Fire In His Spirit: A Post-Apocalyptic Dragon Shifter Romance

by Dixon, Ruby

  She wants to sleep…inside there?

  My mate gives me another encouraging look, takes a step toward the place, and then repeats it. She slaps at her arms, frowning, and then points again.

  I…do not understand. But I am curious and so I wait, lowering my head. Watching.

  She moves across the muddy clearing, her steps easy. She slaps at her arms again, frowning absently to herself, and then picks up a long, colorful length of skin…no, fabric. I remember fabric. The Salorians covered themselves in it…

  I growl as the memory flashes out of my mind as quickly as it arrived. Dark, awful thoughts accompany that memory, and I do not like it.

  My mate freezes, holding the fabric in her arms. She stares at me, her eyes wide. Hesitantly, she taps her breast. "Gwen."

  Gwen. Yes.

  I remember my Gwen.

  The anger and old, bitter fear disappear. I get to my feet and move to where she is, giving her a quick nuzzle to let her know I am with her. She pats my nose and then gestures at the box again. When I wait for her to continue, she moves to it, pries open part of the shell, and then goes inside, disappearing from my sight.

  It is…a home. No wonder it stinks of humans. I inhale deeply, but I detect no recent scent other than hers, so I relax and wait for her to come out.

  She does not.

  Long moments pass and I wait. And wait.

  And wait.

  I hear her moving around inside, the fabric rustling. I hear her gentle sigh, and then it goes quiet.

  Is she not coming out? Is she making this her nest?

  She would rather sleep there than in the safety of my claws?

  I growl with frustration and immediately shift forms. I dislike this. I want to hold her as she sleeps. How else can I protect her? I grab at the door to the strange box, trying to pull it open like she did. There is a handle and some sort of button, but when I pull, nothing responds. Growling, I shake the door itself until the handle comes off in my hand. With a hiss of anger, I toss it into the weeds. Stupid, useless human contraptions—

  The door opens and Gwen—her name is Gwen, I remember that—gazes at me from inside. She is not frightened, and the amusement is back on her lovely face. She extends a hand toward me, beckoning me in.

  I have no choice but to obey. I am lost to the pull of her dark eyes and her winsome smile.

  Such a beautiful mate, and all mine.

  14

  GWEN

  It seems that dragons and screen doors don't match.

  I swallow back my laughter and rescue the door before he can completely destroy it, ushering him inside. "Don't kill it, please," I tell him. "It's the only thing saving me from the mosquitos."

  "Gwen," he says, voice thick with emotion, and his eyes are swirling a deep, rich gold.

  "Hey, you remembered," I tell him, pleased. I take his arm, steering him away from the door itself. I'm not exactly sure what to do with him now that he's followed me inside, but I'm not entirely surprised, either. When he stands there, looking at me expectantly, I pat his arm and then move back toward the bed. With the sheets freshened, it's actually pretty nice as far as beds go. The mattress is firm without being hard, and best of all, there are no bugs biting me while I try to sleep. I crawl back under the sheets and crook my arm under my head to act as a pillow, then close my eyes. Hopefully Vaan will get the idea and find himself a place to settle down.

  He finds a spot all right. No more than a second after I close my eyes, a heavy foot lands on the mattress and steps over me. I squeeze one eye open in time to see a shadowy leg move over me—and get a bird's-eye view of dick. Lots of dick.

  Lord have mercy, this guy has a lot of dick. If they were handing out inches in heaven, he was clearly at the front of the line. And he is not bashful about hiding those inches, either. In fact, I'm not entirely sure the man knows what “shame” is, just like I'm sure he doesn't know what clothing is, either. I grimace as he settles down on the other side of me, on top of the sheets. It's hot in the trailer, the night muggy, and his furnace of a body isn't going to make it any cooler.

  He flings a heavy arm over my waist. "Gwen."

  And…I can't really be mad. Every time he says my name, I know he's trying. I do. We're as different as night and day, but I know he's trying really hard. It's important to him that we get along. It's important to me, too, because I need him to be on my side. So I pat his hand. "Go to sleep, Vaan." And I close my eyes again.

