FIRE IN HER DREAMS

A FIREBLOOD DRAGON ROMANCE

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RUBY DIXON

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Copyright © 2021 by Ruby Dixon

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No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means,
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except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Cover Photo: Period Images

Cover Design: Kati Wilde

Edits: Aquila Editing

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For my favorite Jenny

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 FIRE IN HER DREAMS

Jenny’s dreams have turned to nightmares.

Every night, her thoughts are filled with evil. Something is reaching
out…and she’s not so sure she wants to reach back. That is, until someone
new appears in her dreams. Someone who protects her, comforts her, and
thinks of Jenny as his mate. Imaginary friends aren’t real, but Jenny likes to
pretend, anyhow.
Then, one day, one of the mindless dragons guarding the fort awakens…
and Jenny realizes that the friend from her dreams isn’t a figment of her
imagination. He’s a dragon.
And he’s looking to claim his female.

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 CONTENTS

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Epilogue

AUTHOR’S NOTE
Want More Ruby Dixon?

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 1

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T
JENNY

he crappiest thing about my nightmares is that they're not even

sexy nightmares.
I open my eyes and stare up at the top bunk, where Manda's still asleep,
her hand hanging over the side. Quietly, I creep out of bed. I pad toward the
metal-covered window and slide my fingernail between the screws bolting
it to the wall and the metal, looking for signs of daylight. There's nothing,
which means it's before dawn. Very unlike me.
It's just lately the nightmares have been too much.
Normally I'm the last one out of bed, but for the last few days, I'm the
first one up and about in the panty program. It sucks.
I fight back a yawn, looking longingly at my bed. As beds go, it's a
rather nice one. Sure, it's small and cramped and hard, but I have a pillow
and blankets, and in the After? That's downright luxurious. Plus, I don't
have to share it with anyone. There's four people to a room in the barracks,
but in this program, they're all women and it's almost like camp.
I miss Dad, but he'd have been thrilled that I'm this safe here, so I really
can't complain.
I head across the hall quietly, rubbing my eyes and yawning. It's so early
at least I get the bathrooms to myself. I do my business and wash my hands,
then surreptitiously wash my face. Ever since I got to Fort Dallas, the
washing's been the biggest problem. When I was out in the scavenge lands
with Dad, we'd always stop somewhere that we could wash up, even if it
was just a river or a broken building with working toilets. In Fort Dallas,
there's so many people that fresh water's at a premium. We're allowed
luxuries here in the panty program, but we're also only allowed to wash on
Saturdays.
 If anyone knew I'd just washed my face, I might get in trouble. I glance
around to make sure no one's caught me, and then tuck a few stray locks of
flyaway hair behind my ears, watching the mirror. Good. No one's coming.
I head out of the bathroom—and yelp, nearly running into one of the
guards.
It's Daniels. Manda's boyfriend. He must have overnight duty. He glares
at me, his hand on his weapon. "What are you doing out of your quarters?"
I press a hand to my chest, my heart racing. "I…I thought I'd get up
early for breakfast." I hope he didn't catch me washing my face. The rules
of the panty program are stupidly strict, and if I get kicked out, I'm going to
be dumped on the streets of Fort Dallas with no way to earn a meal but one
—on my back. "Is that a problem?"
"It's three in the morning." Daniels frowns at me.
"Oh." I pause, thinking. "I…guess I'll go back to bed, then."
"Come on. I'll escort you." He reaches out to put a hand on my shoulder
and then pauses, pulling away before he does. That's another rule of the
panty program—no touching. The men aren't allowed to touch us at all.
It's scent contamination.
For the longest time, I had no idea why the rules of the program were so
weird. Now I know—they're keeping our scent pure so we can lure dragons.
When we were first offered the “program” in Fort Dallas, all we were told
was that we'd be provided with shelter and protection, clothing, and two
square meals a day. It sounded like heaven, even if we didn't know what we
were being collected for. After a day or two, I kinda thought we were a
weird harem of some kind. The soldiers weren't allowed to touch us, but
they collected our panties every day and gave us fresh ones. We were only
allowed to bathe once a week, and we were sent out scavenging with a
bodyguard, but no one really scavenged seriously. It was mostly just day-
trips to areas already picked clean.
 We couldn't figure it out, so I thought harem. I wasn't the only one. A
lot of the girls thought the same—that we'd all be waiting for Lord Azar to
come in and pick a new girlfriend amongst all of us. The sad thing is that
we still showed up for the program. We knew it was probably prostitution
of some kind, but when you don't have a male protector, you need some sort
of safety in the After.
After my dad died, I was counting out how many days I had left before
I'd have to turn to whoring. I know how to take care of myself, but so does
everyone else that managed to survive in the After. The only skill I have
that anyone might want is sewing, but you have to have something worth
sewing. Bartering for scraps took all the items I had saved up as trade, and I
had no luck scavenging. It was pretty clear to me that whoring would be the
only way to live.
So yeah, I don't hate Lord Azar's program. It's another way to survive,
and better than most.
But then it came out that we weren't being saved for weird, controlling
Lord Azar, the new and odd ruler of Fort Dallas.
We were being saved for dragons.
Funny how Daniels would murder a guy in the fort if they so much as
touched my arm, but if a dragon carries me off and rapes me, it's all good.
That's the world we're in now, though.
"Back to your room," Daniels says, his voice low and kind.
I must be dawdling. It's not like me to be scared of nightmares, but I
really don't want to go back to bed. Something creepy is in my dreams, and
I don't know how to handle it. I cross my arms under my breasts and nod
meekly, because what else can I do? Daniels has a gun and I'm just…me.
I return to my quarters, slip off my shoes, and get into bed. I pull the
covers up to my chin. Warm blankets, if not soft. Scratchy, but the
scratchiness is kinda comforting in the dark.
 I don't want to close my eyes but eventually the darkness becomes too
much.
Then…insects. Big ones. They infest my room, sitting on my bunk and
crawling under the blankets. Chittering sounds echo in my ears, and I look
down at my feet. Worms the size of anacondas slither around the bed, and
all over there's a feeling of filth, of darkness, of evil…
I gasp and jerk awake again, shuddering. I sit up so I won't fall asleep
again, and hug my legs to my chest. I want to run screaming from the room,
because it feels like if I close my eyes, I'll see the insects of my dreams.
That they're real, and lurk in the shadows. I can't leave my room, though—
Daniels will report me.
So I curl up and try to think of old poems. Shakespeare. Nursery
rhymes. Jingles.
Anything.
Sleep has become the enemy, and I don't want to close my eyes again.

"Y ou look tired ," Manda tells me over breakfast. She holds her tray out,
her eyes bright, and beams as the cook puts a heaping slab of cornbread
onto the plate. She's given a plastic packet of strawberry jam, too, and
makes an excited noise at the sight.
I hold my tray out for the same meal and then follow her down the line,
where we're given two mugs and the world's smallest cups of terrible-
tasting instant coffee. "I didn't sleep well."
"That's not like you," Manda teases. "You can sleep through a dragon
attack."
I just give her a faint smile and we take our normal seats in the
cafeteria. My butt's cold on the bench, as the shifts we wear are little more
than potato sacks with a neck hole, and the one I have today doesn't go far
beyond my panties. It sucks when you get the short shift (ha) out of the
laundry, but it beats nothing. It's also going to make it freakin' difficult to
stash away my breakfast. The moment we sit down, I look around and when
no one's glancing in our direction, I wrap the cornbread cake in a hard
brown paper towel that probably came from a gas station bathroom back in
the day, and shove the entire lot into the front of my panties.
Hygiene was another thing that went out the door with the After.
"Here," Manda says, pushing her packet of jam toward me. "You can
have mine, too."
I shake my head. "You eat it. I don't want to be caught with more than
one anyhow, if I get caught." I can just see it now—me heading for lineup
and dripping chunks of cornbread from my hooha as I walk down the hall.
It'd be funny if it wasn't me that would get booted out of the program, but…
Well, okay, it's still a little funny.
Manda grins at me and squeezes the jam onto her cornbread, then takes
huge bites of the entire thing. I lick my finger and use it to pick up the
crumbs on my tray, ignoring the growling of my stomach. I miss the foods
from Before. I remember grocery stores with an aisle for all the different
kinds of cereal alone. Now, we're reliant on what can grow easily here in
North Texas's mercurial and often-hot weather, which means a lot of
tomatoes and corn. You learn to like things you'd have turned your nose up
at in the past, and my mouth waters as Manda savors her cornbread and
jam.
I sip my black coffee instead. It's a treat. I don't know how they found it,
but I'm absolutely grateful.
"So who's the cornbread for this week?" Manda asks in a whispered
voice.
One of the guards looks over and I pretend to wipe my mouth free of
crumbs. "Bethany and her kid," I murmur. "Exchange for scraps." Except
Bethany doesn't really have very many scraps anymore, and I'm so hungry
some days that I feel faint, but I know Bethany and Michael are hungrier, so
I keep saving half of my food rations for them.
"Is that why you can't sleep? You're worried over them?" Manda looks
sympathetic.
I shrug. "Maybe? I'm having bad dreams. Maybe they're stress related."
"I bet your period is coming," Manda points out. "I always get weird
dreams right before mine."
I nod, toying with my fork on my empty tray. I don't mention that I
haven't had my period in well over six months. It's never been regular, but
I'm sure giving away my food isn't helping. Ever since Dad died,
everything's been a little off, and my period and whether or not it shows up
is the least of my problems.
Before Manda can say anything else, one of the guards comes up to our
table. He has two new women with him, both of them skinny and dirty and
tired-looking. I recognize one from the local whorehouse—Dina. The other
looks like she's barely fourteen. "New recruits," the guard says to us. "These
two will be bunking with you ladies."
"Oh." Manda straightens, shooting me a look of surprise.
I wear a tight smile of welcome. I shouldn't be surprised the bunks in
our room are being filled. Kristi got moved out of the program a while
back, and Rachel mated a dragon and was given swanky quarters elsewhere
in the fort. I just didn't realize we were still recruiting for the program. I
glance around at the cafeteria. Now that I look, there seem to be new
women every day, and more than there were in the past.
Are we…recruiting?
More women for the dragons? The thought makes me uneasy.
"I'm Manda," my friend says brightly, getting to her feet. "Let me show
you guys where to get breakfast."
I jump to my feet, fighting the urge to put a hand to my abdomen to
secure the cornbread I've stashed. "I'll make sure we have extra blankets in
the room." As Manda shows them around the cafeteria, I make my way out,
explaining the same to the guards and tugging on my too-short shift dress as
I go. I have a little time to dump my purloined breakfast under my pillow
and then return to line-up for the day's orders.
I make it back just in time, sliding into place with Manda and Dina and
the other girl. The women line up in front of the guards, and a man with a
clipboard comes out, just as he always does. Life in the fort is nothing if not
regimented, and it's even more so now that Lord Azar is in charge. He goes
down his checklist, calling out names and assignments.
"North Quadrant, scavenging," the guard calls out in a bored voice. "Jan
with Baxter. Toya with Carson. Adrienne with Rodriguez. South Quadrant,
scavenging. Dina with Holland. Jenny with Hightower. Kacie with Sutton.
West Quadrant, scavenging…"
Dina gives Manda a worried look.
"It's okay," Manda says, speaking in a low voice. "I'll talk with Daniels,
let him know that you guys need a bit of time to settle in."
I want to point out that she can't guarantee that she can talk to Daniels,
but in the next moment, Manda's name is called out…and she's with
Daniels. Her smile of pleasure tells me that she knew this would happen.
Huh. Maybe Manda's been pulling strings on the side and I've been too
wrapped up in my own worries to notice. Good for her. I know she's in love
with him.
Once we're dismissed, I give my dress another tug and wait. A moment
later, Hightower comes to my side. "Ready to go out?"
I shrug. My cornbread is safely hidden, so might as well get the day
started. "Ready when you are."
Hightower smiles at me, shouldering his weapon. Of all the guards,
Hightower is probably my favorite. He reminds me of a kid brother,
probably not much past the age of sixteen if even that old. He's got reddish
hair and pale skin, and he's tall and skinny. He's good-natured, too, which
seems odd to me given that he's with the rest of the militia, but everyone
gets on the best way they know how. He's generally nice and easygoing,
though, and heading out with him is fun.
We sign out the assigned bikes and pedal out of the South Quadrant
gates. I like the excursions out of the dirty, crowded fort. It reminds me of
happier times with my father, back when we were nomads roaming from
ruin to ruin, collecting what we could. Most nomads are murderers and
thieves. I like to think that my dad was different, but maybe not all that
much. Doesn't matter now, he's dead.
The moment we cross out of the gates, the doors welded into the car
barricade shut behind us. Something prickles on the back of my neck and I
put a foot down on the weed-covered concrete, pausing. I look back behind
us, because I can't shake the feeling that I'm forgetting something…or I'm
being watched.
Fort Dallas is surrounded by an immense metal barricade made from the
ruins of crushed, stacked, and broken-down cars. It acts as a fence that
keeps the worst trouble out and the residents inside. High up on the
barricade, perched atop like gargoyles on the roof of the Notre Dame, the
dragons are sprawled. There's five of them that haunt the city gates, all of
them gray eyed and motionless. They're like zombies and they only respond
when Azar tells them to, I've heard. They scared me at first, but as the
months go by, I've gotten used to them.
They're like lamp posts—just more junk you see and walk past without
acknowledging.
Except this time, I could swear one's staring down at me.
"Something wrong?" Hightower rides his bike back toward me, circling
lazily. "Leg cramp?"
"No." I rub my neck, pondering. There's a dragon above, curled up like
an oversized cat. Its tail isn't moving and the eyes are the same milky gray
they always are. It doesn't blink, or even acknowledge that I'm here.
Must be my imagination.
I shake my head and turn to Hightower. "Sorry. I'm coming."

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I
JENNY

t's a quiet day outside of the fort. Autumn has finally arrived and
with it, a break in the intense Texas heat. I'm a little chilly in my
stupid shift, my legs cold as the bitter wind rolls in from the north, but I
can't take Hightower's hoodie that he offers, because it smells like him. The
rules are very explicit—our scents have to be “pure” so we can catch a
dragon. So I endure the cold, pedaling south briskly and making small talk
with Hightower as I do. My bike has a basket for carrying treasures, and
tucked inside it is an old map. When we pause to take a break, I pull out the
plastic-covered map of the city and unfold it. Some of the streets are
completely gone, but it's been marked on with crayon and certain areas
circled to show the best scavenging spots.
"Where are we heading today?" I ask Hightower. "Anything in
particular?"
He shrugs. "Same as usual."
I glance over at him. I have so many questions I want to ask about the
program. Other than Rachel, has there been any success? Are my panties
tossed in this direction that I've been assigned? What happens to me if my
panties have no effect? Am I tossed out of the program? What happens to
me after I catch a dragon? Why do we need more if the five we have—and
Lord Azar—are keeping us safe already?
I know he won't answer—I'm not even sure he has the answers—but I
wish someone would tell me something.
Pursing my lips, I make a decision. "These houses here are empty, but I
wouldn't mind finding some scraps if we can?" Everything close to the fort
is absolutely picked over, but if you look hard enough, sometimes you can
find something. A lot of the time I discover bits of scrap left behind, torn
clothing no one else wants, or a disgusting towel that's been abandoned in a
muddy corner somewhere. I take them home, clean them up, and then use
them in my quilting projects.
Hightower doesn't look happy at my suggestion. "You know you're not
supposed to take anything home."
"Not unless I'm allowed, no." I smile at him to let him know I'm well
aware of the rules. "But no one else wants scrap but me most of the time.
And if they don't let me keep it, oh well." I fold up the map with a shrug.
"Unless we're not supposed to go in this direction?"
He pauses. "No…we have to go here. We can't veer off course."
I suspect if I looked hard enough, I'd find my panties in a field
somewhere, a dragon lure. I kinda wish I could find them, because I'd take
that material in a heartbeat. It's such a waste otherwise. So I give my guard
a bright smile. "Let's see what we can find, shall we?"
Two streets over, I catch a glimpse of a colorful lump in the street. I
point at it, and we bike closer.
To my horror, the lump moves and a shiny beetle the size of a dog
makes a buzzing noise and flies away. I make a sound of disgust, pulling up
short. "Did you see that?"
Hightower puts his rifle to his shoulder and peers down the scope. "I'm
gonna try and shoot it."
What? Why? I look at him in shock and disgust. "Are you crazy?"
Instead of answering me, he just fires. The gun recoils, my ears ring,
and I slap my palms to cover them. A high-pitched whine rings through my
head, and I have an instant migraine, none of which seems to bother
Hightower. He lowers his gun and then flings down his bike, racing after his
“kill.”
Me, I just want to know how a beetle got that large. Bugs shouldn't be
that big, should they? How does that even happen? Maybe I didn't see it
properly. Maybe it was something else—
 Hightower stops in his cocky saunter and stares at the lump in the
middle of the street that the beetle rose from. He looks back at me, and his
normally pale face is ghost white.
"What?" I blurt out, and my voice sounds hollow and far away thanks to
my ringing ears. I set my bike down and start walking toward him. "What is
it?"
He shakes his head and puts a hand up. "Don't come any closer."
Don't come any closer? Yeah, right. Now I have to see. I take a few
steps forward…and stop when I see the tendrils of blonde hair. I see the
empty eye sockets next, and I realize I'm looking at what's left of a person. I
press my fingers to my mouth, horrified. The bug was…
"I think it's Hailey," Hightower says, his voice somber.
Oh god. Hailey was in the panty program, but the moment she found out
we were being served up to dragons, she panicked and left. I'd heard that
she went back to whoring in the fort, but maybe she decided to take her
chances outside. I fight back the sickness creeping up in my throat. "Do you
think it was nomads that got her? Or something else?"
"It wasn't a dragon, if that's what you're asking." He glances around,
grimacing.
"How do you know?"
"A dragon would have kept her, or ate her whole. He wouldn't have left
her carcass behind." He nudges at the lump with his boot and then glances
over at me. "You want her clothes?"
"What? No!"
"You said you wanted scrap—"
"Not hers! Not like this!" I hug my arms to my chest. "I want to go
back, please."
I'm done with scavenging today. We haven't even made it to the area
we've decided to pick through, but I don't care. I'm cold and miserable and I
stare at the dead carcass of a woman I knew not too long ago. Hailey was
excited to be in the panty program. She wanted to be one of Lord Azar's
harem…and then when she found out that wasn't going to happen, she
bailed out. She hated dragons more than she liked the free food and safety
of the program.
Is this what's going to happen to me if I can't manage to snare a dragon?
I feel helpless. I don't even know how to get one of the monsters to look in
my direction.
I don't even know if I want them to. I feel like I'm trapped between two
terrible choices. What's that old saying my dad used to use? Frying pan or
fire?
I have no idea which one is better.
Hightower doesn't get on his bike, though. He jogs into the bushes,
ignoring my protests, and scans them. A moment later, he picks something
up and makes a disgusted noise. "It stinks," he calls out, grinning, and holds
the giant dead bug up by one of its spindly legs. The thing's dead, a hole
blown into the side of it, but I didn't mistake the size.
It really is enormous, bigger than Hightower's torso.
All the more reason to head back to the fort. "Can we just go, please?"
"I'm taking this back to show the boys," he says, looking around for
something to drag it on. He finds a rotten bit of cardboard and tosses the
thing onto it. The dead bug makes a wet sound as it lands, and then
Hightower hauls the entire thing in my direction. "I had no idea this shit got
so big!"
"Me either," I murmur. I mean, our world has been taken over by
dragons, so I'm willing to believe a lot of stuff at this point. Golden-
retriever-sized bugs? Sure. It's a lot less crazy than fire-breathing dragons.
As he straps the dead, smelly thing onto the back of his bike, I can't help
but think about my dream. I had supersized bugs in those, too. I rub my
arms again, shivering. "What about Hailey?"
Hightower looks over at me, confused. "What about her?"
 I gesture at her dead body. "We're not going to just leave her, are we?
It's wrong. She's a person."
"She's coyote food," he says bluntly. "I'm not going to dirty my hands."
So much for Hightower being nicer than the other guards. At the end of
the day, he's just another stupid guy with a gun and a bit of power going to
his head. Angry, I dismount from my bike and storm toward the nearest
building.
"Where the fuck are you going?" he calls after me.
"I'm going to find something to cover her up," I yell back. "Try and stop
me."
He doesn't, of course. Hightower can't lay a hand on me. Instead, he
remains by his bicycle, fooling with the huge dead bug and posing the legs
in weird positions as if he's never seen a dead creature before. Idiot. I
swallow back the angry words I'm dying to spit and pick through the trash
at the nearest building until I find a couple of mud-covered plastic sheets.
They'll have to do. I drag them over to the body, doing my best not to look
at poor Hailey's remains, and cover her as best I can.
Hightower just watches until I'm done. "Back to the fort, then?" I'm sure
he can't wait to show off his “catch.”
I nod. I'm done with this for today. I just want to hide in my room and
sew.

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MHAL

A scent awakens me.

I did not realize I was asleep, but my mind flares to life and my eyes
clear as the scent drags me out of…nothingness. I gaze at my surroundings.
The human hive.
I sit above it, next to other dead-eyed drakoni in their battle-form.
Something heavy presses onto my mind, and I shrug it off, seeking out
more of the scent. I scan the humans below as they move through their nest,
picking through the streets. The stenches of all are near-overwhelming, but
gliding through the mess of overlapping smells, the thread of her scent
remains.
My mate.
I stare down below, looking for her.
There. A female on a metal contraption. She swings her leg off of it and
then glances around, rubbing her arms. Her gaze flicks up to me.
She sees me. She knows.
The heaviness sweeps over my mind, pushing me under once more.
The nothingness claims me.

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H
JENNY

iding away is easier said than done when you live in a fort full
of people, though. When we get back, Dina and Nancy—the
young girl—are in the room, talking in hushed voices. They stop the
moment I enter, and I sit down on my bunk, light a candle, and pull out my
sewing, determined to ignore the world.
Or at least, I want to, but my newest scraps are gone. I glance over at
them. "Did you guys see the pink cloth that was on top here?"
Dina shakes her head. Nancy just shrugs and won't look me in the eye.
Great. Now I get to room share with thieves. It bugs me, but I'm not
going to do anything about it. If I complain and they kick someone out, I'll
feel worse knowing I destroyed someone else's life. I just need to hide my
stuff from now on. On a hunch, I check under my pillow.
The cornbread's gone. Of course it is. They're hungry and don't trust that
their next meal is coming. I can't even be mad, because I was in their place
once. I know what it's like to starve and shove anything in my mouth that
looks like food.
It means I have nothing to give to Bethany and Michael, though.
Jaw clenched with frustration, I bend over my sewing and lose myself in
putting tiny, decorative stitches along the two bits of fabric I'm sewing
together. I pick out complementary colors and sew the smaller shreds to
bigger ones, until I have larger pieces of fabric, and then I make clothes out
of them. I made a dress that I wore until I joined the program, and I've made
two blankets and a cloak. I sold both blankets for barter, and I gave the
cloak to Bethany because the weather's getting colder.
I'm a little worried about my friend. Her husband has been taking all
their money and going gambling with the militia. She and her son rarely
have enough to eat, and I feel responsible for them. I'll have to take them
something tomorrow…even if I don't have anything right now.
To my relief, dinner ends up being more cornbread, this time slathered
in a thick bean paste. I shove my pieces together and hide them under my
clothing again, even though my stomach growls. I always know where the
next meal is coming from—Bethany doesn't.
Manda watches me but says nothing. She seems distracted tonight.
Once it's lights out, I watch at the door until I see who's at the guard
post tonight. It's Evans, and he's easy enough to bribe. I sneak to the door
and poke my head out.
"Back inside," he says in a low voice.
"I've got a couple of baseball cards," I offer. "Can I go out for twenty
minutes? I promise I won't be long."
He hesitates and then looks around, waiting to see if anyone else is
listening. Then he gestures for me to approach. I shut the door behind me,
tiptoeing toward him. It's freezing in the hall, but I won't be out long
hopefully. I've got my package for Bethany wrapped in cheesecloth and
stuffed into my bra, and I hold out the baseball cards for Evans. I have five
more stashed under a floorboard, so I only offer him two tonight. I have to
parcel things out, after all.
He takes them, pockets the cards, and nods. "Twenty minutes or I'm
locking you out."
"Thank you," I breathe.
He shoves a finger in my face. "Don't let anyone touch you or we're
both toast."
I shake my head. "I won't."
"I mean it," he states, voice stern. "Tell your boyfriend hands off or your
meal ticket ends."
He thinks I have a boyfriend? I want to protest that a boyfriend would
be the height of stupidity, but it doesn't matter. Evans doesn't need to know
I'm smuggling out food. I nod and race out, letting him shut the door behind
me.
Our bunkhouse isn't behind a gate of any kind, so I'm able to slip out of
the militia grounds and into the fort proper without being disturbed. There's
a few people out at this time of night—there always are a few, chasing rats
or selling their bodies—but I manage to avoid everyone and make my way
to Bethany's shack. It's one of the saddest-looking buildings in Fort Dallas.
A lot of the bigger buildings have been repurposed and claimed by groups
who live together. Smaller families and those without a support system have
to make do with what they can find, and Bethany's shack looks like the
rusted remains of an old garden shed that's been dragged into the fort. The
door is open, and Bethany has a fire going inside a metal trash can.
I knock, hiding in the shadows, and Bethany and her son Michael both
turn to look at me. I see a wooden spoon in Bethany's hand and she's got a
cagey look in her eyes as she stands in front of the fire. There's a weird
smell in the air, like burning…something. It makes my gut uneasy. I ignore
the way it roils and put a smile of greeting on my face.
"Is…this a bad time?" I ask politely. "I've had trouble getting away."
"No, no, it's all right." Bethany sets the spoon down behind her into a
pot and then holds Michael against her. "I don't have any scraps. I'm sorry."
I pull out the cornbread. I kind of guessed that she wouldn't have
anything to barter for, but I can't let her and her kid starve anyhow. Doesn't
seem right. "It's okay. This one's on me. Can I come in?"
To my surprise, she hesitates. Bethany's never hesitated about food
before, and it just adds to the feeling that something's wrong.
"Guess what I caught, Jenny?" Michael says excitedly. "Bugs!"
Bethany hesitates again and then steps aside. "We're making stew. You
should see the size of the bugs Michael caught. They're as big as chickens.
There's so much meat on them, too." She gestures that I should take a look
at her stew pot.
 I move closer, and the sick feeling grows overwhelming. There,
bubbling in Bethany's beat up old pot, are what look like grasshoppers.
Enormous, shiny ones, their mandibles enormous, their eyes gleaming and
very, very dead. There's at least three of them, and they're boiling up in a
stew that smells incredibly, horribly wrong.
"Oh, Bethany," I breathe, sick. I press a hand to my stomach.
"It's not the best-tasting food, but there's so much of it." She shrugs.
"We haven't had empty bellies in days now. Michael finds them all over the
place, and I thought, why not try it? People in other countries eat bugs, don't
they?"
Not these bugs. There's something wrong with these bugs. Bile
threatens at the back of my throat. Wordless, I hold the wrapped cornbread
out to them. "Please don't eat those."
"Why not?" Bethany's tone becomes defensive. "You don't get what it's
like to go hungry, Jenny. Sometimes we can't afford to be squeamish."
As if I've never been hungry before? As if I'm not handing all my meals
over to them? But she won't understand—just like she won't understand that
I don't want her to eat these bugs because I've seen them in my dreams.
That they come with a sick, unctuous feeling that makes me want to scrub
my skin clean of filth every time I wake up. That there's something
unnatural about them, and I can't stand the thought of anyone putting them
into their bodies.
All Bethany sees is a meal in front of her.
"Just…" I hold out the cornbread. "Here. Eat this. Not the stew, all
right?"
Michael glances at his mother, then takes the cornbread from me. He
holds it carefully in his hands, and neither one of them moves. I realize that
they're waiting for me to leave so they can eat. They're still going to eat
those nightmare bugs, just because it's food.
 And nothing I can say will convince them otherwise. I try anyhow,
because I have to try. "I don't trust them. The bugs. It's weird that they've
started showing up now, seven years after the Rift." I decide not to mention
my dreams, and casually shrug. "I just worry they carry things. We all heard
about that fort with the plague."
Bethany nods, her expression perking up a bit. "We're going to boil
them really well and clean them. Just to be safe."
I realize that's as far as I'm going to get with this argument. "That's all I
ask. Be safe."
"We can't all be like you, getting free handouts from the lord of the
fort." Her expression is both wry and bitter. "I asked and they won't take
me. I ask all the time, but they just laugh."
I nod. I know they won't take her. Bethany's got a kid and she's pregnant
with another. She's probably about ten years older than me but looks like
she could be my mother. She's got a husband that beats her and gambles
away what little funds they have. If they want dragon bait, she's absolutely
not what they're looking for. I hate that there's free food for us and nothing
for Bethany, who needs it just as badly.
And there's nothing for poor Michael, who deserves a better life than
this. We all do.
So I smile and talk a little about the cloak I'm patching together with
scraps. I talk about the weather and how it's finally getting cooler. We talk
about fort gossip for maybe five minutes before Bethany gives another
pointed look at the cooking pot and I say my goodbyes so I don't have to
see them eat the things that haunt my nightmares. I murmur goodbyes and
promise to return as often as I can, but that I don't know when it'll be.
For once, the pinched look isn't on Bethany's face when I say that. She's
not worried about her next meal, because she's got one cooking. I feel like
an asshole for discouraging her to eat, when I always have regular meals
incoming.
 My stomach growls, reminding me that those regular meals have been
put aside for her lately. That I've had one meal in the last two days and I
need to take care of myself, too.
Tomorrow, I'll eat.

I feel the cloying sensation of sickness and disease before the first bug
shows up in my dreams. It's the same dreams I always have. I'm sitting on
my bed in my room, sewing. The overwhelming feeling of wrongness and
filth crawls over my skin, and everything prickles.
When I look up, my bed is surrounded by bugs. Big, snake-sized
worms. Centipedes with thousands of legs. Bugs the size of cats, with
pinching claws and spiny legs and shiny, unnatural carapaces. They make
creepy, chittering noises as they flood over the bed, a waterfall of disgusting
legs and cockroaches.
I scream, but it's not loud enough. No one wakes up. It's like I'm
shouting into the void—Manda can't hear me, and the other women keep on
sleeping even as the monster bugs pour into the room and crawl over
everything. "Please," I cry out. "Help me!"
I am here.
The voice is pure. Loud. Like a bell ringing in my ears. Everything goes
silent, and the bugs fade away. I'm alone in my bed but…not alone.
There's a warm presence nearby, its mind touching mine.
"Hello?" I breathe, rubbing my skin as if I can still feel the cockroaches
crawling over me. I get to my feet and take a few steps into the darkness.
"Who's there?"
There are no more bugs. They're gone. So is my room—I'm standing
alone in the shadows, but I'm not afraid.
 From behind, warm arms surround me, holding me against a larger body
that scorches with heat. Hands roam over me, tugging at the thin fabric of
my sleep shirt. I am here, the voice says again. I am here with you.
"Who are you?" I ask, but it doesn't matter. I lean back against that
warm, impossibly perfect body and feel safe. Protected. For the first time
since my father died, I don't feel alone and afraid.
I do not know. Who are you?
"I'm Jenny."
Jenny. The voice in my ear is like a sigh. I like that. I like you. You are
not afraid anymore, are you? I will stay with you so the dreams go away.
"Thank you." I turn, trying to look at the face of my rescuer, but I can't
see it. It's hidden in shadow. I reach up and touch him, wanting to run my
fingers over his face. When I try, though, he fades away.
I cannot stay like this for long. It costs me much.
"Like what? Stay like what? In my dreams?"
Stay as myself. It fights me. He fights me.
"Who?" I shiver as a thought occurs to me. "Whoever is sending the
bugs?"
No. Warm fingers caress my throat, and there's the barest hint of claws.
I'm not scared of those claws, though, even when they nick my skin. They
belong to my friend. My protector. I don't care if he has claws…not when
he's keeping me safe from the evil that surrounds me. That awful, skin-
crawling sensation is gone while he's here and I'm left with peace.
Quiet.
Joy.
I have touched your dreams a few times in the past, my friend admits.
Just to say hello. I know I should not intrude, but…touching your mind
helps me stay in my own.
His words mean nothing to me, but that's just how dreams are—
confusing. "You can hang out in my mind any time you want," I tell him,
rubbing up against his warmth. "As long as you keep the bugs away."
No evil will touch you as long as I am here. I make you that promise.
Those scorching claws trace over my throat again. They cannot have you
because you are mine.
"Yours. I like that." I close my eyes, sliding back out of his arms and
into my bed, and this time, there are no bugs. This time, I'm able to sleep.

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JENNY

hen I wake up, I feel more refreshed than I have in weeks.

