Fire in His Fury

by Ruby Dixon

  There does not need to be evil in our lives. I do not have to be that bitter, soulless husk I once was. The general who had no control over his thoughts, whose claws were at the beck and call of any vile overlord.

  That is not who I am anymore. I tell myself this repeatedly, until it starts to feel as if it might be the truth.

  Amy sighs something in her sleep. It sounds like my name, and my cock stirs in response. It will never grow tiresome, seeing her pleasure, I think. Even now, I hunger for it. I carefully slide down on the bed so as not to wake her, and then roll her gently onto her back. Before she even wakes up, I have my mouth on her cunt, licking and tasting her again.

  After all, she said I could wake her up like so. I intend on doing so on a regular basis.

  If Amy is on my tongue and in my senses, perhaps the past will remain where it is and not haunt my future. I would like that very much. For now, I sink into Amy's reactions and enjoy the little moan she makes even as she curls her fingers into my hair once more.

  We are easier together the next day. The odd tension between us is gone, and I realize I have been lost in my own thoughts too much to realize that my Amy was worried I did not find her attractive. I pick up the feel of this in her mind, though she tries to hide it. She feels foolish for thinking so, and amid her mental blushes, I catch more threads of pleasure and how much she enjoys my tongue.

  Ah, it is enough to make a male pull his mate back down into the bed and show her again how much he cares for her. I lick her until her arousal coats my tongue and she is shuddering with release, and I keep licking her until every last drop is gone and she makes little mewing noises of protest, her hips undulating against my face.

  That was a fine meal, I tease her as I nip the inside of one thigh, just to watch it tremble in response. I shall have that every morning to break my fast.

  “Oh,” she breathes, and her nipples grow stiff, as if the very thought pleases her. My cock aches with fierce need, but I will let Amy set the pace. When she tells me she is ready to take my cock deep into her cunt again, I will claim her. Until then…this is a pleasurable way to bond.

  She's dazed and replete as she lies back on the bed, catching her breath. I continue to give her skin little nips, fascinated by how responsive she is. I could do this all day, I think. Perhaps I will.

  Amy shudders and tugs at my hair ever so slightly, indicating that it is too much for her. “Should you…” she sighs, arching when I run my tongue along the soft fold of the back of her knee. “Are you going hunting today? Do you need to eat?”

  Perhaps, I tell her. My stomach is not growling with hunger, and I can go for days on one good meal. But a wise hunter always takes prey when he has the ability, because it might be scarce later. Do you wish to join me?

  “Join you?” She props up on her elbows, looking at me in surprise. “I can't fly.”

  I can carry you in my claws. I send her a mental image. I will make sure I do not get blood on you.

  She flinches. “I…think I will pass on that. I need to stay here and make clothes anyhow.”

  Clothes?

  “Things to wear,” she tells me, brushing her sweaty hair back from her brow. Her mental image fills in one of the questions I had—clothes are the strange skins she wears over her body. It is for modesty, it seems. I recall Salorians wearing the same, but it is a detail that has eluded my mind for some reason. She continues on, “I can't go around naked and you ripped all of my other ones.”

  I rub my face against her leg, breathing in her lovely scent. Why can you not move around naked? You are cold?

  “Not cold.” Amy gives me a shy smile. “I like to cover up, just in case we run into other humans. I don't want strangers to see me naked. Or anyone to see me naked, that is. Except for you.”

  A mental image of her leg flashes through her mind. She finds it hideous with its scarring and the odd bend in the bone. I move to that leg and kiss it just to show her that I find it as beautiful as the rest of her. I like you naked.

  She chuckles, squirming a little under my relentless onslaught of kisses. “I will need clothes,” she insists. “Especially when we're around other humans.”

  Then we will not go around them, I say just as stubbornly. I have no wish to smell their kind. I rub my nose against her skin. Other than you, of course.

  “Well, we'll have to be around them at some point.”

