Fire in His Veins: A Post-Apocalyptic Dragon Romance (Fireblood Dragons Book 6)

by Ruby Dixon

  I'm not dumb. But it makes me ache deep inside because I know that what I want with him can't be. He's going to lose all that he is if he gives in to his need, and it's clear he'd rather be human than be drakoni. I can't even blame him for that. How can I? I've seen how crazed drakoni are. Even Rast and Vaan aren't entirely there sometimes. How can I ask him to give up his mind in exchange for a relationship with me?

  I can't.

  Unfortunately, we're going to have to just be friends. I can't ask him to do more, and the thought is like a knife in the heart. It's a sharp pain in my chest that I've carried with me all day, and it feels like a lead weight has dropped on my shoulders. I'm just…tired.

  Really, really tired. I feel like this world has finally defeated me. You win, apocalypse. I give up.

  "I don't like to judge," Gabe begins, interrupting my thoughts.

  Oh boy, here it comes. "But?" I prompt, knowing there's a “but” in there for sure.

  "But I don't understand how you can be with him." He shakes his head. "Dragons are murderers. Monsters. They destroyed our world. They eat people and tear them apart. They've killed billions, Andi. And you're hooking up with one?"

  Like I haven't had this argument in my own head before? But it's surprisingly easy to dismiss. "People kill people all the time, but we don't assume every single person is a murderer. Liam's a good guy. He hasn't hurt anyone. He's not crazy like the others."

  "Are they crazy, then? Or just wild and savage and like the taste of people?"

  "They're crazy," I reply. "There's something in this world that makes their minds go haywire. It's something to do with their psychic communication. Liam shut that part off in his brain. It's the only way he hasn't lost his mind like the others have. That's why he's safe."

  Gabe just shakes his head, watching Liam as he walks. I wait for him to piss me off further, to make some crack about how I need good human dick instead of dragon dick. How I'd be better off with him instead of with Liam. He doesn't, though. "I never knew they could be human," he admits. "Can all of them do that?"

  "As far as I know. He's not the first one I've met that can switch from form to form." He's the third. But whatever. I'd rather put Gabe in his place than argue semantics.

  "I didn't know," he says again, and his words are more thoughtful than angry, as if he's trying to put together some sort of mental puzzle.

  "Yeah, well, I guess you don't know a lot," I say baldly, trying to pick a fight. I'm having a shitty day and I would just love to take it out on someone else.

  But Gabe only looks over at me and grins. "I guess I don't. You learn something new every day."

  It's hard to hate the guy when he's being so reasonable. I give him a half-smile, though my heart isn't into it.

  "So…when the dragons are in human form, does that mean they're not crazy?"

  "I…don't know for sure. The ones I've met that were in human form were still a little wild-seeming, but for the most part, they were pretty human. Liam's the most human one I've met." And the handsomest. And funniest. And smartest. And most thoughtful.

  But I’m biased.

  "Maybe it's connected," Gabe agrees. "So instead of fighting the dragons, how come we don't try to figure out how to get them to switch forms instead? Problem solved."

  I have no answer for that. I never realized…and of course it seems so simple. Why don't we do something like that? "They're crazy, though. You try getting a crazy, hard-headed, violent person to do what you want."

  "Guess we just need to make the switch appealing enough," he tells me with a grin.

  I roll my eyes. Count on a man to think he's got all the answers. "Good luck."

  We pause in our journey for a little to eat lunch. My corn cakes are stale and there's a hint of mold on them, but I pull one out and offer it to Liam anyhow. He hasn't eaten in days and it's worrying me. I don't know how often he has to eat, but surely this isn't normal.

  He shakes his head and wanders off from where I'm sitting with Gabe. "Not hungry. You eat it."

  I watch him go, biting my lip as he moves forward, touching the ground occasionally as if to reassure himself of the scents. He's been distant all day, and part of me knows that it's smart, especially after last night.

  But I hate it. Oh god, I hate it so much. I want nothing more than for Liam to laugh and smile at me. I want him to kiss me and touch me as if he can't stay away. I don't know if I can handle this as our “future,” him being distant and me enduring it.

