“So many lives were lost in the Dragon Floods,” Zane muttered. “I hate for anything else to die.”
Chief cleared his throat. “The tanker truck is right behind us. We might have to let the barn burn, but we’ll put enough out that we can save the animals, if possible. But you know as well as I, these things don’t always work out.”
Cyrus nudged Zane’s shoulder with his own, commiserating quietly. If Zane knew that Cyrus was a dragon, would he accept Cyrus’s comfort? What if he knew Cyrus was gay? Cyrus wondered which thing would bother Zane more—he suspected his dragon blood would be the worst, but it was hard to tell just how accepting someone was about Cyrus’s sexuality. Prospect, Colorado only boasted about eight thousand citizens, and that probably included horses. Cyrus hated to stereotype, but sometimes small town residents weren’t exactly welcoming or open-minded.
The truck screamed around the corner and onto the two-lane highway that led through town. Every part of Cyrus’s body urged them to go faster. If he could break free of his human skin and fly, this would be over already.
It was only six minutes more, but it felt like sixty before they finally pulled up in front of the country home. Already Chief and some others were dragging the hose to the tanker.
Cyrus looked to the fire. As he gazed at it, he could feel his pupils shifting, bringing on the dragon side of him. He loved fire and loathed fire. It was his kin, but it was also a destroyer.
The structure was not long for this world. The farmer’s wife hiccupped as she told them that one of the ranch hands had probably dropped a cigarette and hadn’t put it out all the way. “The horses are on the south end—the north end is empty. Save the horses,” she said. “I don’t care about the barn—just save my horses.”
“Done,” Cyrus muttered.
Chief shouted at him to wait, but Cyrus bolted forward. The heat was soothing against his skin. If he were human, he’d be burned to a crisp, but as a dragon this just felt like a nice warm bath.
The horses were screaming in terror, kicking at their stalls. He needed to get them out before this portion of the barn caught fire, before any of them kicked too hard and injured themselves, before the smoke suffocated them.
Cyrus pulled open one stall after another, and grateful horses rushed out. He leaped aside each time, knowing the horses would find their way to the open south end of the barn and safety.
He checked the next three stalls, but they were empty—he’d gotten them all out. He checked one more stall just to be sure. Also empty.
Perfect. He was a hero. One more good act to convince himself that he wasn’t rotten to the core like his dragon brethren at the northern ice cap.
The flames had climbed to the second level of the barn. Cyrus had to get out of there, fast. He jogged to the large door but skidded to a stop when a giant beam fell to the ground, sparking all around him.
“Cyrus!” Zane shouted from outside, his voice barely registering over the roaring of the inferno of the barn. “Cyrus Luz!”
Sounds of water sizzling against the walls. The beam was too big—Cyrus couldn’t step over it. He’d have to climb. Faint shapes dotted the space outside the barn. Chief, likely, and Zane, shouting for him. He’d been an idiot to come in here, and he’d get reamed once he got out.
Hoping his men couldn’t see too well, Cyrus braced himself on one of the stall doors and inched over the beam. If he stayed in contact for too long, his gear would start to melt. Moving faster than a human could, he leaped the rest of the way.
He stumbled out of the barn and fell at the chief’s feet.
“What the hell were you thinking, son?” Chief asked.
“So sorry,” Cyrus said, coughing because they’d expect it. His lungs were fully able to deal with smoke, no problem. But humans had different sets of rules.
Zane squatted down so he was face to face with Cyrus. “How’d you survive that without your mask?”
“My—my mask?”
Chief smacked him upside the head. “You forgot it and ran in there despite my orders. I need men, not idiots. Take a couple days off to think about your foolishness. Don’t come back until you can do as I say.”
Cyrus nodded.
“Not a mark on you,” Zane said. “What are you, part dragon?”
“Excuse me?” Cyrus didn’t even pretend to cough anymore. His heart pounded too fast in his chest. Had he given himself away? Was it too late? He’d have to start all over, and he’d only started to get accepted by his crew.