I also feel alone again.
It's odd. It's like when I'm asleep, I have someone else there with me. I
remember most of my dream, too. Whoever it was in my dreams held me
close and touched my cheek as I slept. They spoke to me while I dreamed—
a dream within a dream—and I felt so happy and content.
I'm annoyed to wake up, and when Manda greets everyone in the room
with a chirpy “good morning,” it takes everything I have not to snap at her
and draw the blankets back over my head. "Come on, silly," Manda calls
out. "You'll be late for breakfast if you drag your feet!"
I groan, but that gets me moving. My stomach growls and I remember
that I haven't eaten much lately at all. The moment I stand up, the blood
rushes to my head and spots swim before my eyes. I'm dizzy, so dizzy that I
have to clutch the bed to stay upright.
"You okay?" asks one of the newcomers. Probably the one that ate my
cornbread last night.
I nod, rubbing my forehead. "Just need a moment."
I'm oddly tempted to let the blackout take me and see if I can pick up
my dream where I left off. I want that strange man to hold me in his arms
again and whisper soft words in my ear. It was the best dream I've ever had,
and a keen sense of loss hangs over me as I look at my surroundings.
My reality doesn't have a kind, caring man who protects me from the
world. I'm alone and the best way to stay safe is to let myself be used as
dragon bait. I bite back a sigh of frustration and take my panties off,
heading out for the morning drill. Breakfast this morning is corn pancakes
and I gobble my small portion down without even hesitating. Manda chats
all through breakfast, talking merrily to our newcomers about life here in
the panty project and what's expected of them. They're both quiet, letting
Manda do all the talking, and normally I'd be more chatty myself, but I can't
stop thinking about my dream.
It felt real, bugs and all.
I'm distracted all day, even when I go out with Evans and do my rounds.
He tries to rouse me into conversation, but I guess I don't answer fast
enough, and eventually he stops trying.
"You know what today is?" Manda asks smugly after we eat dinner—a
thick tomato-based soup with greens and a bit of meat in it. I scrape my
bowl clean and lick my fingers, but it still doesn't feel like enough. I can't
help but notice our portions have been getting smaller, and I'm worried that
we're heading for a famine. There are hunters that go out and look for meat
near the fort, and there are gardeners in the fort itself. There are nomads
that sell their wares here regularly. Food's never plentiful, but I thought the
forts did okay.
Just like the appearance of the giant bugs, it's change, and I don't think
change is good. Not anymore.
I don't share my worries with the others. Instead, I put on a cheery
smile. "What's today?"
"Bath day!" Manda announces happily. She touches her braid, wrinkling
her nose. "I am more than ready to clean this off."
I lick the last taste of dinner from my spoon absently. "I didn't realize it
was Friday. All the days have been running together for me lately."
"Are you sleeping any better?" Manda asks me, a sympathetic look on
her face. She knows I've been having difficulty.
"Actually last night, I slept like a baby." Maybe it's all because my
subconscious made up a protector for me, but I'll take it. "First real sleep in
a long time."
 Dina leans in, whispering. "Is it true what they said about bath night?
That we can make coin?"
I wince inwardly. Everyone's got their own reasons for being in the
program, just like everyone has their own ideas as to what “safety” means.
I'm here because I've run out of other options. If I'm not in the program, I'll
have to either rustle up a man somehow and live like Bethany, hoping that
my husband will throw me a few scraps, or I'll have to show up, hat in hand,
to the whorehouse and hope that I can make a few barter coins there.
Some girls take the safety of the program and also try to make coins on
the side. The men aren't allowed to touch us except on Friday night, when
the more enterprising girls make extra coins just before taking a bath. Once
we're clean, all bets are off. But just before? It's the favorite night for a lot
of people around here—soldiers and girls both.
It's my least favorite. I'm still a virgin. My dad protected me when we
were nomads, and now that I'm in the fort, I landed here. I've been lucky to
avoid being molested so far, but it also makes me reluctant to hook up for
money, no matter how nice that money might be.
Manda nods. "You can do whatever you like with whoever you like
before your bath. What you charge is your business." She points her fork at
Dina. "Just don't sell yourself too cheap or you won't make many friends
around here. The others won't like being undercut."
Nancy looks worried. "How much should we charge? How much do
you charge?"
I bite my lip. Nancy looks too young to be doing that kind of thing, but I
have to remind myself that life in the fort is different than life was with my
dad. He sheltered me from a lot of bad situations, and something tells me
both Nancy and Dina didn't have the same luck. I can't judge them.
Manda stiffens, though. She's offended. "I don't sell myself."
"I thought someone said you were with Daniels, though?" Nancy
presses.
 "That's different. We're in love."
Dina just snorts, and I get to my feet, taking my tray and Nancy's empty
one to the counter. Love has no place in the apocalypse. Even I know that.
Manda's too much of a dreamer. She thinks somehow that Daniels is going
to take her away from all of this and they'll ride off into the sunset and
toward a happy ever after. I don't have the heart to tell her that I've seen
what's outside of the fort, and this is about as good as it gets.
I'm one of the first to take a bath. While everyone else is out partying
with the soldiers who have coin—and Manda's on a “romantic date” with
Daniels—I get to luxuriate in a lukewarm bath since there's no rush to give
up my spot. I recline in the half-full tub, the water just barely warm enough
to be pleasant, and scrub at my skin with unscented soap. The bathing room
—with six other porcelain tubs lined up next to mine—is empty of
everyone else, so I close my eyes and think about my dream.
Not about the bugs, but my friend.
He'd felt so real. I know it was just my imagination, but I keep holding
on to the sensation that the dream left me with—the feeling that I wasn't
alone. That I had a friend.
Manda's my friend. Rachel, too. It's not the same, though. It was a bit
like having my father back…except different. Because when those claws
touched my dream-skin, I wasn't thinking family thoughts. I was thinking
that I wanted him to touch me in more places.
Private places.
Definitely not in a fatherly way.
I get out of the bath when the water gets too cold, dress in a new shift
and panties, and then head up to my room. Down the hall, I can hear
someone playing a violin and the sound of hands clapping. It's a party, and
it'll go on until just about midnight, when everyone scrambles for a hasty
bath at the last minute so they don't get into trouble.
 Me, I head to my room. It's empty, so I light my candle, pull out my
sewing, and lean toward the light so I can stitch.
If I dream about my friend again, I need to ask his name.

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JENNY

anda returns long after it's dark, just when I'm about to snuff
the candle out and go to sleep. Her hair is freshly washed,
and she's got a beaming smile on her face as she prances into the room.
"Jenny!"
I chuckle at her excitement. She's so happy. "Fun night with Lucas?"
She only calls Daniels by his first name. "You guys get some time alone?"
She sits down on my bunk next to me, pushing aside my half-sewn
cloak. To my surprise, she grabs my hands and keeps smiling like a loon, as
if she's brimming over with emotion. "You'll never guess what happened
tonight."
I decide to guess anyhow. "Smith brought out his moonshine and got
everyone plastered? Someone got naked and streaked through the hall? And
Lord Azar caught you?"
Manda shakes her head. "Way, way off." She holds her hand out in front
of me and waits.
I glance at it, then back at her, not sure what I'm supposed to be seeing.
Then, I notice the slim golden band on her fourth finger. Oh shit. "Daniels
proposed?"
"Yes!" Her voice drops to an excited hush. "Lucas says he loves me and
wants to marry me. He's going to talk to Lord Azar in the morning about
pulling me from the program so we can get married and have a family." Her
expression is dreamy. "As long as I'm not taking food from the program, I
don't see how he can say no."
First Rachel goes, and now Manda? Loneliness hits me like a wave. I'm
going to lose both of my friends and then I'll be left here with no one but
Dina and Nancy. "Oh."
 Manda pouts. "You're not happy for me?"
"No, I am," I reassure her quickly. "I'm just sad for me. I'll miss you
when you're gone." I miss Rachel desperately, and she's still in the fort
somewhere, just kept apart from the rest of us. Now with Manda leaving, I
feel abandoned all over again. I need to be happy for my friend, though, so I
smile happily and hug her. "I guess I'm making you this cloak as a wedding
present, then! Congratulations!"
Manda hugs me, her expression giddy. "It was so romantic! Do you
want to hear all the gory details?"
"Of course," I lie, keeping the smile on my face. I fight the urge to cry.
One of the reasons I didn't mind the program was that it felt like we had a
little family here in the fort—me and Rachel and Manda. I'm going to be
left behind all over again. But it's not like I can ask Manda to stay. She
loves Lucas. He loves her. I want her to be happy, I really do. It's selfish to
want her to stay just for my sake. So I squeeze her hands and give her an
excited look. "Tell me everything."

Y ou ' re sad tonight . I can feel it.

The voice is in my dreams again. I don't even realize I'm asleep before I
hear it, rich and vibrant, rolling through my head like a song. I open my
eyes and look around my room. Everything's dark, but that's all right. I
know exactly who it is.
"It's you." I can't stop the smile on my face. "You're back."
I am? Did I go somewhere?
"I just wasn't sure if I'd dream about you again. Dreams don't work like
you want them to." I sit up in bed, excited. My room is full of shadows, but
they're not frightening ones. It's like everything isn't clear in my dream
except for me.
 And him.
There are no bugs tonight. I don't have to see them to know that they're
not here. It feels clean in my dream tonight. I don't feel like I'm breathing in
garbage. "You're here to protect me, aren't you? I feel a little bad, because
there's not much to protect me from."
Protect you? Of course I protect you. He sounds amused. Cocky. Why
would I not? You belong to me.
I snort with amusement at that. "You think so? I'm pretty sure this
program owns me. They might fight you over that sort of thing."
Program?
"Run by Lord Azar?"
Lord…Azar.
Almost as immediately as my friend arrived, he vanishes again. The
friendly presence is gone, and I feel the loss of him so keenly that I want to
cry. I wake up, staring at the bunk over me in the darkness, and my face is
wet with tears anyhow.

I go through the next day in a haze. I'm not in a chatty mood, because I
can't wait to go back to sleep to see if my friend returns. I don't know if he's
a figment of my imagination, or if I've suddenly developed psychic powers
of some kind, or if I'm being haunted by a ghost.
I don't care. All I know is that I crave talking to him again like I crave
air.
No one's in a particularly good mood, it seems. Manda is quiet, on edge
as she scans the guards looking for Daniels. She's probably anxious, waiting
to hear back about her engagement and leaving the program. Dina and
Nancy aren't talkative sorts by nature, and when I go out with Wallace later
that day, I'm glad because he's a quiet, efficient sort. It lets me remain lost
in my thoughts.
I speed through dinner and race back to my bunk, complaining of
headaches. Most of the guards are pretty clueless about women, so we can
blame a lot of stuff on “female problems.” I curl up in bed under the covers,
my eyes tightly closed, and wait for sleep to take me.

T his time , I feel his presence before he speaks.

"You're back," I say, even as I open my dream eyes. I'm in my room
again, but in my dream, it's full of hazy golden sunlight and the warmth of a
sunny afternoon.
I missed you.
The three simple words thrill me. "I missed you, too." I sit up, looking
in the shadows for his face. "Where are you?"
I am here, in your mind.
Oh. That wasn't exactly what I was asking, but maybe my friend doesn't
have a physical form. "Are you a ghost?"
I do not think so. I am real.
"I'm pretty sure a ghost would say that, too."
His laughter rumbles through my head, pleasant. It makes me ache with
sweetness. I love his laughter. I want to hear more of it.
"What's your name?" I ask. "Can you tell me that?"
You are Jenny. I remember yours.
Hearing him say that is like a warm hug. "It's short for Jennifer, but
that's too long to use on a daily basis. No one calls me that anyhow. My
mother did, but she's gone. My dad always just called me Jenny." I think of
my dad, of his tough, weather-beaten face and his salt-and-pepper beard. I
miss him, but the ache hurts a little less with every day that passes. "But
you can call me Jennifer if you want."
Jenny. There's a thoughtful pause. My name is shortened, too. I
remember now. I only have part of it.
"You only have part of it?" I echo, confused. What does that mean?
I am Mhal. That is all I remember.
"Mhal. Hi." I smile into the dream sunlight. "That's kind of an ominous
name for such a nice guy."
You think I am nice? He's amused.
"You think you're not?"
Nice is not a word that is usually used to describe me.
"What is?"
Fearsome. Dangerous. Lethal. A monster.
I'm not worried about labels like that. "My dad was a nomad. They're
kicked out of settlements because they don't follow the rules. He killed
people, but always with good reason. He hurt men that tried to hurt me. So
I'm not afraid of a guy that's called a monster. Some people thought my dad
was one, too. It's all in how you treat those around you."
I would kill to keep you safe.
Hearing that doesn't scare me. I smile instead. "I suspect you would.
You seem like the protective sort. After all, you're protecting my dreams."
I do not like your distress, Mhal admits. It wakes me from my slumber. It
bothers me so much that it calls me toward you.
I'm chagrined to hear that. "I woke you up? I'm sorry."
No apologies are needed. I wanted to awaken.
"Where are you? Who are you? How can we talk in my dreams
anyhow?" I sit up higher on my bed. "Are you psychic? Is that how we can
talk? And why did you pick me?"
Pick you?
 "I'm sure a lot of people have bad dreams around here." I wave a hand,
indicating the fort. "Why are you slipping into mine?"
Obviously because you are my mate. His tone is imperious.
His answer astonishes me. "Excuse me? Your what?"
I told you already. You belong to me.
His answer doesn't frighten me. It's my dream, after all. "Well if I'm
your mate, where are you?" I cross my arms over my chest. "Don't I at least
get to look at you? And do you want to look at me?"
I do not need to look at you to know you are mine.
That strikes me as bizarre. There's something obvious I'm missing, but I
can't seem to put my finger on it. "Don't you want to know what I look like?
Isn't that important in a mate?"
I like your smell. It calls me. My head fills with warmth. I am certain
the rest of you is pleasant, too.
I'm oddly hurt by this revelation. I've never been a great beauty, but I
thought for sure that if I fell in love, the person I loved would want to at
least look at my face. It sounds like Mhal—whoever he is—doesn't want to
look at me. All he wants is my smell. And anyone can smell good.
I assure you, they cannot. Again, his tone is arch and amused at the
same time. Your people stink.
My people? "Fort Dallas people?" I fight the temptation to lift an arm
and smell it. "Everyone stinks in the After. It's because we're penned up
thanks to the dragons."
Dragons? he asks, suddenly interested. What do you know of dragons?
His mind is hot and heavy in mine, and I could swear I feel his presence
standing right beside me, even though I'm alone in my bed. I'm suddenly
very aware of how little I'm wearing…not that it matters, because he doesn't
like my face.
I did not say that. You are angry at my thoughts.
 "You told me you'd rather sniff me than look at me. Of course I'm a little
hurt."
You distract me. Do not change the topic. What do you know of
dragons? His mental voice is a sultry caress.
As if I'm the one being distracting? Irritated—or maybe determined to
make him realize what he's missing out on—I run my hands down my body,
sliding them between my thighs. "Why are we talking about dragons if I'm
your mate?"
Hot lust curls through my mind, and I know that somehow, Mhal can
feel the exact moment when I touch myself. Are you trying to entice me into
joining you?
"I don't know. Is it working?"
Close your eyes.
I do, and immediately it feels as if a solid, heavy form settles in the bed
next to me. I gasp as a hand—scorchingly hot—covers mine and laces with
my fingers. Our joined hands are between my thighs, and he begins to rub,
purring in my ear. Jenny.
"Mhal," I breathe. "Oh, Mhal."
Jenny.
Jenny.
A rough hand startles me awake. "Jenny. Wake up."
I gasp, blinking at the face above mine. It's Manda, her expression tight.
Oh god. An embarrassing thought occurs to me. Was I masturbating in my
sleep? Did they hear me calling out for my imaginary boyfriend as I
touched myself between my legs? Horrified at the thought, I glance over at
the bunks of the other girls, but they look just as dazed and sleepy as me.
"Sorry," I mumble. "Was I snoring?"
"No, Azar's calling everyone." Manda wraps her blanket tight around
her shoulders, her expression pinched. "Something's wrong. I think we're in
trouble."
 "Who?" Nancy asks.
"All of us." Manda's face is tight. "Lord Azar is upset and I think we're
all about to be kicked out of the program."

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E
JENNY

ven before we make it into the cafeteria, I can hear the sound of
dishes being broken. Worried, I exchange a look with Manda. Her
face is pale, her mouth drawn into an unhappy line. I remember that Lucas
Daniels was supposed to talk to Lord Azar about their engagement, and I
worry that it didn't go well. When I glance down at Manda's hand, there's no
ring on her finger.
Oh no. “Where’s your ring, Manda?”
She glances around quickly, then leans toward me. “Azar won’t allow it.
If we marry, he’ll kick us both out of the fort.” She swallows hard, like
she’s fighting tears, and shrugs. “It’s okay.”
It’s not okay. I know she loves Lucas. I know she wants to marry him
more than anything. But being kicked out of the fort is a death sentence for
so many people. It’s starting over with zero protection and zero supplies.
The only reason I survived for so long was because my father was a tough
son of a bitch who killed anyone that threatened us. When he grew sicker
over time, though, he immediately took us to Fort Dallas, because he knew
I wouldn’t survive alone.
Neither, I suspect, would Manda and Lucas Daniels.
I want to ask more, but another dish crashes, and we both flinch. One of
the guards stands in front of the doors to the cafeteria, his gun casually held
across his chest. The hall is filled with women in sleep clothes, holding
blankets around them, and everyone's frightened. It's clear no one knows
what's going on.
There's another crash inside, this one louder than the last. If they break
all the dishes, what are we going to use to eat? It's not like we can go to the
store and get more. There are no stores anymore. Everything is precious.
For Lord Azar to squander the fort's things like this feels incredibly
wasteful and makes me upset.
We wait in the hall for a few minutes and no one dares to speak. Finally,
one of the guards comes to the door, his face fatigued and grim. "Bring
them inside."
"Ladies," the guard at the door says, holding it open for us. "Remember
not to touch. You're all freshly clean."
We file inside, silent. The cafeteria tables are all folded up and lined
against the back wall, the entire room was cleaned up and put away after the
evening meal. I've helped with that a few times, and I know the amount of
work it takes to keep the kitchens running and clean. I know what a pain in
the ass it is to draw water from the working lines, mop and clean
everything, and to do all the dishes. Which is why it's terrible seeing so
many broken plates scattered on the ground. Glass shards are everywhere,
and as we move into the cafeteria, Lord Azar picks up another plate and
throws it against the wall. It makes a loud crashing sound, and everyone
flinches.
He turns toward us, raging. His nostrils flare and his gaze settles on the
collected women as if we're about to die.
Maybe we are.
I've only seen Lord Azar a few times. He keeps to himself, and he's
taken a local woman—Melina, the medic—as his concubine. To me, the
most striking thing about Lord Azar is that he always looks clean. In a fort
that seems to be constantly dirty, the streets filled with mud and human
waste and trash, his clothes and his hair are always impeccably pristine.
Tonight is no different. Lord Azar is dressed in muted whites and beiges,
his clothing billowing and flowing about him as if he's a sheikh of old. He's
all pale golden tones, Lord Azar. His skin is tanned almost the same eerie
shade as his pale eyes, and the long hair he keeps hidden under a baseball
cap is a buff color, too. The other times I saw him, he looked regal and cold.
 Tonight, he looks like a possessed man. His eyes are wild, his hair
flying in strands around his head, and his teeth are bared in a snarl.
"Which one of you is it?" he demands as he stalks toward the huddled
group of women. "Which one of you is the viper I am holding to my
breast?"
No one answers. I have no idea what he's talking about, and I'm sure the
other women don't, either.
The lord gives us another incensed look and then flips the entire tray of
plates over. Everything smashes to the ground and into a thousand pieces. "I
feed you! I shelter you!" he bellows. "And this is the thanks I get?"
I hug my blanket to my chest, terrified. Is he truly this mad over Manda
and Lucas? I can't think of anything else it'd be. I glance over at Manda and
her face is bone white with fear. She's thinking the same thing I am.
The doors open behind us even as Azar storms away, no doubt looking
for more things to break. A few new faces enter the room, and I'm surprised
to see Rachel slip in, quickly followed by a naked, deep-gold-skinned man.
That's her dragon, I realize. I've only seen him a few times, and while he's
handsome, there's a wild, almost feral look to his expression. Rachel doesn't
approach Azar, just moves to a quiet end of the room and leans against the
wall. She glances at her dragon-man, and then back at Azar. Joining them is
a tall, thin black woman with thick waves of dark hair and a rounded,
pregnant belly. She's followed by another dragon-man, this one slightly less
deep-gold and wearing pants.
I'm both excited to see them and a little alarmed. Why are we all being
called out to the cafeteria in the middle of the night? Is someone about to be
executed?
Azar storms towards us, his clothing flowing about him. "I am going to
smell all of you, and you're going to tell me which one of you is behind
this."
"Behind what?" Rachel calls out in a flat, almost bored voice.
 Everyone in the room freezes. A chill goes down my spine and I look
over at Rachel, terrified. To my surprise, she doesn't have the defiant look
on her scarred face like she does when she's afraid and trying desperately to
hide it. She looks…irritated. Like she's annoyed that Azar has dragged
everyone out of bed.
She's not afraid. That's incredible to me. I've spent the last seven or
eight years—ever since the Rift—terrified out of my mind, wondering what
the next day will bring. That fear isn't in Rachel's face any longer, and I'm
fascinated.
And envious.
My friend nods at Lord Azar, who stands amidst a sea of broken glass
shards. "Why don't you just ask them instead of pitching a fit?"
At my side, Manda gasps. Several others do, too. I don't, because I'm
still too fascinated by the fact that Rachel has zero fear of this man that
holds our lives in the palm of his hand. Something has happened in the last
month or so since Rachel was bonded to a dragon and left the women's
quarters.
Is it her dragon that makes her unafraid?
Lord Azar turns to us. His eyes are narrowed. "All right, then. I will ask
plainly and using small words so your feeble minds can understand. Which
one of you is stealing my dragon?"
Silence.
I glance at the others, worried. The dragons that “guard” Fort Dallas are
a newer addition to things. They came in with Lord Azar, who has the
ability to control the vicious monsters somehow. He has five of them that sit
on the barricade, watching us with dead eyes. They're like statues, and in all
the months that he's been in charge, I don't think I've seen them flicker an
eyelash once.
Well, actually I thought one looked at me once, but I'm pretty sure it
was my imagination.
 I didn't realize they were real creatures in there. I thought of them like…
well, like the buildings. Just that they were present, but not more than that. I
was grateful they were in Fort Dallas, along with Azar. Ever since he's
arrived with the dragons, we've stopped getting random attacks. We don't
wake up in the middle of the night to the blaring alarms warning us to take
shelter, or watch another building get flamed to the ground.
The attacks stopped when Azar moved in. That's good enough for most
people, myself included.
It's not a good answer for Rachel, though. She steps forward, waving the
shortened stump of her arm in his direction. "You're going to have to be
clearer than that. The girls don't know dragons like you or I do. You have to
actually explain yourself."
He bares his teeth at her in a silent snarl, but Rachel only smirks back.
Azar's gaze swings over us again, and I can feel the woman standing
next to me quail in terror. I manage to stand straight and tall, but only just. I
want to hide just as much as the others do. I just don't think it'll do any
good, and I learned from my father that showing fear just encourages
bullies. Lord Azar definitely qualifies as a bully.
"I am losing control of one of my dragons," Lord Azar says. "He is
fighting me for control of his mind. The only thing that can free him from
my grip is a mate, so I want to know which one of you is trying to sabotage
this fort."
I suck in a breath. Sabotage the fort?
He is fighting me for control of his mind.
Surely…not? My imaginary friend isn't a dragon, is he? If that's the
case, what's he doing in my dreams? But he disappeared the moment I
mentioned Azar.
Do they think I'm somehow sabotaging the fort? Am I in danger of
being kicked out? Living in the fort isn't fun, but a woman alone in the
scavenge lands won't last five minutes.
 Uneasy, I bite my lip as Rachel shakes her head at Azar. "We need more
than just an accusation. We need a name."
"I don't know their names," the lord bites out. "They are nothing to me."
"Then why do you care if you lose one?" Rachel snaps back.
I want to tell them to stop arguing so I can think. I need to remember
what Mhal said. Something about waking up? And how he couldn't see
clearly other than me? Is that because someone else is in his mind? Is Azar
in his mind? For some reason, I thought the dragons that guard the city were
like guard dogs, trained to do a task. But what if they're people?
If that's the case, are they here of their own free will?
I don't understand, and the longer this goes on, the more questions I
have.
I glance over at Rachel, and at the dragon-man that stands behind her.
He's a person. Granted, he looks like no person I've ever seen. He's got wild
eyes that swirl between yellow and black. He's got horns and claws and a
scaly skin pattern, and his hair sticks out in ways no human hair does. But
he's a person, and Rachel loves him. She talks to him, though I've never
seen it. She says his name is Jurik.
Of course he's a person.
And if he is, the other dragons are, too. I suddenly feel sick to my
stomach. They're not trained dogs up on the walls. They're slaves with their
minds stolen, and I've been sitting happily in the program, eating Azar's
cornbread and never thinking beyond my nose. Oh my god. I'm complicit in
this. I press my fingers to my mouth, fighting the urge to vomit.
Is…is Mhal one of his mind-slaves, then? Is that why he left my dreams
when I mentioned Azar?
Oh god.
What do I do? I wasn't trying to bring down the fort. I just said hello to
a friend in my dreams. But if I'm right and Mhal is a slave to Azar, I don't
want any part of this. I can't be part of this.
 How do I get free without getting myself killed? If I bail out right now,
they'll suspect me. Even as I bite back a whimper of fear, I remember my
dream.
Mhal whispering in my ear. Warmth.
Claws at my throat.
Oh god. I'm such an idiot. How did I not see this before? Somehow a
dragon is in my dreams.
"I worked very hard to capture these drakoni," Azar says in a cold,
seething voice.
He glares at Rachel as if he hates her, but she looks unafraid. The
dragon at her side—Jurik—has a hand on her shoulder in a way that seems
less like ownership and more like support. Like he's going to tear anyone
apart that so much as looks at her the wrong way.
Azar paces in the room. "I worked hard to capture each and every one of
them. I work hard every day, keeping this fort safe. I work to protect the
people here. I feed them. I clothe them. And what do I get in return?
Betrayal." He turns a vicious look towards us, and I feel as if he's staring
right at me somehow.
Knowing my secrets. Knowing my dreams. Did Mhal tell him? Would
Mhal tell him?
"I should throw all of you out of the fort," Azar snarls, still ranting.
"Ungrateful, useless, tiresome—"
"Excuse me," says a voice behind us. The crowd parts, and I step aside,
along with the others, to let someone through. It's a black woman, with
beautiful dark skin, perfect hair, and a long, flowing dress in baby pink that
is completely inappropriate for fort life. She looks like a princess from a
fairy tale, and we all know exactly who it is—Melina, the medic of Fort
Dallas and lately Lord Azar's consort.
She glides toward him, her expression serene and calm, and when she
extends a hand out to him, he takes it. His expression changes from
menacing to petulant, and she leans in and speaks to him in a low voice.
They keep talking, Melina's tone soft and easy, Azar's angry and strident.
But eventually, he sighs, takes her hand and tucks it into his arm, and then
turns to look at those of us gathered in front of him once more.
"I am not mad," he says, clearly lying. It's obvious in how difficult it
was for him to say those small words. "I simply wish to know which one of
you is seducing my dragon out from under my nose."
Melina elbows him, her smile never fading from her face.
"You're supposed to recruit other dragons, not the ones I already have,"
he adds in a peevish tone.
My head hurts. A headache is blooming across my forehead, behind my
eyes, and I just want to go back to bed and hope that this nightmare goes
away soon. More than that, I want to return to my dreams and see if Mhal is
there. I glance over at Rachel's Jurik. Would Mhal look like him? Or
Gwen's companion? They're both handsome, but somehow their faces don't
match what I envision for Mhal. They're both too wild. He's arrogant, Mhal.
He'd be…
Oh god. I think he'd be like Azar.
Which is crazy. Azar's not a dragon…is he? I stare at the leader of the
fort, suddenly worried. He doesn't look like Melina, now that he stands with
her. He's subtly different, his eyes most of all.
I don't know what to believe anymore.
Azar glares at all of us and then turns back to Melina. "No one is
coming forward."
"There's an easy way to do this," she says in her calm, reassuring voice.
"There's no need to terrify everyone."
"They deserve it. Fear is the best tool of the ruler."
She just gives him a look that says she clearly disagrees. "We can just
take the girls outside and see which one the dragons react to. There's no
need to bully."
 He doesn't like her idea, that much is obvious. But he gives a crisp nod
and flicks a hand at us. The guards spring to action, nudging us with their
guns. "You heard the lord. Outside."
"I don't have my shoes," whines one girl.
"Then you'd better hope this doesn't take long and whoever it is speaks
up," retorts the guard. They're on Azar's side.
I'm torn. I worry it's me that they're looking for. But what if I'm wrong?
What if Mhal is all in my imagination? Worse, what if they decide I'm a
threat to the program and Azar doesn't want to give up his dragon and I'm
thrown out of the fort?
Or what if they decide to just kill me?
I swallow hard and remain silent, even as I'm herded out with the others.
No one else has had weird dreams lately—about bugs or anything else. I've
asked around discreetly and listened in to conversations, and I seem to be
the only one having trouble sleeping. It could be that I'm losing my mind.
That I'm imagining it all.
What happens to me if I get kicked out of the fort? What happens to
Bethany and Michael, who depend on me for food? A mental image of the
pot of bugs hits me and I fight the urge to vomit. They'll survive, then.
The moment we step outside, the cold air rips through the thin layers of
clothing. I'm wearing nothing but my sleep shift and a blanket, both of them
coarse and cheap. It's not enough to keep the chill out, and I suddenly worry
about winter and food and everything else. Is the fort going to shit? Are we
all going down with it?
"No touching," a guard calls out as we pile into the street just outside
the program dormitory. "Remember the rules."
Someone starts to cry, and I look over at Manda. Her fists are clenched
at her side, her face pale. "Not me," she whispers. "Please not me."
I swallow hard, but there's a knot in my throat the size of one of
Michael's bugs, and I can't seem to find the words to reassure her. No one
wants to be picked by a dragon. The moment Rachel was “found” by a
dragon, she disappeared from our group. I barely see her anymore, and I
don't know if she's happy or miserable. I look for Rachel and her dragon-
man, but all I can see are soldiers and more women from the program.
It's late, the skies dark and cloudy. There's a barrel fire down the street,
but mostly it's just dark outside and I stumble into the girl in front of me,
who glares. "Sorry," I whisper back, hoping no one notices. "Accident."
That's all I need is to be kicked out of the program because I
accidentally tripped and touched another girl.
"This far enough, my lord?" one of the guards calls.
I turn, looking for Lord Azar. Melina is still at his side, her pale pink
dress fluttering in the night air. She's got Azar's shirt tucked around her
shoulders, and the lord's chest is bare as he stalks forward, his mood as sour
as ever. He takes a few steps and then turns to give Melina a glare. "I do not
like letting them go."
"I know," she says softly, and moves to his side. "It is just for a moment.
You do want to see if it is someone else interfering with your dragons, do
you not?"
He grits his teeth.
"You can trap them again," Melina says, and then adds, "If you must."
His eyes narrow and for a moment he looks furious, but Melina's calm
expression never changes. "You know I must. They are the only things that
keep this fort safe. I will keep everyone here safe. I will keep you safe."
She gestures at us. "Then go on."
"Why do I always feel as if I've lost against you even when I've won?"
Azar asks in a bitter voice. He shakes his head and steps forward, past
Melina, and turns his face toward the city gates. His eyes close, and a
moment later, the already dark skies turn black.
Wind blasts my face, and the breeze is so strong I nearly lose the
blanket I have wrapped around my shoulders. Others stagger and cry out.
My head pounds.
"Remain where you are!" one of the guards cries. "If you run, you will
be shot!"
"No they won't," Melina retorts, taking a step forward in protest. "Don't
you dare fucking threaten that! Azar, tell them."
Azar doesn't respond, though. I shield my eyes from the flying dirt and
the wind and peer in his direction. His eyes are still closed, his pale body
bowed as if it's taking everything for him to concentrate. A dragon lands
directly in front of him. And another. Another.
The ground is suddenly full of dragons.
This is the closest I've been to them, and my heart pounds with terror.
Dragons were just a silly legend back when I was a child. They
belonged only in stories about knights and princesses, were usually gaily
colored green or purple, and were very much not real, just like unicorns and
goblins. Then the Rift came, and dragons flew forth from the broken skies
and burned the world. They're full of madness, these dragons. They cannot
be reasoned with. As big as airplanes and ruthless as sharks, the dragons
destroy everything they come across. Humanity's been forced to hide out in
flame-resistant buildings made of concrete or cover their houses with sheets
of metal that protect from the worst of the flames. Wooden homes are death
traps. Crops must be hidden and protected from dragon fire, along with
livestock.
And these dragons? Aren't the fat, jolly things of cartoons.
My heart hammering in my throat, I stare at the dragon that's practically
nose to nose with Azar. The head's as big as a compact car, the plate-sized
eyes a blank gray. The muzzle of the thing has a tendril of smoke curling
from it, as if it's just waiting for the right moment to burn this whole place
to the fucking ground. Sharp, terrifying teeth stick out of the long, scaly
muzzle, and I'm reminded of crocodiles.
 The one in front of Azar flutters its wings and stretches them before
folding them back against his long body. Something crashes in the distance,
and then the tail glides forward over the ground, swishing.
Another dragon lands next to him. This one has a scar on his muzzle,
just below a nostril, and one tooth is broken at the tip. His flanks are scarred
in parallel rows, as if he's been raked with claws in the past, and it only
adds to the menacing air. For some reason, I can't stop staring at that
dragon. He terrifies me, but the way he holds his head makes me pause.
Even though his eyes are blank, he seems…arrogant.
If Mhal is a dragon, he's this one.
The others settle in around us, squeezing in between houses and
perching on roofs. We've never been this close to the dragons before, and
some of the girls are openly crying in terror. At my side, Manda's breath is
coming in shallow, anxious panting. I should be the same—one breath of
fire and we're all burnt to a crisp.
For some reason, though, I'm not afraid. Azar doesn't want us dead.
We're too useful to him alive.
Melina walks up to Azar's side, apparently unafraid as well. She touches
his arm. "Well?"
"I am trying," he snaps. "It is not easy."
"Try harder or let everyone go inside," she retorts, unafraid of his bad
mood.
Azar glares at her, and then storms toward the group of huddled women
in the panty program. He scans faces, searching for something, and then
pauses in front of Manda. My heart sinks as he heads right for her.
He draws his hand back and slaps Manda across the face.
The harsh crack reverberates in the streets. She lets out a yelp of
surprise, dropping to the ground. Someone shrieks in surprise behind us,
and I automatically reach for my friend.
"Do NOT," Azar bellows, pointing at me.
 I freeze, eyes wide.
"No touching," one of the guards says. It's Daniels, and he moves to
step in between us. I glare at him, close to tears. How can he let Azar do
this to the woman he loves? He looks helpless and frustrated, but I don't
care. How could he let that happen? Manda's done nothing wrong. I clench
my fists at my side, watching as Manda gets back to her feet. Her hand is on
her cheek, and there's a bright red mark on her face where he struck her.
Azar turns and looks at the dragons, watching. "Nothing," he says after
a moment. "It's not her. Take her back to her rooms." His gaze focuses on
me. "You. Come forward."
"Azar," Melina complains, moving to his side. "You can't do this—"
"Can't I?" He ignores her when she reaches for his arm. "They are
willing participants in my program. They eat my food and sleep under my
roof. They belong to me." He glares at her. "Just as you belong to me."
"Fuck you," she says, giving him a shove of indignation. "And fuck all
of this. You're being ridiculous."
Azar continues to glare in my direction. "Well, girl? I'm waiting."
I really, really don't want to be slapped. I take a hesitant step forward,
though, because the guards are eyeing me. It feels as if I'm going to my own
execution. Trembling, I take another step forward. The lord of Fort Dallas
lifts his hand, as if waiting to strike me—
My head suddenly swims with pain. A hot, bright light flares behind my
eyes and I press a hand to my forehead, fighting at the ice pick stabbing
through my skull.
Bent over, I vaguely hear Azar crying out. Wind rips at the air and
people scream. I look up to see a dragon—the scarred one, I knew it was the
scarred one—taking to the air. He bellows in anger, and I realize he wants
to kill everyone in the street.
Everyone.
 I sink to my knees in the mud and people scatter, screaming. The guards
and girls race for shelter, even as the dragon beats its wings, a trapped bird
in a cage. Nearby, Azar flings a hand in the air, his entire body taut, as if
wrestling with an unknown force.
The dragon twists in the air, bellows once, and then flings himself onto
the nearest building. It collapses in a crash of rusted metal. More people
scream in horror.
"That's the one," Azar says in a triumphant voice. "Grab her."
Guards move close by. No one touches me.
"My lord," one of the men says. "I thought our instructions were—"
"Grab her," Azar shouts.
Rough hands grab me by the arms even as my head feels as if it's
cracking open. I'm hauled away, spots swimming before my eyes.

