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

by Dixon, Ruby

  This place stinks of humans.

  This place stinks of…another human. Not my mate, but an intruder. I lift my head, nostrils flaring and a low growl in my throat. Another female.

  If she threatens my mate…

  "Hey. Vaan," a female—my female—says. Dimly, I realize she lies under me. Of course she does. How could I forget? Yet even as I think it, I can feel the storms rushing in, sweeping away my grasp on things.

  I stare down at her. Beautiful. Dark hair, lovely brown skin that is soft to the touch. Wide brown eyes that gaze up at me with worry. Her name is…

  It is…

  I snarl in frustration. Why can I not remember? The storms in my mind surge, growing stronger and more dangerous by the moment. The urge to hurt, to kill, to destroy increases beat by beat as the lightning and the storms grow wilder in my mind. Not to hurt my mate—never her—but the one that lurks nearby…

  "Gwen," she says softly and taps her chest, between her bare, enticing breasts. "Rmbrme?"

  Gwen.

  Just like that, the storm clouds recede and clarity returns. Gwen. I know her. I know her scent, her gentle smiles.

  I know that she wants to keep the other human with her. To keep her safe.

  "Gwen," I rasp, and stroke her skin, touching her lovely breasts.

  She nods, but the moment is gone. Her mating scent is tinged with worry, and tension vibrates through her body. "Gwen."

  I will remember.

  I hope. I gather her in my arms, nuzzling at her throat. She leans against me, resting her head on my shoulder. She still trusts me despite my bad mind, and I am humbled by this. Whatever she needs from me—time, patience, understanding—I will give to her. I kiss her gently, then carry her back to her nest in the other room and curl up next to her.

  The stink of the other human hangs in the air, chokingly thick, but I bury my face in Gwen's hair and focus on her scent and her scent alone.

  Gwen is all that matters.

  25

  GWEN

  I'm starting to think this crazy plan of mine to take Vaan back to Fort Shreveport might just work. It's been three days since we added Mara to our party and started walking our way back to the fort. In those three days, Vaan has only “spaced out” on me a handful of times, and each time I was able to bring him back with a few words. He hasn't attacked Mara or threatened her.

  I really do think this could work.

  We're walking under an old overpass, picking our way through rusted heaps of broken-down cars that are scattered like toys on the remnants of the highway. Tall weeds have grown between them and in the distance is a swampy-looking run-off that's probably filled with gators since there's no city system to drain it any longer. I point off to the side, indicating Mara and I should avoid it.

  She nods at me and changes her path, ever quiet. Mara's not the best company, but I suspect she's nervous being around Vaan. Heck, being around me, too, since I'm taking her back to a fort. That's all right, she'll learn soon enough that no one means her harm.

  I've been doing my best to keep Vaan in human form. That means walking instead of letting him fly us where we need to go. Hiking in the heat isn't my favorite, of course. By the time we stop each night, my feet and legs ache with exhaustion and I feel like my entire body is covered in sweat. Mara never complains, but I know she's sweating because her smell gets that much worse. Other than the old plantation house, we haven't found any great places to stay that have running water, so I figure we can just shower when we get back to the fort. Vaan stays at my side, though he occasionally shifts forms and flies off to scout around us. Sometimes he returns with a bit of blood on his scales and a dead animal for us, and we take a break to roast the thing and rest our feet.

  The longer he's in human form, though, the more human I think his thoughts are. I think of Liam back at the fort. We thought he was odd looking, but his mannerisms and speech were totally human. I've never seen him shift to dragon form, so maybe it's one of those things where the longer he's two-legged, the more he thinks like us and the less he thinks like a wild dragon. It might be true, too. Vaan seems more settled by the day. He picks up more words and remembers my name more, though he's still not a fan of Mara. I think about Rast and how he hovered around Amy as if his world depended on her and suspect that's just a thing of his kind. They hyper-focus on their mates…or the ones they want to be their mates.

  I blush as I walk, thinking about all the kissing and petting we've been doing every night.

  Every.

  Night.