Zane laughed. “Just, you know. Dragons were rumored to be okay with fire. Obviously you’re not a dragon, man. You’ve got skin, not scales, and besides, they’re all dead.”
“Right.” Cyrus exhaled through his nose. Damn, that had been close. He’d been halfway ready to shift forms and fly the hell out of here. It was like when he’d been dating Jonas in New York. Every now and then Cyrus would make some mistake—showing off his strength during sex, or showering in water too hot for humans to tolerate, or once, in the middle of a nightmare, nearly catching their bed on fire.
He was lonely—he needed a mate. If he were still with his kind, he’d probably already be mated with a nice, respectable male and considering options for surrogates to bear their brood. Here, though, Cyrus couldn’t get close to anyone.
On the way back to the station, everyone was quiet. Cyrus was a hero, which was exactly what he’d wanted, but he was in deep shit with Chief. Even worse was the loneliness that threatened to swallow him. More dangerous than any smoke, more dangerous than any fire.
Mark
The hospital locker room was abuzz with the group of nurses from Mark’s shift. Mark’s scrubs bore the ick of hours spent in the ER, and he was thrilled to change out of them and back into his regular jeans and t-shirt. Not so thrilling was listening to everyone talk about their plans for the evening.
“Dinner with my wife and her parents,” Dolf said. “Kill me now. I can’t stand listening to my in-laws talk politics.”
Sharise laughed. “It’s my night to volunteer coach my kid’s baseball team. I’ll probably end up right back in the ER—only this time I’ll be a patient.”
“I’ve got plans with James,” Jenny said.
Her eyes sparkled, and Mark was glad for her. Jenny was his best friend and she’d been lonely for a long time after her divorce. He couldn’t help but feel a little bit left behind, though—now that Jenny had someone to love, she wouldn’t be hanging out with Mark as much.
“Mark, you should come out with us,” Jenny added. “Maybe you’ll meet someone.”
“Yeah, no thanks,” Mark said.
Dolf was quick to back Jenny up. “Come on, man, you haven’t been with anyone for a long time.”
“Since before the floods,” Sharise whispered.
Mark winced. He hadn’t been able to reach out to anyone since his big brother’s death. Eli had been Mark’s compass, always steering him in the right direction, letting him know that the world was a safe place to navigate and that Mark would never be lost.
“Sorry, man,” Dolf said. “We shouldn’t have mentioned it.”
“No, it’s okay. I’m—I’m okay. But I’m exhausted. Just going to make a quiet night of it so I can be fresh tomorrow.”
Fresh for more of the same. He loved his job because he loved helping people. But he couldn’t help but think sometimes that he was on some sort of hamster wheel, running and working as fast as he could, but getting nowhere.
The dragons were gone, but he still couldn’t risk love. And without love, life seemed pretty fucking bleak.
He grabbed his wallet and keys and left the locker room.
It wasn’t long before he heard Jenny’s clacking footsteps behind him. “Mark, love, you have got to come out with us. Please.”
“Jenny, you don’t need a third wheel on your date.”
“James knows how important you are to me.” She slid her arm around his waist. “He wouldn’t mind at all. We’re just going for drinks
at Hub’s.”
“Not tonight.” They left the hospital and Jenny walked toward the bike rack. “You want a ride?” he asked.
“Nope. I need my exercise.” She patted her curvy hips and laughed.
He watched her unlock her bike and ride away, then got in his little pick-up truck. A quiet evening of leftover stir-fry, a glass of wine, maybe watch Backdraft. He could use something to cry over, and firefighters were sexy as anything.
***
Once he was safely on his couch, wine and a bowl of stir-fry in front of him, he brought up the movie. Damn, the opening scene got him every time. Not the dad’s death—no, what got him was the brothers arguing. Mark bit his knuckles, holding in sobs as he watched the two boys. He and Eli had been best friends. They’d played together and fought together. Brothers through and through.
Then the dragons had come forward. Usually they kept to their own giant islands in the center of the Pacific, but they’d contacted humankind. He could still remember the demands made by the dragon elder, communicated in growly whispers over the emergency broadcast system. “Humans’ use of technology, microwaves going to and from satellites, is destroying our dragon magic. We can’t survive without magic. We have asked nicely but to no avail. Cease use of that technology immediately, or we will have no choice but to end you.”