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JENNY

fade in and out. Pain lances through my brain, sending

shockwaves of agony rippling through my mind. It's like my
skull has been cleaved open and I squeeze my eyes shut so it doesn't leak
out of my eye sockets. I'm barely aware of where I am, only that tight,
pinching hands have me by the arms and are dragging me through a
building. There's a smell of candles and then something hard and heavy and
metal clasps around my ankle.
I'm dropped to the hard, concrete floor and left alone.
I groan, flopping onto my back, and press the heel of my palm against
my throbbing head.
"That's his fault, you know."
"Mmm, what?" I squint, trying to focus, to make out my surroundings.
Mostly I just want to go to sleep and not wake up until my head stops
hurting.
I see a vague, pale figure in candlelight. Lord Azar. He's sitting in a
plush red velvet chair with wooden legs—an absurd antique-looking
monstrosity that seems out of place in the building we're in. It's an empty
warehouse of sorts, with a concrete floor that smells vaguely of old gasoline
and dust. There’s an enormous hole at the far end of the ceiling, showing
the stars. Other than that, the place is empty. The only things here are me,
Azar, and the candelabra next to his chair.
"Your head," Azar explains in a chatty, casual voice, as if we're buddies
now. "He's trying to reach out to you. I can feel it. He's fighting my control
and trying to connect to you at the same time. Most humans don't feel
anything at all when drakoni reach out to them. The fact that you do makes
you special. It's interesting."
 Special. Great. I curl up on my side, my mouth filling with saliva as my
head pounds. "Can you…tell him to stop? He's killing me."
"Actually, he's not." Azar's voice is matter-of-fact. "And he won't stop.
After all, he's been doing it on the sly, hasn't he? And you didn't tell me a
thing. That makes me rather angry." He still sounds personable. Pleasant. "I
thought the rules of my program were very clear, and yet all of you aren't
happy. That one fool wishes to steal away a perfectly good female and
marry her, and now here you are, stealing a dragon that's already under
control. Why do I even bother? I should let the abyss take all of you, but I
do not envision myself as a king of scraps."
My head throbs again, and something wet trickles out of my nose. I
touch it and glance at my fingers. I'm not surprised to see it's dark. Of
course it's blood. The splitting headache makes sense now—my head's
melting out of my nose. "I didn't know he was a dragon."
Azar nudges my shoulder with his shoe, not getting up from his chair.
"Speak up, now, female. You're mumbling."
I grit my teeth and glare up at the pale, annoying lord. "I didn't know he
was a dragon," I say, louder. "I thought he was an imaginary friend."
His brows furrow as he gazes down at me. "A what?"
I close my eyes again, struggling to breathe through the pain. "An
imaginary friend…that I made him up…in my head…to help with the
nightmares."
It's quiet for a long moment, and then Azar nudges me with his shoe
again. "Nightmares? Tell me more about these nightmares."
I'd shrug, but I don't have the energy. "Bugs…"
"The Rift?" he presses. "Do you dream of the Rift?"
I manage to shake my head. "Just bugs…and dirt. Filth. Like even the
air around me is dirty and I can't ever get clean."
He hums low, as if considering this. "Your dreams. They feel evil?"
"Yes."
 "And this dragon, he started talking to you in your dreams?"
"I…guess?" The throbbing in my head seems to lessen a bit, and I swipe
at the blood under my nose. "He sensed I was scared. He showed up to
protect me. I thought it was all in my mind, though. He never told me
anything about himself."
Azar grunts. "When did these nightmares start?"
Why is he so interested in my dreams? "A few weeks ago. About when
the large bugs started showing up in the city. I guess they freaked me out
enough that I dream about them."
"What bugs?"
I squint in his direction. "What do you mean, what bugs?"
He kicks at my shoulder again, harder, and my head flares in agony
once more. This time, Azar grunts too, as if he's being pained as well. "I'm
just getting her attention. Calm down," he mutters. "Tell me more about the
bugs. What bugs?" He enunciates as if I'm slow. "Explain it to me."
I sit up, dazed. It's hard to think with my head feeling as if it's a burst
melon. "I…the bugs." I try to focus. "Some of the people in Fort Dallas
have started seeing them. We've always had bugs, but not as big as these.
They're the size of cats. Or dogs. Maybe even bigger." I bite the inside of
my cheek, because just thinking about them makes my stomach churn.
"People are catching them and eating them because there's not enough food
to go around."
"Fools."
"And Hightower and I saw them chewing on a corpse outside the gates.
It's like they're coming out of nowhere."
Azar leans forward in his plush chair, glaring at me. "Have you eaten
them?"
"God, no. Just the thought makes me sick." I press my hand to my
mouth.
"Good. Don't. They're just as unnatural as you think."
 "Where are they coming from?"
He doesn't answer me, though. He just keeps watching me thoughtfully.
Eventually, he says, "You'll show me the people that have been eating
them? And where they're finding them?"
I blink up at him. "Right now?"
"Of course not right now." Azar gets to his feet. "Right now you need to
fuck my dragon and bind him to you. The sooner you get pregnant, the
better."
"W-what?" I stare, not entirely certain I've heard him right. Did he just
say I need to fuck his dragon and get pregnant? "Excuse me?"
Lord Azar is unmoved. "You heard me. You know what my program is
for, and you agreed to it. You're happy to eat my food and wear my clothes
and sleep in my safe beds. Well, now it's time to pay up. I have a dragon
that thinks you are his mate. Even if it means I must now collect a new one
to guard the fort, it will be another tool in our arsenal. And you"—he points
at me—"will make him happy. Play nice with him. Flirt. Flip your hair or
whatever it is you females do. Seduce him. And make it quick. We don't
have endless amounts of time to wait on you."
I gape, shocked. "You…you expect me to just spread my legs for a
dragon? Right now?"
He shrugs, his lean body already heading toward the door of the
warehouse. "If you don't, I see no point in continuing this program. If you
want your friends to be fed and safe, you'll do as I ask."
I stare at his retreating back, stunned.
I'm not entirely surprised at what he's asking me to do. I knew in the
back of my mind that eventually there'd be some sort of payment due. No
one gives you food and protection for free. I knew we were being used as
lures for dragons. It's just…so sudden. I swallow hard and get to my feet,
wobbly.
 That's when I notice the manacle around my ankle. I've been chained.
It's not like I could run anyhow—there's nowhere to go—but they're making
sure I seduce this dragon.
Either that, or I'll make him a tasty snack.

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I
MHAL

always think the heavy hand of the Salorian lifting from my

mind will be like the dawn, a slow rise to consciousness.
Instead, it is a lightning bolt, quick and brutal, and I am thrust back into
my own body from the gray abyss of nothingness. I awaken with a bellow
of rage, fury boiling through my form. I spread my wings, tail lashing in
anger.
How dare he?
How DARE he? It is not to be borne, this upstart Salorian, daring to take
over my mind. Does he not know who I am? The queen will hear of this.
I flick my tail in anger, and it smacks against something soft.
"Ouch! Fkkinstopit!" A hand dares to grab at the tip of my tail, as if it
can cease its motion. "Whttryewdoin?"
I give it one last flick, just because I can, and then breathe deep.
And freeze.
I know that scent. It's the female I have smelled, despite the disgusting
layers of human scents all piled together.
It is my female.
Is…this a trap? I narrow my eyes, lowering my head to get a good look
at her. The lair we are in is dark, but I do not need much light to see. Her
scent will tell me plenty.
The scent of the Salorian lingers in the room. It especially lingers on the
wooden piece near my female, so I bat it aside with my claws, pleased
when it flies across to the wall and shatters into a thousand pieces.
The female gets to her feet, and a fear scent touches her. She thinks I am
violent? She has no idea. I am furious with rage. I am bitter that the
Salorian has taken me, despite the fact that I am Queen's Guard. I am…I
am…
I am blank.
I have no memories of self. This alarms me, but surely it will return the
moment the Salorian's grip is gone for good. I shake myself, flicking my
wings, as if that will somehow ease the shadow of him from my spirit, and
then grab the small human female into my claws.
She lets out a shriek the moment I touch her, and her fear scent doubles.
She is afraid of me? I am offended. She had no fear scent when the
Salorian was here, but the sight of me? The male that will protect her and
care for her? This is what frightens her?
Or is there another female nearby, waiting to challenge her for the right
to approach me? I flare my nostrils, scanning the room for scents, but hers
is the only one. The others are old, and unimportant.
I lift her from the ground, and a metal chain jerks. The female makes a
cry of pain and I realize the Salorian has tied her down—tethered her to this
spot. Fury blasts through me, and I grab the chain in my claws and yank,
hard. The chain snaps, and a large chunk of the stone floor comes up with it.
I send both flying against the wall, to land near the shattered remains of the
wood.
She makes another sound of distress in her throat, and I lift her even
with my head, so I can study her.
She has a mane that flutters as I breathe on her, wispy like feathers and
downy. It does not sit still, but drifts around her head as she moves, and it is
a curious golden brown shade, too dark to be the appropriate color of a
mating female. Her skin is pale, without a hint of red to it, and her face is
small and round. Her figure is small and round, too.
Her scent is incredible. But other than that, she is unremarkable.
She is also human. I war with this concept, because I loathe the humans
that pollute this strange land. I despise their smells. I hate their existence.
And yet…and yet…I do not hate her.
I do not know why she is mine, but she is. And I am keeping her.
"Plsputmedown," the female babbles, making noises in her throat.
Is something wrong with her mouth? I peer at her, watching closely. She
makes the sounds again, and I lift a claw, only to have her bat it away.
Rude creature. I tuck her against my chest and settle in, stretching my
wings and studying my surroundings. Now that I have my female, I want to
leave the human hive behind. The stench of it is overwhelming and
distracting, and it makes it hard to concentrate on the good scent of my
mate. There is a distant scent of other drakoni, and I wonder if there are
other females nearby. I wonder if this one has challenged others to be mine.
I eye my mate. She takes one small hand and pushes against my scales,
as if determined that I should let her go. Well, that is not going to happen.
You might as well stop now, I chide her. You belong to me.
The female does not respond. She just keeps on pushing at my grip,
trying to wriggle free. There is a strange skin hanging over her limbs, one
that smells of old hands and touches. I do not like it. I uncurl my grip
around the female, and with a flick of my claw, rip the covering from her
body.
She lets out a cry of distress.
Have I harmed her?
Violence suddenly floods into my mind. Violence and anger. My breath
comes hard and fast, and fire licks at my nose. Someone has hurt my
female? Someone has tampered with her?
I will destroy them.
I will destroy them all.

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JENNY

"T hose are my clothes!" I cry out as the dragon casually shreds my
dress with one claw. "What the fuck!"
He makes a sound of anger, and then flames start to dance along his
nostrils. His eyes have gone entirely black, and there's a low growling in his
throat.
I freeze in place, terrified.
I've waffled back and forth with fear and indignation ever since the
dragon appeared. The logical part of me knows that the dragon is somehow
attached to me. That this is Mhal, the friend from my dreams. But the
reality of it feels strange. He's enormous and terrifying—he's still a dragon,
after all—and there's no sign of the calm, amusing, somewhat smug voice I
remember from my dreams.
It's like the two pieces don't line up.
I cup my hands to my breasts, covering them, and stare up at the dragon
that's looming over me. The Mhal in my dreams didn't have a face or a
body. I didn't know he was one of the dragons that Azar kept on the walls.
Of course he'd be the freaking scariest one. He's the scarred one with the
chipped tooth and the wild features, the one that looks as if he's taken on the
world and won. The one that looks like he'd eat the others for dinner.
Somehow this doesn't jive with the kind Mhal of my dreams.
And I'm supposed to just…sleep with him? Make a baby? With this
guy? This dragon? I stare up at him, anxious and worried. His eyes are
whirling an ominous black and flames dance on his breath, even as he
reaches for me and drags me close to his breast again. I'm snagged in a
burning hot dragon embrace and shoved against his scales—also burning
hot—as the dragon paces the empty warehouse like a watchdog.
 I honestly don't know what to do.
The dragon's tail lashes out, flicking back and forth as he lowers his
head and stalks along the edges of the warehouse, his nostrils flaring as if
he's drinking in the scents of everything. This pings a thought—Azar knows
there's something about scents that sets off dragons. It must be why we're
constantly told not to touch each other, why we can't bathe except one day
out of the week, and why we're constantly giving away our panties so they
can use them to lure dragons.
They're scent lures.
Okay then, some sort of scent here must be bothering him.
"Let's look at this logically, shall we?" I keep my voice nice and calm,
as if I'm talking to a rabid dog.
The dragon turns back to me, those black eyes swirling, but I catch a
hint of color in them. It quickly disappears, and I'm hit with a sense of déjà
vu.
I remember this dragon. I remember him watching me from above on
the barricade. I thought it was in my imagination, but now I know. "You've
been trouble for a while, haven't you, Mhal?" I put a hand on his scales and
pat him. "And right now you're freaking out because you smell something?
I think? Or maybe you're confused."
I chew on my lip, studying my surroundings. It's really just an old,
empty warehouse without anything to look at. I can't imagine what he's
smelling. Azar? The guards that dragged me in here? I'm guessing but I
have no clue. He might not even be mad about that.
He might just be…mad.
I glance up at the dragon. "This would be a lot easier if we could have
conversations like we do in my dreams."
The dragon sits on his haunches and pulls me up toward his snout, as if
peering at me. I keep a bright smile on my face, even though I'm terrified.
How the hell did Rachel tame a dragon if they're like this? How did she get
together with hers? I wish I could ask her, but something tells me that Mhal
isn't going to just let me excuse myself for a few hours to cross through Fort
Dallas and find my friend.
Besides, I'm kinda naked.
Those big nostrils flare again and he sniffs at my skin, then lifts a claw,
almost like a finger. I shrink back as the enormous thing heads for my face.
"Can we—can we not do this? I promise to stop talking if you don't rip my
face off," I babble in a panic, my voice rising as the claw moves unerringly
toward my mouth. "Please don't!"
I screw my face up, eyes closed and shoulders hunched in the dragon's
grip as I try to protect myself. To my surprise, the butcher-knife-sized sharp
claw brushes against my lip and then pushes into my mouth.
Er.
Is this some sort of sex game with dragons? Is this how I win him over?
Do I suck on it?
God, I wish I wasn't a virgin. What a damn inconvenience. I wish I
knew how to seduce a man, but even if I did, would it work on a dragon that
wants his claw sucked? With a game smile, I politely suck on the thing in
my mouth and try to be sexy about it. "That what you want?"
He pulls it away, and I could swear for a moment he looks as confused
as I feel. The dragon—Mhal, I remind myself—lifts his claw to his nose
and sniffs it. His eyes flare gold, the black bleeding away, and then it’s like
he sees me for the first time. He pulls me close to his nose again and
nuzzles me with his enormous nostrils.
I guess that's a start?

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MHAL

The female licked my claw. She is trying to give me her scent. She is trying
to brand me as hers in front of other females.
I am fascinated. It is a bold move for a female, to declare that a male is
hers and try to give me her scent. Normally it is the other way around. After
a female wins a male, he mates with her, and if he decides she is his, they
share fires. If he decides she is not worthy, he spends his seed on her back
to scent-mark her as a failure.
This is different, and I like it.
She does not act like she is claiming me, though. Her expression is
wary, and when I extend my claw again, she licks it once more, but there is
a hesitant look on her face. She watches me as if to see how I will react, and
then babbles more sounds at me.
Speak to me, I demand. Tell me your name. Tell me your thoughts.
She makes more noises at me, reaching out to my claw and tapping it.
She gestures at our surroundings, then looks up at me with a questioning
gaze.
I do not know what she wants. I nuzzle at her, breathing in her scent,
and when she does not flinch away, I uncurl the claws I have around her
enough to let her sit in my palm. She wriggles in my grasp, shifting back
and forth on her hips, and her arm covers her breasts. She keeps hiding
them, and I worry something is wrong with them.
Does my mate have a wound she is keeping from me?
I nudge her with my nose, and she makes another one of her squealing
noises and then pushes against my snout. I ignore her, sniffing at her skin.
Her belly seems whole, her breasts, too, and I smell no blood. I run my nose
over her skin just in case, and she bursts into fits of high-pitched sounds—
laughter.
 I am fascinated. I have heard amusement before, but never through the
mouth. It always comes through thoughts, like proper communication. Are
you happy, my mate? I send.
There is no response. She pushes at my nose again, making more of
those noises when I blow my breath across her skin, trying to get a reaction.
She laughs again, squirming. The sound is bright and loud, and echoes
off the walls. I like it, but at the same time, I am frustrated. Why will she
not talk to me? Change forms, I demand. Change forms and we will fly
away from this place to somewhere safe.
When she does not, I worry that she has been struck by madness. This
world makes everyone crazed. Why not humans? She is mad, she will not
change forms, and now I cannot reason with her. Perhaps this is why she
makes so much noise instead of touching minds. I croon at her, rubbing my
muzzle against her wispy mane.
What do you need? I ask her. Are you hungry? Thirsty? I lower my
head, breathing in her scent, and then press my nose between her thighs.
She is not aroused.
My female makes a yelp and shoves my head away. She babbles again,
her laughter gone, and her expression is indignant. One hand moves
between her thighs as if she shields herself from me. This is confusing to
me. How am I supposed to mate her when she is not aroused? Yet she
marks me with her scent and makes it clear that I belong to her. I do not
understand my mate.
Perhaps she is crazed after all.

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JENNY

'm getting frustrated. Not only am I naked and abandoned with a

dragon, but it's clear we've just been left to our own devices.
What exactly are we supposed to do here? The dragon—Mhal, if it is Mhal
after all—runs his nose over me in ticklish ways, but the moment he shoves
his snout between my legs, I shut it down. I push him aside, and that seems
to make his temper flare, as if I'm refusing him.
Hell yeah I'm refusing a dragon. He's airplane sized. There is absolutely
no way anything along those lines would work. I don't care how much
Rachel loves her dragon, I know she didn't sleep with him while he was,
well, a dragon.
So when he tries to rub his nose on me in that way that makes me laugh
because I'm incredibly ticklish, I push him aside again. "We need to talk,
Mhal. Can you please talk to me?" I stare up at him, waiting. I don't know if
his dragon mouth forms words or if he needs to turn human. No one's
explained anything to me.
The dragon simply curls that massive hand—claw, paw, whatever—
around me once more and hauls me against him. I drum my fingers on his
scales, frustrated. I'm trapped in his clutches. My arms are free, but even if I
were able to wriggle out of his grip, it's clear he's not letting me go
anywhere. He intends to just…I don't know, hold me?
But for how long?
I stare up at his enormous face, frustrated. At the chipped tooth missing
the end, and the scar on his snout. He glares down at me—if dragons can
glare—and his eyes whirl those ominous dark shades.
In the dreams, he talked to me. In the dreams, we communicated. In
reality, I feel as if he's barely hanging on. Like the wrong word will
suddenly cause him to snap and he'll go on a killing rampage.
I blink up at him. That's it. If the waking Mhal won't talk to me, I need
to get him to go to sleep. In our dreams, we can meet one another. "I don't
suppose you feel like napping?" I whisper up to him. "Eyes kinda heavy?
Feeling drowsy?"
The dragon just stares down at me, eyes dark.
"I'm guessing that's a 'no.'" I swallow hard and wonder if I can relax
enough to go to sleep. I'm not scared of Mhal, oddly enough. I was at first,
but now that it's clear all he wants to do is hug me to his chest, I know he's
not going to harm me. If he wanted to, he could have a dozen times already.
Instead, I'm worried that he'll lose his mind (what little he has) and go on a
rampage in the city. I've seen too many dragon attacks in the past to not be
leery of a wide-awake dragon with flames ready to come out of his nose. If
I say the wrong thing or look at him in a way that pisses him off, is he going
to lose his mind and just destroy half the city?
Will Azar take him over again? If so, what happens then?
I feel like if I don't somehow convince Mhal to play nice, I'm not going
to live very long. I think about the ringing slap that Azar gave Manda. He
didn't think twice about decking her. I think about Hailey's dead body. No
one cared that she died.
I am absolutely expendable to these people, and I've never been more
aware of it. That's the most terrifying thing of all. I let the program and the
regular meals lull me into a false sense of security. To them, I'm a tool. And
what happens with tools that no longer work?
You discard them.
So I need to figure out what I'm supposed to do with Mhal and make it
happen. Azar wants me to sleep with him and magically get pregnant. I'm
thinking that's a stretch, but I need to at least be able to talk to Mhal, and
right now, we're going in circles.
So, sleep it is.
 I hum a lullaby, hoping it'll make him relax. I don't have a great voice,
but lullabies aren't about great voices anyhow. They're about soothing
sounds to help you drift off to sleep.
The moment I start to hum, the dragon lowers his head, pulling me out
from his chest so he can peer at me. "That's right, big guy," I hum-sing to
the tune of “Rockabye Baby.” "Time for us to go night night."

Y ou are a stubborn female .

I open my eyes, that thought ringing through my head. I'm back in my
bed in the barracks, and for a moment I'm confused. How did I get back
here?
A claw-tipped hand caresses my hair, but when I look around, I can't
see. Shadows cover the man at my side.
Aaaah. This is a dream.
"Mhal? Is that you?" I try to sit up, but my head is heavy in the dream
and the hand caressing my hair is so very nice.
Mhal? Who is Mhal?
Okay, now I'm confused again. "You told me your name is Mhal."
Did I? He sounds disgruntled. It is a short, brutal name with no power
to it. I do not think it is mine.
"Then what's your name?"
He scoffs for a moment, and then he's silent.
"You have no idea, do you?"
The shadows concealing him shift, and I see a big golden hand reaching
for me. Instead of fingernails, he's got black claws. It should be terrifying,
but instead, I find him fascinating. After all, this is a dream. He can't hurt
me…and I don't think he wants to. I touch his hand, and it's just as warm as
I imagined. I like that warmth, too. I bring his hand to my face, letting him
touch my cheek.
I suppose I can be Mhal. For you.
I smile into the darkness. He's there, I can sense. I can make out a form,
but not a head. It's frustrating, because I want to look at him. "Why can't I
see your face?"
It is your dream, not mine. You tell me.
"No need to be so grumpy. I'm just trying to talk to you."
I have been trying to talk to you for hours. You are a frustrating female
because you do not listen. Mhal sounds irritated at me.
"You have?" How did I miss that? I've been humming for what feels like
hours, trying to get a lullaby to make us both drift off to sleep. I must have
dozed in my humming. "You've never said a word to me."
I have said plenty. You are just not listening.
I frown up at his shadowy figure. He's golden and bare, and in a way it
reminds me of Rachel's dragon-man. Surely I'm not dreaming about him,
am I? That'd be fucked up.
The clawed hand grabs my chin, turning me toward him. It is Mhal that
holds you. Mhal that is in your dreams. Not another. Now he sounds
offended again.
"I'm sorry. I just…" I reach up. "If I could see your face…"
He's still covered in shadow, but when I reach into the darkness, I can
feel a face against my fingers. Warm and strong and solid. I skim my
fingertips over his skin, learning him.
I think you are using this as an excuse to touch me. His tone goes from
irritated to playful, and he shifts under my touch. In the next moment, a
warm mouth and fangs nip at my thumb. You wish to mate me, do you not?
Admit it. There is no shame in it.
"W-what?" I pull away. "I'm just trying to figure out what you look like.
That doesn't mean I want to fuck!" Talk about not reading the room.
 What room? The one we are trapped in?
"Are you listening in on my head?"
Of course. How else do you think we are talking? We are connected
while you sleep. You are too stubborn when awake to talk to me.
I frown to myself, because he keeps saying that. As if I'd somehow
ignore him? He's a dragon. They're impossible to ignore.
This is truth. He takes my hand in his again. And yet you manage to do
so in spectacular fashion. His teeth scrape at my hand again, and then he
presses my palm to his cheek and breathes in deeply. I could drink your
scent in for days, my Jenny.
Goosebumps prickle over my skin. I'm fascinated by his touch. It's been
a long time since anyone's touched me. I didn't realize until this moment
how much I needed my father's hugs and casual pats on the shoulder. Now,
Mhal's touching me and it's reminded me that no one has touched me in any
way since my father died.
I didn't know I missed it.
I am not your father. Mhal sounds offended.
"I know you're not. Just…this is making me realize I was lonely. I didn't
know I was." I rub my thumb over his skin, skin that I can't see because
dreams are stupid and they're holding him back from me. "I'm always
surrounded by people, but I didn't realize it was possible to be lonely like
that, and yet I am."
There is no need to feel alone. I am with you. You called me out of my
slumber.
"Did I? How?"
Your dreams. You asked for help and I heard you. He nuzzles at my
palm, and I realize he's rubbing his lips against my skin. It feels ticklish and
arousing at the same time, and I don't think I could pull away even if I tried.
You called for someone and I answered. Now we are mated.
"I feel like we skipped a step in there somewhere," I murmur.
 We are bonded. I need you as much as you need me. His teeth lightly
scrape against my skin again, and I gasp at the sensation, desperately
wishing I could see it. It's like my dream is deliberately keeping all the good
stuff from me.
"You need me?"
I do. I do not like to need anyone. Arrogance bleeds through his words.
But when we are connected, my mind is clear. And I am able to push him
away, if only for a time.
Push him away? "Oh, you mean…" I pause, not wanting to say the
name in case he disappears on me again. "That guy. The one that keeps you,
uh, captive."
Yes. Being with you makes it easier to fight. His lips rub against my
palm again. When you are not there, I am confused and maddened. It makes
it easy for him to step in and take over.
For some reason, I can feel his anger and frustration bleeding through
his mind. He loathes being “trapped,” but at the same time is embarrassed
that it happens.
It should not happen to me. I am one of the Queen's Guard.
"The queen?" I echo. "Who's the queen?"
He pauses, and there is nothing for a long time. I can practically feel
him searching his thoughts, looking for something. I…do not know. I am
missing pieces. Like my name. Mhal is part of it but not all of it. But I do
not know the rest. I do not know a great many things anymore, and it
bothers me.
"I'm sure they'll come back with time."
Will they? I do not know. Your world does strange things to a mind. I
have not been myself since I came through the Rift.
"I don't think anyone has," I point out. "Our world was turned upside
down, too." My thoughts fill with those early days, of fire and destruction,
of the constant smell of ash on the wind. Of seeing familiar buildings and
safe places burning, always burning, and dark, terrifying shapes in the skies.
I remember how awful it was to realize that there was no safety in the world
any longer, that everything you thought you knew could be turned upside
down.
Then came the riots. And then, the starvation. So many people didn't
make it, and those of us that did were completely changed.
The Rift took everything away from us, and yet it gave us much, too.
"Did it? Like what?" I try to keep my tone amused, but it's hard to think
of a positive thing associated with the Rift, the constant symbol of our
destruction.
It brought me you, my mate. His lips are warm on my palm again, and
I'm filled with hot yearning. I want to see his face, so much. He brushes his
tongue over my skin, and then his mouth goes to my wrist, hot and wet and
hungry.
I suck in a breath. I've never thought of myself as particularly sexual.
It's hard to be like that in the After, when every man thinks he can take what
he wants from you. It's hard to look at sex positively when you see how
awful it can be for so many people—the whores at Blowjob Becky's, for
example, or even the girls that come back from a night with the men,
bruised and angry. I've seen how Bethany's husband treats her. I've been
propositioned dozens of times and I've always been left cold. I know what
the books and movies always told us sex was supposed to be like, but it's
never matched with what I've seen in the After. I figured that if there was
any desire left inside of me, the Rift burned it right out.
But with Mhal's mouth on my skin, and his thoughts lacing through my
head…I feel different.
For the first time, I wonder what it might be like.
I will show you, Mhal tells me, and his thoughts are sultry with need. I
will take your soft, weak human body against mine.
"Gee, thanks—"
 I will change to my two-legged form and breathe in the sweetness of
your scent. He takes in such a deep breath that it makes the air catch in my
throat. I will lick you all over, tasting you. I will learn your body with my
tongue, and I will discover what touches make you cry out, what touches
make you sigh, and what touches make your cunt wet and hungry.
I gasp, shocked at the blatant words—and the visuals swirling through
my mind. He's sending me pictures of his big hands parting my thighs and
his face burrowing between them, seeking out my warmth.
When your body is ready for mine, I will give you my fires, and then you
will truly become mine.
"Your fires?" I haven't heard of this. "What does that mean?"
In my dream, Mhal suddenly exposes sharp fangs that seem longer than
ever. He leans forward, grabs me by the throat, and sinks his teeth in, biting
me.

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JENNY

wake up with a yelp, my limbs flailing. I sit up, panting and

wide-eyed, trying to make sense of things. My body throbs, a
curious mixture of fear and lust both, and I'm tempted to put my hand
between my thighs like I sometimes do when I'm in the baths alone, just to
get that body-wrenching release.
Something big shifts behind me, and I turn, rubbing the last of the sleep
out of my eyes as I do.
The dragon. Right.
I stare up at him, at the eyes that seem equal parts gold and black,
whirling like a hurricane. As I do, the dreams come back to me with clarity.
I talked to Mhal. He held my hand and rubbed it against his skin. He
told me he wants to be my mate. "That was you in my dreams, wasn't it?
We talked again."
The dragon stares down at me, expression imperious.
"Mhal?" I get to my feet, my knees feeling like jelly. There's a heat
throbbing between my legs I'm determined to ignore, and I squeeze my
thighs tightly as I straighten. "You said you wanted to talk. Let's talk. I'm
here." When that gets no response, I tap my chest. "Remember? Jenny? You
—you bit me in my dreams."
It was terrifying, that bite…but I also didn't hate it. Parts of me really,
really liked it, and I wonder if that was just the dream, too.
The dragon lowers his head, and I'm filled with a sense of relief. Now
he'll talk.
Mhal rubs his nose against my hair, blows out a breath, and then rests
his head on his foreleg, watching me with those eyes that seem more black
than gold, now.
 "Oh, for fuck's sake," I say, exasperated. My hands go to my hips and I
glare at him. "We just had a conversation, remember?" My cheeks burn,
because my memories of the dream were that it was a downright sexy
conversation, and now he's acting like I don't exist. "Did I offend you
somehow? If so, I'm sorry, but I don't know what I did. Don't give me the
silent treatment."
The dragon yawns, and it occurs to me that Mhal like this is nothing like
the Mhal in my dreams. I frown to myself, taking a step forward. As I do,
one big paw curls around me, and he drags me against his chest like I'm his
favorite teddy bear he wants to hold while he naps. Frustrated, I try to think.
Mhal is confusing. Utterly, completely confusing. It's like he forgets
what's happening from one moment to the next. He mentioned that this
world did strange things to his mind. Is he only himself in my dreams?
Well, that does it, then. I push his claws open, squeezing my way back
out of his grip. "Fine. We are going back to sleep, and then we are going to
hash this out." I give him a grumpy look, move a few feet away, and then lie
down on the hard floor, closing my eyes.
I'm trying to sleep—an impossible thing when you're frustrated and
worked up—when I hear Mhal's big dragon body shifting around. A
moment later, claws curl around my torso and he tugs me across the floor. I
open my eyes to see that the dragon's moved closer to me, and he's now got
me tucked between his front legs, as if protecting me from the outside
world.
That takes a lot of the heat out of my frustration. I reach out and pat his
claws, sighing. "We'll figure this out. I promise." And then I lie back and try
to go to sleep again. This time, the warmth of him is like a blanket, and it
doesn't take long before I drift away again.
Y ou are back .
The voice is a sultry croon in my ear, sending goosebumps all over my
body. I open my eyes in my dream and look around. I'm back in my
barracks room, but I can feel Mhal's presence even if I can't see him. The
shadows are everywhere, lit only by a sputtering candle.
"I tried to talk to you and you ignored me." I sound whiny to my own
ears, and try to adjust my tone. "What's going on?"
You did not speak. I would have listened.
We're clearly miscommunicating somehow. He's a dragon, and I'm still
thinking like a human. I try to hold back my frustration. "I woke up and
spoke to you, and you stared at me."
You did?
"I literally stood right in front of you. Don't you remember, Mhal?"
My thoughts are clear right now. Less so when you are gone. He reaches
for me again, all warm hands and sharp, sharp claws. Let me touch you.
I grab his hand before he can distract me. "Let's stay focused. I didn't go
anywhere, Mhal. I woke up." I squeeze his hand in mine, gazing into the
shadows where his face is supposed to be. "Is it something to do with
waking? Is that it?"
I do not understand. You spoke to me and I came. Hot arrogance floods
through his mind. You called for me to protect you, and I did.
"You mean in my dreams?"
In your mind.
Something clicks. "Is that how your people talk? In your minds?" I try
to think if I've ever seen Rachel have a conversation with her dragon—with
Jurik. They share a lot of knowing glances, but he's always silent.
A mental connection. It makes sense.
I reach for Mhal, eager. "Is that why we're having problems? You don't
remember what we've talked about when I'm not in the dream with you?" I
search the shadows, but I still can't see his face. It just adds to my
frustration. "We need to connect mentally?"
Yes. Open your mind to me and we will speak as we should.
Open my mind to him? I…don't know how to do that. I'm not psychic.
"I'll…try? Let me wake up."
Not just yet. Mhal's arms go around me and then I'm dragged against
warm, golden skin. Let me hold you. You have been gone for a long time.
I haven't been gone at all. I've been right next to him. I bite the words
back, because I remember what he said about his mind not being clear. I
don't know what he needs, but I intend on helping him get it. Someone will
have the answers.
Rachel will, I realize. Rachel will have all the answers. She's already
done all this.
Your friend? he asks, plucking the thought out of my head.
"Yes. She's married—mated—to one of your friends. Jurik?" I look into
the shadows, searching for his face. "Do you know him?"
It does not sound familiar. I touch no mind but yours. I have been alone
in the darkness for a long, long time.
That sounds terrible. I hold him close. "I'm here," I remind him. "I'm not
going anywhere."
Mhal holds me against him, and in the dream, the cot is comfortable and
big enough for both of us. You cannot go anywhere, he teases, because I
would follow. No one will keep us from each other ever again, I promise
this.
Strangely enough, it sounds nice. I have an ally. Sure, he doesn't
remember me half the time, but in moments like this? I see why Rachel is
so happy.
Rachel, I remind myself. When I wake up, I have to talk to Rachel.