  I do not challenge her on this. I am not fond of the idea of sharing my mate with anyone, human, drakoni, or otherwise. But it is clear she thinks we will find others and…what? Share hunting grounds? I do not know. I would prefer she remain mine and only mine.

  Amy sighs and rolls over on her side, cradling her head on her bent arm. She gives me a sleepy smile and closes her eyes. I move up on the bed and pull her against me, tucking her body against mine so I can hold her while she sleeps. I will fly out later and hunt, I promise. For now, I have no desire to leave her side.

  I settle in next to her as her breathing evens, and I am about to fall asleep myself when another mind pings at my own.

  My eyes fly open.

  I go still, panic and rage flaring through me as I imagine a Salorian reaching out to grab at my mind and snatch it from me once more. The wild anger that always seems to simmer at the edges of my thoughts charges forward, and I cling to my mate, burying my face in her hair and breathing deep of her scent to chase those thoughts away. No. I must stay focused for Amy. I must stay sane.

  The other mind reaches out to mine once more. As it grows closer, it feels…drakoni. Strong and unhindered by the wildness that most minds have. It is a drakoni male, then, but not one lost to the madness.

  He must have a mate.

  And if he has a mate…it is possible these are my Amy's clan. The other drakoni males she told me about. The ones she wishes to be around, along with their human females.

  Gnawing jealousy races through me as the male probes outward, looking for a response. I should send a greeting. Tell him I am Amy's mate. Tell him that she is here safe and her sister should not worry.

  But then I will no longer have my Amy to myself. She will cover herself with clothes and I will have to share her with others. Her time will not be wholly mine once more.

  The thought makes me crazy with jealousy. Perhaps it is still my mind adjusting to the newness of my mate. Perhaps it takes time for our fires to bond. Or perhaps I just do not wish to share. Whatever it is, the thought of acknowledging to that searcher that I have Amy? It makes me want to fling myself into the air and burn the entire human hive to the ground and then roast the ashes once more. Anger flares in my mind and it takes everything I have not to shift to battle-form and present a challenge.

  But Amy is next to me, sleeping. I breathe her scent and try to calm.

  She is mine. No one is taking her from me.

  When I have calmed as much as I can, I send back a warning note to the male, indicating that this is my territory as a mated male and for him not to intrude. It tells him nothing other than that, and he acknowledges it with a thought and then drifts away, heading in another direction.

  The wild anger stirring in my mind ebbs away.

  I pull my mate close. She stirs in her sleep and then sighs once more, pulling my arm around her. She would be disappointed if she knew what I had done. I hate that I hurt her, but I cannot share her just yet. Nor can I tell her about this. I do not want her to make the sad water from her eyes and feel her unhappy thoughts.

  I am not a good, kind male. I am a dark, selfish one. Perhaps in time I will be able to share my sweet mate.

  But not yet.

  17

  AMY

  My poor dragon seems unusually possessive today. Rast hovers over me with a constant attentiveness that's wonderful…but it also makes me curious. As lovingly obsessive as he is at the moment, his thoughts are rather closed. It feels like something's bothering him, but he hasn't indicated anything along those lines. He just makes sure that he's touching me at all
times, and when he doesn't fly out to eat, I start to worry. He didn't fly out yesterday, either. Even though he said he was going to go and hunt, when I woke up from my nap, he was next to me in the bed and remained at my side all night. It's a mystery.

  Though I have to admit that a selfish part of me enjoys all the attention.

  I finger the fluffy white robe I've been wearing for the last few days. There are two of them, and I've kept the second one to make new clothes from. I can cut it down a bit and make a jacket, or I can make a slipdress out of some of the heavy, expensive sheets on the bed in the next room over. Neither one is very pretty, though, and the only scissors I've managed to find in the area are broken, one of the shearing edges completely gone. It's basically going to be rips to shape the dress unless I figure something else out. I'm determined to make a change of clothes, though, no matter how strange Rast might think it is.

  Just imagine how much stranger it'll be if we meet someone and I'm wandering around in a bathrobe.