They hadn’t even given humankind a chance to stop. Days later, the polar ice caps were melting—heated by dragon fire. Eli had come over to Mark’s apartment to watch the news footage. As water levels rose, tsunamis and floods occurred all over the world.
Eli, of course, had been a hero. “I have to help people,” he said. “The International Rescue System is begging for more volunteers. I have to go.”
Mark couldn’t stop him. Besides, as a nurse he was needed at the hospital. Panic and flooding had caused more emergencies than ever, and he kept busy, living each moment hoping that Eli would check in and reassure Mark that he was safe.
The floods weren’t stopping. The dragons continued to melt the ice. The future of humankind was uncertain; they were headed for peril.
Because the dragons wouldn’t stop melting the caps, the humans rained nuclear terror upon them. The dragons had been destroyed, but that hadn’t brought Eli back.
As Backdraft played in front of Mark’s eyes, in his mind he was far away, identifying Eli’s body. Cold, and so pale on the table in the morgue. Eli had been a hero, but he’d ended up dead, and it was all the dragons’ fault.
Cyrus
Cyrus slept, and as he slept, he dreamed. At first he was flying in his dragon form, soaring over the Rocky Mountains. Then another dragon flew by his side. Cyrus was startled, because he hadn’t spoken to another dragon in years. After the Dragon Floods, he’d severed all ties with his brethren. But here was a beautiful red dragon flying next to him. What a pair they made—the red scales of his companion went beautifully with the blue-black scales on Cyrus’s hide. They flipped and wheeled in the sky, dancing playfully. Eventually they touched down to the ground in the middle of a clearing edged by aspen trees.
Cyrus shrank down to his human form, as did the red dragon. Although Cyrus squinted, he couldn’t see the face of his companion. “Who are you?” he asked.
“The future,” the man said.
Cyrus knelt at the man’s feet and gingerly touched each one. The man sucked in a breath, and Cyrus raised his hands higher and higher on the man’s legs until they reached his groin. One last time Cyrus looked up, trying to see his partner’s face, but it was rendered only in shadow.
The man’s cock was perfect—thick and hard and waiting. Cyrus opened his mouth and took him inside, loving him with his tongue, showing him how lonely he’d been and how grateful he now was to have a partner his equal, a partner who could love him and love all of him.
But then the alarm jangled in the firehouse, and Cyrus woke with a start. His own cock was hard and heavy against his stomach, but he shoved on his clothes and went down to the truck.
“Let me help, Chief. I’m sorry about the other day at the barn.”
“You listen to me no matter what,” Chief said. “No more acting the hero.”
Cyrus nodded, and Zane gave him a sympathetic grin. They hopped on the truck and careened toward downtown Prospect.
“What’s the call, Chief?” Zane shouted over the screaming of the siren.
“Apartment building. Point of ignition on the upper floor.”
That meant ladders, stairs. The chief would have to give the okay before sending any of his men in. But with human lives at stake, they were all willing to risk more.
The truck screeched to a stop outside a four-story building. Smoke came out of an upper window, curling into the night sky, obliterating the stars.
Someone, likely the apartment manager, rushed over with rolled up plans to the building. “I thought these might help.”
Chief muttered a thanks. “How many apartments are on each floor?”
“Three,” the manager said. He was sweating profusely, and wiped his forehead with his arm. “One studio and two two-bedrooms.”
“Cyrus, Zane, you’re up,” Chief said. He held the plans to the apartment in front of him. “You get the top floor. And don’t forget your goddamn masks.”
The ladders had already been hoisted into place by other firefighters, and Cyrus climbed up first. He could hear Zane behind him. Pushing his way through the window, he found himself in a small studio apartment. “Fire department’s here! Anyone around? Hello?”
There was no response. Methodically, he checked the bathroom and peered around the kitchen counter. Empty. He left the apartment and carefully stepped out into the hall. Zane went one way, and Cyrus went the other. He could hear chatter through his headset, that his other crew members were making sure the other floors were evacuated.