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JENNY

boot plants in my side, waking me from my sleep. "Get up," says a

harsh, familiar voice. "I am disappointed in you."
I jerk awake, looking around. Azar looms over me, dressed in pale,
flowing garments that look twice as nice as anything ever tossed in our
direction. I sit up, disoriented, and automatically push at his foot when he
tries to nudge me with his shoe again. "Don't."
"Do not tell me what to do." He leans forward, glaring at me. "I ask one
thing of you and you cannot even do it?"
What's he talking about? I look around, confused, searching for Mhal.
When I went to sleep, he was right next to me, curled around me. I don't see
him now, and when I sit up, I notice that I'm naked—and Azar has two
guards with him. Shit. With a yelp, I plaster my hands over my nude body
and hunch over, trying to hide my nakedness.
He looks down at me and sighs. Then, he glances back at his men and
waves a finger. One steps forward and tosses me a pair of plastic bags. One
has breakfast corncakes in it, and the other a blanket or a shawl of some
kind. I open the bag, grateful, and throw the scrap of fabric over my body.
It's thin and not very warm, but it covers things, at least. I wrap it around
me like a bath towel, and then get to my feet, looking for Mhal again. Did
they take him away from me?
I scan the warehouse and see him a short distance away, sitting
unnaturally stiff. "Mhal?" I call out, wary. When there's no answer or even a
twitch of recognition from the dragon, I race to my feet and stumble
forward. The moment I can see his eyes, I realize what's happened—they're
completely gray.
Azar has him again.
 I have been alone in the darkness for a long, long time, Mhal had told
me. My heart hurts as I gaze up at him, at how dead his expression is. "You
stole his mind again," I accuse Azar, turning to look at the fort's lord. "He's
not there, is he?"
"I tested to see if you had done as I asked. You have not." Lord Azar
storms to my side, all swirling robes and the fresh scent of soap. "Perhaps I
did not make myself clear? There is no time to waste. You need to bond him
to you."
"I'm trying! I just don't know how." I gesture at the dragon in
frustration. "When we talk in my dreams, he seems like he's there, but the
moment I wake up, it's like I'm starting over from square one. I can't get
him to talk to me."
Azar pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. "I explained this."
"Try again." I hug the thin blanket to my chest.
He stabs a finger in the direction of the dragon. "Him." He points at me.
"You." He makes a crude gesture. "Fuck. Together." A tight smile crosses
his face. "You bond. Everyone's happy. Understand?"
I gape at him. "That's how I connect with him?"
"I explained this last night!"
"You said you wanted me to fuck him, not that it was how we talked to
one another." I think about the dream, and the way Mhal viciously bit my
throat, and how much pleasure poured from his mind at the thought. A
shudder sweeps through me, and I instinctively know that's part of the deal.
"Is he going to kill me?"
"Don't be foolish. You're his mate." Azar gives me a dismissive look.
"In case you hadn't noticed, all you females are far more useful alive than
dead."
I glance over at Mhal, who looks like an unyielding statue once more.
"So, um…how does this work, exactly? I'm supposed to just, like, climb on
him and hope for a red rocket situation, because I'm really not keen on that
idea. Or…?" I trail off, hoping I've got it all wrong. "Is there a better way to
do this?"
To my surprise, Azar looks flustered. "You are asking me how to seduce
a drakoni? Do I look as if I would be the expert on that?"
"You're the one that wants me to fuck him. You tell me." I hold my
ground, determined not to look like a coward in front of Azar. When we
were out in the scavenge lands, my dad taught me a lot, but the best lesson
was that you never show fear to a bully. I draw on those lessons now, my
shoulders straight, my head up. "This is all your master plan. Give me the
nitty-gritty details so I don't fuck it up again."
He stares at me with narrowed eyes, then turns away. "I will send the
scarred girl to come and explain it to you. She should be able to tell you
what to do."
"Rachel? Oh, that'd be great, actually. Thank you." Relief floods
through me. Rachel will know exactly what to do. My friend's not the most
cuddly sort—Rachel's a bit abrasive at the best of times—but she's
protective and smart and a good friend. She'll know what I need to do. I
hold the blanket closer to my body, feeling a glimmer of hope that this
situation will be resolved soon. "I appreciate it. And the blanket, too. And
the food."
"Do not thank me," Azar says, pausing. "Thank Melina. She insisted."
Then, turning on his heel, he storms toward the doors and out of the
warehouse.

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MHAL

he female—my female, judging by her scent—wanders our

prison with a thin, colorful layer wrapped around her body. She
does not approach me, giving me wary looks from afar, and presses her
hands on the walls, shaking them. No, not walls, I realize. They are doors of
some kind, and they are too heavy for her to open.
I do not want them open, because if she leaves, I will be forced to chase
her down. Right now I have everything I want. A quiet place with privacy
and my mate. The roof has an opening large enough for me to crawl out if I
need to go hunt. This is all I need.
I lower my head, letting one of my eyelids slide over my eyes as I feign
sleep. I do not sleep, though. I watch her slight form as she moves around,
drinking in her scent and feeling the air shift around us as she walks. She
eats something that smells appalling, relieves herself in the farthest corner
of our prison cave, and makes more of her sounds.
I do not understand her. I try to reach out to her mind several times, but
she has me completely blocked. My frustration is endless. How can she
push me out? I recognize her smell, so she surely fought other females to be
my mate? Why does she ignore me, then? Why are my attempts to contact
her rebuffed?
The doors to our prison open, and I lift my head. Other scents waft
inside, and the doors are quickly shut again, the sound of chains pricking
my ears. Ah. So the doors are not too heavy—they are chained shut on the
other side. Whoever is trapping my mate in here wants her to stay with me.
I look over at my female, my scales prickling as a mated drakoni male and
his female enter.
 My mate makes happy sounds and jumps to her feet, moving to greet
the female.
The male is in his two-legged form, and pauses to glance up at me. He
sends a stabbing thought of greeting, but the sensation is overwhelming and
raw and I do not like it. With a growl, I shove him back out of my mind.
If he is surprised at my reaction, he does not show it. Instead, he ignores
me, moving to put a hand on his female's back and hovering possessively
near her. My mate makes sounds at the drakoni's mated female, and the
female makes sounds back. They are communicating, and I send a tendril of
thought out to my mate again, but there is no response. I do not feel her
reaching out to touch minds with the female, either.
It is all very curious.
I pretend to sleep as they gesture at me, my mate making worried
sounds. The other female reeks of her mate and makes reassuring noises,
and they calm my mate. They speak for a time, and then the newcomers
turn to go. As they do, I catch a hint of the new female's scent.
She is carrying a child. Interesting. I wonder what my mate will smell
like when she carries mine.
They leave, and then my female turns back to me.
"Mhal," my female says, making a noise that almost sounds like my
name. She sheds the skin she has wrapped around her torso and then
approaches me, her arms out.

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JENNY

All right. I can do this. Rachel explained to me what I suspected, and now I
need to get on with the show.
It's funny, but I'm not frightened. I'm a virgin, and the thought of
sleeping with one of the Fort Dallas guys always turned my stomach, but
sleeping with Mhal seems like it'd be fine. Better than fine, even.
Pleasurable. It's in the way he reacts to me in my dreams, the possessive,
obsessive way he touches me, as if he can't get enough. I think I'll like
sleeping with him.
I've just got to figure out how to get him to turn to his other form.
I'm relieved to hear from Rachel that he doesn't need to be in dragon
form to make this whole “mating” thing happen. There's zero way that
would work, and the thought of trying to entice a dragon seems…bizarre
and unnatural. But Mhal should have a human form, just like her mate does,
and I just need to make him remember to flip the switch, so to speak.
So I turn to Mhal and study him carefully. Here goes nothing.
I drop the thin blanket to the floor, standing naked in front of him, and
extend my arms out.
The dragon just watches me through slitted, gold-and-black eyes.
I need to get those eyes to pure gold, Rachel explained. They're tied to
his mood, and the more content he is, the more likely he is to be in his right
mind. Okay, then. I need to make a dragon happy. It's just…how? Rachel
said that Jurik transformed for her almost immediately, so she wasn't much
help on that angle. She suggested I pet him a lot, talk to him in a sweet
voice, and act seductive.
And if that didn't work, drag his nose to my pussy and let him get a
sniff.
 The mental image of that makes me squirm with discomfort. There's
something weird about shoving a dragon's snout between my legs to try to
turn him on. When I look at Mhal like this—as a big, plane-sized dragon—I
don't see him as Mhal, the person. I still see him as an aloof, dangerous
dragon. It's hard to reconcile the two when he's never given me any
indication that he's the Mhal of my dreams. Even when I address him, he
ignores me.
Not exactly setting me up for seduction, and the thought of shoving a
dragon's snout between my thighs isn't getting my engine revving, either.
Azar's threats have made it clear, though—if I don't do this, he's going
to take his frustrations out on the other girls in the program. I'll be kicked
out, too, forced to live as a nomad. I think about Hailey's dead body, eaten
by bugs, and shudder. Without my dad's protection, I won't last very long.
Even the toughest women never last long outside of a fort.
I'm not appalled by the idea. I've always known at some point that sex
was a commodity I could trade. It's now time to trade, and I don't hate the
idea of having sex with the Mhal of my dreams. In fact, the Mhal of my
dreams intrigues me…a lot. It's just the dragon part of him I'm having
trouble with.
I eye my enormous companion. "I don't suppose you want to make this
easier on me?"
The dragon gives me a long, uncomprehending stare. His eyes are still
more black than gold. The sight of me naked hasn't done anything for him. I
keep my arms up, though, and gesture that he should approach. "Come on.
Come say hello to my tits."
He continues to gaze at me. Mhal blinks once. Slowly. Then he lowers
his head to one of his forelegs and his eyes close, as if I'm the least
interesting thing in the world.
I clench my jaw, my pride stinging a little at that. "Oh come on. My
naked body isn't THAT bad. I've got boobs and everything."
 Logically, I know that there's not a problem with me. He's just being a
stubborn dragon who doesn't know me outside of his dreams. So I steel
myself against my irritation and put a smile on my face. I change my voice
to a cooing one, like I'd use against a wild dog or a child. "Don't you want
me to be naked? I thought all guys were into this sort of thing."
One eye flicks open, and he studies me.
Aha. "So you're faking," I tease in my best seductive voice. I feel a little
silly, but at least I'm getting results. I slink forward, regarding him. He's got
multiple eyelids, it seems, and I watch as one lowers over his eye, but not
all of them. Is he watching me more than he wants to let on, then?
Interesting. "Maybe you're in there after all. Deep, deep inside."
The dragon doesn't move a muscle. He's completely still, and I get the
impression he's watching me to see what I'm going to do.
I'm actually not entirely sure what I'm going to do. I'm winging it, and
hoping that I'll stumble into some success. Look for the gold in his eyes,
Rachel had advised me. She'd told me about the bite, too. That Mhal has to
bite me and pour venom into my veins so my scent changes and so I'm fully
bonded to him. That after that, we'll have a mental link that overrides
everything, even Azar's mind control. I'm a little worried about the whole
“venom” thing, but Rachel looks fine, so I hope it'll all turn out okay.
I'm not exactly flush with alternatives.
I move up to Mhal's side and whisper his name. Nothing. Not even a
twitch. I put my hands on his scales, rubbing them and petting like I would
a horse, and I feel a little…foolish. How is this going to get his engine
revving when it's not doing anything for me? I'm supposed to somehow
arouse him, but treating him like an animal isn't exactly filling me with lust.
I run my hands over his scales as I think, scratching and petting. It's like
petting rock—there's no give to his scales, and no indication from the
dragon that I'm there. After a few minutes of this, I give up.
 Rachel said if it didn't work, to shove his head between my thighs and
let him breathe in my sent. I squirm at the thought, as it seems more than a
little awkward. I'm tempted to run for the doors to see if he'll react if I try to
escape…except I tried that before, and Mhal didn't move. And it's not like I
can escape anyhow. They're chained on the other side.
I wish I had a pair of panties to use, since dragons seem to love them so
much.
I pause. Of course.
I glance over at Mhal, who I suspect is watching me and pretending that
he isn't. If he's scent-driven, I need to give him my scent. If I want to turn
him on, maybe I need to be turned on, too, and grinding against a dragon's
nose isn't going to do it for me.
I'll have to take matters into my own hands. Literally.
I make a nervous sound in my throat, shaking my hands out. "Okay.
Okay. I'm totally doing this. I can do this. I can. It's just performance art for
someone I like very much." I glance over at the dragon. "Someone hidden
deep, deep deeeeeep down inside."
It's something I've only ever done in private, and never as often as I'd
like. My dad was always at my side for the last seven years, protecting me,
which made touching myself impossible. Now that he's gone, I've been
living in the barracks with the other women, which also makes it difficult to
get a moment alone. Touching myself has always felt like a secret,
forbidden sort of pleasure even though it's featured in all the dirty books
that Manda loves to read over and over again.
I suddenly wish I'd spent less time sewing and more time reading.
Okay. Enough stalling. I take a deep breath, glance over at the
motionless dragon, and then pick my blanket up again. I spread it out on the
floor nicely, then sit down on it. I take another deep breath, steeling myself,
and then lie back, my knees bent.
 I mean, it's not really a performance if the dragon isn't paying attention,
right? In essence, I'm here by myself. At least, that's what I tell myself to
get through things. I remain where I am for a few moments, doing some
calming breathing, and then slide my hand down my bare belly.
It feels…decadent. Forbidden. Maybe it's that forbidden aspect that
makes it so appealing, but my pulse quickens and I stroke my skin again.
And again. I move my hand downward, the other caressing my breasts. I
take my time, stroking my skin and trying to enjoy myself. I also absolutely
do not look over at Mhal to see if he's paying attention. If he does, great. If
not, I should at least get an orgasm out of things before they kick me out of
the fort.
My hand moves to my pussy and I slide my finger deeper into my
channel, searching for my clit. The moment I brush over it, the sensation is
so intense that I gasp and my legs curl up, my body tensing. Oh, fuck. I
wasn't expecting it to be that strong, but I must be worked up with all the
tension of my situation. With a little whimper, I stroke my finger against the
side of my clit again, trying to repeat the intense sensation.
There's a sound like a broom sweeping over floors.
I look over at the dragon, even though I swore to myself I wouldn't. He's
in the same curled up position he was before, except now, his tail is
swishing back and forth over the concrete—the sweeping sound I heard.
And his eyes are slits.
Golden slits.
That's encouraging. I touch my clit again, gasping as I do, and stare
right at the dragon as I finger myself. I slide my finger lower, testing to see
if I'm wet. My folds are slick with moisture, more than I've ever managed
before, and I drag some of it back to my clit, circling around it with a wet
fingertip. Hot need is building through my body, and I forget all about Mhal
as I close my eyes and continue to rub myself, working my pussy. I've never
had the leisure to take as much time as I want, so I do that now. When I get
close to the edge, I skim away from my clit, teasing down to the entrance of
my core, where I'm warm and slippery. I stroke a finger inside myself, and
it feels good, but not as good as touching my clit, so my hand wanders back
up there, to rub until I'm close to the edge again.
A scorching-hot hand touches my knee.
I yelp in surprise, rolling off the blanket and away, my hands covering
my pussy. I sit up, shaking, and immediately feel stupid. I've been so
focused on touching myself that I forgot where I am and why I'm doing it.
Sitting on the other side of the blanket is a big, golden man.
He watches me with hooded eyes that flare a deeper shade of gold than
his skin, black swirling around the edges as if waiting to creep back in. He
kneels on the floor, his big body lean and somehow arrogant, his hair a
thick, wild tangled halo that floats around his head and shoulders.
"Mhal," I breathe, fascinated. "It's you."
It has to be him. He shifts his lithe body, turning to face me. He's taller
and leaner than the other dragon-men that I've seen, with an arrogant cast to
his face. His features are long, his nose large and his cheekbones high. It
gives him a haughty look, one that's intensified by the small scars on his
face. He's got the four parallel scars tracing across his ribs in his human
form like he did in dragon-form, and he's…very naked. I avert my gaze
from that part of him as it seems rude to stare at his dick. As I study him, he
moves forward on hands and knees, slinking toward me.
I'd say that he's crawling, but it feels more like a predator slithering
towards his prey.
And I'm his prey.

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“H
JENNY

i," I manage. "I'm Jenny. Do you remember me?"

He says nothing, leaning over me, his thin nostrils
flaring as if breathing in my scent. His face is right in mine, his breath
brushing over my skin, and I do my best to remain completely still. I'm
afraid if I move too quickly, he'll shift back into dragon form and all the
progress will be gone.
"I'm going to take that as a no," I whisper. "But you must know me a
little. Or you know my scent at least."
Mhal sniffs me again and then looks right at me, our noses practically
touching. His gaze locks onto mine, his expression searching.
I fight against a wave of shyness and uncurl my hands from between my
legs. I need to do something instead of sitting here like a lump. Hesitant, I
reach one hand out toward his face. He touched my cheek in my dreams, so
maybe he'll let me touch him now?
The dragon-man immediately grabs my wrist, his eyes flaring black. He
stares at me for a moment, his expression accusing, as if I've violated some
sort of personal space rule.
"Sorry," I whisper. I wiggle my fingers a little. He's not holding me
tightly, and I don't think he means to hurt me. "I'm just trying to figure you
out."
Mhal's nostrils flare again, and gold floods back into his eyes. He gazes
at my fingers, and then licks them clean.
Okay.
That is dirty, and wrong…and so damn hot. I suck in a breath.
Mhal licks my fingers again, then takes one into his mouth and sucks on
it, a look of sheer bliss on his face as he violates my hand. His grip is loose
on my wrist—I could pull away at any moment. I just don't want to. I'm
fascinated by his response, and by the way he looks so deeply aroused by
my scent. I've never had a man suck on my fingers before, and it feels weird
at first. When his tongue slicks against my skin, though, I swear I feel it
between my thighs.
I squeeze my legs tightly together, my pulse pounding as if it's focused
right behind my clit.
Mhal releases my fingers and licks my palm, his gaze locking onto me
again. I whimper, because his eyes are completely golden and the look he's
giving me is making me think he wants to devour more than just my
fingers. His lips slide over my hand and down to my wrist, and he continues
to watch me even as he brushes his mouth over the inside of my arm. He
tugs me forward, until I'm forced to move closer to him. I crawl forward on
my knees, and my thigh brushes against his.
Because I'm becoming a shameless, fascinated hussy from some finger-
licking, I look down, studying his body. He's big. Really big. Granted, I'm a
virgin, so I don't know what size is appropriate and what is too much, but
Mhal looks like he leans toward “too much.” His cock is thick and long,
and the head seems very prominent, his scales densely packed together
along the shaft.
And he's very, very erect. The tip is wet, too, which is surprising to me.
I've seen lots of dicks in books and guys showing me theirs to be funny (I
swear the After is sometimes like a big frat party) but I've never seen one
with a wet tip.
I…kind of want to touch it. Is he wet because he's aroused, like I am?
His cock twitches, and as I watch, another droplet appears on the tip and
slides down the side of the head. I look up at Mhal, surprised, and he's
watching me with that heated look in his eyes. He leans in again and his
mouth, hot and wet, licks at the inside of my elbow.
 I whimper, shocked. I never thought the inside of my elbow could be
erotic, but when he puts his mouth there, it makes heat pulse between my
thighs.
Mhal makes a sound, almost like a purring. He lets go of my arm and
reaches—slowly—for my cheek. His gaze is locked on mine, and it feels
like a test. Is he trying to see how I'll react to his touch?
Remaining still, I barely breathe as he very carefully settles his palm
against my cheek.
It feels like it did in the dream. I know him, even if he doesn't know me,
and the realization makes tears prick at my eyes. "Mhal," I whisper, and
turn slightly to kiss the inside of his palm. He keeps watching me, waiting,
and it occurs to me that maybe he doesn't know what a kiss is. I dart my
tongue out, licking his skin.
He lets out a deep, aching groan.
"Mhal," I say again as he lifts his hand from my cheek. "Mhal, it's me.
Jenny. You know me now, don't you?"
If he does, it's not a high priority for him to talk about it. Right now he
seems focused on other things. He presses the back of my hand to the
blankets, and then puts his hand on my shoulder, indicating I should lie
back. I do, and immediately he puts his hands on my legs, bending them
again, until I'm in the exact same position I was before when I was touching
myself—on my back with my knees bent.
And he looks down at me, waiting and expectant.
A hot flush covers my face. He wants to watch me touch myself? I now
have a very attentive audience, and I can't pretend I'm alone. That changes
everything.
I bite my lip, tentatively sliding my hand between my thighs again and
watching his face, just in case I've misinterpreted. Mhal pushes my knees
apart, leaning in as if to watch. Oh god. I don't think my private parts have
ever been so scrutinized. My breathing has quickened, and I feel insanely
tense as I cup my pussy and gather the courage to touch myself again.
My fingers skim lightly over my clit—
Mhal bats my hand aside, pushing my thighs farther apart.
"Um, what—"
His big hand covers my mound, his skin almost abrasively hot. I gasp in
surprise, squirming. I wasn't expecting that. I thought he was just going to
watch.
Mhal looks up at me, his clawed fingers resting over my pussy. He
pushes my folds apart, then lifts his hand, staring at his claws thoughtfully.
They look utterly dangerous, but for some reason, I'm not afraid of them.
He'll be careful. He's always careful in my dreams.
As I watch, he lifts his claws to his lips and bites them down to the
quick.
"Or, okay, you'll do that," I murmur, distracted as he snaps each one off
until they're harmless. He puts his hand on my skin again, and this time,
when his thumb strokes over the seam of my pussy, he looks pleased.
I moan, squirming under his grasp. His touch feels good, his skin
incredibly warm against mine—but it's not enough.
Mhal stares thoughtfully down at my spread thighs. His thumb moves
over my folds again and then delves deep, rubbing over sensitized skin. I
buck against his hand, whimpering when the pad of his thumb brushes
against my clit.
That gets his attention. His eyes go pure gold and he lifts his thumb to
his lips, licking it. "Jen-nee."
The word is guttural and strange, his voice thick and rusty as if unused.
It's still the hottest thing I've ever heard, and I whimper again at the sound
of it. He knows it’s me. "Mhal," I whisper. "Please."
He leans in, and instead of putting his hand on me again, he presses his
mouth to the inside of my knee and flicks his tongue against it. I moan in
anticipation as he moves forward, licking up the inside of my thigh. Okay,
he's headed right for my pussy. It looks like he's a man that moves fast, and
I can't find it in me to complain. I'm too turned on.
Mhal nips his way to the apex of my thighs and then drags his nose
through the curls covering my mound. I shudder in response, because he's
so close that I can feel his breath on my skin, but still so far away. His
fingers move through my slick folds even as he nuzzles my skin, and then
he parts my folds and his tongue flicks over my clit.
Need explodes through me. I cry out, grabbing at his head. To my
surprise, short, hard horns are buried in that thick, wild hair of his, and they
smack against my skin as I try to find a handhold. I bury my fingers in his
hair and hold tight. Not that he's going anywhere. I just feel the need to hold
onto him as his tongue moves over my pussy, learning me with the
scorching tip of his tongue. I squirm as it circles around my clit and then
delves deeper, pushing into my core. He groans then, lapping at my taste,
and I could swear he breathes my name again.
He works his tongue against my core, holding my folds apart with his
hand, and it's both the best thing I've ever felt and the most frustrating. I've
never had anyone touch me here, and having his mouth there is sheer
intensity. But at the same time, he's ignoring my clit and I'm so worked up
that it feels like torture. I desperately need the orgasm that seems further
and further away by the moment. When his tongue delves into me again, I
pull one hand from his hair and slide it between my legs again, furiously
rubbing my clit as he does. Oh fuck. I'm so close. So close. I just need—
Mhal grabs my hand and pries it off, and I make an unholy sound of
frustration.
"Jen-nee," he murmurs again, and then his mouth moves over my clit.
His fingers brush against the entrance to my core and he sinks one inside
me. I arch, crying out, because his finger feels much bigger than mine. It's
hot, too. Achingly so. I squirm, my hips rising as his tongue circles against
my clit, and I fist his hair again, grinding against his mouth mindlessly as
he tongues me.
"I'm so close," I say brokenly as he licks and circles my clit. "So
fucking close. Don't you dare stop."
He drags his finger in and out of me, his movements slow, and when he
adds a second one, it changes the intensity of things. My hands tighten in
his hair and when he tongues my clit faster, the sounds I make are all the
more unhinged. My legs can't seem to stop moving, and I park one foot on
his shoulder, my leg folded as he grips my hip with one hand and finger-
fucks me harder with the other. I'm mindless with need, so close to the edge
that I can't think straight. All I know is that when he looks up at me with
that possessive, golden-eyed stare as he licks my clit, it does something to
me.
When he makes that purring sound in his throat again, I feel it against
my clit, and it's enough to send me over the edge. I explode with a scream,
working frantically against his mouth. He thrusts his fingers into me harder,
his actions rough, and it feels so damn good it just adds to the pleasure of it
all. I keep crying out, my thighs locking around his head as I come, my
muscles clenched with the force of my orgasm, and I curl over on my side,
dragging him with me because he won't stop licking me.
I'm panting as I come back to reality, vaguely aware that I've still got his
head between my thighs, his tongue dragging over my sensitized skin as he
laps up every drop of my arousal. He's on his side—I am, too—and seems
to be in no hurry to move, which is weird considering I've got him in a
chokehold between my thighs. I immediately squirm away, freeing him.
"Oh god, sorry."
Mhal makes a sound of protest as his hand slides out of my pussy with
an embarrassingly wet sound—god, how wet am I? He sits up, his skin
flushed and damp as he gazes at me, his eyes pure, rich gold.
And the look he gives me makes me blush.
 He didn't come. That much is obvious as he prowls toward me again,
then nuzzles at my neck. His cock is standing at attention, and when he
pushes me onto my back again, I get an up-close view of him, and the beads
of wetness that slick his length. Curious, I reach out and touch one—and it's
like touching hot grease. It burns my fingers and I hiss, immediately wiping
them on the blanket.
Mhal growls low in his throat, settling his weight over me.
Oh no. We are not doing that if his dick is going to burn me alive. With
a worried little squeak, I slither out from under him and then roll away. I
immediately get to my feet, flustered. My knees are weak and it's hard to
look composed when you just had a dragon-man in a headlock because he
licked the living hell out of you. I brush my frizzy hair back from my face,
but static is making it cling to everything. Annoying. "So we need to ah,
talk, before we move forward."
Mhal gets to his feet, unfurling his body to his full size as he stands
straight and proud, and good gravy, the man is tall. I stare up at him, a little
alarmed. What is he, seven feet? I compare him to Rachel's friend, but he's
got at least a good six inches on him. His shoulders are wide, but his body's
lean and beautiful despite the scars that decorate his skin. His hair's a crazy
mop, though, and when he wipes his wet mouth, I shiver at the hunger on
his face.
Well…I guess I got what I wanted. Mhal is very, very awake now.

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M
MHAL

y female's taste burns through my mind. Jen-nee's scent is in

my nose, her taste on my tongue, and I must have more. She
skitters away from me, shy and uncertain, but I do not stop. I know what
she needs.
She needs my bite and my fires. Then she will be mine in all ways. Our
minds will bond and she will no longer smell of only herself. She will smell
like me, too. She will smell like my mate.
And if I thought her scent was pleasant before, I can hardly wait to
smell ours combined. My mouth waters at the thought.
She shrinks back, but there is no fear-scent on her, only uncertainty.
Good. I do not want her to be afraid. I have shorn my claws for her. I have
shifted into a weaker form for her. Do I not stay in the human hive right
now? For her? I could fly us both away from here and take her someplace
that does not stink, but this place is her home. Until our minds are joined, I
will give in to whatever she needs from me.
"Mhal," she says again, her voice soft. She says my name aloud, and it
sounds…strange. I recognize it as mine now, though. She speaks to me
when she opens her mouth and the noises come out. I do not know why she
chooses not to touch with her mind, but it is another reason why we need
the mating bond. We can get past this primitive need for making noises at
one another and I can feel her thoughts.
And she will feel mine.
I need that desperately. When I am around her I feel…focused. I did not
realize how much I lacked this focus until I tasted her on my lips. Around
her, there is clarity. Without her…
Without her, there is the Salorian.
 I push thoughts of him aside. I will mate her, and she will take my fires.
We will form a mental bond and then I will take her far away from this
place—and from him. We will make a nest together and I will hunt for us
both. She will be safe and protected once she is mine.
Until I claim her as my mate, she is vulnerable.
I hold my hand out, waiting.
She does not hesitate and immediately puts her hand in mine. This
pleases me. Jen-nee knows that she belongs to me. I pull her close, and her
sweet scent envelops us. I breathe deep, feeling anchored and strong. To
think I have been lost in the darkness when my mate was right here,
waiting.
She will wait no longer.
My fangs elongate, heating as they fill with my mating venom. My
fires. My mate gazes up at me, uncertainty in her eyes even as I hold her
against me.
"Arwee dointhisnow?" she asks, a question in her voice.
Do not be afraid, I send to her. I will give you my seed and claim you as
mine, but first you must have my fires. My thoughts disappear into nothing
—my mate does not receive them. She gazes up at me, waiting, and so I
must talk to her like she does to me. "Jen-nee."
The sounds come out garbled against my distended fangs. Her gaze
goes to them and her eyes widen. A tinge of fear appears in her scent.
"Dabite. Rite." She takes a deep breath. "Hokayden."
And my mate closes her eyes, steps closer to me, and tilts her head
back, offering me her throat.
Her bravery pleases me. She is clearly afraid but will not let it stop her.
Her strength makes my cock even harder. Never have I wanted such a
female more. I slide my hand behind her head, cupping her neck, and she
shivers against me. It will hurt but a moment, I promise Jen-nee. And then it
will be so very sweet.
 I lean in, breathing deeply of her scent, and lick the softest spot on her
neck, the place I will bite her. She trembles against me again, but her fear-
scent is less sharp than her arousal, and it makes my fires burn hotter. My
fangs ache with the need to pierce her. I give in to the temptation, unable to
resist any longer. My fangs sink into her tender throat and she sucks in a
breath, sagging against me.
The maddening need to claim her overwhelms me. I sink my fangs
deeper, clutching her against me as my fires pour forth. It is like a river of
hot lava, scalding us both as they sear from my fangs into her bloodstream.
It is a release, so strong that my cock jerks with the force of it, and my seed
spurts from my cock.
She cries out, pulling away, and I realize I am hurting her—burning her.
I cannot let her go, though. If I do, I will tear her throat. I wrap my arms
tighter around her, pinning her against me as I pour more of my fires into
her. It is both agony and ecstasy—the need to hold my release back as well
as the intense pleasure of giving her my fires. Her fingers tighten on my
skin, and then she sags against me, limp.
I panic. My female is not supposed to go limp when I give her my fires,
is she? She is not supposed to slide out of my grasp as if all the bones in her
body have melted? Jen-nee? I try again, pushing hard as I search for her
mind.
For the first time, though, there is a response. Faint, gentle…but it is
there. Jen-nee is there.
I feel as if I can breathe again.
When the last of my fires are spent and my fangs no longer burn, they
retract. I lick my mate's bruised throat, pleased at the sight of the puncture
wounds that even now close over. Her scent is changing, her mind tickling
against my own. I settle down on the floor with my mate cradled in my
arms to wait for her to awaken, and I cannot stop touching her. I caress her
face, her neck, her arms, everywhere I can touch. Her softly rounded belly
is reddened from my seed, and I use the colorful wrap she wore to brush it
off of her. The burns will be gone by the time she awakens—my fires will
make certain of that—but the need to take care of her overwhelms
everything.
When she awakens, we will mate fully and completely, and then she
will be mine. I could push her thighs open and claim her now, while she is
lost to my fires—other drakoni have done so to their mates—but I do not
like the thought. I want Jen-nee looking up at me with her expressive eyes
as I touch her. I want her seeing my face as I sink deep inside her and give
her my seed. I want her to be with me.
So I will wait.
I will wait, and then there are a great many things that must be done to
provide for my mate. I must find a safe place for us to nest. Establish
territory. I must feed her, too. Ensure she is comfortable.
Impregnate her with my child.
Get her far away from the Salorian and the human hive both.
I should get started, I tell myself. Jen-nee might be sleeping for hours
while our bond forms. I can hunt for her. Scout the area, now that I am in a
clearer mindset. I do not move, though. I find I cannot leave Jen-nee's side.
Instead, I brush my fingers over her cheek, touching my mind to hers over
and over again to reassure myself it is not a dream.
That I do feel her, faint but growing stronger.
That I am no longer alone in this nightmare world. I have my mate at
my side.