  Doesn't matter if there's no real shelter (like last night) or no privacy. The moment we stop, he wants to make out. It never goes far, of course. My shorts always stay on and he never comes. Me either, for that matter. I think if either one of us had an orgasm it'd be all over, because we wouldn't be able to come back from that point. We kiss. We pet each other's skin. We kiss more. He touches my breasts and strokes my back and nuzzles at my throat. We kiss even more.

  There's so much kissing. I never knew kissing could be so intensely addictive. It's always been fun in the past, of course, but I've never craved it quite like I crave kissing Vaan. There's something about the hot stroke of his tongue against mine, the taste of his lips, the way he holds me close. It's the intensity of it, perhaps—the way he acts as if his world doesn't exist outside of pleasuring me. Or it’s the slightly rough rasp of his tongue that reminds me of a cat’s tongue and makes me wonder what it’d feel like on different parts of my body.

  God, his tongue. It's almost as addictive as his mouth itself, and I know with just a few kisses I lose myself in his touch. I've come very close to orgasming on kisses and petting alone.

  And yet with all this, I still haven't made the leap. We haven't had sex.

  It's not that I don't want to. I'm acutely aware of how much I want him and how much he wants me. Just a look in my direction makes his cock stiffen, and since he's naked, it's very obvious. He doesn't push, though. He watches me hungrily, and I know if I even gave him the slightest hint that I'm up for it, he'd have me on the ground, naked and under him within moments.

  I think about that a lot.

  I tell myself that I don't go ahead with it right now because of Mara's presence. That her being there makes it weird. I'm lying though. After years of living in forts, I've seen people fucking in a room filled with others. In Fort Tulsa, it wasn't uncommon to see a girl drop to her knees in front of a guy in the street because that was the only trade she might have for a bite to eat. I'm no virgin and no stranger to sex. When you live in places where privacy is less important than safety, it happens.

  If I'm honest with myself, I'm waiting for us to get back to Fort Shreveport. I'm still scared of messing things up…or maybe I'm looking for excuses for this not to work out.

  Whatever it is, whenever he reaches for my shorts, I end things. Soon, I tell myself.

  "Are we close?" Mara asks, pointing at a billboard off to the side of the highway.

  I glance over and see familiar green spray paint covering the faded picture. FORT AND SAFETY. TWO EXITS AHEAD. WE WELCOME TRAVELERS. The words are slightly smeary and faded thanks to the weather, but I recognize them—heck, I've painted some of those billboards. "Close," I agree. "We'll be home soon."

  She flicks a glance over at me and then at Vaan. "Are we…stopping again before we get there?"

  "Are you tired?"

  "Me? No. I can keep going." I look over at her, puzzled. "Nervous?"

  She shakes her head.

  "Then why do you ask? I'm curious."

  This time, Mara looks over at me with a hint of surprise on her tanned, dirty features. Her eyes look brilliantly hazel in contrast against all that dirt. "Uh, because he's not wearing pants?"

  Oh.

  Now I feel silly. She's not wrong that he'll need clothes. I'm so used to the sight of him, bare naked and all glorious golden muscle, that it's normal for me, now, to see him like that. I try to picture him with pants on and can't do i
t. He should be free and unconfined. A body as perfect as his, a form as wild as his—those things should be shown off and displayed for everyone to admire.

  And of course, that's selfish of me. Because no one in the fort is going to be admiring him. They're going to be scared unless he looks as human as possible. He'll have to cover up. "It…didn't occur to me," I admit. "To get him clothes."

  Mara looks at me like I'm crazy.

  Maybe I am. When did a big naked golden guy become normal to me? But it is. Mara's wise, though. If I want Vaan to blend with everyone back at the fort, I need him to be like everyone else, and that includes pants. I need to show them that he's civilized. "Let's keep our eyes peeled for a store, then."

  She gestures back up the road we've been traveling. "There was a sign for one an exit or two back, if you want to backtrack."

  I'm surprised she noticed, but I think she's right. Mara's more observant than I gave her credit for. I know this area and I know that there's a big box store and a strip mall in the vicinity she mentioned. They're somewhat picked over, but since they're so far out from the fort no one gets there much. "I bet we can find him something there. Good call. Do you need a break before we go on?"