Cyrus knocked on the next door. No answer, not that he could hear. The world around him was becoming smokier. He could handle the heat, but he hated not being able to see. He kicked open the door and stepped inside.
A man lay on the floor, groaning and holding his head.
Cyrus bent down. “I’m here to help,” he said. “Can you stand?”
The man sat up, wincing. Cyrus thought he looked like a dirty angel, his face smudged with blood below a halo of golden blond hair. Maybe the man’s wings had been singed during a fall from heaven.
This was no time for crazy imaginings, Cyrus reminded himself. He supported the man into a standing position and helped him out of the apartment. As they walked, the man was able to take more and more of his own weight. Cyrus shifted, not wanting to let the man get too far away. They walked to the studio where Cyrus had come in. The ladder was in place.
“Are you too dizzy?” Cyrus asked. “Can you make it down?”
“I—I think so,” the man said.
He had a handsome, deep voice.
“We’ll go down together,” Cyrus said.
The man eyed the ladder. “I’m afraid of heights.”
“You should be more afraid of fire.” Cyrus helped the man over to the window and climbed out. Bracing his knees on the insides of the slide rails, he held his arms out for the man. “I’ll stay right with you.”
The man froze. “I can’t.”
“Yes you can. You can! What’s your name?”
“Mark Rollens.”
“Great, Mark, now listen to me. You can do this, and you will. Come on.”
Mark was still frozen, but a coughing fit shook him.
“Please, Mark, don’t die on me in there. We’ve gotten this far,” Cyrus said.
Slowly, agonizingly slowly, Mark brought one foot out the window, then the other. “I’m so scared,” he said.
“I’ve got you,” Cyrus said. “One step at a time. Face the wall, don’t look down. I’m right here with you.”
As they inched down the ladder, Mark’s ass was pretty much in Cyrus’s face. Cyrus had to keep him close in case Mark got dizzy—this way, with Cyrus’s hands
holding on tight to the slide rails, he could keep Mark safe.
He didn’t know why, but he felt like nothing was more important than keeping Mark safe.
Finally, though, they made it down. Cyrus led Mark over to the ambulance, where they gave him oxygen and checked his vitals.
“How you feeling, champ?” Cyrus asked.
“Like a big fool,” Mark said. “You know why I was on the floor? I tripped on nothing on my way out of the apartment. I’d been having some stupid dream that I was flying, and then the alarm went off and I lost my balance. Hit my head on the counter and down I went. If it hadn’t been for you, Mr., um…”
“I’m Cyrus Luz. Just call me Cyrus.”
“Cyrus,” Mark said with a smile. “If it weren’t for you, I might have died tonight.”
The hoses were going full blast, the flames sizzling inside the building. The paramedic turned her attention to another victim of the fire, and to Cyrus it felt as if he and Mark were in their own little world.
“I know this is kind of a weird time,” Cyrus said, “but I don’t think I’m misreading any signals. Do you—would you be interested in going out? With me?”
Mark’s smile fell. “Normally I would, but…”
“But what?”
“But I’m not doing relationships right now.”
Cyrus went to ask him why, but Chief was gesturing everyone over. Mark turned away from him, and even in the lamp-washed darkness, Cyrus could see that Mark was blushing.
Quickly, Cyrus jotted his phone number down on the first piece of paper he saw—a bandage wrapping left on the floor of the ambulance. Then he slyly tucked it into Mark’s sweatshirt pocket.
Maybe it would come to nothing, but he’d never forgive himself if he didn’t try.
Mark
Mark narrowed his eyes at Jenny as she stood before him, tapping her foot. “It is not high time I put myself out there.”
“It very well is,” she said. “You’ve been a sad mopey bastard and you need some happiness in your life.”
Obviously two days of crashing at her townhouse was starting to wear on their friendship. “You just want your house back again,” Mark said. “I told you I can afford a hotel, no problem. Insurance will pay for it and everything.”
The Dragon’s Flight: Gay Paranormal Romance Page 7