  If I have to sleep next to a dragon-man all night, I will.

  All is quiet for a long minute, maybe two. The only sounds through the night are the constant hum of cicadas and the hoot of a distant owl. I relax, because even though it's hot, I'm exhausted. It's been a long day and I didn't sleep much last night. Things will seem less crazy in the morning. They always do. They—

  A hand brushes through my hair.

  I go very still, scarcely daring to breathe. Maybe Vaan's just moving my hair out of the way so he can sleep. I ignore him as he runs his fingers through my curls, waiting.

  I feel his breath against my skin a hot second before he licks the side of my neck.

  I'm so startled that I can't stop the little cry of surprise that escapes my throat. Of all the things I thought he might do, I didn't expect…licking. Nor did I expect to enjoy it. But that one quick lick sent a shockwave of pleasure skittering through my body, and my skin feels as if it's throbbing where his tongue was.

  "Gwen," he says huskily, and it sounds more like a caress than anything.

  I bite back the moan rising in my throat. I've never heard anyone say my name like that—so needy. So hungry. I'm shocked by it…and fascinated. I hold very still, waiting to see if he's going to do anything else—and a little bit afraid he won't. I shouldn't want him to touch me. I shouldn't.

  Should I?

  Maybe it feels titillating because it's wrong. Forbidden. Dangerous. He's a dragon. I'm a human. I know exactly what he wants from me. It should be easy to say no.

  But god, how long has it been since I was held so tenderly? Touched so reverently? Even as he murmurs my name against my neck and brushes his mouth over my skin, I feel adored. Cherished. It's not something I expected to ever feel in the After.

  I don't hate it.

  I might even like it, which is fucked up.

  "Gwen." He rubs his nose against my neck, his hand tightening around my waist. I can feel the prod of his erection against my back, but he's not grinding it against me. This doesn't feel like assault, or a taking. It feels like hungry, desperate need and a question without words.

  I'm not ready for it. Not yet. But I don't mind sharing a few caresses. Not when he's so clearly lonely and full of need.

  He breathes my name again, his hand clenching on my stomach as if he desperately wants to pull me closer. I sigh, closing my eyes as he rubs his face against my neck. This must be the dragon version of a kiss, and it's sweetly appealing. If Vaan had started out the gate like this, I probably wouldn't have fought so damn hard against him. I'm just now realizing how much I like to be touched and petted—and how much I've missed it. It doesn't matter that he's a dragon or an alien or whatever—right now, he's a sexy guy who's totally into me, and it's hard not to fall under the spell of that.

  His hand slides to my hip, and then he tugs at the waistband of my jeans.

  Just like that, the spell is broken. I'm sending him mixed signals, I realize with chagrin. It might feel great to snuggle in bed with him for a hot moment, but I need to remember that it could mean something very different to him than it does to me. He's got a one-track mind, and me, I'm all over the place.

  Wincing inwardly at the thought of how he's going to react, I very carefully pull his hand off of my stomach. "No, Vaan."

  There's a heavy sigh, and then he touches my hair one last time. "Gwen."

  And then nothing.

  I hate that I'm a little disappointed. What's wrong with me that I'm envisioning what it'd be like to maybe, just maybe, give
up control to someone else for a change and see what happens? I shouldn't be thinking that about a dragon. In my head, dragon still equals enemy.

  But I think of Amy and how Rast gazed at her so raptly all the time, as if she was the only thing in the world that mattered.

  That's the way Vaan looks at me. I can see how easy it would be to become addicted to that look.

  15

  VAAN

  I hate my thunder-filled mind.

  Ever since I came through the Rift, my mind has been nothing but storms. Storms full of clouds and wind and crashes of thunder so fierce that I can scarcely tell reality from imagination. Because I hated this new world so much, it didn't matter. I let myself sink into the madness, welcoming the storms as they washed over my spirit and took over. I was nothing but need and insanity, living but not alive.