  For a moment, I hate that we've done this to ourselves. I can't resist him any more than I can resist if someone threw a plate of cookies in my direction. I love him, and I'm so worried and afraid of what the future holds for us. Surely we'll catch a break at some point, right? Surely we can have what Amy and Rast have? Or Gwen and Vaan?

  "Here," Gabe says, nudging my arm and offering me a chunk of meat. "It's jerky. I smoked it myself."

  It smells amazing, my mouth watering, but I shake my head. "You eat it. I'm good." It's not that I don't want the food, but I'm thinking of Liam and his almost-feral responses to anytime I smile or laugh at Gabe. How's he going to act if Gabe feeds me? It's a bad idea all around. I finish unwrapping my corn cake, brush off the mold, and take a bite.

  Yum, yum.

  He shares his meat with Scooter instead, the dog wagging his tail and licking at Gabe's fingers. I can relate.

  Once we finish eating, we refill our waterskins with runoff from an old gutter. It's fucking terrible, but it's water, so I make myself take small sips of it as we walk. We continue on to New Fort, and I mentally wonder what it's going to be like. Clean and quiet like Fort Shreveport? Small and hidden like Fort Justice?

  I know we're getting close when Liam's steps pick up and he starts to jog ahead. I watch him for a moment, my heart pounding, and then I notice he's pulling his shirt over his mouth and holding it there, as if to filter the air. I race up toward him, touching his arm. "Are you okay?"

  He gives his head a little shake as if to clear it and then steps away from me. "The stench. It's just…a little much."

  Stench? "What is it you smell?"

  Liam makes a choked sound. "You'll see." And he pulls away and moves forward again.

  I hate this. I really do. I follow behind him a few steps, giving him space, but I want to be at his side. This is a nightmare.

  We walk a few more blocks, and then it becomes obvious what's causing him to gag. I know his sense of smell is very sensitive, so I can only imagine how awful this is for him.

  It's obvious that New Fort is the shopping mall up ahead. That makes sense—lots of supplies, large enough for a ton of people to live inside, and not a lot of greenery outside that can burn and cause problems. They've made a half-ass barricade of cars and old fencing that stretches in front of the parking lot, separating them from anyone that might have wandered through. Again, sensible.

  What's not sensible is the garbage.

  It's everywhere. Garbage is always a problem in a fort. Even in the After, there's trash and no friendly truck is coming around to dispose of it any longer. It was a problem in Tulsa, and the place was filthy because no one bothered to take care of it. We’re better about those things in Fort Shreveport. What can't be re-used gets broken down, and what can't be burned we cart away a couple of times a month to a safe spot a few hours distant. You can't keep it near your home, because it draws pests and predators and rats.

  No one at New Fort got the memo on that, though. There's trash everywhere, and it's clear that they just bag it and toss it over their barrier. The thick stench of rotten things hits me like a wall the moment the fort comes into sight, and I gag, my hand going to my nose. "Jesus Christ."

  "Breathe through your mouth," Liam tells me in a choked voice. "It helps…some."

  "I wish I didn't have to breathe at all," I tell him, but do as he says. It muffles the smell, a little, but now I feel like I can taste it. I'm horrified by the mountains of refuse that line the wall. There are broken b
ottles and cans, dead animal carcasses and piles and piles of wrappers and old diapers and just…a mess. It's ridiculous. And just like you'd expect with such a disaster, there are the rats. They're everywhere, the piles practically moving with the sheer number of them. They're bold, too, scurrying around in broad daylight. Scooter chases one, tail wagging, only to be called back by Gabe.

  "You don't want that in your mouth, buddy," he tells the dog.

  Scooter just barks happily and bounds around Gabe. Definitely not the brightest dog, bless his heart. I guess it makes sense that one of the survivors is just one that's too dumb to realize what a crapfest the apocalypse is. The other dogs that are still alive are probably too afraid of humans to hang around us much anymore.

  "Where's the entrance?" I choke out, my eyes watering at the stink.

  Gabe points. "This way." He's not surprised by the smell, it seems, though his nose does twitch regularly.

