Fire In His Embrace: A Post-Apocalyptic Dragon Romance (Fireblood Dragon Book 3)

by Ruby Dixon

  Kurt scratches his fat belly and groans like he’s in pain. “Fuck. Why do I gotta do all the manual labor?”

  I manage a meek, “Sorry,” as he jumps to his feet, and take the gun he hands me. He cusses under his breath and storms out the door, jogging a little faster than I’ve ever seen his fat ass move. No one likes to keep Azar waiting. It’d kinda be funny if I weren’t so terrified at the moment.

  I watch him until he’s gone and then shut the glass double doors to the pool area, locking them behind me. Each bolt slams home with a finality that makes my heart pound. If anyone finds me, I’m fucked. But I have to do this. I have to make this choice. That done, I set down the gun, rip the bandage off my head, and fluff my hair as best I can around the painful wound. I don’t want to look like an invalid, which is kind of silly, I guess.

  I don’t think Zohr will care.

  I grab the metal ladder that leads into the pool and climb down to the bottom. I’ve done this a few times before in the last few days to feed the dragon-man, since he’s chained so firmly that he can’t do more than move an inch or two. Of course, pouring a protein shake down his throat and what I’m about to do today are two very, very different matters. My footsteps are loud on the cracked plaster, and he turns to gaze at me, eyes flicking black and then to gold as I approach.

  “Em-mah,” he grits out.

  “Hi, Zohr,” I say softly. “I’m going to help you. Just…trust me, okay?”

  Emma, there’s only one way to make a dragon un-crazy. You know how.

  Here goes nothing.

  I begin to undress.

  5

  EMMA

  I’m here to screw a dragon. Eesh.

  It sounded like such a good idea in my head, but now that I’m staring down at him and stripping off my clothes, I’m having second thoughts. And third thoughts. And anything that comes after that. Truth is, I don’t know if this is the right thing to do, but I can’t communicate with Zohr. If I can’t communicate with him, I can’t save him.

  Even now, he pulls and strains at his bonds, shifting back and forth as if he can tear them free with sheer will. I fling my shirt aside and pause in my bra and jeans, because I don’t want him hurting himself. “Calm down, chacho.”

  He growls low in his throat, bearing his fangs at me. His gaze is intent, whirling with black and gold, and his nostrils are flaring. I don’t know if he thinks of me as a betrayer or if he’s freaking out because he wants to touch me. Do I…do I kiss him? Give him a little foreplay to show him what I’m up to? Or is he going to realize that I’m not here to discuss politics? I wring my hands, full of indecision.

  Zohr snaps his teeth at me again and I make up my mind—no kissing. Not if he’s trying to bite the air. That’s just a death wish waiting to happen. We’ll just go straight for the meat and potatoes, then. I slip off my panties and then decide to leave my bra on, in case I need to make a fast getaway. “Hope you’re into brunettes,” I tell him as I kneel next to him in the empty pool. His hips are swathed in a towel. Kind of funny that someone would think about modesty, but I guess Kurt and the other guards don’t want to look at dragon-junk all day long. I carefully peel the towel off of him and assess the situation.

  Well. I remember Sasha’s dragon Dakh getting naked repeatedly while in front of me, and Sasha explaining that dragons don’t share human modesty. I also remember thinking that I was a little surprised that someone as fragile would be into the baseball bat that Dakh was carrying between his legs. Seems that endowment runs in dragons, because Zohr’s definitely packing some heat. A rather uncomfortable-looking amount, actually, and here I am without my lube. “This might be tricky,” I tell him in a low voice. His cock’s at half-mast, and as I watch, it rises under my gaze, straightening and thickening and growing even more intimidating. The golden color of his skin is deeper here, the scale pattern more intense. The head of his cock looks bigger than a human dude’s cock, but then again, his everything looks bigger than a human’s does. I squeeze my thighs together tightly, worried.

  No one said this had to be fun, I guess.

  I can still back out, too. No one would know I chickened out, and no one would blame me. It’s crazy to think that I’m going to fuck a dragon just to get a mental connection with him so I can help him escape. Anyone I told that would hand me a knife and tell me to just cut his throat and put him out of his misery. That he’s the enemy. That I don’t owe him shit.