  It's also a practical sort of thing, too. The bathrobes are huge and warm, and Texas isn't exactly a temperate state. Not to mention that the robe gapes open in the front and the slightest hint of a breeze will practically tear the entire thing open, so it's not great for a dragon's mate. I need something a little more fitted and a lot less gaping.

  I put down the sheet I'm considering and glance over at Rast, who's lounging in the late morning sunshine by the hole in the wall. His attention is on me, as it always is. “I don't suppose you saw any stores in the area?”

  Stores? He props his head up on one hand and gives me a lazy look that makes me feel all shivery inside. What are these?

  I share a mental image with him. Buildings with stuff in them. People used to buy things there.

  His amusement rolls through my brain. My Amy, I have seen many of your human buildings with “stuff” in them. Humans have far too much stuff, it seems to me.

  “Well, not anymore,” I tell him, feeling warm at his smile. “And I wouldn't mind acquiring a bit of that stuff myself. Maybe some plates or cookware, or clothing. This suite is nice, but it doesn't really have a lot in the way of practicality.”

  Mmm. He considers for a long moment and then gets to his feet in a graceful motion that makes me envious. You wish to go scavenge the human places for things? I can take you.

  “You will?” For some reason, I'm utterly delighted at the thought. I haven't had the chance to really explore or go anywhere—in a safe manner—since the Rift. My bad leg and safety kept me and Claudia both in Fort Dallas, and then when we moved into the high-rise with her and Kael, I had to stay locked in a room. Being brought things is nice, but going and finding them on your own is an adventure I haven't had the pleasure of just yet. “I'd love to do that.”

  Then we shall. If it makes you happy, I am happy. He moves to my side and offers me his hands so I can get to my feet. Come to the ledge and let us go.

  I put a flustered hand to my hair and then the neck of my bathrobe. “So quick? I'm not ready.”

  What is there to get ready? He looks surprised.

  “I need sunblock and uh, clothes. Panties. And shoes! I really need shoes if we're going to be scavenging.” I move through our suite, looking for things. “And a bag to bring stuff back here.”

  Rast just watches me, and then shakes his head slowly. Humans are odd creatures.

  He's not wrong…but that still doesn't mean I'm not going out without panties and shoes.

  By the end of the day, I'm convinced that Rast is the most thoughtful, patient, and kind dragon that there ever was.

  I'm not the best passenger. I want to ride on his back, but we don't have the equipment for it, and being toted around in his claws frightens me a little, especially considering my only outer garment is the stupid robe that I'm starting to hate. It flaps in the breeze and covers nothing, and it's so loose that his claws feel as if they could slip off of me at any moment. I might have made a few girly screams when we first took off, despite Rast's mental soothing.

  I don't know this area, so Rast heads off in a random direction, looking for buildings. We were lucky enough to find a strip mall and a grocery store off one of the old abandoned highways, cars threading along the concrete for miles in a traffic jam that never cleared. I wonder what happened to all these people. Did they get killed by dragonfire inside their vehicles? Did they run out of gas and abandon the safety of their cars? Or did something worse happen? I decide I don't want to know. This is a day for pleasure. There are so few of them now that I feel every opportunity should be grabbed and savored.

  Then, like every patient boyfriend in the world Before, he waits on me while I shop.

  I can't help myself, though. Shopping's so much fun. I pick through store after store, ignoring the twinges of my bad knee in favor of the goodies I'm finding. I haven't had the pleasure of shopping—or even just getting out—in so long that I've forgotten what a joy it is to find new things that will make my life easier. Combs. Brushes. Skillets. Lighters. Shoes that fit. New bras and panties. Dresses that actually are in my size. Scissors. Duct tape. There are so many useful things to be found and scavenged that I have to fight with myself not to bring back more than I can reasonably carry, because Rast has to hold me in his claws on the way back. Space is definitely limited.

  But it's really, really hard to pass up a pretty green dress. Or three.

