right?”
But his eyes are murderous black, and I can see the smoke starting to trickle from his nostrils, even in his human form. This isn’t good. I have to think of something or Emma’s going to die. A memory of the red dragon and its torn-out throat flashes through my mind, and I swallow hard.
Wait. Emma said scent. Dragons were attuned to scents. And Dakh’s always sniffing my hair.
Oh God. He marches forward, claws raised even as Emma slinks backward, pulling a knife out of her belt. There’s no more time to think. I hike up my dress, shove my hand into my panties and rub, and then race forward, holding my hand out. “You want scent? Here you go.”
Dakh stops mid-stride. He turns toward me, and gold begins to fleck in with the black. The rumbling in his chest takes on a different tone, and I break into an immediate sweat.
Behind us, Emma darts off, racing between racks of clothing and disappearing into the bowels of the store.
“That’s right,” I whisper, half-surprised this worked so well, and a little alarmed that it did. “You like scents, right? I guess you like mine.”
He moves forward and grabs me by the wrist. His touch is surprisingly gentle for all that he’s a menacing dragon-man on the verge of attacking a stranger. He grips me tight and holds my hand up to his nose and inhales deeply. Then he licks my fingers, the rasp of his tongue moving over my skin.
I shudder. I’m torn between being terrified at that reaction…and a little aroused. I’ve never had control in a sexual situation before, and it feels forbidden and exciting.
Dakh licks my hand with sensual, long flicks of his tongue and then does the same to my palm. When he’s finally finished, his eyes are whirling amber as he gazes down at me, and his nostrils flare as he scents the air. “Sa-cha.”
“Right here,” I whisper.
He pulls me close against him and buries his nose in my hair again, inhaling deeply. I’m full of conflicting emotions as he does—I’m a little afraid of his ferocity, but I’m also attracted to it, and that makes me wonder if there’s something wrong with my head. He’s holding me captive. I shouldn’t like him any more than I like Tate.
But I think of the way he licked my hand and shudder again, because that was the most obscene and intense and oddly sweet thing I’ve ever experienced. “Emma’s gone,” I whisper to him. “It’s just you and me, okay?”
“Sa-cha,” he growls, tugging me tighter against him. My bad hip twinges, and I wince, wondering if I’ve suddenly bit off more than I can chew.
Because the intense look in his eyes isn’t going away, and I worry I’m going to have to trade sex for my safety.
Just like I do with Tate.
The thought fills me with self-loathing.
10
DAKH
My Sa-cha is confusing me.
I rub my nose along the column of her throat, waiting for her to give me a signal that she is ready to mate. That she is challenging me. I thought she would, especially when she ran the other human female off. After all, does a female not scare off others before pursuing her male of choice?
And when I scented her cunt on her hand, need for my mate overwhelmed me. I forget everything but her and her scent. Let the other little human leave. What I want is right before me, her scent in my nose.
But once the other is gone, Sa-cha makes no move to challenge me. Her scent begins to take on a tinge of fear, and I am frustrated. What am I missing? What is it?
I hold her close, waiting. Hoping. If nothing else, I want her to put her hand between her thighs again and coat her fingers with the scent of her cunt. I want to lick it off her hand and see how she reacts once more. I want her to spread her legs and let me drink from the source.
I want all of this female.
But she only looks up at me with big, anxious eyes, and her scent grows more acrid with fear. I think of the last time when I tried to touch her, and she made water from her eyes.
I do not want that to happen again. Seeing her like that hurt me. But how do I make her understand that I want to claim her as my mate? That she is not safe until I do? That we cannot speak unless our minds are linked, and we cannot link until I have given her my fire? My cock a
ches with the need to claim her, and yet I will not touch her, not as long as she smells of fear.
I need to understand. “Sa-cha.” I put my hand on her cheek, touching her. I wish I knew the human words for mating, for challenge. But I only know her name, and so I try to show her with my touch. I encircle her with my arms and turn her, pressing my cock against her backside.
She goes stiff in my arms. She does not pull away, but she does not have to. I can sense her reluctance as clearly as her fear-scent.
I am defeated. I let her go, even though my instincts are telling me to claim her. To make her mine. But how can I claim her if there is no willingness?
I think on this for many hours. Sa-cha chatters brightly and speaks in a happy tone as she pulls things off of shelves and unwraps them. She spreads out something that looks like an animal hide but feels very different, and tosses a bunch of soft blobs onto the pile. I realize she is making such a pile to sleep in, and I bite back my snarl. My mate should sleep in my protective grip.
But…Sa-cha is not my mate.
She eats the foul-smelling food from one of the small rounded containers and makes happy noises. I let her eat all of it—I will hunt myself one of the four-legged beasts that roam this land for my own meal in the morning. I will have to take Sa-cha with me, because I do not dare leave her alone again. If she were my mate, I could leave her in my nest, confident she would be protected by the scent of my fire in her blood.
Right now, she smells too good, too fertile, too female.
I consider this even as her talk slows to a low whisper, and she clicks on something that has a small light and shines it on one of the squares with the crinkly white sheets. She flips them, caught up in whatever she sees, until her eyes begin to close. Eventually she clicks off her strange light and puts the square aside, then drifts off to sleep, nestled in her blobs. I cannot shift to battle form in here, not without knocking many things over and rousing her. So I move to the nest of hides she has made for herself on the floor and lie next to her.