  I look down at Zohr. He’s watching me, eyes whirling more gold by the moment. “Em-mah,” he murmurs. He says it like…a caress.

  I can’t abandon him.

  I close my eyes and psych myself up for this. I can have meaningless sex. I can. It’s common in the After. Women barter their bodies for protection or goods all the time back in the forts. Of course, I was booted out of a fort a long time ago, and if anyone here knew that I was still a virgin, they’d do their best to help me with that situation, whether I wanted it or not. Virgins in the After are about as common as unicorns.

  Virginity’s not going to help me win this situation, though, so it’s time for it to go.

  “You and me are about to become best friends, Zohr,” I murmur to him, sliding one leg over his hips and then straddling his thighs.

  “Em-mah,” he murmurs again, and then groans low.

  I freeze in place, thinking that I’m hurting him. That my weight on his hips is somehow causing him pain or pressing against his spiky cage-vest. But he licks his lips and his eyes go completely gold, and I realize what he’s feeling isn’t pain at all. He’s into this. He wants me to touch him.

  And even though this feels weird and wrong, I’m kind of turned on. Maybe it’s the illicit danger of the situation, or the fact that I’m in power over this big, scary motherfucker who could tear me apart if he was free. Maybe it’s that he’s looking at me like he wants to devour me whole. Whatever it is, I shiver and feel a small pulse of desire deep in my belly.

  “I’ve never done this before,” I whisper to him, placing my hand on his chest. “So you’re going to have to be patient with my fumbling.”

  He says nothing—probably doesn’t understand a thing I’m saying, but he’s watching me, utterly intent. His skin is blazingly hot against mine, almost painfully so. I shift my hips against his, and he groans again. His cock is trapped between our bodies, and it feels enormous.

  I need to quit stalling. I need to just do this.

  I lick my dry lips and brace my hands and knees, raising my hips to try and guide him into me. It’s clear I don’t know what I’m doing, and after a few awkward nudges, I reach between us and take him in my hand. “Sorry if this is weird.” His skin’s burning hot, and when I place the head of him against my core, he’s not the only one that hisses. I don’t know if I’m wet enough for this. I don’t know if I’m ready. I don’t know that he’s not going to burn the shit out of me.

  But I remember Sasha’s adoring gaze when she looked at Dakh. This has to work.

  I hold my breath and adjust him, and then sink down. At first it feels like there’s no give, and then there’s a tight, uncomfortable sensation. I inwardly wince, but determination keeps me pressing forward.

  “Em-mah,” he growls again, and his hips thrust upward, pushing him further into me.

  I let out a surprised squeak, because that’s not an entirely pleasant sensation. “Slow, okay? Let’s go slow.”

  His eyes focus on me, his nostrils flaring, and then he goes still. His expression is intent on my face, as if he’s waiting for me to set the pace.

  I give him an awkward smile, my face tight as I try to push down on him a bit more. It feels like he’s got entirely too much stuffed into me already, but when I run a hand between us, I can tell by his length that he’s barely in me. Well, shit. This is hurting, too. I must be too dry. Even a virgin knows that if you aren’t ready, not much is going anywhere. But it’s hard to get aroused when you’re hurrying and terrified.

  I need to take a moment and calm
down. “Just be patient with me, okay, Zohr?” I put a hand on his stomach and then stroke his skin, because he’s scorchingly hot and it feels surprisingly good under my fingers. Inside me, he’s almost too hot, but under my hand, I kind of like it. He’s all muscles and ridges on his belly, and I’m fascinated by how hard his body is. You don’t run into a lot of well-shaped men anymore. They’re either all skinny and wiry, like Jack was, or they’re overfed and lazy, like my brother. Zohr in his human form is anything but. He doesn’t look like he’s had a lazy, indolent day ever. It’s kind of appealing. And the more I touch him, the more conscious I become of the head of his cock lodged just inside me.

  With my hand still resting on his stomach, I press my other between my thighs and start to touch myself. It’s the only way I know to speed things along. I part my folds and run the pad of a finger against the side of my clit, and I’m a little shocked at how intense it feels. It’s because I’m straddling him, with his big length pushing into me.