  "No, I'm good," she says, shouldering her bag and turning around.

  I feel guilty, because we've been doing a lot of walking and Mara looks small and hungry. "If you want, you can go ahead and we'll meet you there," I offer. "Just tell them Gwen sent you and you'll be fine."

  "I'll come with you," she says, voice easy and even. I knew she'd say that—Mara's done her best to seem as easygoing as possible. It doesn't matter what I say and she'll agree with it. I could tell her that we're going to turn around and walk to the sea without stopping and she'd say it was fine with her.

  I wonder how bad her life was before I met her. Poor Mara. I feel guilty I haven't made more of an attempt to befriend her. She's had a rough life and I've been so obsessed with Vaan that I haven't exactly rolled out the welcome wagon. I need to do better. So I smile brightly at her and gesture to Vaan that we're going back. "I appreciate the company."

  She gives me a hesitant smile and falls silent once more.

  * * *

  Like most of what's left in post-apocalyptic Louisiana, the store's a real mess. Part of the roof has caved in and the parts that didn't cave in look as if they've been flooded. The floor is covered with dried mud and spilled items. No food, of course. Anything edible was picked over a long time ago.

  I've seen worse, though. "I bet we can find something here," I say brightly, smiling at Vaan.

  He just frowns at me and taps his mouth, our signal to indicate he didn't grasp my words.

  "It's okay," I tell him, giving his arm a pat. He'll figure it out soon enough. "Just follow."

  "Follow," he echoes agreeably, and it's a word he’s heard a lot in the last few days. He touches my hand and then laces his fingers through mine, and I feel my cheeks heating at that small caress.

  Okay, so we've been hand-holding a fair amount lately. Mara doesn't seem to mind, and I don't care if it seems weird. I enjoy it. I love touching him. There's something so damn nice about being touched by someone else that I find myself more and more addicted to it.

  Mara glances over at us and then heads into the store. No, I realize. It's not that I want to be touched by someone else. I want to be touched by him. Maybe I'm the addicted one and he's just humoring me.

  The thought makes me smile.

  We make our way inside the store. There's the usual clutter of junk and debris at the front, and I poke a few questionable piles with sticks to make sure that we're not stepping into a snake nest. There are no aisles any longer, dried mud and a mess obscuring what I remember were once neatly delineated departments. Mara wanders off, and I see her at one point sticking a wrench into the folds of her baggy clothing as she glances around. A weapon. I say nothing—I can't hate on a woman trying to protect herself.

  Eventually I find a section with faded pictures of men on the walls and the circular racks that used to hold clothing. They're mostly bare, but there's a lot on the floor here. Mara wanders back as I use a stick to pick through a pile. "Help me look for a pair of jeans for him? If we can find something that's not rotted we can use the sinks in the back to wash them off."

  "Provided they work," Mara says, but she pokes one pile with her stick, prying something free and making a face. "I think this is a diaper."

  "No diapers." I glance over at Vaan. He's watching us with a crease on his forehead, as if he can't quite figure out what we're doing. "Gonna be hard enough to get him into a pair of jeans."

  "Mm." Mara works quietly, digging through a stack and prying out a pair of denim shorts that look as if they won't fit a child and then tossing them aside. She moves over to a display table and sits down, wiping at her brow.

  For the first time, I realize just how oppressively hot it is in the store. We've walked all day and the temperature—and humidity—have spiked with the afternoon sunlight. Mara's wearing twice as much clothing as I am, as the bikini top and shorts help cool my skin. "You want to find something to wear for yourself? Something cooler?"

  "I'm fine," she says, and then peers at me. "Can I ask you a question?"

  "Sure." I find a stack of fabric something-or-others that look as if they've been molded together by mud and time, and pry one loose. They might be denim.

  "Why do you hate the people at the fort?" When I look up sharply she shrugs her thin shoulders. "Sorry if it's a personal question, but I wanted to ask before we got there."