  In the end, I'm practical and only take two dresses, and those that look like they're sturdy enough to last how rough things are in the After. No frills, no pretty appliques or sequins, no spaghetti straps. I need hardy clothes, even if I look longingly at a dress that has embroidered sunflowers on the flippy, delicate hem that won't last a day. I have a bad leg, so I stick to dresses, since there's never a worry that they'll be too tight on my bad leg or won't fit if it swells, as it sometimes does when I'm on it for too long.

  Like now. I ignore it, though. I have the rest of my life to lie around, and right now I'm just enjoying the world that's left behind. This place has been scavenged before, but there's enough left behind that I'm able to fill my backpack, which my dragon insists on taking from me with a scowl and then a caress of my jaw.

  He's really the sweetest man, my grumpy Rast.

  We head to the grocery store next, but the stench of rotten food permeates the air before we can even step inside, and there are clouds and clouds of black flies everywhere inside. When I see the husk of a corpse on the pavement, faded clothing and all, I swallow hard and cling to Rast's strong arm, deciding that maybe we'll look elsewhere for food.

  Someone else will be desperate enough to venture in there, but not me. I'm not like Claudia. I can't be practical above all else. She'd charge in there with something covering her mouth and scavenge what she could. I'm a wimp. All I can see is the dead body on the pavement and the hordes of flies that make me lose my appetite. Even the thought of cookies or candy inside can't tempt me.

  When we turn away, Rast slides his arm around my waist and my new green dress. You are tired. You favor your leg more with every passing moment. We should return to our nest soon. He rubs his nose against my hair in what must be a dragonish gesture of affection, because he does it often. These things will be here tomorrow, my fires. We can return if you need more.

  “I'm sure you're right,” I tell him, though part of me doesn't want the day to end. The sun's heading toward the horizon and while Rast can see well in the dark, I can't. Logic tells me we should return home. But I've just enjoyed myself so much. It's been so nice to be out and about like a normal person who's not afraid of anything anymore.

  It's a heady feeling, not being afraid. I've almost forgotten what that's like. But I'm not afraid. Not with Rast at my side. He's my protector, champion, and lover all in one.

  I am always right, he tells me in that smug tone of his. He kisses me and then settles my pack on my back, making sure that it's not too heavy despite all the things I've stuffed inside it. Then he shifts back to his dragon form�
��his battle-form, as he calls it—and gently picks me up in his claws. He holds me to his scaly chest and then I'm nuzzled by an enormous dragon head. I can't help but laugh, because it's not every day a girl gets nosed by something the size of a Toyota and doesn't find it scary.

  It's almost like I'm turning into a different person with him in my life…and I like it. Amy 2.0 is fearless and so, so happy.

  The ride back to the casino hotel is almost soothing and my eyelids start to droop with exhaustion. I'm half-asleep by the time Rast alights on our new “balcony” and then sets me down gently on the carpet. I wake up and get to my feet as he shifts back to his human form and then takes the pack from me.

  Sit. Eat. You are tired.

  I am, but I can't stop smiling. I'm just so utterly content. It's the most wonderful sensation. I don't recall a day when I've been so darn…happy.

  I can hear Rast chuckle in our mental connection. It does not take much to please you, my mate. A few bits of nonsense in her pack and a day in the sun and my sweet mate is content.

  “I had great company,” I tell him happily, unwrapping a PowerBar and taking a gnawing bite out of it. It's hard and stale as heck, but it's nourishing. Rast snapped up a wandering deer earlier when we were flying, so he's not hungry. I chew on my meal as I pull things out of my bag and consider them. It feels like we were able to take back so little and I—

  I pause when I find a paperback book in my bag. It's a John Grisham novel. I'd never have picked it up on my own—my tastes run to more fanciful things—but a book is a treasure no matter the genre. “Where did this come from?”

  I saw it in one of the stores and got it for you. You often dream of yourself with one of these in your hand. And I have seen you staring at the other for a long time.

  The other? My copy of Outlander? Oh. “You got me a book?” My heart squeezes with affection.