  Now, my mate has arrived and I realize how far I have sunk into the madness, and I do not like it. For the first time in…months? Years? Decades? I want more. I want a mate. I want to fill a nest with young and raise them to be strong, fierce drakoni. I want my fierce female to pull to my side and touch, to caress her body and feel her mind touch mine.

  She wants something from me and I have not understood what it is yet. Every attempt I make to speak to her by a touching of minds is met with blankness. She does not have the automatic mental connection that every drakoni in close range will have. And we cannot have our private link as mates if she does not take my fires. It is frustrating to be so close and yet so far from truly understanding her.

  I need to do more. She did not want my food. She did not want my embrace. Something else? I ponder this as her breathing evens out and she falls asleep. Lying here next to her in the dark, the madness is not so bad, and I realize that it is because she is with me. Her scent is in my nostrils, her body next to mine, and it calms the ever-present storms in my mind.

  As long as I can have her, in any way, even like this…I must be content. She challenged me once. I will wait for her to do so again.

  I continue to sweep the room with my gaze, hunting for clues as to why she likes it here so much. This thing we sleep on? It is soft, true, but it stinks of human sweat and dust and other bodies that have lain upon it. The fabric she hugs to her even though the evening is warm? Or something else? I look around the room, but all I see are human things.

  So many human things. They are an odd people, to surround themselves with so much clutter.

  Perhaps that is what it is, then. She needs more human things to make herself a proper nest, a nest she will be happy with. I should take her to one of the abandoned human hives so she can take as much as she likes and line her nest with her treasures. Then, when she is pleased with it, surely she will challenge me to mate her.

  Pleased with this plan, I lightly place my hand on my mate's waist and go to sleep.

  GWEN

  I wake up the next morning, drenched in sweat, drool on my face, and my hand on a warm thigh.

  Worst part of it? It's not even my thigh.

  Damn. It.

  I snatch my hand away before Vaan can wake up. If the dragon-man realizes it, he doesn't say anything. He yawns slowly, stretching his big golden body and displaying sharp fangs…and then scratches at his junk.

  Some things never change, human or dragon.

  He's got morning wood, but I don't look. Well, I do look—just a little—but when he stretches, it stabs at the sky and it's kinda hard not to notice. I get to my feet and push my hair off my face, wiping my chin. Well, aren't I just as fresh and sexy as a daisy? I tug at the front of my shirt, sticky with sweat. I feel gross and damp all over after sleeping next to the personal furnace known as Vaan. I'd love nothing more than to rip the entire shirt off and switch it for a new one, but he's getting to his feet behind me, so I need to wait until he leaves.

  Vaan immediately comes over to me and wraps his arms around me from behind, burying his face in my hair and breathing in deeply. "Gwen," he rumbles, as if sweaty morning me is the best thing he's ever smelled.

  I have to admit, if he's trying to win me over, he's doing a good job. But I slide out of his grip, heading toward the bathroom of the trailer. "Let's get something to drink, hmm?”

  This morning, the sink groans and only spits out a few drops before giving up. Well, that's disappointing. It worked last night. Nothing to drink or bathe with. I open the door to the bathroom and notice Vaan's still standing out in the center of the trailer, watching me expectantly. His eyes seem more gold than black today, and I hope that's a good sign.

  "Hey there again," I say, and make a drinking motion. "Know where we can get some water?"

  He smiles at me—a dragon should not be that handsome, and yet here we are—and then makes the same gesture I just did. "Gwen."

  "Not quite, bud." I make the drinking motion again and then rub my stomach and tilt my head back as if I just drank the world's best beer. "Aaaah. Water." Then I look at him expectantly. When he keeps watching me, waiting, I move back to the sink and turn it back on again. A few drops dribble out and I pass my fingers under them, then flick them at him.

  His eyes light up and he lets out a sexy, low growl, his eyes shooting to a brilliant, soft gold.

  Whoops. "Whatever you thought that was, it isn't," I whisper, my senses on alert. He reaches for me and I turn my head away, trying to ignore him.

  His claws skate up and down my arm, not enough to cut, just enough to make my skin prickle. After a moment, he sighs. "Gwen."