  My gasp makes the breath hiss from between his teeth. His eyes seem to grow more golden than ever, and when I stroke my clit again, instead of trying to push up against me, he rotates his hips, just a little. Just enough to make different sensations flow through me, and this time, it feels good. I whimper, teasing myself a little more before moving to touch his shaft. I feel less of him between us, which means I’m taking more of him inside me.

  I can’t decide if this is fascinatingly sexy or completely unsexy and I shouldn’t be turned on. Somehow, though, I am. I rock my hips against his, playing with my clit, and he growls my name again, the sound somehow delicious and a little frightening all at once. “I’m helping you,” I tell him breathlessly. “This is to free you. Nothing more.”

  A horrible thought occurs to me. What if he doesn’t want this? What if that’s what all the growling is about? What if I’m raping him? Oh god. The thought freaks me out, and I shoot him a worried look. “Zohr? Is this okay?”

  He doesn’t answer. Of course he doesn’t. I put a hand on his stomach and start to get off of him, but his movements become frantic, the snarl on his lips increasing. “Em-mah,” he pants, feverish. Black creeps into his eyes. “Em-mah!”

  I think that’s a “stay.” I relax against him and give him a questioning look, nodding at him to see if he nods back. He doesn’t, but his eyes whirl back to the calmer gold. I’ll take that. Relieved, I rock against him, and a little moan escapes me because the tight, uncomfortable feeling is starting to fade. In its place is…something indescribable. It’s like I’ve been impaled, but I’m aroused by it. And it’s making everything more sensitive. When I slide a hand over my breast and squeeze one nipple, I feel everything tingle deep inside me. His hips shift again, and that makes everything flare to life. I’m getting wet now, and every time I touch my clit, it’s like I’m on fire. It’s never been this intense before. Sex with Zohr—if that’s what this weird mating can be called—is amplifying everything.

  I moan again when I bear down and realize that I’ve taken him completely. It didn’t seem possible, but now that I’m seated on him, our hips meeting, it feels…good. Right. Perfect. I brace my hands against him and lift my hips, trying to figure out a rhythm of some kind to get him—or me—off. I don’t know if we both have to come, but I figure I’ll work on him and figure myself out after the fact if I have to.

  He’s more of a pro at this than I am, though. When I move my hips, he arches his to time with mine, adding to the friction between us. In no time at all, I’m panting, a curious ache building deep inside my belly. It’s not quite an orgasm—mine usually hit like a car crash. This one is a slow, languid chase and I can’t quite bring it to the surface. Frustrated, I move faster, rocking deeper against him. My thighs slap against his each time I come down, and when we come together, our bodies are making wet, embarrassing noises that I’m probably going to freak out over later. For now, I’m just focused on more.

  More of everything.

  “Em-mah,” Zohr growls, his body going still under mine. He clicks his teeth at me and waits.

  I pause in the frantic ride I’m giving him, panting. “What? What is it?”

  He clicks his teeth again and then lifts his chin in a way that displays his neck. I don’t understand what he’s asking of me. When he does it again and then watches me, I wonder if he wants me to mimic what he’s doing. I click my teeth at him, but it only makes him grunt with frustration. Maybe he wants me to move a certain way? But when I try to roll my hips a bit more, he closes his eyes, sweat beading on his forehead. He’s concentrating hard, and I’m not sure I’m helping.

  “I wish I knew what you wanted,” I mutter. Of course, if I did, this wouldn’t be necessary. Still, it’s completely and utterly awkward straddling a guy and wondering if you’re doing everything wrong.

  After a moment of panting, he opens his eyes again—pure, pure gold eyes—and clicks his teeth at me and then pushes his chin back, showing his neck.

  A glimmer of realization hits me, and I tilt my head back, exposing my neck.

  “Em-mah,” he breathes, and it’s clear he’s worked up. He snaps his teeth again, his head moving forward.

  Does he…does he want to bite me?

  I put a hand to my neck, and the look in his eyes turns to one of intense relief. That’s exactly what he wants. He wants to bite my neck. Oh god. I look at those long, white incisors of his. Sasha never mentioned anything like this. I don’t know what to think. “You want to kill me?”