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I
JENNY

t's…noisy.
I wake up, disoriented, and open my eyes. At least…I
thought it was noisy? I was sleeping—no dreams, oddly enough—but there
was a constant voice in my ear, loud and insistent, and it's what woke me
up. But when I open my eyes, I see Mhal leaning over me, and the old
warehouse is utterly silent.
In fact, it's so quiet I can hear water dripping somewhere.
I blink up at him, and Mhal smiles. The expression is somewhat feral,
but I'm pleased to see that his fangs are normal-sized once more, not the
massive, terrifying saber-tooth-like monsters they were when he bit me. His
smile is surprisingly charming for a mouth full of fangs—the tip of one is
broken off, giving him a bit of a roguish look.
Finally, booms that voice in my head. You are awake. Good. We will
mate now.
I lift a finger, licking my dry lips. "I'm sorry, one moment. What did you
say?"
My cock aches for you, Jen-nee. I ache for you. Let us mate and I will
give you my seed. His shorn claws dance lightly over my skin, and he traces
my lips. I want you to smell like me.
Well, that is definitely a strong sort of greeting. "Hello to you, too. How
are we talking if your lips aren't moving?"
Our minds are connected.
I stare at his lips, because they really are quite amazing lips. Thin lips,
yes, but perfectly sculpted lips, too. Lips that aren't moving when he speaks.
It takes me a moment to grasp this, because it's so absurd to see and
experience. The mental bond, he says. Right. The thing I've been trying to
establish with him.
You want my lips to move? He gives me an utterly arrogant look that
seems familiar, even though his face is new to me. This will make you
somehow believe that I am speaking to you? How long do they need to
move for? He pulls my hand up to his mouth and rubs his lips on my skin.
Will this do?
"That's…pretty good." My voice cracks with nervousness.
Why are you nervous? I will be gentle. Can we mate now?
"You're really forward, you know that?"
I know what I want. You wanted a mental bond with me, yes? I can feel
it in your thoughts. Our bond will fade if we do not mate. It will grow
weaker by the day and then I will be lost again. His thoughts—as loud as
my own—suddenly darken. I would not like that.
I wouldn't like it, either. I stare up at Mhal, fascinated. I can see his face,
so I know I'm not dreaming. His lean, arrogant features, with a tiny scar
under one nostril and another on his brow. The high cheekbones and deep-
set, expressive golden eyes. "I'm open to mating, for the record. I just…I
haven't done it before. If I seem a little reluctant, that's why. It's not you."
I know this.
So smug. "Oh, well, I'm glad we got that all out on the table," I say
sarcastically, and wiggle my way out of his lap.
Or at least, I try to. Mhal locks a hand around my waist and doesn't let
me go. It turns into an impromptu wrestling session—on my side, anyhow.
The more I try to get away, the more Mhal holds onto me, and I can feel his
amusement leaking through my mind. He thinks my antics are funny. That
my attempts to get away are silly fun. I'm glad one of us is having fun, then,
and roll over to try to get out of his grasp.
Immediately, his thoughts flare with arousal the moment he sees my
backside. The feel of it in his mind—and in my mind—is so overwhelming
that I gasp. His need feels like my need, too. I can feel just how hungry he
is for me, and how much he wants to touch me, and it arouses me, too.
A moment later, Mhal's big body covers mine. I press to the concrete
floor, his heavier weight pushing me down as I continue the farce of trying
to escape. Mhal plants a big hand next to my shoulder, and his legs pin
mine to the floor. He leans in and brushes his mouth against my shoulder,
licking my bare skin, and I shudder with hunger.
You think I am arrogant? Perhaps I am. He's amused at my reactions. I
believe in speaking plainly. You are my mate. I want you. I do not care if
you are nervous. I ache to sink inside you and fill you with my cock. His
teeth nip at my skin, and I bite back a moan. You can be nervous, as long as
you are not afraid of me.
"I'm…not afraid," I manage. It's true. Even when he's looming over me
like this, I have no fear of him. Never have. Maybe it's because I can feel
how he thinks of me—his thoughts bleed into my own. I can feel how much
he likes looking at me, how possessive he feels, how adoring. How he's
never dreamed of something as perfect as me as his mate.
I can't be afraid when that litany is going through my head. When I feel
how he feels as if his thoughts are my own.
Why would you be afraid? I adore everything about you. His mouth
trails across my shoulder blade and I stop fighting, because I love the feel of
his lips on my skin. It's not a kiss—more like a tasting. Let me worship my
mate's body. Let me claim you as mine. Let me show you how much I need
you. His tongue grazes a ticklish spot on my back. Let me show you how
much pleasure I can give you.
That decides me. It's not that he wants to give me pleasure—it's that I
can feel in his thoughts just how exciting the thought is to him. Like his
pleasure is secondary to mine. That me coming is far more exciting than his
own climax.
 No woman in her right mind could resist such a thing, and I'm not about
to be the first.
Mhal laughs, and I can feel it rather than hear it. It echoes in my mind,
sweet, dancing amusement. He continues to move down my back, pressing
his lips and tongue to my skin. You are greedy when it comes to me. I like
that. I will give you plenty of my attention, do not worry. We will mate, and
it will be glorious. Then, when you are spent and your cunt is full of my
seed, I will shift to my battle form and we will get far away from here.
Away? "I think I have to stay—"
He interrupts my thoughts by putting his mouth on my buttock and
licking the underside of one cheek. It's such a blatant move—and a
distraction—that I squirm and make a wordless noise that might be protest,
might be encouragement.
It is encouragement, Mhal tells me, all arrogance once more.
Okay, him being in my mind can get kind of annoying. I can't even hide
how I'm feeling when his mouth is on me.
Why would you hide it? As your mate, my duty is to pleasure you,
thoroughly and deeply. If I am not doing something you like, I wish to know.
Did you like it when I licked your cunt? Or did you prefer my fingers?
His question is so blatant as it echoes through my mind that I whimper.
Ah, he says, and answers his own question by picking through my
thoughts. You liked my mouth on your clit. I will remember that. Can I lick
you now? Back here? He eases his weight off of me and lifts my hips off of
the ground, like I'm a doll he's posing for his pleasure…and I let him, like
the shameless thing I am. I can smell how wet you are. You are making my
mouth water. He presses his face against my backside, rubbing his mouth
over my skin. I can lick you until you come again, and then I will claim you.
Yes? Or do you want me to push into you and make you come like that? You
decide.
 His questions come with a mental barrage of images, of me bent under
him, him feeding his cock into me from behind, of him with his mouth
between my thighs and him making the most obscene noises as he tastes
me. It's overwhelming and I can't stop the whimpers I make.
You are having trouble deciding? he teases. My greedy, greedy mate. I
will give you all of it many, many times over. For now, shall I decide, then?
I nod, utterly entranced. My mouth feels glued shut, no words rising to
my throat.
You do not need words with me. I can feel your thoughts. Mhal puts a
heavy hand on the back of my neck, lowering my shoulders even as he
pushes his cock between my spread legs and rubs himself against my folds.
I will not burn you this time. You smell like my fires now, so good and sweet.
Now your body will be ready for mine.
He drags his cock through my folds, and the sensation is breathtaking.
He does it again, thrusting against my body, and when the tip of his cock
rubs against my clit, it sends fierce pleasure barreling through me. I suck in
a breath, closing my eyes, and giving in to the sensations.
Even with my eyes shut, I can “see” everything. Mhal's mind is
broadcasting exactly what he's doing to me, and I'm fascinated by it. He
runs his hands over my backside, one hand with long, deadly claws and the
others shorn. He caresses my skin, fascinated at the way my butt jiggles
when he touches me, but more fascinated with the feel of my cunt against
his cock. I'm so wet, and now my scent is a mixture of his fires and my
sweetness. It's like a drug to his senses, and it overwhelms him with how
good it is.
Mhal pulls back, gazing down at his cock, and it’s wet with my juices
and slick with his own pre-cum. He wants me good and wet because he's so
big and I'm so small. He doesn't want to hurt me. He guides the head of his
cock toward the entrance of my body and then waits, hesitating because he
looks so large against me.
 I moan with need, pressing back against him because the head of him
pushing against my core feels so damn good. It's both invasive and
amazing, and I rock against him, needing more. Please. The thought echoes
in my head so loudly I know he's picked it up. Please, Mhal.
I have you, my mate. I will make you feel good. He guides his cock and
presses it inside me, just a little, rubbing the hardened tip against my
entrance.
I make a disgustingly needy sound, clawing at the floor helplessly.
Oh, I like that sound, Mhal tells me, and he's so smug and arrogant that
it makes me crazy and turns me on at the same time. Shall we see if I can
get you to make it again?
One big hand tightens on my hip and then he pushes inside me. Just a
little. Just an inch or so.
It feels like too much, suddenly. I pant, biting back a whimper of
distress. He feels very…large and I suddenly feel very unready.
You are tight, he agrees, and there's so much strain in his thoughts. His
arrogance is gone, replaced by concern. I will go slow. I promise. I will
make it good.
He rubs my skin, caressing my backside and hips even as his cock
impales me, making me squirm. I'm not entirely sure I like the sensation
now that it's gone over from “tease” to “overload.” I love Mhal's
attentiveness, though. His thoughts turn soothing and possessive, like he's
petting me from the inside out. He tells me how pretty I am, how sweet I
smell, how soft my skin is, how tight my cunt. How much he loves touching
me. How he's dreamed of having a mate as perfect as me. On and on, his
thoughts swirl around me, drowning me in the constant litany of how
amazing I am. Between that and the feel of his hands on my skin, caressing
and petting me, I relax.
Then, Mhal sinks deeper.
 I suck in a breath, expecting it to hurt, for the tightness and the feeling
of “too much” to continue. It doesn't, though; there's an ache and a hint of
burn that's quickly gone, and then I'm just left with fullness and a
breathtaking sensation I've never felt before. Oh. That's…oh. That's really
good.
Mhal groans over me. You are so tight, my fires. You feel amazing. His
hand strokes my backside, his thoughts possessive. I am going to push
deeper now. You can take me.
I can. I'm surprised when I answer him in my head. It feels natural, like
making words aloud is too much effort. Not when he's so deep inside me
and his thoughts are overwhelming mine. I want you all the way inside me,
I tell him. I want you to feel good, too.
He grunts, and then he thrusts deep, his hips smacking against mine. I
gasp, startled at the sharp sensation, but the pinch of it is gone in a moment,
followed by the return of the intense fullness. Mhal pauses over me, his
thoughts pushing against mine as if searching to see how I feel.
I'm okay, I send back.
Good.
He pulls back and then thrusts deep again. Hot lust spirals through my
mind, and I realize how close Mhal is to losing control. He's trying hard for
my sake, wanting to make it good for me, but he's filled with thoughts of
my scent and how amazing I feel and how much he aches with wanting to
spill inside me. His sac is tight, his legs tense, and he thrusts into me again,
and then again, his movements quick and sharp. His hips snap against mine,
and I gasp each time he smacks into me. The force of his body pumping
into mine is startling…and exciting.
I kinda love it.
I fall into the sensations, letting him take over. Or I try to, anyhow. But I
love when he pushes into me hard and fast, and I learn that when I move,
pushing my hips back to meet him, it increases the friction between us and
feels even better. I whimper as he fucks me harder, and I can feel his
determination to make me come. A twinge of guilt hits me because I haven't
yet. Should I come faster? Is there something wrong with me that he feels
good inside me but I'm not exploding like they do in the books Manda
reads? Should I be doing more?
Stop, Mhal demands. Stop worrying. You feel good under me. He rocks
slowly against me, his hands digging into my hips, and I lean into the
motion, loving how it feels. If you cannot come like this, you just need more
encouragement. There is nothing wrong with you. You are perfect.
He leans forward, his hand reaching underneath our joined bodies, and
then I feel his fingertips brush against my clit.
It's like electricity, that single touch. It changes how everything feels.
The moment he touches my clit, everything amplifies. I make a choked
sound, pressing my face to the concrete as he touches my clit then thrusts
deep again. I've gone from enjoyment to on the edge in one stroke, and I
need more. Mhal growls aloud, and the sound just makes me even hotter.
He fucks me hard, and his movements force his hand to rub against my clit
as he does, and I cry out, everything tensing inside me. I'm going to come
again, so damn hard, I realize, panting. It feels so good. So good.
When my orgasm rips through me, I cry out again, the world flaring
with color. Mhal's mind is there, pressing against mine, his thoughts
flooding my own. He loves the ripple of my walls as I come, loves the way
I squeeze him tight, and it sets off a chain reaction. He comes too, his seed
bursting forth as he thrusts wildly into me.
He's giving me his fires all over again, my scent changing. The thought
is filled with intense pride, and I realize it must be Mhal's thoughts bleeding
into my own. Me, I'm having a hard time remembering my own name as he
drills into me, his movements erratic as he works through his orgasm. He
continues to rock into me, his seed spilling down my thighs as he comes. It
feels hot, too, hotter than my skin, but not so hot that I feel as if I'm being
burned alive. Instead, it's a comforting sort of warmth, which is strange to
think about.
Mhal drives into me one last time and then rolls onto his side, taking me
with him. Oh, okay. We're doing that, I guess.
We are.
He wraps his arms around me, his legs twining with mine, and I squirm
a little, because he's still parked inside me. I'm not sure if that's a thing that
is done, or if he's waiting for something.
Perhaps I just like possessing my mate? He nuzzles at my neck. Stop
worrying. Why do you stress over silly things so much?
Because you're a dragon and I'm human? Aside from that, I'm just glad
all of our parts are compatible? And I don't want you to lose your mind
again and I worry something's going to send you over the edge?
I am drakoni, he corrects in that imperious mental tone of his. And I do
not “lose” my mind. It is always mine. It is just that sometimes someone
else sits atop it and smothers my thoughts. His mind goes dark, and instead
of the pleasant waves I feel from his mind, things turn jagged and dark, full
of shadows. Evil Salorian.
"Hey, hey, hey," I say, patting his arm. "This is what I'm talking about.
You falling off the edge on me."
There is no edge. But his thoughts remain as black and jagged as before.
He needs a distraction. Sex is probably my best bet. "Here. Squeeze one
of these." I put his hand on my boob and honk it. "They're fun."
Mhal's thoughts immediately turn lighter and confused, but he strokes
my breast, and when his fingertips glide over my nipple, my body clenches
in response. That gets his attention, and then his thoughts are flowing like
gentle waves again. Have I not touched these yet?
"Nope, and they are sorely feeling the lack." He teases my nipple and I
squirm, because it's making me ache right in my core. My slightly sore, still
occupied, very happy core.
 I shall make that up to them next time. His tongue grazes my neck and
then moves up to my ear. For now, you should rest. Are you hungry?
Thirsty? What do you need from your mate?
His thoughts press against mine again, eager to please, and it's a little
distracting. That, and the fact that he's utterly entwined around me. If I were
a different sort, this level of connection with another person might freak me
out. But I've been alone for so long that I love his attention. I want to bask
in it. I want this in my head constantly, because it makes me feel safe. It
makes me feel comfortable.
I'm no longer alone, no longer left behind.
You are mine, Mhal agrees. You belong to me and I belong to you. His
hand moves over my breast. I will protect you, and you will keep me
anchored in this disastrous world of yours.
That doesn't sound so bad to me. I snuggle back against him, because
he's warmth personified. I thought that when he shifted forms, he'd feel
scaly and hard like he does in his dragon form, but his skin feels like
normal skin. He's got some spikes on the backs of his arms and legs that I'll
need to learn to avoid, but he's also deliciously warm, and when he presses
up against me like this, I never want to move again.
Sure, we're lying on cold, uncomfortable concrete, but in the scheme of
things, it seems like a small problem.
Mhal's thoughts suddenly turn dark again. There's a hard press against
his mind, and then…tension. I feel it, and judging by the way Mhal makes a
choked sound aloud, he feels it, too.
I pat the hand over my breast, worried. "What is it?"
The Salorian. His thoughts are strained. He is trying to take my mind
again. He tries to push you away.
"What?" I struggle to sit up. What is Azar up to now?
The moment his name crosses my mind, Mhal's thoughts go black. It's
like a record scratch, how quickly he moves from calm and sated to utter
madness. Wild, jumbled anger floods into my mind and I'm dumped on the
floor as Mhal gets to his feet. I look up at him, and he's wild-eyed, his gaze
black as night. I don't feel “Mhal” there in his thoughts, either. They're
empty echoes full of anger and not much else.
The chain on the door rattles, and the-dragon-that-was-Mhal picks up
the scents of strangers.
Mate.
Must protect mate.
Must keep her safe.
A moment later, my vision is flooded with golden scales as Mhal shifts
to dragon form. He snatches me up in his clawed grip, pressing me against
his scaled breast, and flings himself into the air, flying out of the enormous
hole in the ceiling of the warehouse and taking to the skies.
Must protect.
"Mhal?" I call out, worried.
There is no answer in his mind.

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MHAL

he scents of enemies are all around us.

The stench of them stirs my frenzied thoughts, makes me
push harder to get away. I fly higher, beating my wings as hard as I can,
determined to ensure my mate is safe. I need to get her away from here. I
need to find safe territory. If there is no territory to be found, then I must
take some from another male. The scent of other drakoni males is on the
wind, and I automatically circle, attuning my senses to seek the direction
with the fewest scents.
I am not afraid to challenge another male for territory, but with my
fragile mate in my claws, I cannot. I must get her to safety first.
Protecting my mate is everything.
Um, Mhal?
The sweet voice drifts through my chaotic thoughts. I am confused.
Who are you?
Your mate? Jenny? Remember? Are you okay? A small, cool hand
touches my claws.
I look down and realize I am holding her—Jenny—and she is gazing up
at me with concern. She is…human. This surprises me. You are my mate?
Dude. We literally just had sex on the floor. You don't remember?
She sounds hurt. I search my thoughts, but all I find is more worry and
fear. Worry that she will be taken from me. Worry that another will claim
her. I must find us a nest. I must keep her safe. If my mate is human—and it
seems she is—I must fight all the harder to keep her safe. Humans are
fragile things.
You don't remember that I'm human? Are you…okay? You seemed better
earlier but now I'm worried. She pats my scales. Put me down and let's talk,
all right?
No. There is too much danger. We must get away.
But—
I push her out of my thoughts, just like I push out the other males that
try to touch minds with me. They are trying to let me know I am in their
territory, but I do not want to confront them. I simply want to leave. I am in
battle form, but my mate is not. She is vulnerable, and so she must be the
priority.
Her thoughts flare with frustration, but I force myself to ignore it. It
pains me, but she will understand later, when she is safe in her nest.
I fly onward, past the cluster of old, broken rocks and stone that is the
human hive. Farther out, the scents of other dragons are less distinct, and
when there are no fresh scents on the breeze, I dive lower and scan for a
suitable nest. Something defensible. Something with high sides, like a cliff
of some kind, though I do not see one. This area is flat, with more small,
squat buildings and some trees growing up through the hard rock surfaces
that are covered with the strange metal squares.
A hand hammers at my claws. Am I squeezing too hard? I loosen my
grip on my mate and look down at her.
Oh. She is human.
This surprises me. I nuzzle at her small head, drinking in her scent. She
is mine, though. She smells of my fires and of our recent mating. I like this.
She is soft and pleasant, my little mate. She—
My sweet little mate hammers her small fist on my scales again,
pointing. She gestures at some of the structures below, but they are not
defensible. They are square and flat and stink of humans. I veer away, as
they are not good nests, and then I see it.
A promising nest in the sky made of metal, shaped a bit like a thin
mushroom. I take her toward it, flapping my wings with excitement. When I
land atop the nest I have chosen and breathe in the air, I am pleased. There
are no scents of humans, and no other dragons. There is no cave atop this
strange structure, but it is high up and no one will be able to take my mate
unless they come through me first.
I am pleased.
I land on the flat portion of the “mushroom” head and set my mate
gently down. This is our nest, I tell her proudly.
Her angry thoughts flood into mine. Take me down, right now.
No.
Her thoughts grow stubborn. Then change, Mhal. I can't talk to you
when you're like this.
Like what?
A dragon? She gestures angrily at me. We are so high up that her scent
rips away from me on the wind, her hair flying into her face. She pushes at
it, scowling in my direction through the strands, and I lift one wing to
protect her from the breeze. Change to human form.
Human? My thoughts curl with disdain. I have no human form.
Really? Then who was that fucking me a few hours ago? Her thoughts
are flustered and a mental image of me mounted atop her flits through her
mind.
Ah. You mean my two-legged form. I do have one of those.
Two-legged. Whatever! Just change, please.
I lower my head and nuzzle at her. Because you wish to mate again?
Yes, sure. Whatever gets you to change. She pats my nose. Please, Mhal.
Just…change? For me?
I like her scent. It surprises me all the time, this scent. Is it possible for a
creature to smell as good as she does? Because I love it. I love breathing her
in and scenting the notes of her arousal mixed with mine, of her scent
turning with my fires to something brighter, something deeper. I could
breathe her in for days, just hold her close and drown myself in her scent.
She—
 My mate grabs me by the nose and stares at me, hard. Mhal. Change?
Don't you want to mate?
I do not smell her arousal, but her entreaty is enough for me to shift
over. With a thought, I shift forms, letting my body ripple over to my
weaker, two-legged form, the one that she prefers.
The moment I do, she flings her arms around me and holds me close.

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JENNY

his…is a problem.
I cling to Mhal, now that he's back in his human—or two-
legged—form, because I never want him to shift again. Something's wrong
when he does. He forgets me. He forgets that I'm human. He forgets
everything. And he shuts me out.
It's like the moment he goes to dragon form, he becomes totally feral
and I have to start from scratch.
A big hand strokes my hair as I hold onto him. You are so worried. I am
fine. He seems amused by my fear. Am I not whole? Did I not bring us to a
safe place?
I pull back, gazing up at him with wariness. "What's my name?"
You are my Jenny. His gaze roams over me possessively, his eyes gold
with just a hint of black. My mate. The one I have given my fires to.
I let out a sigh of relief. Thank god. One crisis averted.
Do you still wish to mate? He moves closer to me, reaching for my
breast, and touches my nipple. I promised to play with these.
I squirm away. "Not to be a tease, but I'm a little preoccupied at the
moment. We can have sex soon."
How soon? His thoughts are insistent. I want to touch you.
"As soon as I figure out what we're doing and how we get down from
here." I take a few steps away from him, judging our surroundings.
Get down? Leave? We just got here. He is full of amusement.
Me, I'm not so amused. I didn't recognize this building until he landed
us atop it, and I can't believe this is our new 'home'. I know this place. It's
not really a building—it's an old metal oil derrick in an amusement park
with a big walkway at the top. There's an elevator that goes down to the
ground, and we must be at least ten or fifteen stories into the air. I move to
the railing, the high breeze whipping at my hair and skin, and look down
below us. The remnants of the old amusement park are spread out below.
There's a wooden rollercoaster that's collapsed in on itself, and nearby a
ride that looks like a Ferris wheel on its side. The paths are all overgrown,
the plants having taken over everything, and there's litter and trash and dead
leaves as far as the eye can see, mixed in with the colorful signs and
abandoned snack booths.
Why couldn't we have stopped at the mall I pointed out instead? I turn
and look at my surroundings. Other than the railing-protected walkway and
a few telescopes that let me look out over the city, there's nothing up here.
There's not even a bathroom.
It is a fine nest, Mhal tells me proudly. Very defensible.
"It has no bathroom. It has no shelter. We have no food, no water." I'm
trying not to yell at him, but this place only works for him, and he doesn't
remember me when he's in dragon form. "Mhal, I can't get down. The
elevator doesn't work after all this time and even if it did, I wouldn't trust it.
I'm stuck up here unless you shift and take me back down again."
And you do not trust me to do so? His thoughts are accusing.
"You don't even remember my name when you're in dragon form," I
point out. "We should go back to Fort Dallas."
His thoughts flare with anger, his jaw clenching. The Salorian's hive?
No. Never. You are not safe there.
"He doesn't want me dead—"
He takes over my mind because it suits him. He enslaved me. Why
would I ever go back? Why would you?
I'm silent. He has a point. Fort Dallas is just a place. It's not even one
I'm particularly fond of. Cities are different in the After. They're not full of
friendly faces or neighbors helping each other out. Everyone's out for
themselves. But…I do have friends there. And it's familiar to me, which
makes it comfortable.
And Azar made it sound like he needed us for something. I'm not his
friend, and I don't care about his panty program other than that it feeds my
friends, but I can't help but wonder what his big plan is and how it involves
women mating dragons.
That is simple. Mhal's tone is short, his expression imperious. He stalks
toward me like I'm his prey. He wants an army in this world as he did in the
last one. If he cannot control as many dragons here as he did back in our
world, he will control them through you by forcing you to do his bidding.
I swallow hard, crossing my arms. He's…not wrong. "I have friends
there, though."
Would they risk their lives for you? Because you are risking yours by
returning. He touches my cheek, his fingers gentle even as his eyes flare
with black. You risk yours and I will not do that. You belong to me, and I
belong to you.
I stare up at him, fascinated at the loving support in his gaze. He won't
risk me. He won't let me risk me. The thought is a humbling one. I know
without me, he's doomed to be back under Azar's control—or attacking
cities like the other wild dragons do. He needs me, too. I need to put him
above the needs of my friends, like Bethany and Manda.
Manda has Daniels to look after her. Bethany…well. I can try to look
after Bethany as much as I can, but I can only do so much when she
chooses to stay with her useless husband that beats her and steals her
money.
That is right, Mhal encourages. Stay with me instead. I will never beat
you and I will only give you orgasms.
I giggle despite myself. How am I supposed to argue with that?
You cannot, which is why I use it to convince you. He gives me another
one of his rare smiles, flashing that chipped fang. It fades just as quickly as
it arrived, and his expression grows serious as he gazes at me. Stay with me.
Please. I am lost without you.
His fervent thoughts make me feel shy. "We just met," I murmur,
pushing my wind-blown hair back behind my ears again. It's so windy that
the air rips at my bare skin and drowns out my voice, but I know he hears
me, because he hears my thoughts. "It's just a lot to process all at once,
Mhal."
I know. I can feel your thoughts. He brushes his knuckles along my jaw,
gazing at me. You are torn. You wish to be loyal to your friends but you
have no loyalty to the Salorian. That I am glad of, at least. But I cannot go
back there. If I do, he will seek to enslave me.
I nod slowly, thinking of his gray-eyed, blank stare. Of the intense
pressure I felt in his head when Azar tried to take over again. I can't
imagine what a nightmare it is to know someone's had control of your body
and you can't do anything about it. I won't let that happen to him again, no
matter how I feel about my friends. I reach up and take his hand in mine.
"Then we don't go back, Mhal. It's that simple."
Warmth spreads through my mind. Good. Then it is decided.
"Mostly decided?" I nod at our surroundings. My hair is constantly
whipping around my head, and I suspect it'll be a permanent tangle before
long. Add in the fact that the wind never stops and I have no clothing? My
skin is pebbled with goosebumps. "I don't want to stay up here."
Here is safest, he tells me stubbornly.
"This isn't a home. It's not comfortable for me."
I will make it comfortable. Tell me what you need.
Immediately a dozen things flash through my mind. A mattress.
Bedding. A pillow. Something to protect me from the rain. Blankets. Food.
Water. Clothing. And that's just for starters. We need everything.
We will get that, he reassures me. All of it. And then we will come up
here and make this our home.
 A home. I look around. It's not my favorite place, but it's safe. Maybe it
can work.
I will make it work, he promises. I will give you everything.
How can I refuse?

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MHAL

ow that we have established our nest, I want nothing more than

to take my mate in my arms and taste her again. Claim her
again. I am hungry to touch her, but her thoughts are worried and full of
distress. She is cold, the high wind tearing at her. She wants coverings and
somewhere soft to sit down. She is hungry and thirsty, and none of these
things can be solved while we are up in our nest.
Thoughts of mating and exploring each other must be put aside until my
mate is comfortable. You are hungry? Thirsty? Shall I hunt and bring you
something back?
Her thoughts immediately become distressed. Jenny turns to me, putting
her hands on my chest and shaking her head. "No, don't leave me up here!"
It would only be for a short time. I would come back.
She is unconvinced. You forget my name when you shift forms. How do I
know you won't forget me and I'll starve to death up here? There's no way
for me to get down. She frets, her hands brushing over my skin. If you shift,
you have to take me with you.
I cannot hunt with you in my claws. It would be dangerous for you. My
fire breath would catch in the wind and burn your soft hair. I touch one lock
and it clings to my skin, wrapping around my fingers as if it belongs to me.
The shorn claws of my one hand look strange, too, but I do not regret them.
I would shear all my claws and hunt with my jaws and fire if it meant that
my mate is safer.
Jen-nee—no, she thinks of herself as Jenny, I realize—gazes up at me,
her eyes pleading. There's an entire theme park spread out below us. Let's
go see what we can find down there? Then if we can't find anything, you
can go hunting. But let's try it my way first?
 Very well, are you ready? I pull her against me and nuzzle at her throat,
burying my face in her scent.
"You'll remember who I am?" she asks.
Of course. You are my mate. You smell of my fires.
She gives me a skeptical look.
Trust me.
Jenny hesitates, and then nods, taking a step back. "Okay. You shift and
then pick me up, and let's go down to the ground."
I release her, waiting until she backtracks enough that I will not knock
her over when I shift to my larger battle form. She seems very small up
here, her wild hair ripping about her head as the wind tears at us. I will not
forget her. She is beautiful and perfect, my soft, lovely Jenny. She can trust
me. The knowledge of her is etched into my spirit, like my own name.
"You don't remember that when you shift, either," Jenny calls out
helpfully, picking up on my thoughts.
I will this time. I am your mate. It will all be different now. I promise.
My thoughts are in perfect order. I am clear-headed and strong. I am no
longer lost. I give her a confident look. Watch and see.

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JENNY

The moment Mhal shifts forms, his eyes turn black. He takes to the skies,
roaring, and darts away.
I let out a sigh, my hands on my hips.
Well, shit. He's forgotten me.
Immediately, the dragon veers back toward the old oil derrick. He roosts
atop the broken elevator and lowers his head to glare down at me. His
nostrils flare, and I know he's picking up my scent.
"Hi, Mhal. Remember me?" I offer, determined not to get offended.
There's something wrong with his memory. It's like the moment he becomes
a dragon, he forgets the basics. He's mentioned that this world is awful, that
something is wrong with his head here, so it must be related. No sense in
getting upset. I wave up at him, my thoughts firmly cheerful. "I'm your
mate. If you pick me up, you can smell yourself all over me."
Hot suspicion creeps through his mind. He smells his scent on me, but it
is mixed with human.
"Come on, Mhal," I say encouragingly, and cup my breasts. "Take me
down from here and I'll let you lick me all over. Then you'll know I'm your
mate, Jenny." I deliberately say our names, trying to jog his memory.
What is down below? His thoughts are suspicious.
"We were going to look for food and supplies. Some clothing.” I stroke
my hands over my skin. I'm not a natural with the whole seduction thing—
in fact, I feel just a hint ridiculous. But he's attuned to scent, especially to
arousal. If there's anything that will get him back in his head, that will.
So I touch my nipples, squeezing them and thinking about how deep
inside me he was just a short time ago, how big he felt when he'd covered
me…
 The dragon lifts off from the top of the oil derrick and swoops down
toward me. I raise my hands into the air automatically, but the claws that
wrap around me are startlingly gentle, and the mind that touches mine is
offended.
If you are truly my mate, why would you think I would harm you?
"Habit?" I offer back even as he flaps his wings and moves higher. "I'm
not used to enormous dragons flying down and grabbing me." His claws are
tight around me, locking me in place against his warm chest, but my legs
dangle free, and I have to admit, it's a little disconcerting. When he flies
higher, I pat his scales as if that will get his attention. "Can we go down and
not up?"
His thoughts seethe at my impunity. How dare a human tell him how to
fly?
"I'm your mate," I remind him. "That's the only reason I dare."
Immediately, his thoughts soften. He changes the angle of his wings and
pulls me closer to his head so he can breathe in my scent. Warmth rushes
through him, and I know he knows I'm telling the truth now. What is your
name again?
"Jenny." I reach out and stroke his neck, my fingers skimming along his
throat. "I'm Jenny. And I want to go down."
He acknowledges my request with a silent affirmation and pulls me
closer to him even as he shifts his weight, gliding downward. What is down
here that is so important?
"I don't know, but I want to see if there's anything worth taking. And I
want you in your two-legged form again." My voice gets lost on the breeze,
but I prefer hearing my words aloud rather than having him grab them out
of my thoughts. It's too confusing otherwise. "You'll remember me when
you shift."
There's a hint of suspicion in his thoughts, as if he doesn't quite believe
my claim. It quickly gives way to lust, though. And then we will mate
again?
Hot lust flares through my mind, some his and some mine. I can't help
but think about how it felt to have him inside me, how hard I came as he
worked my body skillfully. I'm a little sore, but that seems insignificant in
the face of so much pleasure. "We can, sure." I can feel myself blushing. "If
you want."
I will always want.
The big dragon skillfully glides down, and amidst the trees, I see the
jumble of old buildings. Some are old food booths, long abandoned, and
souvenir shops. There's abandoned, rusting tracks from old rides mixed in
with the overgrown greenery, and I'm immediately transported back into my
memories, of coming here with Mom and Dad for my birthday as a kid.
We'd eaten ice cream and ridden every rollercoaster, and it was the best day
ever.
Now I'm returning without my father, and my mother is long gone.
Sadness hits me.
I do not like your sadness, Mhal demands. You will stop this at once.
"I wasn't planning on being sad." I wipe sudden tears from my eyes,
feeling a little stupid to be crying over rollercoasters. "It just kinda hit me."
We will go somewhere else, then—
"No," I say immediately. "I want to go here." More than that, I want him
to shift back as quickly as possible. He's reasonable like this but he's not
quite my Mhal. It's not quite the same when he doesn't remember who I am
or what I am to him.
I am trying. It is difficult. There is a lot of…noise in my head. Flashes
leak from his mind into mine, of chaos and shadows, of things that make no
sense and mental images that distract but offer no comprehension. It's like
someone's flipping a channel on him as fast as possible, overwhelming him
with what's being presented.
It's noise.
 No wonder he gets disoriented like this. I lean inward, trying to press
my skin to his scales, guilty. "I know you're trying, Mhal. It's not your fault.
I'm sorry if I made it seem that way."
It is all right. Where should I land? He projects a view of the world
below us into my head, just in case I can't see what he sees. You decide.
I point to a clear area that looks like an old pavilion, with plenty of
room for him to land without crushing anything. "That's as good a spot as
any." I pet his scales again as he circles lower. "Thank you, Mhal."
Is…that my name? It does not feel familiar.
"It is. I promise."
Interesting. It is very…short. His thoughts are full of dismay.
"It's not an insult. That is just the part you remember. I'm sure the full
name is excessively long and proud." And then I blush, because saying that
automatically makes me think of other parts of him that are excessively
long and proud.
His mind fills with pleasure. You like my body? Good. I like yours, too.
Annnnd this is the awkward part of sharing brain-space with a dragon.
Mhal has very few boundaries, no matter his form. He doesn't care if he
makes me feel shy or not. He just says it and reads my reactions.
What is wrong with that?
"Nothing. Nothing at all."
You say that but your thoughts indicate otherwise. His mind floods with
amusement. I did not speak of how pretty or tasty I found your cunt. Or how
much I enjoyed the noises you made. Would you rather me not speak at all?
Oh sure, he remembers that. Figures. "Let's just set down," I tell him,
blushing. "And once we do, will you change back for me?"
Of course. I am eager to mate again.
So direct. Dang. Of course, I'm kind of eager, too. Just thinking about
all of that mind-blowing sensation and how he touched me, how focused he
was on my pleasure, yeah…I'm definitely ready to mate again, too. Is this
what it's like to be mated to a dragon? A constant hunger for more intense
sex mixed with the awkwardness of sharing your every thought? I suddenly
wish Rachel was here to ask. Rachel doesn't seem like the type to get shy,
though. She was born giving no fucks, or so it always seemed to me.
There is no need to be shy around me. Mhal lands gently on the ground,
and despite his enormous form, makes no more than a light thump as his
feet touch the concrete. We are bonded. What is there to be shy about?
Plenty, I'm sure. But I come from a world where no one trusts anyone
any longer. To share minds with someone—even a dragon—feels raw and
more open than I can express.
I see. He uncurls his claws, releasing me, and I delicately place my feet
on the concrete. It's warmer here, away from the constantly tearing wind,
and I let out a sigh of relief even as I rub my arms. It feels strange to stand,
completely naked, in the center of a cluster of buildings. This part of the
amusement park was meant to look like an old-fashioned street, and I can't
help but wonder if someone's inside one of the buildings, looking out at us
and wondering why a crazy naked lady is with a dragon.
No one is around, Mhal tells me. I scent no one but you on the air. This
area has been long abandoned. Does that make you feel better? His big
head pushes against me, nudging me with his snout. I would not take you
someplace that is not safe.
I look around, then nod. "If you're sure, I'll try not to panic too much
about being naked, though my sunburn is going to be heinous if we don't
figure out something to wear soon." I glance over my shoulder and smile up
at his draconic form. I'm getting used to his enormous size so it doesn't
alarm me when I see his gigantic head looming over me. His eyes are
mostly gold, so I'm going to take that as a good sign and run with it. "Are
you going to change now?"
The big head lowers and he rubs his muzzle against my hair. Change?
 "Into your…other form?" I try to phrase it delicately since he doesn't
like being referred to as human.
Ah yes. You are eager for mating, are you not? The big head rubs
against my hair one last time and then disappears, the air feeling hollow
behind me. Before I can turn, warm arms wrap around my waist and then
I'm pulled back against Mhal's human form. He holds me close, licking my
shoulder, and then presses his cock against my backside. I am just as eager
as you.