  We follow him, and I glance over at Liam, wondering how he's going to feel about Gabe being in the lead. He's not wearing his sunglasses or hat now that Gabe knows what he is, but his expression is distant, unfocused, as if he's concentrating on something that's not here.

  Does he hear the female dragon again, I wonder? "You okay?" I ask, dropping my voice so Gabe won't hear us.

  He glances over at me, his eyes more gold than black, which is comforting. "I'm just…trying to figure something out."

  "What is it?"

  "Benny's scent is here, along with the other scent markers from the last fort, but…" He shakes his head. "There's something wrong with them."

  "Wrong with the people?"

  "Wrong with the scents," he clarifies, rubbing a finger under his nose. "I might be wrong. There's so much stink it's hard to tell, but I've been smelling it for a while."

  What could be wrong with their scents? "Could they be disguising themselves to ward off other dragons?" Benny knows that trick from me.

  "It's possible." But Liam doesn't look convinced.

  "Hello?" Gabe calls out, cupping a hand to his face. His hand is on his gun belt, and we approach a makeshift gate with two plastic chairs parked in front of it. Both the chairs are empty and there's no one around.

  My heart sinks. "Is this place deserted, too?"

  "One way to find out," Gabe says, and tries the gate. It falls open, unlocked. He looks over at us, frowning.

  I shiver, because this is creepy. Another abandoned fort? And why? I think of what Liam said about the scents being wrong and look over at him.

  He's unfocused again, staring off at the big building of the mall, but says nothing.

  "Liam?" I prompt, and when he finally looks over at me, I ask, "Do you smell the scent trails leaving again? Like at the last place?"

  He shakes his head. "No. Whoever went in didn't come back out. Benny's scent ends here, unless he left via another route."

  "Don't think there's another way out of the fort," Gabe adds. "Least not that I recall."

  "Okay, then they're here. Theoretically." I get my gun out of its carrying case and check my ammo. "Might as well go inside and check this out."

  I’m trying to sound like I’m in control, like this is no big deal, but my hands are shaking and I can’t stop trembling. Something’s happened to Benny, I know it. The universe is trying to keep me from finding him, and now I’m going to find out what terrible thing has happened to make so many people disappear.

  “Andrea.” Liam’s hand covers mine, resting atop my shotgun. “It’s going to be okay.”

  “You don’t know that,” I say, choking on the words. There’s something about this utterly silent gate, the trash pile around their fort walls, all of it just has this lingering sense of doom. I feel it weighing on me, and I worry I’ll never see Benny alive again.

  It’s like it’s all really hitting me now. Before, I was just retrieving a runaway little brother. He might be dead and it’ll be my fault because I waited instead of going directly after him.

  “I don’t know that, you’re right,” Liam says, and his voice is so calm, so wonderful that it makes me ache deep inside. He eases the shotgun out of my grip and puts the safety on it, then hands it to Gabe. “You need to be calm, though. And you need to realize that whatever happens, I’m not going to leave your side.”

  My lower lip trembles and I bite down on it, determined not to break. I nod, over and over again, as if the more times I do it, the more I can convince myself. “If he’s dead, I don’t think I can bear it,” I whisper to Liam. “I can’t.”

  “You’re a survivor, Andrea.” His arms go around me and he holds me close, tucking me against his chest. I know it’s hard for him to touch me, but oh, it’s so good that I can’t help but lean in, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart. “If it truly is the worst, then we’ll get through it together. I mean it when I say I won’t ever leave your side. Even if this thing between us can never be, it doesn’t mean I’ll abandon you.”

  That just makes me ache even more. But I nod again and then push away from him. “We’re wasting time,” I say, and flex my hands and shake them out as if that will ease the trembling in them. I calm myself, then take my gun back from Gabe. “Let’s go find my brother.”

  19

  LIAM

  The fort is silent as we walk inside, and I can smell the fear-scent coating Andrea. She’s terrified, not for herself but for her brother. I know without asking that she’s thinking of those graves at Fort Justice and imagining Benny in one. I want to reassure her with more than just emotional words. I want to tell her that he’s safe, that I can smell him and he’s just inside the enormous building they call a “mall” that we approach even now.