  But he only clicks his teeth at me again, then tosses his head, exposing his neck. His movements are becoming more frantic, his skin glistening with sweat. When I try to move over him and start a rhythm again, he groans and closes his eyes, averting his face. He doesn’t want me to continue. Not like that.

  “I don’t understand,” I tell him, feeling a little frantic. “What am I doing wrong?” I know how sex works. I’ve seen movies, read books—hell, I’ve seen people in forts fucking in an alley when they think no one is looking. It’s not like sex is a mystery.

  But I’ve never had sex with a dragon, and I don’t know what he needs. I wish I’d thought to ask Sasha more.

  Zohr snaps his teeth at me again, the look in his eyes desperate. It’s like this bite is a matter of life or death, and I worry I’m going to ruin things somehow if I don’t let him do it. But I’m terrified at the thought. What if he rips my throat out?

  This might be my only time to link our minds, though. What if I can’t get to see him again and this is the only chance we’ve got to be alone? What if I fuck this up and never get another chance?

  If he kills me…well, he might just be sparing Azar the trouble. I don’t know that I’ll make it out of any of this alive anyhow.

  I suck in a breath and then lean forward, toward those snapping teeth.

  6

  ZOHR

  I am not sure if I am dreaming or awake.

  The madness seems to be an unending nightmare. There is no relief from it, no joy, no thought beyond that of hate. Sometimes I get a flash of a lovely face, with light brown skin and dark, thick hair that cascades over her shoulders. Em-mah. The face has a name, but it disappears into the madness all too quickly.

  Until now.

  Now, Em-mah has arrived again. She appears out of the darkness, and for a moment, I know who I am. I am Zohr, one of the proud drakoni warriors. Her hands glide over my body, and her words are soft. I do not understand them, but just hearing her voice cools the fire in my mind. I chant her name, over and over again, sometimes aloud, sometimes not. She smiles and shows me blunt little teeth, but that does not cool my ardor for her.

  This one will be my mate.

  I try to reach for her, but my hands are weighted down. I cannot move them, nor my feet. Something heavy pulls at my neck and covers my ribs and shoulders. It is a cage of some kind, and I can feel the pricks of sharp daggers against my skin. Do not change to battle-form, my mind cautions, and I think of my wings, fragile as they are, tearin
g and shredding against this. I will not change. I need to be strong.

  Strong for my mate. My Em-mah.

  She speaks again, and then slides her hips over mine. I feel the soft heat of her cunt rubbing up against my cock, and need flares hard through me. She touches me, speaks more, and then slowly lowers herself onto me.

  This…this is beyond thought.

  Her cunt is tight, the clasp of it almost unendurable. The sensation is exquisite, and I am panting, desperate for her mating scent to fill the air. It is faint at first, but she speaks a bit more, touches herself, and then it blooms. I can smell her heat, her need, and she moans her pleasure as I sink deeper into her body. She rides me to mate me, instead of the other way around. I am both shocked and fascinated. A drakoni warrior mounts a female and claims her. I have never heard of a female that claims a male, but this one is claiming me.

  She can have whatever she likes from me, as long as she remains with me.

  Em-mah’s lovely face is fascinating to watch as she moans and moves up and down on me, setting a rhythm. I watch her with hunger, determined to learn what pleasures her. This is my mate. I want to know everything about her. It does not matter to me that she is clearly not drakoni. She is one of the others—the foul-smelling humans who huddle in dirt-hives and taste as bad as they smell.

  Not my Em-mah, though. She is not for eating. She is for me to cherish and protect.

  Her cunt tightens around my length, and I hiss, pushing up to meet her movements. It feels too good, and I know my body, starved for her, will not last long. Not for this first mating. I need her to lean in so I can claim her throat and give her the kiss of fire that will bond us. I need to share my spirit with her. But as she continues to ride me, bringing both of us closer to release, I start to worry.

  Why does she not give me her throat?

  My release boils through my body, full of churning need, but I fight it back. It takes every bit of my strength not to spill inside her. Not to claim her as mine. I cannot. If she is not my mate, if she has not accepted my fires, my release will scorch her from within. I snap my teeth at her, indicating that she should give me her throat, but she does not understand.