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MHAL

y mate always acts ever-so-slightly surprised when I touch

her, as if she is not expecting my caresses. I find this
fascinating. She is soft all over, her scent delicate and intriguing. Why
would I deprive myself of touching her? I enjoy it. I love nothing more than
her arousal scent. I want it filling my senses, always.
Jenny puts her hand over mine, touching me. "It's not that I'm surprised.
It's that…" She pauses, thinking. "Well, no, I guess I am surprised. It's been
so long since anyone held me that I've forgotten how good it feels." Her
thoughts drift to her family. Even when she was with her father, he wasn't
demonstrative. Her mother was the hugger, the affectionate one. Her father
was always the stoic protector. In the After, he was cautious with showing
too much in front of others. Jenny didn't realize how badly she needed
touches until I arrived.
I will give you all the touches you need, and more.
Her breasts brush against my arm as I hold her against me, and I
remember that she said that she likes for them to be played with. I reach out
and run my fingers over one nipple, like she did, and I am rewarded with a
loud gasp and a surge of desire in her thoughts.
"Oh. You…" She leans back against me, giving in to my touches. "I
thought we were going to go hunting for…things." Her thoughts are
distracted, her focus on my touch as the tip of her breast hardens under my
caresses. It fills her with all kinds of needs, my hands on her breasts, and
she wants more, even though she thinks she should not.
We will hunt soon. Right now I would rather we mate. I turn her in my
arms, because I want to see her face. She gazes up at me, her dark eyes
wide with excitement, her heart fluttering in her chest. The faint scent of her
arousal blooms on the air, and then she gazes at my mouth.
I do not understand why, so I pry deeper into her thoughts, and discover
images instead. Images of us…our lips brushing, our tongues twined.
Kissing.
Jenny wants to kiss. She wants me to put my mouth on hers, to lick her
there, to tangle our tongues together. She wants us to taste one another.
Her mind flares against mine. She realizes that I have never done such a
thing. Never thought of such a thing. "Mhal. We don't have to—"
I look at her mouth, soft and pink and full, her lips inviting, and I put
my hands on the sides of her face and lower my face to hers.
She goes still the moment I do.
I pull back, not liking that reaction. In her head, it was very passionate,
but when I do it now, she stiffens against me. Did I do it wrong? Is it my
fangs?
"No, no." Her gaze slides to my lips again. "I just haven't done it
before." She is ashamed that she does not know how it is done. She has
only seen it happen in movies and television, and it always looks so natural.
She does not know how to kiss me, though. When the Rift happened, she
was thirteen and had never had a boyfriend. After that, her father was so
protective and the world was so dangerous that she never even tried to kiss
anyone.
I pluck these thoughts from her head, because I do not understand why
she is unhappy that she has no experience.
"I can't exactly demand kisses when I've never done it either."
But you have seen it done, I respond. And you want to try it?
"Is that weird?" Her cheeks hurt with embarrassment.
Nothing between us is weird. Everything is pleasure. Even if we do it
wrong, I will enjoy it because I will get to lick and taste my pretty mate. I
rub my lips against hers lightly. If we enjoy ourselves, I think we should do
it.
She smiles up at me, her eyes dark. "You make it sound so easy."
It is easy. Fighting my way free of the Salorian's control is hard. Putting
my mouth on my mate? That is a pleasure. I run my nose along hers,
breathing in her scent. Hers is a fine scent, a mix of human things and the
sweat and musk that is uniquely hers. I could breathe it in all day long,
every day, and never grow tired of it. There would always be new nuances
to discover, and to see if her scent changed when my tongue was upon her
skin.
Is this what having a mate is? Being endlessly fascinated by their scent
and their body until you lose yourself? If so, I can see the attraction.
Jenny puts her hands on my chest, her fingers light against my skin. "If
we do something you don't like, you'll say so, right?"
Of course. But I will like it.
Her gaze slides to my lips again, and hers part. She leans in, and I sense
she wants us to meet. I oblige, moving forward so that she can easily reach
my lips as I am much taller. Jenny's hands curl at the base of my neck and
then her lips are on mine.
She kisses me with gentle, delicate little nibbles, as if exploring my face
with her lips. I hold still, not wanting to interrupt. I want her to do with me
as she likes. I want her to start realizing that she can do anything to me, and
I will enjoy it, because it pleases my mate. Her lips feather over mine in
light nips, and I can feel her confidence blooming. She likes this. Likes that
my lips are soft under hers but also firm. She likes that she finds my breath
sweet and my skin warm. She likes all of this, and she wants to do more.
I am yours, I tell her. Do as you like.
Her thoughts grow flustered as she realizes I am picking up her
emotions through our connection. She forgets this so easily. Soon it will be
second nature to her, but for now, I like her blushes and her innocence.
Jenny kisses my upper lip, and then flicks her tongue against my skin.
Heat flares through my body, and I grip her tighter, despite my resolve. I
like her tongue. A lot.
You taste like…me. Her thoughts thread through mine, a bright shimmer
in my mind.
Because I licked you earlier, I point out. It is my favorite taste.
A hint of a blush returns to her thoughts, but it is quickly overshadowed
by arousal. She likes that I taste like her. She likes the memory of my mouth
on her body, because it felt so good. She wants to do that again, too. Good,
because I have plans to take her over and over again, until she reeks of my
scent and there will be no doubt in anyone's eyes that she is thoroughly
owned by me.
She sucks in a breath as my thoughts drift over to hers, and she opens
her eyes. Jenny gazes up at me, her mouth soft, lips parted, and then she
glances around.
What is it? I ask, curious.
"We should find somewhere private down here." Her thoughts indicate
it is for mating.
Pleasure spikes through me and I take her hand when she walks away.
We can go back up to our nest—
"No," she says quickly, turning to look at me with an alarmed gaze.
"No, you stay with me. Like this. Don't shift." She squeezes my hand in
hers. "Please."
I shrug, following behind her as she heads toward the nearest human
building. If she wishes to mate down here, I will not say no. What is wrong
with where we are?
"I'm not going to have sex in the middle of the sidewalk!" Her thoughts
indicate that this is an open-air space where humans wander freely, and she
is horrified at the thought. She wants us to have somewhere private. She
wants us to be alone together.
But no one is here. I would smell them.
"It doesn't matter," Jenny insists. "I'm not having sex out in the open.
What if…what if one of your people flew overhead?" She is scandalized.
He would see me thoroughly pleasing my mate.
Nope, Jenny sends back immediately.
I am amused. My sweet, soft, pliant mate is very firm when it comes to
this idea. I will show you that it can be a great deal of fun to mate where
others can see…but not today.
"Or ever," she sends back, leading me to a rotting building. It smells of
old wood and mildew, but the look she gives it is thoughtful. "The roof here
doesn't look too bad. Should we go inside?"
I push ahead of her, not liking that she is taking the lead. Jenny is
vulnerable, unlike me. It is my duty to be in front, to shield her with my
own frame if necessary. Let me check it out first.
"Okay." Jenny moves to the side of a wooden panel with holes in it. A
door, I pick up from her thoughts. A door that once had glass in it. This
looks…oddly familiar to me. My people live in caves, in nests high in the
cliffs.
Salorians have doors, though. They live in square, rock homes built in
unnatural shapes and they have doors…
With an angry growl, I grab the door and rip it free, tossing it aside.
Jenny lets out a squeak of terror. "What the fuck, Mhal?"
It offends me. It is unnecessary.
"It keeps things out! What if we wanted to stay down here?" She is
displeased at my reaction. I pick up from her thoughts that she likes the
building, that it has held together well despite the neglect, and the roof is
intact. She sees it as a potential home for us…
We already have a nest, I send back to her. I do not want this place.
 "Okay, fine! Jesus." She's hurt by my reaction, because she does not
understand it.
Of course she would not. She has never been possessed by a Salorian.
My anger burns brighter. She does not know what it is like to have your
mind stripped away, to have your body forced to react to another's wishes.
She does not know what it is like for her people to be enslaved around her,
yet forced to ignore it, because duty as a Queen's Guard demands it. She
does not—
"Mhal," Jenny says. Her voice is quiet, the hand she puts on my arm
cool and appealing. "I can hear everything you're thinking. I didn't realize it
triggered you. Let's just leave it alone, all right? If it bothers you, we'll
avoid buildings with doors in the future." Her thoughts are contrite; she did
not realize I was offended. "I just don't like destroying more stuff, that's all.
So much of what's left is already trashed. It seems a shame to tear apart
more."
She likes this building, I realize suddenly, because of how “whole” it
looks in her eyes. How normal. It makes her think of happier times.
Now I am the churlish mate. I step inside and take a quick glance
around. No intruders. There is dust on everything, and muddy footprints on
the wooden floors that speak of interlopers from a long time ago, but the
scents are faded and unimportant. There are things inside that immediately
draw Jenny's attention—an “old-fashioned” lounge chair. Racks of things
that smell like humans. Picture after picture on the wall.
But it is safe enough, and that is all I need. Good.
Turning toward my mate, I pull her into my arms and press my lips to
hers again.
Jenny makes a startled sound, her thoughts fluttering with surprise. We
are going to mate now?
Yes, I tell her. This is a shelter, just as you wanted. Now we will mate
and I will cover you in my scent, as I want. I lick at her lips, because they
look fuller and softer the more we press mouths together, and I like that. A
hot thrill of excitement spikes through her mind when I lick her, followed
by the arousal scent.
I growl low in my throat, pushing her toward the floor. Now I will claim
you.
"Wait, wait!" Jenny says. Her thoughts fill with the couch. "It'll be much
more comfortable than the floor."
I pause, then release her when she pulls out of my grasp.

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MHAL

enny moves to the couch—which looks far too small for both
of us—sits on the edge, and then smiles at me, patting the seat
next to her. "Come sit."
I do as she asks, carefully adjusting my weight until I am certain the
thing will hold my body. It does not seem comfortable, but she is pleased.
She leans closer to me, her arm brushing against mine. "Isn't this
better?"
I glance over. My mate sits at my side, instead of in my arms. I do not
think it is better, but I also think we can find a solution that will please both
of us. I reach over and pluck my mate from her seat, pulling her into my
lap, her bottom on my thigh. Now it is better.
Jenny laughs, and then I feel her thoughts search mine. "Not too
heavy?"
Why would you be too heavy?
She shrugs, and I pick up feelings of discomfort. She worries she is not
petite, that she is strong and broad and has big hips, and that these are
things that will displease me. She likes her body, but she thinks it is not an
ideal one, that her breasts are small and her hips big.
Humans think in such odd ways. Are you uncomfortable? Do you want
me to put you down?
"No," she says softly. "I like it when you hold me."
Then I will hold you and we will forget this nonsense about being too
heavy. The feel of her in my arms is near-perfection, and I send her that
thought so she can realize it, too.
"'Near' perfection? What's perfection, then?"
 I lift a hand off her waist and cup one of her breasts, my thumb tracing
circles around the tip. Now it is perfection.
She sucks in a breath, heat flooding through her mind. Her gaze goes to
my mouth again and this time, I know my cue. I kiss her, our lips brushing,
and because I liked it so much last time, I stroke my tongue across the seam
of her mouth. Jenny moans, her thoughts rolling with pleasure, and she
grazes my tongue with hers.
Now I see why humans like this so much. It is incredibly intimate,
touching tongues with her. It is full of sensation, too. Our mouths lock
together and we lick at each other for a while, learning what the other likes.
Jenny dives into my thoughts, following what pleases me, and when her
tongue scrapes against one of my fangs, it sends pleasure surging through
my body. My hand teases her nipple as we kiss, the peak stiffening, and she
makes whimpering sounds against my mouth even as we devour one
another. She loves my touch, but she wants more.
I want more, too. I release her breast and push my hand between her
thighs, where she's wet and fragrant with her need. Get on your hands and
knees, I tell her. I will mount you and ease that ache you have deep inside.
Jenny flicks her tongue against my fang again, making my cock twitch.
What if…we did sex in a different position? Can we try it?
In a different position? Matings are always done one way, are they not?
I pull back, searching her face, but there is only desire and excitement in
her face. Show me.
Her cheeks redden, but her thoughts flood with images. Images of her
on her back, me over her. Images of her in my lap, both of us sitting up as
she rides my cock. Images of her pressed to the wall, me thrusting into her.
Such imagination. Truly, I have chosen well in mates.
They're not my ideas! They're just things I've seen. Her thoughts are
chaotic, her mind distracted as I caress her folds. Her hands clench at my
shoulders and she lifts her mouth to mine again, hungry for more kisses.
Just touch me. We can do it however you want.
I like your ideas, I tell her. I send the image of both of us seated, her on
my lap. We will do this one, because it involves this couch you like so much.
She pulls on my hair. "You make me sound crazy for not wanting to roll
around in the dirt. It's just a couch."
You like it, I tell her. We will keep it. I pull her onto her feet, and when
she stands, I tug her back into my arms. Come and mount me like in your
mental pictures.
Her face turns bright red and I can feel the shyness creep through her
thoughts. I've never done this before.
I know this. I will guide you. She moves closer, her breasts enticingly
near my face, and I kiss the tip of one. She moans, her breath catching, and
I decide perhaps I will keep her standing a bit longer. I cup her buttocks,
nuzzling at her breasts. There is no better feeling than touching my mate.
Blood and smoke, but it is amazing.
She tangles her fingers in my hair, holding my face to her breasts as I
lick and nip at them, pleasuring them even as I rub my hands on her flanks.
She is drowning in arousal scent now, the smell of it thick and rich in the air
around us. My cock is hard and dripping in response, my need to be inside
her growing by the moment. Jenny. Come sit on me. Let me make you feel
good.
Jenny moans at the push of my thoughts and steps forward, sliding one
of her legs over mine. She feels awkward as she straddles me, but I fill her
mind with how beautiful I find her, how sweet her scent, until she is
reassured. Jenny rubs her cunt against my length, grinding against me as we
kiss again. My beautiful, precious mate.
"Mhal," she whispers aloud, and I decide I like the sound of my name
on her lips. I want her to say it over and over again. "My Mhal."
 I like that even better. Yours. I flex my hips, thrusting up against her
softness. Take me inside you and make me yours.
Her breath catches, but Jenny breaks our kiss. Our eyes meet and she
watches me even as she reaches for my cock, guiding my head to the
entrance of her body.
Just like that. You are perfect. So perfect. When she sinks onto me a
little, it makes me groan, the sound loud and strange. Jenny loves it, though.
She loves when I make noises like she does, and her cunt clenches around
the tip of my cock. The sensation of my mate's body trapping me inside her
makes me groan again, and I reach for her, desperate for more, as she eases
herself down on my length. She goes slow, working her way down my
shaft, and I can feel from her thoughts how big I am, how overwhelming.
You are beautiful, I reassure her, cupping her breast. Taking me so good.
Jenny whimpers.
She's finally completely seated onto me, and it feels incredible. She
remains still, her body clenching and unclenching as she tries to adjust to
my size. Her thoughts are full of how big I am, how big everything feels,
and how overwhelmed she is. I give her time to get used to the press of my
cock inside her, running my hands over her body and sending her
encouraging thoughts. I need her to understand how much this pleases me,
and how much I hunger for her.
Her hands cup my face and she leans forward, seeking more kisses. I
skim over her thoughts, looking for hints of discomfort. She feels very full,
but there is no pain. I have never mated like this before, with my female's
face in mine, her breasts pressing to my chest, but I like this. I like seeing
Jenny's face react when I rock my hips, causing my length to move inside
her. I like that we can kiss. I like that we can share breath, and most of all, I
like that she can ride me as she pleases. I am yours, I send to her. Use me
for your pleasure.
 My mate lets out a little sigh and then her hips clench. She lifts herself
up, just a little, and then lowers back down on me. Hot sensation floods
through both of our minds, and my hands go to her hips. The next time she
moves, I assist, increasing the friction between our bodies. When Jenny
chokes out my name, it makes me move harder, faster.
I want her to make more of those sounds.
My mate works over my cock, riding me with little bounces as she grips
my shoulder. I keep my hands locked on her hips, forcing her down harder,
forcing our bodies together with each stroke, until she's crying out with
need and my own pleasure is near overwhelming. I need her to come,
though, and when she tilts her head back and her movements become
desperate, I know she needs more. I remember what she likes, and I reach
between us, seeking out her clit.
No sooner do I touch it than Jenny shudders over me, coming hard. Her
cunt clenches around me, her walls tightening, and I thrust upward,
desperate for my own release. When it comes, I press my face to her
shoulder, pinning her down on my cock as I rock into her, filling her with
my seed.
Having a mate is…intense.
Jenny touches my hair and cradles my face against her as we both pant,
regaining our breath. I can feel her body twitching as she sits astride me,
every reaction a little flick of pleasure in her still-sensitive body.
"You didn't bite me again?" There's a hint of worry in Jenny's thoughts.
"Are you…okay? Did you come?"
I drag her hips up and down my length, reveling in how slick our joined
bodies are with our mingled fluids. Feel that? I came. There is still a
question in her mind, so I continue. I only bite to give you my fires. It will
take some time before they fade, and I will only need to bite you again in
the future, perhaps when we have young. I rub my lips against her soft
throat. Did you like my bite?
 "Not really," she admits, a note of apology in her thoughts. "But I wasn't
sure if it needed to happen every time. I'm kinda glad that it doesn't."
I will have to make it more pleasurable next time, I promise her,
scraping my teeth over her skin. I must make sure you are so lost with
hunger that you will beg me for it. Until then, I will just practice. I stroke
her buttock, nipping at her shoulder, and am pleased when she shivers and I
feel it all down my cock. Lots and lots of practice.

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JENNY

hal's drowsy, sated thoughts roll through mine. It feels so

strange to have someone else in my head, but I'm quickly
becoming used to it. Sometimes he picks up on emotion instead of words,
so it makes it difficult to lie or to hide things. It's definitely going to take
some getting used to, but in a way, I like it. Mhal is exactly who he says he
is. There is nothing he can hide from me, no secrets kept, because he would
openly share anything that crossed his mind.
Which is nice, in a world like ours, where trust has gone out the door,
and your fellow man only looks at you to see what you can do for him.
Even when Mhal is not completely himself, he's still open with what he's
feeling and sharing it with me.
Of course I will share it, he tells me, mouth skimming over my skin in
lazy movements. It feels so good to connect with you after being alone in
the darkness for so long. Why would I wish to hide away again?
Alone in the darkness. I guess it would feel like that if you were cut off
from your people, who speak telepathically. There are other dragons here,
but if they're just as confused and lost as he is…no wonder he feels alone.
Not alone. I have you.
I wrap my arms around him, grinning at that. It feels weird to think that
I was so skittish about “mating” a dragon just yesterday. Today it feels like
the most natural thing in the world. Funny how things can change in
twenty-four hours. I can only imagine what the next twenty-four will bring.
More mating, hopefully.
I laugh, because his thoughts are so blatant. I have to admit I'm looking
forward to more mating, too. Maybe not right now, when I'm still twitching
with the aftermath of my orgasm, but if every time we get together is like
this…I'm not going to protest about having lots of sex, and often.
My stomach growls, and we both go still.
Hungry? Mhal asks, his thoughts darkening. I have not taken care of
you properly, have I? I am a bad mate. Of course you are hungry. Are you
thirsty, too? I must get you fed. His mind flurries with a barrage of things
that need to be done, and how he has neglected me for his own shameful
needs. He jerks under me, determined to get up so he can shift forms and go
hunting.
I wrap my arms around him tighter, determined to put a stop to that. "I
don't want you shifting away from me. You stay right here."
But a good mate hunts for his female. I am not taking care of you. His
arms move around me slowly, as if he's hesitant to give himself even this. I
should be looking after your needs.
"You are," I reassure him. "That's why we're down here instead of up in
the oil derrick."
Is that what our nest is?
"Yes." I share with him the mental images I have, of what an oil derrick
is and how they work…at least vaguely. I don't know all the details myself.
"It was a lookout tower in the park itself."
Is that what it is? A high place where you just look at things? It seems
silly to him. What is this building we are in, then?
I glance at our surroundings. "An old-timey photo place. You dress up
in old-fashioned clothing and they take photos of you. It's just to be silly."
The counter is at the front, the photographs under the plastic covering
faded. Along the wall are dozens and dozens of pictures of all kinds,
though, less faded. In each one, there's smiling faces and costumes, and fat,
healthy cheeks on the children. It's a symbol of a different time, and I both
love and hate the sight of them.
Is that why they have this couch?
 "I guess it's more of a chaise?" It's got a curved back and only one arm,
the fabric dimpled into the padding to give the illusion of it being an
antique. It's relatively clean, though, and a pale pink, and I kind of love it. I
imagine all the photos of ladies in ridiculous Old West costumes, perched
on this seat…that we just defiled.
It is ours now. We will take it up to the seeing-spot and add it to our
nest.
I nod, squirming on his lap. He's still seated deep inside me, and even
though he's no longer hard, the sensation of his body in mine is intense. "I
don't think they'll have food here, unfortunately."
Will they have the costumes? He studies my face, running a thumb over
my lower lip. He loves touching me, Mhal, and for a moment I'm distracted
by the fascination on his face. Costumes…
Oh shit. Costumes?
I look around the room, and there's a plastic-covered rack of some kind
in the back, and my heart leaps. The fabric-hoarder inside me wants to see
if there are clothes that have been left behind. Surely this place has been
picked over? Surely…
Mhal chuckles and nips at my shoulder affectionately. Go look.
I kiss him quickly, then extricate myself off his lap. I'm a little clumsy,
my legs sore and the insides of my thighs damp. It feels a little strange—
okay a lot strange—to race around an old building stark naked, but there's
no one to see. Immediately, I head for the plastic-covered rack in the back
and rip off the protective covering. Vibrant colors of every shade
imaginable meet my eyes. The costumes are here all right, and they're
utterly impractical. The fabrics are satin and sequined, with lace
everywhere. I pick up a ridiculous pink hat with a wide brim and put it on
my head, feeling silly and delighted all at once. Roaming around the
apocalypse as a baby pink Southern belle strikes me as completely silly, but
when I pick up one of the dresses, it has an open back with no zipper. Huh.
I guess so anyone could wear them?
It doesn't matter. I'm not interested in the costumes as much as I am in
the wealth of fabric. I can take all of these dresses apart and make blankets,
or cloaks, or all kinds of clothing for the coming winter. I touch the beads of
a flapper costume, covered in slinky fringe, and smile to myself. I'm going
to be the most ridiculous, most garish nomad in the world, but I can make
these work. Laughing to myself, I slip a flapper dress over my head and the
back gapes open, so I hunt around the room looking for pins of some kind.
There's a cash register that's been emptied of everything, but paper
money is useless anyhow. I run a finger around the tray, looking for
paperclips, and when there's nothing, I open the drawers of every desk and
in the break room, looking for anything useful. In a box, I find a stuffed
tomato filled with dress pins, some thread and needles, and my heart trips
with excitement. I clutch the box to my chest and race back out to show
Mhal my finds.
I already know, he tells me, amused. He stands near the rack of
clothing, touching the fabrics that I caressed so reverently, trying to see
what made me so happy about them. He glances over at me, a hint of a
fanged smile on his face. There is no need to show me. I saw it in your
head.
"Right. Sorry." I take a step toward the rack of costumes. "Can we take
all of this with us?"
My fires, I will uproot this entire building and drag it to the top of our
nest if it should please you.
I have no doubt he would. Beaming, I shake my head. "Just the clothes.
I don't need anything else." My stomach growls again and I grimace, setting
my box of finds down for a moment. "Should we look for something to
eat?"
 Mhal's posture changes, the languid, relaxed dragon-man changing to an
alert one. I can shift and hunt—
"Nope," I say immediately, reaching for him. "If you do that again, I
lose you. Stay with me for a while."
He is clearly not a fan of this plan. But if there is nothing for you to eat
—
"Then we'll have to figure something out. For now, though, just…stay?"
I hold my hand out to him. "Please?"
Mhal takes my hand in his, then lifts it to his mouth and presses a kiss to
my skin. I can refuse you nothing.
"Good, because if we're leaving the fort behind, we're going to need a
lot of stuff." I keep my tone bright and happy. I'll be sad to leave my friends
behind, but living in a fort has always felt like a bad fit to me. For the first
time—since the Rift opened and destroyed everything—I'm excited for the
future.

T he rest of the day is a scavenger's paradise. We pick through a dozen

souvenir stores, all in varying states of decay. Some have been raided, but
others are mostly intact and filled with all kinds of memorabilia that have
no use in the After. I pass by racks of keychains and postcards, heading
straight for plastic mugs and t-shirts with garish slogans on them. There's
not a speck of food anywhere, but I try every bathroom's water fixtures,
looking for something that works.
Nothing.
By the end of the day, I'm thirsty and faint with hunger, both of which
make Mhal upset. He shifts to his dragon form with my agreement—he
calls it “battle-form”—and the moment he does, he stares at me blankly.
 I have to re-introduce myself and wait while he sniffs me all over,
drinking in our mingled scents. When he's satisfied, his chaotic thoughts
spin a little slower, gold creeping into his eyes. When I mention food and
water, he immediately flies me a short distance away, to a nearby lake. I
mean…it's water, but I'm not sure it's smart to drink it long-term. I fill one
of my stolen cups up and sip it anyhow, because it's hard to be picky in the
After. Mhal takes me back up to our “nest” atop the derrick and settles me
there while he goes hunting. I think about all the things we'll need in order
to make this a home, and it helps me not panic.
Of course I will come back, Mhal assures me, his tone indignant. You
are my mate.
But he asks for my name several times, and I have to remind him not to
close me out of his thoughts. His natural protective instinct is to push all
other minds away when he's in his battle-form, and I suspect it has
something to do with Azar. So I keep a mental stream of chatter going,
talking about thread and sewing, and how I can make blankets. How we'll
need some metal pots so he can boil water for me if I'm going to be
drinking lake water, and how tomorrow we'll probably have to keep hunting
for a working water system somewhere. How we need to grab the sofa we
saw below, along with the clothing.
Mhal returns a short time later with a dead deer that he dumps in front
of me, proud. Eat.
I do, though I try not to look at the deer's face, and I make him roast
every strip I pull off the carcass. When I've gotten my fill, he devours the
rest in a single gulp, curls up and pulls me between his forelegs so he can
protect me while I sleep. There's so much that needs to be done that I
protest at first, but he's warm and shielding me from the bitter wind, and I
end up falling asleep before I know it.
The next few days feel like an emotional see-saw. If Mhal is in his
“two-legged” form, as he calls it, we're all over each other. If he switches to
battle-form, I have to re-introduce myself. And Mhal has to switch to battle-
form quite a bit because we need things from down below to make our spot
a home. The wind constantly tears at my face and hair, so Mhal rips off
large sections of walls from some of the buildings below, and we make a
makeshift shack that I reinforce with rope so it doesn't fall on my head. The
couch from the picture place is moved in, and we hunt through an old hotel
to find a decent bed and bring the mattresses back. While Mhal hunts, I boil
water on an old cast-iron stove that I stole from a saloon at the park and
work on making clothing for us. Mhal hasn't shown the slightest bit of
interest in wearing anything, but I want clothes for myself, if nothing else.
It's…cozy. I'm stupidly happy, and I'm not entirely sure why.
Well, no, I know why. It's Mhal, and the freedom to do whatever we
like. It's not having to answer to anyone, to come and go as we please. It
reminds me of being with my father again, except…better. Dad didn't like
to answer to anyone, but I always felt in some way that I was holding him
back. He had to worry about my safety. He had to constantly slow down for
me, or avoid situations that a girl wouldn't be present in. There were plenty
of forts we avoided after someone would make a comment to my dad about
me, and sometimes I got the feeling that Dad would have been happier in
the apocalypse without me. Just lone wolfing it across what was left of the
world.
It's not like that with Mhal. Even when he's slightly lost in his dragon-
form, the moment he recalls me, it becomes all about “us” again. It's about
doing things that are best for both of us. We can fly wherever we want, but I
like our “home” that we're building. He hunts for meat, and pays attention
to what I don't like. He brought home a few crows once, and plucking them
and cooking them made me sad. He's never brought another, since.
There's some level of memory buried in Mhal's mind. I think it's just
drowned out in all the crazy noise of his head.
 The moment he shifts to his two-legged form, it's like I've gotten my
best friend and my lover back. Mhal is arrogant, sure, but he's also smart,
and attentive. He's curious, too. Now that he's “awake” he wants to learn
more about this world. We walk through the amusement park and I describe
the rides to him and why they're so appealing to people. I talk about the
food stands, or the souvenirs, and we explore nearby buildings as well. One
of Mhal's favorite games is trying to guess what a strange human object is
for—and he's always wrong, which sends me into fits of laughter. We read
books together at night—I read them aloud—and we talk about nothing at
all. He likes to hold me in his arms and listen to my stories about nomad life
as I sew, and then of course, there's the sex.
God, so much sex.
The moment Mhal shifts back to his human form, it's like his hunger for
me overwhelms him. He's frisky and ready to go at a moment's notice, and I
have so many orgasms in the space of a week I start to wonder how I ever
managed to go for so long without touching myself back at the fort. I'm
becoming addicted to my dragon…which is good, because I'm pretty sure
he's addicted to me.
I can absolutely see why Rachel seems so happy with her Jurik, now. I
feel the same way with Mhal. Sure, he's got flaws, but sharing headspace
with each other makes you understand how the other person works. It's
being completely open with your partner.
And it feels like the entire world is filled with possibility.

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JENNY

t's a lazy day where absolutely nothing at all is going on. I'm
sewing in my little shack, legs curled up on the couch as I piece
together bands of costume satin to make a flashy cloak-lining that no one
will ever see but totally pleases me. It's while I'm sewing that I look up,
glancing at the railings that line the sightseeing walkway that circles the
derrick. I half expect to see a crow or a hawk.
Instead, I see another one of those gigantic, shiny-shelled bugs like I
saw back in the fort.
The sight of it makes me blanch.
What is it? What is wrong? Mhal's thoughts are fuzzy, distracted from
hunting. He's got his eye on a fat bull with an extremely big set of horns,
and has been chasing it down a highway. Playing with his food, I sometimes
tease him.
It's a bug, I send back, adding in the mental image. Like the ones I
dream about.
Then it hits me. I haven't dreamed about the bugs—or had any
nightmares—since Mhal and I mated.
Of course not. Mhal's thoughts have been clearer and clearer by the day,
even when in battle-form. They were reaching out to you and bothering you,
so I keep them away.
Them? I ask, curious. Who's “them”?
The ones that send you the bad dreams.
I'm puzzled by this response. No one's sending me a bad dream, are
they? Dreams are just something my head comes up with.
Most dreams, yes. Sometimes others reach out in your dreams and take
things that don't belong to them.
 That sounds…odd. I wonder if Mhal is slipping again, if it's time for
him to stop hunting and come back to me to “reset” himself for a bit. Mhal,
baby, who am I? I ask sweetly.
He snorts, pure arrogance leaking through his thoughts. My mate, of
course.
And what's my name?
I do not need your name when your thoughts are connected to mine.
Uh huh. Time to come home, I tell him. Wrap it up. Get your longhorn
and come back to me. I glance over at the bug's spot on the railing, but it's
gone now. I wonder if I imagined the entire thing.
I will return soon enough. This creature will make a hearty meal for
you, and you are too thin.
You're playing with your food, I counter. Wouldn't you rather play with
your mate? And because sex is the best way to bring Mhal back to me, I
slide a hand into my pants and touch my clit.
A moment later, I'm rewarded with the mental image of Mhal grabbing
the longhorn in his claws, breaking the neck of the poor thing, and then
flying back in my direction with his kill.
The guy's all business the moment a little sex is involved, and I smile to
myself at the thought.

I t ' s over dinner that Mhal drops another odd bombshell on me.
I hear others sometimes, you know, my dragon casually states as I pick
at a rib full of seared meat. We found some spices in one of the food booths,
and I've discovered that spicing the heck out of my near-constant meat diet
helps ease the fervent wish for a vegetable or two.
"What others?" I ask, setting down my food with a frown. "Who's
talking to you? Is it Azar?"
 Mhal looks down his long nose at me. If it was him, I would not answer.
"Then who?"
The children. He shrugs.
I stare at him. "What children?"
Sallavatri and Luminoura. They are very loud for two so young. He
looks pleased. They have strong names. Soon there will be others, too.
Others talking to you?
Other children. You do not hear them?
I shake my head. "All I hear is you."
Hmm. Because you are human. Sometimes I forget. You are far more
appealing than the other humans.
If I had a napkin, I'd throw it at him for that remark. "What do they say
to you?" I ask, curious about the children. I don't know of anyone that has
children by those names.
They tell me they are hungry.
A chill sweeps over me. That sounds like something out of a horror
movie. Children calling in his mind, telling him that they're hungry?
I will not answer if you do not like it.
"I don't think I like it, no." It worries me more than the bugs. "Can you
push them out of your thoughts?"
Of course. I will push them away like the other drakoni that demand
that I return to the fort. He slides closer to me, pushing aside my food and
pulling me into his arms. Are you done eating?
I can't help but smile at that. "For now."
Good. Your mate wants to taste you. He nips at my jaw.
"Are you changing the topic on me?"
No. I mean it. I will not talk to the children if it bothers you. Just like I
do not talk to the others. I need no one but you. His thoughts are totally
sincere, and I know he means it. I know the others—Rachel's dragon-man
and Gwen's—have reached out to him since we left. I've felt him cut them
off in his head, his mind full of displeasure at their demands. If he's not
worried about it, I guess I won't be either.
Good. Now let us kiss.
I giggle as he pulls me into his arms. "So insatiable, my dragon."
Drakoni, he corrects. My people are drakoni.
"Drakoni, then.” I slide my arms around him and let him pull me into
his lap, straddling him. “My insatiable drakoni."
Who would not be insatiable with a mate that tastes so good? He nips at
my throat, his tongue grazing my skin. Let me lick your cunt. I want to
make you come on my tongue. I want to feel you quiver against my lips.
I shiver at the thought, because I want that, too. "And then I make you
come the same way?"
You want to? Hot pleasure rushes through his thoughts. It's not
something normally done amongst his people, because after the female
conquers another female, she is then conquered by the male. It's very
ritualized and I'm starting to realize that humans are way, way more
adventurous in the sack, even if the dragons are the ones with the never-
ending stamina.
Not that I am complaining about his stamina. That'd be like whining
about too many orgasms, and that's something no sane woman would ever
complain about. I love that he's always excited about touching me, as if I'm
giving him a great gift by letting him pleasure me, when I'm the one being
gifted.
All this thinking about gifting makes me want to go down on him even
more. I've never done it before, and the thought of taking him in my mouth
is thrilling.
I want this, too, if it excites you. His eyes flare bright gold.
"You don't want it because it's my mouth on your dick?" I ask, tilting
my head at him.
 Of course I want that. But I like your excitement for it even more. I like
that you want to pleasure me. It adds to my enjoyment. His mind grows
heated with visual images, of him imagining my mouth on his cock, and
there's so much anticipation and lust buzzing through his thoughts that I get
turned on.
I grab Mhal's hand and drag him toward our bed. He lets me tug him
along, and when I give him a little push, he flops back on the mattress with
a gleam in his eye. He's still naked constantly, my drakoni. He doesn't see
the need for pants or any other sort of clothing. He only tolerates me
wearing things because he knows I like how pretty the fabrics are. I think if
they were ugly clothes, he'd rip them off of me.
If you must hide yourself, at least enjoy it, he agrees.
I slip my dress off over my head, tossing it to the ground. I've learned
the hard way that a lot of clothing doesn't last long around Mhal. Our
bedsheets get ripped to shreds quickly because of his arm and leg spikes—
keratin-like horns similar to the ones on his head that jut out from the backs
of his calves and his bicep and lower arm—but I don't care about them
today. I'll fix them later. Right now I'm more interested in getting my mouth
on my man and seeing his reaction.