  "I just want some water," I tell him quietly. "It's not flirty time. It's not a come-on. It's just water." Although, if he showed up with a jug of water and a roll of condoms, I'd be hard pressed to tell him no, I'm so parched. I press my palm to my forehead. "I'm so damn thirsty I can't think straight."

  "Gwen."

  I look over at him.

  Vaan's eyes are that normal swirl again, and he offers me his hand. I take it cautiously and he leads me out of the trailer. Maybe he finally understood what I'm asking. "I should get my shoes before we go hiking," I begin.

  A split second later, I'm talking to massive golden scales and I can barely swallow the scream that rises in my throat before we're in the air.

  * * *

  Of all the places I expect the dragon to land, an auto parts store is the least likely of all. I mean, auto parts? Really? Does he think I have a hidden sparkplug fetish? Does he even know what a sparkplug is? At first I think we're going to fly overhead, but nope, he circles in and then settles on the flat, tar-smelling roof and releases me. I give him a puzzled look the moment he lets me go. "What's here?"

  He watches me expectantly, his eyes swirling. He lowers his head, waiting.

  All right, clearly I'm supposed to figure out something from this. Hugging my arms to my chest, I take a quick look around.

  We're up on the roof of what looks like an old auto parts chain store, one of the square, squatty, free-standing ones. He flew us for at least an hour, so where we are is anybody's guess. I put a hand to my eyes and scan the surroundings. In the distance, it looks like there's an old strip mall and a parking lot…and of course he took me to an auto parts store near an abandoned highway. I bite back my horrified amusement and check out my immediate surroundings. The roof of the building itself is flat with a few random metal things sticking out and I have no idea what they pertain to, but none of them are a door leading downstairs. I move to the edge of the building and peer down into the parking lot. There's a couple of old cars scattered here and there, and a closed dumpster against the wall. I eye the distance. It'd be a fall of fifteen, maybe twenty feet. I don't have a good feeling about that, so it's gonna be up to Vaan to get us down…provided I can get him to understand, of course.

  I wiggle my bare toes, thinking. I glance over at Vaan. "Can we get down?"

  He immediately shifts into his human form and approaches me, dick swinging (eek). "Gwen."

  "No, no Gwen right now," I tell him, pointing at the ground. "Gwen needs down there. God,
I wish you spoke English."

  Vaan moves to my side, and when I point over the edge of the building, he peers over it as if to see what I'm pointing at. I'm ready to cry in frustration until he makes a gesture with his hand that looks like…jumping down?

  I nod. "Yes, we need to get down—"

  He immediately jumps down the side of the building and lands—quite heavily—on the dumpster. It sends up a wealth of flies and the lid looks like a boulder landed on it. Vaan hops down to the pavement and immediately makes a choking sound, waving a hand in front of his face.

  I have to giggle at that, because the expression on his face is so funny. "Smells good, huh? Gotta love that fresh air." Vaan recovers and shoots me such a wry, human look that I break into more giggles.

  God, it feels good to laugh.

  He studies the dumpster and then plants one foot on the side of it and shoves it away from him. It's an impressive show—he's strong, given that the heavy scraping noise the dumpster makes tells me that it's really full. It's also fascinating to watch because he's very naked and everything flexes and shifts when he moves, and I'm doing my best not to stare like a horndog. I keep thinking of that warm thigh I'd woken up clutching, though. I think about it a lot.

  And when he raises his arms up to me, indicating I should leap into them, I think about it again. Blushing, I shake my head and move away from the edge of the ledge. We might have a temporary truce, but there's no way I'm jumping off the side of a building into a dragon's arms. "You can come up here and get me," I call out.

  A moment later, there's a dragon on top of the building again and he's doing just that. I pat his claws as a thank you and start looking around. The doors to the place are chained, but I press my hands to the dusty glass and peer inside anyhow. There's a checkboard tile floor in black and white, and tires line one of the back walls, a few missing from their homes. Chairs are neatly stacked along the opposite wall and…