  But I can’t reassure her because I can’t tell.

  Benny’s scent, and those of the others, have been easy to follow. They’re not trying to mask their trails like Andrea suggested. They’re not chasing the scent-trail through streams or around buildings or circling it back in an effort to mislead. It’s a straight line that heads directly to this fort. The strange aroma that has attached itself to them lingers, too. I don’t know how to describe it to Andrea, that there’s a faint miasma to his scent. It’s not quite like fear-scent, but something else, something that takes Benny’s normal adolescent smell and makes it slightly sour, slightly off. The other smells of the people with him are subtly changed as well.

  I want to see if they’re different here inside the fort, but the stink of the humans and their discarded trash outside is overwhelming. I can barely smell Andrea and she stands right next to me. If we had a psychic connection, our minds linked—

  I can’t think like that. It can never happen. I have to come to terms with the fact that I can never have her. Guard her, yes. Take care of her, yes. Ensure she is safe, yes.

  Touch her and take her as a mate? Never. If I tried and failed, I’d leave her unguarded…and I cannot have that. At all. I walk at Andrea's side, lost in my internal struggle as we enter the fort. It's for my own self-preservation, because if I don't focus on how much this place stinks of human, or how badly my mental shields are crumbling…then I won't lose control of myself.

  "It's so quiet," Andrea says, her words shaky and distant. I focus on the perfume of her scent, the rich delicious musk of her, and my thoughts strengthen. Surprising, but aren't Vaan and Rast clearest when they're with their mates? But Andrea's not mine. I can't anchor myself to her, can't share my spirit. Even so, I slide closer, feeling protective. She's nervous, the fear-scent coating her, and the human male Gabe smells sour with fear as well.

  "Should we split up?" Andrea asks.

  "Stay together," Gabe says, and I agree silently with him. I don't like this place. There's something wrong.

  We pass by a white and red vehicle, one that’s boxy and unfamiliar looking. It’s close to the building itself, and the sight of it sets Andrea on edge. “Well, that’s not a good sign.”

  “What is it?” I ask, curious.

  “Ambulance. And they left it here i
nstead of moving it with the rest of the vehicles. I’m sure it means nothing, just…” She purses her lips and then shakes her head. “Just being superstitious. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

  Gabe grunts.

  The main building has glass doors that aren't guarded, another thing that has Andrea and Gabe uneasy. They open them and then we step into a musty, human-stinking building. It's dark inside, with glass windows above that are covered in a thick layer of dust. There are two enormous floors to this building, and what look like many smaller rooms set inside them. Fake plants and a water fountain are in the center of the long hall, as if this is supposed to be an enjoyable place to walk and stroll, like a garden. Odd. I have no idea what such a place is for, but both Gabe and Andrea seem to recognize it.

  "Hello?" Gabe calls, and his voice echoes, bouncing off the corridors. "Is there anyone here?"

  "Benny?" Andrea shouts, a note of desperation in her voice. "Benny, are you here? It's me!"

  There's no answer, and we head farther in as Gabe calls over and over again.

  Andrea turns to look at me, fear making her eyes big and dark. "Can you smell anyone?"

  I touch my nose and shake my head. "The smells are overwhelming. I can't make anything out." I don't tell her that the strange miasma that touched Benny's scent is even thicker now that we're inside. The sense of wrongness continues, but I can't identify it as danger. Until I know what it is, I stay close to Andrea and remain on guard.

  Then, I hear something.

  I grab Andrea and pull her behind me. "Wait."

  Gabe stops, glancing over at me. I stare ahead, at what sounds like…footsteps. Faint, slow ones. "Someone's there up ahead."

  "Should we go—"

  "No," I say, cutting off Andrea. "We wait here. They'll show themselves."

  So we wait. The moments seem to last forever, but eventually, a woman appears, stepping out of one of the rooms. Her face is drawn and pale, and she stinks of sweat and the miasma.

  "You need to leave," she says, wiping her hands on a white cloth she has tied to her waist. Her hair is pulled back in a dirty gray-and-brown ponytail and her clothes smell as if she's slept in them for weeks. "Everyone's sick."