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JENNY

hal watches me with a hungry, intense stare as I kneel next

to the mattress and then climb toward him. He loves
watching my breasts move, loves the way my butt jiggles as I approach,
loves that my hair falls all over my skin because he knows it'll cling to him
the moment I lean in. I pluck all these thoughts from his head and devour
them like they're candy. I love seeing myself in his eyes, because in his
mind, I'm the sexiest creature imaginable, and it makes me feel bold and
unstoppable.
I lean over him and press a light kiss to his lips, and then begin to kiss
my way down his chest. My tongue flicks out against his skin—which
doesn't feel scaly in the slightest in his two-legged form, just warm—and I
nibble my way down his flat, hard abdomen. There's no fat on Mhal. His
body is lean and strong, covered in scars from old fights, and I brush my
lips over each scar as I pass it.
Fights that I won, he feels he needs to point out.
I giggle, because my drakoni is nothing if not arrogant. Of course. I
assumed you won, I tell him even as I tongue my way down to his navel. I
have a feeling we wouldn't be here talking if you'd lost them.
Sometimes I let my opponents live, he muses, even as he reaches out to
caress the top of my head. But only sometimes.
Naturally. I try not to envision what that means. I've seen far more death
and killing than anyone probably should. My dad wasn't a sweet, kind man
that just decided not to live in a fort. He was a mean son of a bitch to
everyone but me, and I watched him kill many a man that threatened our
safety. In this aspect, I have no innocence. You have to be tough to survive
in the After and sometimes that includes gutting someone before they gut
you.
So much thinking about gutting as you lick my abdomen, Mhal muses. I
mated a bloodthirsty human, did I not?
I scrape my teeth against his stomach and growl.
Heat flares in his mind, and his fingers tighten in my hair. I liked that.
I chuckle and keep moving south. I'm about to give you a lot more to
like.
His thoughts scorch with anticipation.
I love how worked up he is. I love that with my clumsy attempts at
seduction, he makes me feel like an absolute goddess. I kiss lower, licking
his flat abdomen, then move all the way down to his cock, which is hard
and ready. I'm not sure how one starts these sorts of things, so I decide to
just wing it. I take the head of him into my mouth and suck.
Mhal hisses and his back bows, his body nearly leaving the mattress.
Oooh. He wasn't expecting that. I love the pleasure that rushes through
his mind, along with the surprise. I suck the tip of him again, and then add
my tongue in. It's hard to do both at the same time, so I focus on following
wherever his thoughts lead me. I lick up and down his shaft, holding him
steady with my fingers as I do, and move down to his sac. He's got no body
hair here, so I'm able to lick and suck on his skin to my heart's content, but
it doesn't give me the same excited flare from his mind as it did when I
worked on the head of his cock, so I kiss my way back up and then give
him a long, slow lick.
Mhal groans, a trickle of smoke coming from his nostrils. That's an
encouraging sign. Sometimes he lets out wisps of smoke when we're in bed
together, because breathing fire is a pleasure for him, and I guess the two
are intermingled in his mind.
I lick him again, and this time I taste wetness. To my surprise, his pre-
cum is sweet and slightly spicy, almost like cinnamon. I've always heard
stories about how men's sperm tastes like bleach or is unpleasant, but this is
anything but. I make a noise of happiness in my throat and lick him again.
No one told me this tastes good.
Should I have offered it earlier? His hand—both of them now shorn of
claws so he can touch me freely—clenches at my hair. When I lift my head,
he drags me right back down to his cock. More, Jenny. I need more.
Mhal so rarely demands anything that hearing his request sends pleasure
rushing through me. Enthusiastic, I tongue him and lick the head of his
cock, teasing him all over. When my mind starts to fill with images of me
taking him deep into my mouth, I get the hint and do as he asks. I like that
he's leading me toward what he wants. It feels less like a command and
more like a roadmap to understanding what he needs and I follow his
instructions eagerly.
Or I try to.
He's a big guy, my Mhal, and his large cock isn't the easiest mouthful. I
try adding more saliva, but I can only relax my jaw so far. Mhal grunts at
my attempts, his thoughts still hazy with pleasure. Can I push?
Just…be careful? He's already so big I don't know what taking more
will do. You might scrape my teeth.
I do not care about your teeth. They cannot hurt me. Your mouth feels
too good, my fires. Use them if you must.
I whimper, my jaw flexing as I try to take him. His hand strokes my
face, a silent encouragement, and I send a tendril of thought toward him, of
him gently pumping into my mouth, pushing his cock deeper. He groans,
and thrusts upward, deeper into my mouth.
I choke in surprise, pulling back at the sensation of his cock butting
against the back of my throat. I pull free, coughing a little, pressing the back
of a hand to my mouth.
Mhal's thoughts are threaded with worry. Too much?
 No, just startling. I want to try it again. I lick his cock again, messily.
He's wet from my mouth and from his own need, and I pull him into my
mouth and work him, bobbing my head, as I slowly take him deeper. My
teeth scrape against him once and I jerk, waiting for the flare of pain from
him, but his skin is tough, even in this form; he doesn't react.
Instead, he just pushes deeper. Your mouth is so good, my fires.
This time, when he hits the back of my throat, I'm expecting it. I
manage to remain loose and open, though I can't really suck on him like
this. He needs to do all the moving. Reading my mind, Mhal begins to
shuttle into my mouth, using me, his hand in my hair. And maybe it's wrong
of me, but I find it incredibly sexy that he's using my face to pleasure
himself.
Nothing is wrong between us, he sends strongly, even as I feel the heat
of him spurt down my throat. Nothing.
As he comes, it's like a wash of heat straight into my belly. His thoughts
flare bright like a supernova, and I moan as he slips free from my mouth,
leaving me with the taste of him. I follow him as he collapses onto the
mattress, licking and teasing his cock even as his mind blazes with his
orgasm. I love sharing minds like that, because Mhal made no sound other
than the quickening of his breath, and yet I felt how intense his pleasure
was.
I felt it like it was my orgasm.
It's something I never thought about when they told me I'd have to mate
a dragon. That we'd form a bond. I just thought it'd be some…friendship, I
guess. I wasn't able to comprehend just how much of my life would change
once Mhal became mine. Shared orgasms were never even on the list.
It's no wonder he loves to go down on me.
I brush my lips over his warm, delicious skin. Did you like it?
You know I did. You can feel my thoughts. There's a low, hazy pleasure
flooding his mind, and when he gazes down at me with slitted eyes, I see
nothing but gold.
Maybe I just like hearing it?
I liked it. Do you like it when I lick your cunt?
Always. I squeeze my thighs tightly together, because my pulse is
throbbing between them. I'm wet and achy, but I know he won't leave me
like that.
Your need is intense, he tells me, fascinated. His fingers skim over my
face as I move up to kiss him. Pleasuring me turned you on that much?
It turns you on to go down on me, why wouldn't it? I rub my face against
his hand, like a kitten needing to be petted.
Always true, he replies, and his mind floods with possessiveness. You
are mine to pleasure, are you not?
Yours.
He pulls me down against him, and in a swift movement, rolls us on the
mattress until I'm underneath him and he's on top. His thick, golden hair is
framing his head like a halo, stiff with tangles, but I think he's beautiful. It
is my turn to pleasure you, he tells me. Is your cunt wet for me?
I squirm as he descends between my trembling thighs. Always.
Good.
I'm so primed that I cry out the moment his mouth closes over my clit.
He sucks on it, like I did the head of his cock, and it sends a wave of
entirely new sensations through me. It doesn't take me long to come, either.
It feels like an eye-blink and then I'm crashing, the orgasm rolling like a
tidal wave. I let it sweep over me, drowning in the sensation of my mate's
mouth on my clit until I'm quivering and out of breath. He gives me one
final, languid lick, and I can feel the lazy pleasure in his mind. He likes
making me come as much as I like making him come.
We're…a good…team, I tell him, breathless and dazed as I lie on my
back.
 He puts an arm around me, hauling me close, and nuzzles at my hair
and ear. Was that too quick? Should I do it again?
I laugh, because the thought of coming that hard again so soon makes
me tired. "Give me a moment to relax, will you?" I nudge him. "You and
your drakoni libido."
You like my drakoni libido. He nips my earlobe.
I really do. I snuggle against him. But my poor human body needs a
small break.
A small one, then, he teases in that maddeningly arrogant way of his.
But only a small one.
I roll my eyes and curl up against him. To think I had no idea what I was
in for when Mhal suddenly appeared in my dreams. A life of freedom and
endless orgasms. Sure, it's also a life of lots of meat and constantly wind-
tangled hair, but I still find it preferable to turning in my panties at the fort
every day to be used as dragon lures.
I do not like that they did that, Mhal tells me, his arms protective as he
holds me against him. It seems dishonest.
"Mmm." I'm not entirely sure if it is dishonesty. I think Azar really does
want women mated to dragons. In that, he's utterly truthful. It's just the
reasoning behind it is sketchy. He wants to force the dragons to be beholden
to the fort or something.
Or he wants to steal their minds like he did mine. Anger suffuses his
thoughts.
"I'm not sure if that's the case," I say, then pause when I feel the flare of
scorn in his mind. "I'm not disagreeing with you, Mhal. But it doesn't match
what I saw, that's all." I open my mind—I'm getting better at that sort of
thing—so he can see my memories. So he can see Gwen and her mate, or
my friend Rachel with her drakoni mate, Jurik. Both men never had the
strange gray eyes that Mhal did, the sign that the Salorian lord of Fort
Dallas was taking over a dragon's mind.
 I've learned a lot since mating with Mhal. Now I know that Lord Azar
isn't a lord at all, and he's not from Earth. He's another transplant, like the
drakoni. A Salorian. And like the drakoni, he's stranded here. He also has
mental powers that he uses to take over the dragon minds, not magic like I'd
foolishly originally thought.
And back in Mhal's world, the Salorians are the enemy.
They are evil, he tells me, his thoughts filled with disgust. The farther
we are away from him and his kind, the better. I do not wish to be trapped
by him again.
Do you think he can do that? Trap you again? The thought worries me.
I think he will try. Once caught by a Salorian, you are always
vulnerable. He will always have a pathway into my mind. The queen would
have me executed if she knew the truth.
He's mentioned the queen before, but never said much. I wonder if he
has more memories now. I glance up at him. Tell me about the queen? Tell
me about your home? Can you remember anything more?
Mhal's connection to me—like an ever-present touch in the mind—
becomes momentarily hazy as he searches through his memories. She was…
very beautiful. Very remote. The face in his memories is blurry—a woman
with pale reddish-gold skin and hair that is as long and flowing as her robes.
She was our leader, but the Salorians controlled her. They kept her in their
strange cities instead of in our aeries. She wore clothes like they did, and
did not fly free like our people. I do not think I ever saw her leave the
palace.
So she was a puppet, then.
He thinks for a moment. I suppose she was. I did not think of it that way.
All I knew was that I was honored to be among the Queen's Guard.
"You were chosen for it, then?" I let my fingers play over his skin idly.
Yes. I defeated many other males to take a position of honor at her side.
Being in the Queen's Guard is like…mated but not. Our lives are devoted to
protecting the queen. We are not supposed to take mates. He hugs me closer
to him, his arms tight around me. I would have been shamed for choosing a
female over my queen. Shamed for choosing personal happiness instead of
the honor of serving her.
"Well, fuck her, then."
Mhal is surprised at my vehemence. You do not understand. I was
raised up from the ranks of a commoner to serve at her side. It should have
been a great honor but I betrayed it.
"You did not," I say hotly, sitting up. I scowl down at him. "I don't know
why you're beating yourself up over this. Did you choose to go through the
Rift? Did you choose to go crazy? Because I don't think these other dragons
did. Did you choose to have a Salorian take over your mind? Did you
choose to come into my dreams?"
He gazes up at me thoughtfully. I did not choose any of that. As for your
dreams, you called to me.
"I did?"
I heard you crying for help. So I came. It seemed like the most natural
of things. He reaches for my hand and presses my knuckles to his lips,
kissing them. Perhaps I had scented you before and the bond was already
forming between us. Whatever it is, I do not regret it. I would choose to
mate you, no matter what others think.
"As long as you don't trash talk yourself," I grumble, slightly mollified.
I do not have regrets. I am pleased with my mate. I only tell you this
because others would see my actions as shameful.
"Then fuck them, too."
Amusement rolls through Mhal's mind. What happened to my shy,
gentle little human mate?
"She mated a drakoni," I say with a toss of my hair. "And he gave her
fires. And an attitude. Because she happens to think he is amazing and
strong, and she wants him to think so, too."
 His eyes are pure gold as he gazes at me. Such vehemence for one as
disloyal as me.
I point at him. "Stop that. You're not disloyal. Your loyalty is to me and
mine to you. The queen's not here. The situation's changed. There's nothing
wrong with adapting. Would she rather you die than mate with me?”
His amusement grows deeper. Yes.
"Then she's a real jerk and I'm glad you're here with me and not with
her."
I am, too. He pulls me down for another kiss, all warmth and fire. I am
glad I am here with you, in this time, in this place. It is not my chosen land,
but it has my clever, wonderful mate in it, so it cannot be all that bad. What
about you? You have left your human hive behind.
All I need is you, I tell him, and I mean it. Fort Dallas was never my
home. It was just a shelter, a place that fed me and protected me after my
father died. I'll miss Manda and Rachel and the camaraderie we had, but
Rachel is with Jurik now, and Manda is trying to marry Daniels. Nothing
would have kept us together.
I'll miss them, but I've gotten something much better in return—a home.
I am your home? Mhal asks, surprised and pleased at the thought that
drifts through my mind.
You are.
And nothing else matters.

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Three Weeks Later

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"Y ou sure you don't want a cape?" I twirl my newest creation around
my shoulders, grinning down at the drakoni male sprawled in our
bed. "I know you hate pants, and I figure this will protect your modesty."
Amusement slides through his thoughts, his mouth pulling into a silent
grin. Mhal has one hand behind his head and he watches me as I prance
about in the cape and make a fool of myself. Why would my modesty be in
danger?
"You know. In case some other woman or dragon showed up and I'd
have to hide your fine body from their prying eyes." I wrap it tightly around
me and mock-scowl in his direction. "They're not allowed to look at what
belongs to me."
His amusement grows louder, and it makes me act up all the more. I
twirl like I'm a dancer, letting the cape flow around me. It's green on the
outside—three different types of green fabric—with a bright purple
patchwork underneath. Most of the clothes we've scrounged fall heavily
into the “not practical” category and I've decided to have fun with them. I
saunter toward him, shaking the cape like I'm some sort of salsa dancer of
old and it's my ruffled skirt.
"You know you want this," I tell him.
I want what is underneath, he agrees.
I touch the shift dress I'm wearing. It's yellow and pink, cobbled
together from the skirts of a few prairie dresses below. It's been
unseasonably warm the last few days and I haven't felt the need to wear
anything heavier. "You want what’s underneath my skirt?"
Absolutely.
 "I'm not wearing anything underneath," I tell him, and hike up a bit of
my skirt to show him a bit of thigh.
Exactly. He reaches for me, running his hand up my leg. Mhal's
thoughts fill with hungry need, and he flashes me a mental image of his
mouth on my breasts, me with my head thrown back as he thrusts into me.
I suck in a breath, distracted at the visceral imagery. "You do not play
fair."
Why would I play fair? I want to win. He takes my hand and tugs me
down against him. I fall forward onto him, a mess of fabrics, and he grins
up at me. You cannot tell me you do not like mating. I know you do. I can
read your mind. I can pick up your scent—
"Do not!" I put a hand over his mouth as if it will silence him. After
being with Mhal for a few weeks, not much makes me shy anymore, but
hearing about him picking up my “arousal” on the wind, no matter how far
away? That'll do it.
You smell well-mated, he tells me, tugging at the layers of clothing I'm
wearing. Give me a moment, and I will make your scent even more
appealing.
I squirm, but my efforts are half-hearted. He knows that I'm not truly
upset. That when I push and wriggle to get away, it's all part of the game. In
reality, my thoughts are flaring with the same hunger. That when he grabs
me by the wrists and tugs me into the bed and rolls us until I'm under him,
I'm just as eager for more bed play as he is. Heck, I'm getting wet just
thinking about it. Mhal grins up at me even as he slides down my body,
heading for my favorite spot between my thighs.
"Watch the clothing," I warn him, breathless. "Be careful." Our mattress
is covered in tears and holes because of his arm and leg spikes, and the fact
that I refuse to let him sleep in dragon form—I want him next to me all
night long. If he shifts into his battle-form, he tends to lose track of himself
and I'll wake up to find he's gone hunting. Maybe it's greedy to want him at
my side all night long, but I'd much rather wake up to a warm, amorous
Mhal than a dazed drakoni male who doesn't remember me, and I'm willing
to sacrifice a mattress or two to do so.
I will be careful, Mhal promises me. I have watched you work hard on
them. Besides, it is not the clothing I am interested in. He lowers his head
even as he lifts my skirts up, revealing the vee between my thighs. His
breath brushes over my skin and I shiver with need. This is all part of the
tease, and I love it.
His mouth skims over the seam of my pussy. You smell so good, my
mate. You…
Mhal's thoughts trail off.
I want to clasp his head with my thighs and drag him back down
between my legs. "Me what?"
You are…
He pauses…then shouts. …in my TERRITORY!
The words are a mental bellow, and Mhal jumps to his feet, racing away
from our bed in our cozy little shack and out onto the platform. Confused, I
stare after him. His thoughts are a jumble, and when I prod at him, I realize
he's not even paying attention to me. Mhal?
His thoughts shift chaotically, and I bite back a groan when the chaos
grows more pronounced. I don't have to step outside to know that Mhal has
shifted to his battle-form. His mind tells me plenty. He's full of seething,
wild, disjointed thoughts, like a storm on the ocean, and no amount of
gentle nudges are getting through to him.
"Mhal," I call out as I leave our makeshift hut behind. "Come back!
Mhal!" I scan the skies, looking for a familiar gleam of gold and a large
flying shape. When I spot him, though, I see a second shape in the air
nearby. Mhal dives at it, his thoughts furious.
It isn't the first time we've had another visitor. We've had other dragons
drift into the “territory” that Mhal has established as his own. Normally
Mhal loses his shit for a few moments, the other dragon realizes he's
stumbled into the territory of a mated drakoni and quickly exits. We've had
a female swoop through, scented me, and then left quickly again.
This dragon isn't leaving, though. As I watch, it flies toward our tower,
like an arrow.
And it absolutely enrages Mhal. His thoughts are blistering with fury.
I will tell her NOTHING blasts through my head.
Mhal? Tell who what? I move to the railing of the walkway and gaze up
at him. Mhal? Talk to me.
Who are you? His muddled thoughts pierce through the chaos, and he
stabs at my mind, as if trying to peel back the truth for himself. Why do you
smell like my mate?
I am your mate, babe. Dig through my mind. You'll see I'm telling the
truth. I fill my head with images of us together from the last few weeks—of
Mhal creating my shack on the walkway at the top of the derrick, so I won't
be blistered by the wind. Of Mhal and me on the couch. Of Mhal curled
around me while I sleep. Mhal grinning up at me as I twirl in the cape I just
made.
His thoughts ease a little. You do not lie.
I don't.
I do not remember you. His thoughts grow upset.
It's okay, babe. You will. It happens sometimes. I keep my thoughts
sweet and soothing. Who is talking to you? What's making you so upset?
Mhal flies back toward our oil derrick, hot protectiveness edging his
thoughts. It is a mated male. He smells like the hive. And he keeps trying to
talk to me.
All things that Mhal distrusts. Well, not the mated male part, but my
dragon is definitely skeptical of anyone that reaches out to talk to him. Is he
Queen's Guard? I ask. Do you remember him from your past?
 I do not. He has a mate. A human one. She is…atop him. Riding him. He
is a fool to endanger her. Mhal's thoughts drip with scorn.
I'm surprised. Wait. He's got a human woman on his back? Does she
look like this? I send him a mental image of Rachel—her scarred face and
long blonde hair. The stump of her arm.
I do not know. He flies closer despite my warnings. Anger floods
through his mind again. He says he does not wish to fight yet he approaches
my nest!
It's okay, I send to him. I'm here. He's not a threat to me if he has a
mate. Can you see his female? What does she look like?
The thought he sends back is blurry, like so many of his mental pictures.
But I catch a hint of pale hair in his thoughts. Is it Rachel? Is her drakoni
named Jurik?
You know him? Mhal's thoughts are full of confusion. Why do you know
him?
Come back to me, Mhal, love. I make my mental “voice” as soothing
and enticing as possible. Come back to me and I'll explain everything. We're
in no danger from them.
But they are in our territory! His mind is indignant.
I know. They must want to talk to us. We'll make them apologize, I
promise him.
They smell like the hive—
I know. Just come to my side, please? Come stand next to me. I promise
you they're not a threat.
Mhal clearly doesn't believe me, and it takes a fair amount of wheedling
on my end to get him to return to the oil derrick. Even when he does, he
perches atop it, glaring at the other dragon that makes lazy loops in the sky
a short distance away. From here, I can see that there's a rider on the
dragon's back, though it's too far away to make out who it is.
 It takes a bit more persuading before Mhal comes to my side, and a
couple of boob squeezes. When he shifts into his two-legged form, I want to
breathe a sigh of sheer relief. I throw a cloak over his big naked body and
cover his face with kisses. Do you remember me now?
I do. Why is there another in my territory? His hand clenches on my
arm and he holds me possessively close as the other dragon flies around the
tower again. Why did I not fight him?
"I asked you not to," I tell him. "It's Jurik and Rachel. They're friends of
mine. They must want to talk to us."
Mhal shoots me a disbelieving look.
"For me," I ask, giving him a pleading look. "They're just coming to
talk. I know they won't hurt me. Rachel is my friend."
You do not need friends. You have me.
I smile to myself, because that sounds incredibly sulky. "Talking to
them doesn't mean I don't belong entirely to you, Mhal. It just means that I
want to say hello to them. Rachel has been a good friend to me." I pull up
memories of my time in the panty program, of Rachel sharing bits of her
food, or protecting me and Manda when another girl would get too
aggressive. Of nights sitting up in our bunks, just talking for hours on end
about nothing in particular.
You care for her. His thoughts are grudging. Very well. They can come to
our nest…but they are not staying.
"Of course not." I throw my arms around his neck and bring him down
for a happy kiss. "Thank you, Mhal."
His mind is all grumbly, which I find adorable. I will tell them to land.

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kiss Mhal again, tugging on his lower lip and sending him a
mental promise for later. Then, I put a hand to my hair and try to
straighten it, along with my clothing. Normally I pull my hair into a messy
knot so the wind won't make it look like a tumbleweed, but I want to look
nice if we're greeting my friends. I think about food and drink to offer them,
like we're hosting a dinner party. I have some water I boiled and skimmed
that's left over. It's not the greatest water, but we also found some old tea
bags and those hide the majority of the flavor. All of our extra food is gone,
though. I have a few scraps of meat I was going to eat for lunch, but maybe
I should share those instead.
No, Mhal says firmly. Eat them right now. They would not want you to
give away your meal.
I stick my tongue out at his bossy tone, but he crosses his arms over his
chest. I know that look. That look tells me he's not going to budge until I do
as he asks. With a frustrated sigh, I get up, move into the “love shack” as
I've dubbed it, and shove a dried chunk of meat into my mouth, chewing.
And water, he demands, pointing at our pitcher of tea.
I make a face at him but I wash the meat down with the tea, eating and
drinking as I glare (lovingly) at my intractable mate. You are so stubborn, I
send between bites.
I know. I have to be when it comes to you. You do not take care of
yourself. You put others’ needs in front of you.
Do not.
He immediately plucks a mental image of Bethany and her son out of
my head. Do you think I did not feel when you were hungry? When you
gave these two your food and they were not grateful?
 They were grateful! I chew angrily. How do you know they weren’t?
Because it is in your head. You gave away your food and your hard
work on your clothes because you were lost and alone. You needed to
matter to someone. You wanted a new family. None of that is necessary now,
because you have me. He moves to my side and tips my chin up with a
finger, even as I chew the dry meat and glare at him. And I will never steal a
meal away from you.
You've got it all wrong.
I do not, he says, and we both know he's telling the truth.
Arguments with mind readers suck. I continue to chew, watching as the
other dragon floats closer, his wings fluttering. He's not nearly as scarred as
Mhal, and I decide I like my dragon better. He looks far more dangerous.
Like he's seen some shit go down and came out the other side.
I am glad you approve of my scars, Mhal tells me with that haughty,
amused tone of his. Seeing as how your mouth is on them every night.
Are you complaining? I retort as I guzzle down some tea to wash away
the last of the meat.
Never. I like your mouth all over me. If anything, I am encouraging.
It's another reason why you can't win an argument with a mind reader—
they turn everything to sex.
Mhal's thoughts fill with amusement, and then he neatly steps in front of
me, blocking my view out of our love shack. Stay behind me until we know
they're safe.
Of course they're safe. They're my friends. I lick my fingers.
Your friends who willingly live under the hand of the Salorian.
Your queen did, too, I might add. His thoughts flare with anger, and then
betrayal, and I realize I've hurt his feelings. I reach out a hand to touch him
from behind, even as he stands protectively in front of me. I didn't mean it
like that.
I know. I can feel it in your thoughts. It is all right.
 I wrap my arms around his waist, settling my cheek against his back.
When they leave, I'll make it up to you.
Shall I tell them to leave now? Mhal asks. At the flare of panic in my
thoughts, he lets me feel his amusement. Now he is just teasing me. I only
joke, my fires. They are arriving. Speak with them, if you must, and then I
will chase them away from our nest for good.
I peek out from behind his back as someone knocks on the sketchy
walls of our shack. "Hello in there," a familiar voice calls out. It's Rachel,
and my heart soars with affection. "Can we come in? It's a little windy out
here!"
Mhal's thoughts answer me before I can even ask—of course my friends
can come in. Rachel is accompanied by her mate, Jurik, and that means
Mhal will be on alert at all times. I give my mate a squeeze and call out.
"Come on in!"
A moment later, the door we have slanted over the entrance opens, and
Rachel steps inside, her eyes wide as she searches the room for me.
"Rachel," I call out happily, moving away from Mhal. I hold my arms
out to hug my friend. I know Rachel isn't much of a hugger, but she beams
in my direction and steps forward, hugging me back. I squeeze my friend
tight and I'm surprised to feel a big, rounded belly pressing against me as
we embrace.
I look down as we step back and Rachel is pregnant. Heavily pregnant. I
blink in shock as I stare at her rounded belly that was hidden by the loose
clothing she wears.
"I know," Rachel says, and rubs a hand over her stomach. "It looks like
a basketball's stuffed under my shirt, doesn't it?"
I gape at her. "Are you really…pregnant?"
She grins. Her face is filled out, no longer as lean and hungry as it was
before. She's got a mess of scars covering one side of her face and bisecting
her lower lip, but I love Rachel's expression because it's so open and
friendly and familiar. "Well, I'm not pretending to get attention, if that's
what you mean."
Oh. "I didn't mean—"
"I know." She rubs her belly again. "I'm just teasing. I absolutely get the
shock of it. Turns out that drakoni gestation time is way, way shorter than
human. Who knew?" She tilts her head and waves a hand at the big, golden
man standing behind her. "Yeah, yeah, you knew. Thanks, hon."
I glance over at Jurik, who's watching Rachel with an intense,
possessive look that seems very familiar to me. I've seen that same intense
look on Mhal's face when he watches me. Jurik looks unchanged, of course
—he's still as awkwardly naked as ever, his hair loose and flowing around
his shoulders. I silently compare him to Mhal, and my dragon has a more
regal expression in addition to his scars.
And you like this better? Mhal interrupts my thoughts. You prefer me?
Of course I do. I turn to glance back at my drakoni, and I notice he's still
wearing the cape I put on him. I discreetly tie the front of it shut and then
smile up at him. Keep wearing this.
Because you do not want other females gazing on what belongs to you?
Exactly. I send a possessive thought back to him, and Mhal's pleasure
rolls through my mind. Who says the men are the only ones that get to be
greedy with attention? I love being the center of Mhal's universe and him
being mine. And I love that he basks in my attention. My possessiveness
smooths down a lot of the “rough” spots in his mind, where the madness
threatens. Are you going to be okay? I ask him quietly. Should we go outside
into the wind so you don't have to smell them as much?
Their scents are not as bothersome as I thought, he admits. They are
heavily mated and the stench of the hive is only slight. I want you in here,
because this is your favorite spot. This is where you are most comfortable.
He rubs his mouth against my hair. I will tell you if it gets to be too much
for me.
 You'd better. I lean into him for a moment, and then pull away, looking
over at our “guests.” I'm being a bad hostess, my attention fixated on my
drakoni mate instead of my friends.
But Rachel just watches me with amusement, waving a hand at my
apologetic expression. "Don't worry about it," she says, as if she's read my
mind. "I'm lost in a private conversation all the time myself. I get it." She
puts a hand on her belly and takes a few steps inside, gazing at her
surroundings. "Wow." She admires the flags we have draped over the walls,
the posters, the clutter of goods from the amusement park lining our cozy
little love shack. "You've got a whole set-up here."
"I guess there's not a big demand for plastic mugs with roller coasters
emblazoned on them," I say cheerfully and pick one of the mugs up. "You
want one?"
"I'd love one," Rachel says, laughing. She takes the offered mug and a
bright smile creases her scarred face. "Oh dang, this brings back memories.
I haven't been here in forever. My parents took me for my birthday once,
you know."
"Mine, too." I smile wistfully at the thought. "It was my favorite place
as a kid."
"I think I liked the ice skating rink better," Rachel admits, but she hugs
the mug to her chest. "So what made you set up here?"
"Mhal," I say easily. It needs no further explanation.
She chuckles. "That'd do it, yeah." Rachel glances around, putting a
hand to her lower back. "Hate to ask, but can I sit somewhere? All this baby
in my stomach is hell on the hips."
"Oh, gosh, of course." I rush forward, cleaning my crap off of one of the
chairs we have scattered about the love shack. I pick up my stack of fabric
and move it to the other end of my favorite pink couch. "You sit there," I
tell her, indicating a large, overstuffed brown chair we swiped from a hotel.
I sit on the pink couch, and Mhal immediately thumps down beside me in a
billow of obnoxiously bright cape.
It takes everything I have not to giggle, because he's like the world's
most garish wizard in that outfit.
Jurik watches us for a moment, and then crouches next to Rachel's chair,
his arm resting on one side of it. Rachel, meanwhile, wiggles deeper into
the cushioning. "God, this chair is nice. Where did you get it? I want to drag
one back to Fort Dallas. Feels like everything I sit in lately is uncomfortable
except this…which means I'll probably never be able to get out of it." She
sighs deeply and pats the top of her belly. "Three cheers for accelerated
pregnancy, right?"
I bite my lip, curious. "Exactly how accelerated? Can I ask? Or have I
just completely lost track of time since we left?"
She thinks for a moment, then glances over at Jurik. His eyes whirl with
varying shades of gold and I know he's answering her, and then she turns
back to me. "I'm about two months along, I think?"
My jaw drops.

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JENNY

stare at her belly. At her very rounded, very pregnant belly.

Rachel's tall and slender, so the fact that she's that pregnant
seems insane to me.
Is this not a normal time for a female to carry young among your
people? Mhal asks, reaching over and tugging on a lock of my hair. His arm
rests behind my back, and I'm pretty sure his cape has fallen open again, but
Jurik's casual nudity makes me feel a little silly to fuss over Mhal's.
Reading my thoughts, my dragon discreetly moves a corner of the cape
back over his dick. Better?
I bite the inside of my cheek, trying not to smile. Thank you.
"I know," Rachel says. "Two months. We're supposed to give birth
around three. Luckily the whole breathing fire and shape-changing thing
doesn't happen until they get older." She glances at her mate again. "Some
sort of rite of passage back on their world."
Receiving your fires, Mhal agrees.
Oh wow. I didn't even think about fire-breathing or shape-changing
when it comes to babies. I can only imagine the havoc that would wreak on
my insides if I got pregnant, and I touch my stomach in worry. "I guess
that's…good?"
"Seeing as how I have a big, active baby in my belly? I like to think
so?" Rachel chuckles. She rubs at her belly with the stump of her arm. She
told me she lost her hand in the chaos and riots that followed the
appearance of the Rift. You'd never know she felt the lack, though, because
she's more capable with one hand than a lot of people are with two. "But
I'm happy."
 "I'm glad." I smile over at her, because she does look happy. Rachel's
always struck me as scrappy and resilient, but now she seems…settled.
Radiant, even. Utterly confident in herself and the world around her. And
when she reaches over and Jurik touches her hand, it makes me happy for
her. She's found peace and joy—two things hard to come by in this world.
"You two will be great parents, I just know it."
Her grin widens. "Believe it or not, we didn't come here to talk babies.
Or at least, not about our baby."
I pause, confused. "You didn't?" I couldn't think of a reason for her to be
here, and part of me was wondering if she was dropping by to let me know
about her pregnancy so I could be aware of what to expect if I got pregnant,
too. Me…pregnant with Mhal's baby. A family of our own. I kind of like
the idea, but I'm not sure this would be the right nest to raise a baby in. I'd
like running water and a roof that didn't leak when it rained…
Do you want a baby? Mhal's thoughts pierce through mine, thundering
through to the forefront. I will give you one. I will give you a dozen.
I'm still getting used to the idea of being mated and someone's other
half. I never thought it would happen for me, not even when I joined the
panty program. Not even when they told us the truth about what we were
there for. It just didn't seem like something that would be in the cards for
me. But a lot of things have changed in the last few weeks, and I allow
myself to entertain the idea. Would I like to have kids? Would I like to be
pregnant and glowing like Rachel? Even if there are no hospitals in this
world and very few doctors? No schools? Very little civilization?
I…think I still would. I don't know if it's selfish to bring a child into this
kind of world, but I would love the hell out of any baby I had, and I know
Mhal would, too. He's attentive and caring toward me, always so careful
and thoughtful of what I might like. Even when he's “lost” in himself, he
recognizes my scent. He's getting better, too. Even when he's in battle-form,
the chaos in his mind is not nearly as bad as it was.
 I would give you children, he tells me, his thoughts hot and possessive.
There would be no greater joy for me, now that I have you.
I smile over at him and slide my hand into his, our fingers intertwining.
Rachel leans forward slightly in her chair. "This is probably a good time
for me to ask if you're pregnant already."
I blink at her. I've been so distracted by Mhal and thoughts of babies
that I've forgotten our conversation. "Me? No…I don't think so."
"But you're not sure?" Rachel gives me a curious look.
"I've never been regular," I admit. "You know that. Any bit of stress will
cause me to skip a month or two."
"Right. I remember now." She drums her fingers on the arms of the
chair. "Me and Manda were synched up but you never were. Hmm. Does
Mhal say if your scent has changed any recently? If you're pregnant, he'll be
able to sniff it out before you will."
I straighten in my seat, squeezing his hand tighter. "You're asking me?"
"Well, I can't ask Mhal, Jenny. Drakoni only talk to their mate or other
drakoni, and Mhal won't talk to Jurik at all." She gives me a tight smile.
"You can tell him that Jurik isn't here because of Azar, and no one's going to
take over his mind."
I don't tell him anything. "If he doesn't want to talk to Jurik, that's his
right. I don't blame him for not trusting anyone." I shake my head. "I know
you trust Jurik with your life, and I'd trust you with mine, but you have to
understand Mhal's position, too. You guys still live at the fort."
There's a sense of wonder and pride that comes through Mhal's
thoughts. He's listening in to my conversation with Rachel, and he likes that
I'm refusing to pass things along. You are defending me. You are a fine,
fierce mate indeed.
Of course I'm defending you. You belong to me and me to you,
remember?
 "Okay, well, can you ask him if you're pregnant? Take Jurik and me out
of it." She studies me. "Your face is fuller, but I can't decide if it's because
you're carrying or if you just stopped giving all your meals away to
ingrates."
Rachel's always been a little blunt, but hearing that makes me blush.
"They're not ingrates. Bethany just has a difficult situation."
"A difficult situation that she chose, by the way. And one she keeps
choosing. A husband who likes the gambling at the cantina more than
feeding his family. Her choices do not make it your problem."
Your friend is right, Mhal tells me. I do not like that you gave away all
your meals. Why else put yourself under the Salorian's thumb if not for food
and safety?
Not you, too!
I will always be in favor of you getting fed, Mhal tells me. He loops his
arm around my shoulders protectively and pulls me against him, pressing a
kiss to the top of my head as a quiet apology. If you ever see this other
female again, you will not give her your meals. I will hunt for her if needed,
but your belly will be filled first.
Fine, fine, I grumble. Do I need to ask you if I'm pregnant, then?
You are not. I would know if you were. Your scent would change.
That's what Rachel said. I shoot a glance over at my friend. "Not
pregnant."
Her expression brightens. "Want to be?"
"Um…what?"
"This is an awkward ask for a friend, but…I need you to get pregnant."
Rachel grimaces. "Actually, I require it. We all do."