  I'm just…baffled. "Why would you think I hate anyone there? I'm the mayor…was the mayor," I correct. "They're my people. I love them. I want the best for them."

  "You want what's best for them," she echoes flatly.

  I nod.

  "Are we or are we not bringing a dragon back into the fort?"

  I go silent. I poke at the dried, muddy pile of clothes at my feet, but the enthusiasm's gone out of me.

  "I'm not trying to be a bitch," Mara says gently. "I'm really not. It's just…dragons are killers. Even if this one is acting nice enough, he's not a trained monkey, you know?"

  "I know he's not." My voice is tight. "He's a person like everyone else."

  "Not like everyone else."

  She says that, but she doesn't know him like I do. She doesn't know the kindness in his touch, or the playful look on his face when he demands to be kissed. All she sees is a silent, glowering golden god. Of course she has concerns.

  I hate that I can't say that she's wrong. I want to…but I'm not sure she is. I know Vaan is dangerous. I've known that from the first moment that he flew overhead and I thought he was going to kill me and Andrea for daring to creep out beyond the safe borders of Fort Shreveport. I know he's deadly. I know he's a killer.

  But I also know he can be kind, even sweet. And Amy and Rast are perfectly fine in forts, aren't they?

  Of course…they have a level of bonding I've been too scared to pursue. They're tied, body and soul. She doesn't have to be at his side to know that they're on the same wavelength.

  I glance over at Vaan. Handsome, tall, proud Vaan who's looking at me as if I've lost my mind as I poke in the muck. His nostrils flare as I turn over an old shoe and the smell of rot wafts over the oppressive air.

  "He might be your friend," Mara says, her voice soft and gentle. "But I know he's not mine. I've seen the way he looks at me."

  I feel defeated. Deflated. "How does he look at you?"

  "Like I'm a mosquito he can't wait to swat."

  I hate that she's not wrong. I've seen that, too. He's fascinated by me and barely tolerates her. At first it was flattering, but now I worry…he can handle one person, but what if there are several? An entire fort full? What if he loses it and I'm not there to pull him back from the brink?

  Worse, what if he loses it and I'm there and…it's not enough?

  I drop the muddy pair of jeans back into the muck and straighten. My heart
hurts, but I know Mara's right. I can't take Vaan into the fort. Not until we've completed our bond. Not until I've given him everything.

  My throat goes dry. I put it off and put it off because I'm scared of what'll happen when we join minds. Not that I think I'm going to be miserable with him…

  But that I'm not going to be enough. That mating with me will just show him how weak and flawed I am, and I'll slowly destroy him like I've been slowly destroying everyone around me, road to hell paved with good intentions and all that. Maybe that's why I've been pushing so hard to take him to the fort and more or less show him off. If I can bring him in before we've bonded, then maybe he won't need to be tied to me, the albatross around everyone's neck.

  Or maybe I'm just trying to convince myself that I'm good enough.

  "I think I found a pair of jeans," Mara says, holding up a sodden clump of clothing. "Size thirty-four okay?"

  "Leave them," I tell her, utterly defeated. "You're right. I can't take him to the fort."

  Mara's quiet a moment. "I'm sorry."

  "Don't be. You're thinking of everyone's safety. It's something I should have done." I give her a faint smile. "I'm really, really bad at that sort of thing."

  The look she gives me is understanding and full of sympathy, and it just hurts even more.

  "Well," Mara says, dropping the clothing back into the muddy pile she pulled it from. She wipes her hand on her equally dirty skirt and glances around. "I guess we might be able to set up some sort of camp here. We can make beds, and if there's good hunting, this might be a place worth staying for a while."

  "Not necessary," I tell her. "I still think it's safest if we take you to the fort. You can't stay with us permanently. Like you said, he's not a trained monkey." It hurts me to even say the words aloud. Of course he's not a trained animal. Vaan is a person, as complex and wonderful as any person. Mara doesn't know dragons like I do…but that sort of arrogant thinking is what gets me into trouble. Mara knows as much about dragons as anyone in the After does. She knows that they kill and to be wary of them.