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'm not entirely sure I hear her correctly. "I'm sorry…what?"

"You need to have a baby." Rachel gestures at us. "You and
Mhal. And we need you to come back to the fort."
"You can't ask us that," I bluster, shocked she would even bring up such
a thing.
"Which part? The fort part or the baby part? I guess the fort part is a
little selfish of me. I want you back because I miss your company and I
think you'd be safe there."
Is she trying to change the subject? I'm so confused at all she's throwing
at us. Go back to the fort…because she wants us there? I reach out and grab
Mhal's hand. "Did the Salorian—Lord Azar—did he leave the fort?"
Rachel lets out a little sigh. "So you figured out he's a Salorian? I guess
that's a given, considering how he enslaved Mhal and all. No, he's still
there. Unfortunately, I think we're stuck with his sorry ass." She waves a
hand. "But he won't be a problem for you guys."
Not a problem? "He enslaved Mhal." I bite the words out, shocked at
her casualness. "How can you defend him?"
My friend shakes her head again. "I'm not defending him. I think he's a
piece of shit. But with you and Mhal bonded, he can't take him over. More
than that, he wants him back at the fort more than he wants a zombie, so he
wouldn't touch him again. He'd just recruit a new dragon to take over and
leave Mhal alone." She shudders delicately and rubs her belly again. "I
know it probably sounds like I'm on his side, but I promise you, I'm not. I
don't like him any more than you do. I know he's protecting the fort and
running things, but it doesn't mean he's a good guy. I like to think of him
as…a necessary evil."
 And she makes a face, as if the thought disgusts her.
I look over at Jurik, who remains completely impassive. It's impossible
to tell what he's thinking. Other than the occasional touch to Rachel, he
keeps his expression blank, his eyes neutral. Maybe it feels so jarring to me
because I've been around Mhal for weeks. I can feel his every thought, so I
know what he's thinking even when he's wearing that snooty look of his.
You think I am snooty?
I turn toward him. Only when you look down your nose at me. Like you
do a half-dozen times a day. I make my thoughts teasing. I like your
snootiness.
He gazes down his nose at me, that haughty look on his face. I know
he's doing it deliberately…and then his thoughts go from silly to serious. I
do not want to go back to the fort. I do not want to be anywhere near that
slavelord.
I don't blame you. And we're not going back. I wouldn't ask you to. I let
him feel the protectiveness in my mind. I don't care if he's totally
apologetic, we're not going back.
And I tell Rachel that. "You're my friend, and you know I care for you,
but I won't put Mhal back into that situation. We're not going back. I don't
think it's right that Azar's in charge. Nor do I think it's right that he's just
grabbing dragons and taking their minds." I shake my head, my hand on
Mhal's thigh. "I know he's protecting Fort Dallas, but there has to be a
better way to do it."
"I agree with everything you're saying," Rachel says, her voice
reasonable. "And I know it makes me a jerk, but I still have to ask you to
come back."
There is something she is not telling you, Mhal informs me. Do I need to
talk to Jurik?
My hand tightens on his thigh. I know how suspicious Mhal is of
talking to other dragons. After what he's gone through, I don't blame him.
You don't have to. Ignore him. You only have to talk to me.
I do not trust him, Mhal admits. I only trust you. He has reached out a
few times, but I have pushed him away. I prefer the silence to betrayal. His
thoughts have a cold, bitter tinge to them.
It makes me want to hug him. My poor dragon. I can only imagine. I
send him a protective thought full of love, even as I face Rachel. "Mhal
won't go back and I don't blame him. And if you came here to tell us this,
you're wasting your time."
Rachel's expression grows sympathetic. "I know. But I figured someone
deserves to tell you the truth. Because you're not going to like it, but you
need to hear it. And once you do, you'll come back."
"You're wrong—"
"I wish I was." Rachel suddenly looks very tired. She rubs her belly
again, her face strained, and Jurik reaches out and puts a big, protective
hand atop the mound of her stomach. They share a look, and then she turns
back to me. "I wish this was all in my head. Trust me. But it's not." She puts
her hand atop Jurik's. "I wish we could run away, too. You think I wouldn't
have left the fort behind the moment Jurik and I mated? You think I haven't
dreamed of running away every damn day? You think Gwen doesn't?"
I'm surprised to hear that. "I…thought Gwen was his friend." I think of
the tall, lean black woman and her dragon. They showed up before Rachel
mated to Jurik and have been associated with Azar in my head ever since.
"Are they not?"
Rachel laughs, the sound wry. "I think Gwen might hate him more than
I do. But she has a really strong sense of duty. She doesn't want to see the
world destroyed again." She looks over at Jurik. "Especially not that she's
about to give birth at any minute."
Is she pregnant? "What's with all the babies?"
She has not given birth yet, Mhal tells me. I would feel it.
I look over at my mate in surprise, but he doesn't expound on that.
 The tired expression on Rachel's face deepens. "You're going to hate
what I'm about to tell you, but as your friend, I feel you deserve to know.
Have you seen the big bugs here? The ones that are the size of house cats?"
A chill goes up my spine. I freeze in place, thinking of the enormous
bugs. Of the one that sat on the railing just the other day and watched me…
as if he somehow knew I was here. As if they've been following me.
Fear returns. Fear, along with the greasy, disgusting feeling that always
accompanies the dreams. The feeling of never being clean. "You've seen
them?"
She sighs. "Who hasn't? They're all over the fort lately. Worst of all, I
know where they're coming from, too."
"The Rift?" I ask. It's not something I've thought about before, but the
moment the answer pops into my head, I know. They're coming in through
the Rift. Somehow. Just like the drakoni did, the bugs are flying through
and making this place their home. A mental image of Hailey's dead body
returns and I shudder with horror.
"How did you know?" Rachel seems surprised.
"It was a guess." I cling to Mhal's leg, drawing strength from his silent
presence. Normally his thoughts are all over mine, but he's been very quiet
since Rachel arrived. "I dreamed about them, too."
Rachel immediately tenses. She touches her stomach again and leans
forward. "And you're sure you're not pregnant?"
"No. Why?"
"Because I've had dreams about the Rift ever since I got pregnant." She
squeezes Jurik's hand. "Gwen does, too. It's because of the babies." She
scoots forward, to the edge of the chair. "What did you see in your dreams?"
I lick my lips, because they're dry as bone. "Bugs. Lots and lots of bugs.
I'd wake up in my dream and I'd be in my room and they were there. They’d
come in and surrounded my bed. They covered the walls, every surface.
Everything. It felt like they were watching me, always. Staring at me. And
they made me feel…"
"Unclean?" Rachel asks.
I nod.
She sits back again, casting a worried look over at Jurik. "I don't dream
about the bugs as much as I dream about what I saw."
"What you saw?" I echo, blank. What does she mean by that?
"In the Rift." She gives me a tight, awkward smile. "Jurik and I flew up
to the Rift, because I didn't believe what Azar was saying about it."
"And what did you see?" I ask, but my stomach is turning. It's like I
already know her answer.
Rachel shudders. "Nothing human, or drakoni. It's something else.
Something evil. I don't know how to describe it other than in vague
concepts, but it's sending the bugs out. It's like they're his spies. He's
sending them to scout and check things out, and that's why they make you
feel so unnatural and sick. They're not from our world. Or our
dimension. It's an open wound, the Rift. And you know what happens with
an open wound?"
"It gets infected," I whisper.
"Yup. And right now we've got a parasite trying to move in."
Her words are chilling. I think of Bethany and her son, eating the bugs. I
think of how sick just the sight of them makes me, and I imagine something
else in the sky above, something creepy and evil watching us. Something
that invades my dreams and watches me there, too, and I shudder.
Mhal's hand goes to the back of my neck, a protective gesture. He pulls
me against him, and I go gladly, needing the comfort of his arms. I will not
let anything happen to you. Just like in your dreams, I will protect you. I
will always protect you.
I nod, but I'm not reassured. This feels bigger than just me or Mhal. He
can protect me, of that I have no doubt. But I can't help but mentally picture
the Rift, the large, pulsing, gaping wound in the sky. The one that ripped
open one day and changed everything. "You think something is really going
to come through?"
"I do," Rachel says. "That's why we're still in the fort. That's why we're
letting Azar hold on to his dragons for now. I don't like the man—he could
fall off a cliff tomorrow and I'd probably cheer—but we need him."
I make a face. "Why do we need him? You and Jurik can protect Fort
Dallas. No one has to be enslaved—"
Rachel shakes her head, cutting me off before I finish. "You don't get it,
Jenny. This is bigger than Fort Dallas. It's not just us. It's the world. I know
this sounds crazy and stupid, but we have to make babies to save everyone."
I can't help but giggle. "You're right. That does sound crazy."
Her mouth twitches. "I wish I was being funny, but I'm dead serious.
You need to get pregnant, because the world needs your baby's help. We
need all the half-drakoni babies we can get."
"Babies," I echo. "You really came here to tell us to make babies?"
They are born with strong names, Mhal says suddenly.
I straighten, looking over at my mate. What do you mean?
The babies. The ones that talk to me—the ones you told me not to talk
to. My mate's gaze is startlingly clear, his eyes vivid gold even though he
speaks of nonsense. They have strong names and strong minds. The
Salorian will want to harness that. He is clever and will stop at nothing to
expand his empire.
That's not very reassuring. “I can’t believe all of this is about babies.”
“It’s true,” Rachel tells me. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but the babies
that are half-human, half-drakoni have some sort of extra-strong mind
connection. Azar thinks they can all work together and seal off the Rift.”
Babies. It sounds…ludicrous. But the look my friend is giving me is
utterly serious. Rachel’s not one to carry a joke for too long, so she must
believe this.
 "Before you panic," Rachel says. "Let me tell you what I know and
what I'm working off of. You guys can make your choices based off of that.
If Mhal wants to talk to Jurik, Jurik's willing to share his thoughts with him.
If not, I understand that, too. You're in a vulnerable position." Her gaze is
clear and honest as she looks over at us. "It's a lot to take in, but we need
your help, and once you understand why we're asking, I'm hoping you'll
make the right decision for everyone."
I turn to Mhal and give his thigh a little squeeze. Well?
Do you want me to talk to Jurik?
I want you to do what you're comfortable with. If you're not ready to
talk to him, then you don't have to. Simple enough. I'm on your side.
He lifts my hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to my skin. If it is a trap,
you will help me come back?
If it is a trap, I'll destroy everyone involved, I promise him fiercely.
So bloodthirsty. He likes that I'd get so violent on his behalf. Very well.
And I can feel the moment Mhal opens his thoughts to Jurik.

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his world has taught me one thing—it is far easier to stay

mentally “closed” to everything this world presses onto me than
to open myself up. When I am in my two-legged form, with my mate at my
side and her thoughts threading through my own, it is easy to push out the
rest of the world. To ignore the drakoni minds that tap at my own, the
children who try to shout their way into the edges of my mind. I push them
away and focus on Jenny and Jenny alone.
And now I have to force myself to open up. To be like I was…before, in
a time I can scarcely remember any longer.
But my mate is confused and unhappy. She wants to trust her friends,
but they tell her horrible, dark things, and she wants me to reassure her. To
find out the truth for her. I can do so by touching minds with Jurik, even if it
means I risk myself again.
I will always risk myself for her, so the answer is an easy one.
It is easier than unfurling my wings, lowering the mental walls I have
erected around my center-self. The moment I do, it feels as if I am…
relaxed. Loose. Easy.
And yet…still in my mind. Still Mhal. Still myself.
Jurik prods at me, a silent request to touch minds. Even though my
instincts flare with unease, I force myself to allow the connection, well-
aware that this might be a trap, that the Salorian might be clawing his way
back in even now.
I am not with him, Jurik says, and there is truth in his thoughts. Search
my mind. You will see I tell the truth.
I do, pushing and probing through his thoughts. He is like me, scattered
when it comes to his past, but utterly focused in regards to his mate and the
child she carries. The human hive is as his female has told mine—the
Salorian lords over the humans, keeping them in line, but he also worries
over the Rift. He has felt the evil there reaching out, and he has felt it in his
mate's dreams. Once I am satisfied that he means me no harm, he steers me
towards the children. Have you spoken to them?
They have touched minds with me, but I pushed them away. My mate did
not like it. She worried it was a trap.
They are infants, Jurik replies. Infants with strong names born of this
world. Our minds are scattered and tethered by this land, but theirs are not.
It is through them that we will be able to fight whatever seeks to come
through the Rift. It is why you must have a child with your mate. We need all
mated drakoni to reproduce to make these strong children.
How will they do that? I ask. They are just children.
You should meet Sallavatri or Luminoura. They will show you. His
thoughts are easy. We do not seek to lure you back to the human hive for
bad reasons. Rachel wants her friend nearby so they can support each
other. She cares for your mate and thinks of her as family.
I look over at Jenny, who watches me with an anxious expression on her
face. She searches my features, looking for a reason to step in and protect
me, and her mind flickers at the edge of mine, a silent reminder that she is
there for me, as protective of me as I am of her.
I send her a silent burst of affection. My fires.
Is everything okay?
I am speaking with Jurik. Things are as they say. There is something evil
in the Rift and they wish for us to make a child to protect this world. The
infants are born with strong mental powers, and they believe that if we have
enough of them, they will be able to stop what is trying to come through the
Rift, the thing that reaches out into our dreams.
Already our child tries to protect Rachel in her dreams, Jurik adds,
listening in on the fringes of my thoughts. A child would do that for your
mate, as well.
The thought of being able to protect Jenny even more is an alluring one,
as alluring as the idea of making a child with her, of having a family. But
not if it is just a tool to be used. The Salorian thought I was a tool and
treated me as if I was nothing. I would not force a child into such a life.
Your scars, Jurik points out. You were a warrior back in our world?
I was Queen's Guard, I tell him. I do not remember much, but in my
mind, the title is associated with great honor…honor that has been stripped
from me now that I let a Salorian into my head. I do not wish to speak of it,
I tell him, and snap my thoughts shut, pushing him out.
Jurik blinks, the only outward sign that he has acknowledged my
dismissal. He turns to his mate, the air heavy with their silent
communication.
Everything all right? my mate asks me. Jenny's thoughts are tinged with
fierceness. Do I need to kick butts?
It is fine. I am done speaking to him for now. I look down my nose at
the small group, then get to my feet and walk away. I keep my thoughts
touching my mate's, though, letting her know that I am pleased with her, but
I am done sitting with her friends. Their scents are permeating our nest, and
Jurik's thoughts are open and bare, as if waiting for me to speak with him
again.
I do not want to. A Queen's Guard does not…well, I do not know. But
he is not my equal, and I do not like him telling me what I should or should
not do.
I will decide for myself, not because it is pushed upon me.

T he females talk for a while longer, Jenny's distracted thoughts drifting

in and out of my mind. She is happy to see her friend and asks many
questions about the baby. She asks about another friend back at the hive,
and all the while, she plots to make clothes for her friend's baby with the
scraps she has. She gives Jurik's mate one of her colorful cloaks, and both
females make loud, happy noises over the colors.
Jenny likes being with her. Her happiness wars with the confusion and
worry she has over the news that Jurik's mate brought.
Enjoy this moment, I tell my mate. We will think on other things later.
For now, be with your friend.
So they talk and drink the flavored water that my mate prefers, and
Jenny shoves a bunch of scavenged things into a pack and insists that her
friend take them back with her. I am amused at her efforts -- Jenny loves to
take care of those she cares for, even if it means sending all of our plastic
mugs back with her friend.
We can get more, Jenny tells me on a cheery note. It makes her happy to
care for her friend, and so it fills me with pleasure, as well. They leave, with
Jurik sending a mental touch of farewell to me, with an open note to it. If I
reach out again and he is in range, he will welcome communication.
I suppose that is kind of him, even if he is not Queen's Guard, and
therefore not my equal.
Jenny moves to my side and I hold her close as we watch Jurik shift into
his battle-form and delicately maneuvers his mate onto the seat strapped
between his shoulder blades. She is ungainly with the child in her belly, but
she manages to get up and fusses with more straps while Jurik waits
patiently.
What are they doing? I ask Jenny.
She's using seatbelts, I think. It's an interesting concept. Her thoughts
tumble with how she could pull together some sturdy belts and make a seat
upon my back if she needed to ride. Providing you'd let me, of course.
Why would I not let you?
 Amusement curls through Jenny's thoughts. Sometimes you forget who I
am?
Ah.
At least until I play with my breasts. Then you remember pretty quickly.
I see no problem with this sort of reminder, I tease, brushing a flyaway
piece of my mate's hair back from her brow. Perhaps you should sit on my
back and play with your breasts to ensure that my attention remains on you
at all times.
She snorts, laughter in her thoughts as the mental image drifts between
us.
It is moments like this when I need no others. I only need my Jenny, her
charming mind touching mine, her scent in my nose. I do not care about the
rest of the world. I do not care about anything other than this moment.
I'm happy, too, Jenny sends me. But Mhal, I worry. What if they're right
about the Rift? Rachel wouldn't lie, so she truly believes that something big
is coming through and only the children can stop it. Do we even want to
play into his little games?
I do not know. Is it a game if we want to have a child of our own?
She looks up at me, her eyes bright. I like the thought of a family, but I
look around at this place and think, why would I do that to anyone? Why
would I bring them into this world? Maybe it's because I remember what it
was like in the Before. Things were so wonderful and easy.
Regret fills my thoughts. And now it is not.
No, it's not easy. She turns and slides her arms around my waist. But I
have you, and that makes everything better.
A child would have us, I point out.
So you do want one?
I am like you—I would like a family. A nest full of my children and my
mate. Would I bring them into this world? I consider this carefully. If I knew
they would not be affected with the mind-turmoil like I am, then yes. I am
learning that it is not a bad world, just a very different one and not made
for drakoni. But a child? Yes, I would bring one into this world, because I
would protect it and care for it, and you would, too.
But what if things get even worse? What if it's like Rachel said, and the
Rift is a wound that's getting infected? How do we fix that? Do we do like
they said and have a child just because it helps us?
I do not know. We will sleep on it and see how we feel in the morning?
She nods and tucks her face against my chest, her thoughts whirling
with confusion. She has lived through one world-shattering event and is
terrified of another. I understand this well. I am stranded here in her world,
but this is not the world she expected, either. It belongs to neither of us.
But it might belong to our children.
Jenny looks up at me, a smile curving her mouth. "You think their baby
will look more like Rachel or like Jurik?"
I try to picture Jurik's mate, and shrug. Her features were unimpressive.
"Really? Even her scars?"
I did not notice them.
Her eyes widen. "How did you not notice?" She studies me closely.
"Show me your mental image of her again?" I do, and Jenny cocks her
head, puzzled. "Show me your image of me?"
An odd request, but I do as she asks.
A smile crosses her face. "Mhal, honey, do you need glasses?"
Do I need what? I scowl at her mental image of a strange contraption
worn across the eyes and over the nose. Why would I need such a thing?
"To help your eyesight! Everything's a blur to you!"
It is not if I squint hard. I do so, and her face comes into sharper view,
her bright eyes dancing with amusement. See? It is fine.
Jenny giggles. "We are going to find a glasses store and get you some to
wear. I can't believe this. My fierce drakoni warrior is nearsighted."
 It is not necessary, I grumble. I do not like her pointing out my flaws. Is
my vision as crisp as hers? No. But it serves me just fine.
"And I think we should get you glasses," Jenny says again.
And because I can refuse my mate nothing, it seems we are going to get
these “glasses” after all.

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y thoughts are a mess with everything we've learned from

Rachel and Jurik, so I focus on the small things—like
getting glasses for Mhal.
I can feel he's completely opposed to the idea but he likes to humor me.
All this time I thought that his mental pictures were just hazy because that
was how mental pictures were. It wasn't until he commented on the fact that
he didn't notice Rachel's scars. I love Rachel dearly and I think she's
beautiful, but her scars are the first thing one notices about her when they
meet her. They cover one side of her face and her lower lip is bisected by
one of the marks. They're impossible to miss. You don't notice them much
after you get to know her, but a stranger would.
So…since I can't fix our situation, I can at least get Mhal glasses.
Mhal has shifted enough times that I'm comfortable with how to handle
him. The moment he switches to battle-form, he's confused and disoriented,
his thoughts utter chaos. His tail lashes and he fans out his wings,
aggression rolling through his mind like a thunderstorm.
I immediately reach out to him.
Mhal, sweetheart. I keep my thoughts loving and most of all, calm. It's
me. Remember me?
No. But his thoughts are confused. He leans down, large dragon head
moving over me as he takes in my scent. I'm familiar to him, but the piece
of the puzzle that answers his questions is eluding him.
It's me. Your Jenny. Your mate.
Jenny. He tastes the name and decides it is a good one. Why are you
human?
 I chuckle. Always have been, always will. You still love me for it? I
reach out and stroke his nose.
I thought I would have a drakoni mate, he admits, and the arrogance
that is pure Mhal bleeds through his thoughts. But…I like your scent better.
You like a lot of things I do better, I promise him, all cocky confidence.
I press a kiss to his nose. You said you would take me somewhere, my love.
I did? But he gathers me into his claws and cradles me against his chest
like I'm the most perfect of treasures. I…must have forgotten.
It's all right. I fill my thoughts with understanding and affection. We all
forget sometimes. I send him a mental image of where I want to go. I don't
know of a specific eyeglasses store, but there's a strip mall not too far away
that might have a likely candidate, and if nothing else, we can fly along the
highway and see what we can find.
He brings me to his muzzle and rubs his nose affectionately against my
cheek. How is it that I forget you? I do often, do I not?
Every time you shift, I remind him. I have this conversation with him
regularly, too. At first it upset me, but now I understand it. It's just another
quirk of being drakoni in this world. There's something about the way they
think that gets muddied by being here—Rachel said Jurik gets confused too,
and it's always worse in battle-form. But he's never aggressive to me and
once he remembers me, he's loving and sweet.
I figure there are worse things than a quick reminder of who I am. So I
rub against his scales and caress his snout, and fill my thoughts with
affection. Can we go flying?
Of course. Are you hungry? Shall I feed you? The confusion in his
thoughts fades to something a lot more like protectiveness. What do you
need?
I'm fine, I promise him. Let's go flying and see what we can find, shall
we?
 Mhal takes to the skies, and even though I don't have a fancy saddle like
Rachel did, I feel completely and utterly secure. Mhal holds me tight in his
blunted claws, his grip firm as he presses me to his chest. He flies where I
tell him to go, and then his thoughts lean on mine, seeking approval as we
float past one building and then another. There's a great many stores
crammed in this section of town, all of them wrecked and weathered, and
not a single one an eyeglass store. I'm just about to give up hope when I
spot something with potential. The sign is old and faded, but the image of
glasses is an obvious one, and I don't have to tell Mhal to go down—he
picks it up from my head and acts.
He lowers us to the old abandoned parking lot, next to what was once a
juice store and is probably now just a haven for cockroaches. Once he sets
me onto my feet, I straighten my clothes and look up at him. Will you turn
back to two-legged form for me?
Why?
This is the part we always argue over. He'd rather be in battle-form to
protect me, but I can't exactly fit glasses onto a dragon. Because I need you
to be my size. I cup my breasts and tease the nipples enticingly under his
gaze. Watching his eyes go from a mixture of black-and-gold to almost
completely gold turns me on, and my nipples harden, rubbing against the
fabric of my dress.
The moment my arousal touches the air, Mhal shifts. A breath later, he
pulls me against him, his mouth hungry over mine, his hand moving to my
breasts. Tease. My beautiful, teasing mate.
I kiss him back, then force myself to pull away. "Glasses first," I
promise him, holding out my hand. "Then we can make love."
He bites back a groan of frustration, but takes the hand I offer him. You
are far too stubborn.
I just laugh, because if that isn't the pot calling the kettle black, what is?
 The store's glass doors are shattered and the moment we step inside, my
heart sinks. There are frames displayed on the wall, along with a broken
mirror, but the frames have no lenses in them. Of course not. You have to
have a prescription for glasses. Frustrated, I pick up the first pair and sigh,
staring into the broken mirror at my reflection. The Jenny that looks back
isn't the one I recognize from Before. I used to be this soft, delicate kid, my
feelings easily hurt. This Jenny's tougher, with wild, wind-tossed hair and
an expression that has seen some shit.
And right now, this Jenny is pissed she didn't think about the glasses
before they flew here. I frown at my surroundings. I hate a wasted trip.
Do not be so sad. His fingers brush over my bare arm before he turns
and gazes at our surroundings. There is nothing here we can use? I bet you
can find something. His thoughts are full of affection. You always do.
Mmm, I guess so. I open the door to one of the back rooms and peer in.
A filing cabinet, some old folders, an old computer monitor on a desk and
no computer—probably scavenged. I flip open one file, just out of curiosity,
and…there's a pair of glasses in the folder.
These are prescriptions that never got picked up.
"Mhal, come here," I call excitedly. I pull the glasses out of the plastic
bag that's stapled to the file and then hold them out to him. "Put these on
and tell me how things look."
He holds the folded glasses in his hand and frowns at me. Put on how?
Oh. Right. I unfold the arms, showing him how they work, and guide
them up to his nose. They're an ugly pair with basketball cartoons on the
rims—why??—but if they help his vision, it doesn't matter. "Well?" I ask
him.
Mhal peers down his nose at me. This is supposed to help?
"Show me," I say, and grimace when the image he sends to my head is
blurrier than ever. "Yeah, that's not good. Okay, take those off. Maybe we
can find another pair."
 The next drawer of the filing cabinet is chock full of glasses, so I pull
out another pair of glasses and hold them out to him, and he puts them on
and tests them before we move on to the next. It's kind of cozy and
domestic with us like this, just a happy married—uh, mated—couple
shopping for glasses together.
Are we? he asks, pushing a pair of huge bug-like frames up his nose and
staring around him.
"Are we what?"
A happy mated couple? You have everything you want?
A mental image of something new flashes through his head. Of me,
pregnant like Rachel was. Oh. It's something he wants. I pause, studying his
face. "I never thought I'd have anyone," I admit. "Other than my dad. After
he died, I thought it was just a matter of time before this world chewed me
up and spit me out, too. That I'd be dead in another year or so. But with
you…I think about the future. And I'm not entirely sure what it entails yet,
but it fills me with hope."
Would it bother you if I said I wanted children? He takes off the
oversized glasses and puts on a pair of black nerd glasses with square rims,
and a look of surprise crosses his face. Oh. He stares at the wall nearest to
us. There is a picture on it. Those are not just blobs.
I turn and look at the eye chart that he's staring at with fascination.
"They're not just blobs, no. They're writing."
He reaches out and traces the large E on the chart. I did not realize my
eyes were that bad. He frowns and turns to give me a skeptical look. You
will not tell any other Queen's Guard of my flaw?
"Why would I?" I sit on the edge of the desk, pleased, as he moves
around the room, staring at everything.
Humans are messy. Look at all the things cluttered into this place. He
leans in and stares at an advertisement of a happy family, all wearing
glasses. He stares at the picture, his gaze moving over the faces of the
family. Do you want children? he asks bluntly. Even though I am flawed like
this?
"First of all, you're not flawed," I point out. "Lots of humans have
vision trouble. I won't tell anyone, and you don't have to wear the glasses
around anyone else but me. And second of all…I don't know if I want
children. Can I think on it for a day or two?"
Of course.
I watch him adjust the glasses on his face, amused and full of affection.
"Funny how you're more upset about your 'flaw' of needing glasses than of
bringing children into this mess of a world."
Mhal turns to me, and the glasses perched on his regal nose just make
him look more arrogant. I kind of love the way he looks, though. Haughty
and yet with a wild edge. There is not another world to bring them into, he
points out. I cannot go back to mine, it sounds like, not if the Rift is polluted
with darker things. And this world has good things in it.
"Such as?"
He saunters toward me. Their mother. These glasses. Those tasty
creatures with the excessively long horns.
I giggle at his absurd list. "So because you like the taste of longhorns,
we should have kids?"
No, we should have children because we want them, not for any specific
reason other than that. Mhal puts his hands on my shoulders and then
presses a kiss to my forehead. But we are not deciding today, remember?
"Of course not."
Mhal goes completely still, his gaze distant. Do you still wish for me to
avoid the babies?
Oh. "Are they talking to you?"
They talk to everyone in range. They do not know how to tone their
thoughts down yet. Here, I will show you. He opens his mind a little more,
and then I feel it.
 It's like a megaphone blast into my head. HUNGRY, bellows a child.
HUNGRY. AND WET. UNHAPPY.
I wince, surprised at how strong the voice is. It's less of a distinct
thought and more of a sensation. The baby doesn't know the word for
“hungry” so it's broadcasting the feelings, and it is very, very loud and
cranky. And young. "Who is that?"
Her name is Luminoura. I do not know her sire and dam's names, but
she shares their faces in her thoughts sometimes. A mental glimpse of a
woman is offered, from the perspective of a baby breast-feeding and gazing
up at its mother. The woman is smiling, her dark, curling hair and olive skin
familiar to me. I've seen her around Fort Dallas, I realize, but I don't recall
her name.
No, wait. I do. "Sasha," I say suddenly. "She was dating one of the
guards. One that got killed by dragons." I haven't seen her in the fort for a
while, and I guess I now know why. She hooked up with a dragon and had
his baby.
It seems to be a thing lately—having babies with dragons.
Mhal turns to me, his thoughts bright with excitement. I can feel his
enthusiasm – not to meet Sasha and her dragon, but to view the child. Do
you want to go see them?
Go see them? Sasha and the baby? Right now?
How can I refuse?

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he moment I shift into battle-form, the thoughts and smells of

this world crash in around me. Chaos blackens my mind, and I
become lost in the madness. I growl, frustrated, because the unending flood
of images and swirling, unfamiliar scents overwhelms everything.
Mhal, calls a patient, sweet voice.
I follow it, peering down at my feet. I ruffle my wings in frustration,
ready to flame whatever is attacking my thoughts.
It's me, Mhal. Your Jenny. Your mate. Come breathe in my scent and
you'll remember me. She makes a beckoning motion with her hand,
indicating I should do as she asks.
For a moment, I am horrified. I am Queen's Guard. Why would I mate
with a human? For that is what this female is—she gazes up at me with her
face the odd color of the humans, her hair dark, her eyes that odd,
unchanging color. I lean in, ready to snap her up in my jaws if she lies—
Familiarity washes over me the moment I breathe in her scent.
Jenny. My soft, pretty, fragile human. Mental images of my mate stir, of
her laughter as she touches me, of the soft, vulnerable expression on her
face when I claim her. I can smell my fires in her veins, smell the scent of
my seed between her thighs. This is indeed my mate. How could I forget?
It's all right, she tells me in that soft, wonderful tone. Her hand caresses
my nose. This world messes with your head. I don't mind reminding you.
I rub my head against her, pleased at her scent. It truly is appealing,
musky and fresh and utterly enchanting to breathe in. I could press my
snout to her belly and just drink in her scent all day long.
Do you remember what we talked about? she asks me, her hands
skimming over my scales in a lovely way. We were going to go visit one of
the babies. You said you wanted to. Her mind fills with our conversation we
had just a short time ago, a conversation that I cannot find in my own
memories no matter how hard I try. Everything is blurry. If I try to focus on
anything other than her scent, chaos and madness fill my thoughts.
I focus on her, instead. She's what I like best anyhow.
A loud, intrusive thought bursts into my mind. It flares bright with
hunger, and then is immediately settled. Thoughts of feeding and the taste
of mother's milk drift through the child's thoughts. Luminoura. I remember
now. She has reached out many times, but I have pushed her away.
COME, Luminoura tells me. ALL IS WELL. I AM FED AND WILL BE
SLEEPY SOON. Her happiness floats through my mind, clearing some of
the clouds away.
Yes. We were going to visit Luminoura and her parents. The desire to
see one of the half-drakoni children is pervasive, and when my mate holds
her arms up, I scoop her into my claws. She holds a small tube in her hand
and as she settles into my grip, Jenny pats my scales. "Don't worry. I have
your glasses."
My…glasses? A mental image of clear faces, of Jenny's bright smile as
she gazes up at me, drifts through my head. I remember now. Glasses.
Our secret. Don't worry. Jenny's thoughts are full of affection. Do you
know how to find Luminoura? Will they be upset that we're coming
unannounced?
Nothing is unannounced as far as those children are concerned, I reply,
and Jenny laughs.
I take to the air, following the thread of Luminoura's charmingly
disoriented thoughts. Hers are not the wild chaos of my own, but something
purer, sweeter. They're the distractedness of an infant, a collage of her
mother's face, impressions of food, her father's thoughts touching her own,
and Luminoura's own mental reaches for Sallavatri, myself, and the other
drakoni in the area. Now that I am no longer blocking her thoughts, they
drift through mine, pleasing and strong in their contentment. They make my
mind feel stronger, too, more resilient, and I wonder if her sire is stronger in
mind with the constant presence of his child nearby.
Jenny's thoughts touch mine constantly as I fly, her observations of what
she sees below peppering through my head. There is an old restaurant. That
one is a hardware store. That one is nothing but shoes. There is something
called a gas station, where people would fuel up “cars.” Jenny's thoughts
even show me how they used to work, and I am fascinated. Humans would
crawl inside them and the car would move on its own down all the flat paths
that cover the ground. Now that there is no more “gas” in the gas stations,
all the metal cars sit empty and abandoned along the roads.
Luminoura's mind grows stronger, and I spot a tall building in the
distance. A bank building, Jenny tells me, reading the sign. The letters are
broken and bird nests are tucked into the curves of the sign. Just above the
lettering of the sign itself, there is a large opening in the roof of the
building, and as we move closer, a large drakoni male takes to the skies and
bellows a warning.
Jenny stiffens in my grip, a flicker of fear in her head.
PAPA, Luminoura calls, delighted at the sound of her father's bugling.
She sends him a flurry of thoughts and emotions that include me.
Immediately, the other male—Dakh—settles. She has invited you?
Yes. We wish to see, I send back. We want to look upon a child with
drakoni and human blood.
Come, then. She likes you. Dakh's tone loses its aggressiveness and he
whirls about in the sky, heading back toward his nest. The scent of him is
everywhere in this territory. It is well-marked and established, so they have
been here for a while.
I make sure that all know this territory belongs to me, Dakh sends back,
his thoughts edged with ferocity. No one will come close to my mate and
child unless I let them.
 Of course.
"Is everything okay?" Jenny asks me, worried.
It is fine. Dakh sends us a warning, as any would if we went into his
territory. All is well. I want to nuzzle her to reassure her, but I must
concentrate on flying. I lift my wings, adjusting the angle so I can pull up
on the edge of the building. I settle in, using my hind legs to anchor my
body in place, and study our surroundings. There is a break in the floor
here, and below, I see the trappings of a home set up. There is a bed, and a
kitchen—my Jenny's mind fills in the words for me—and a couch. And
walking toward us, wearing a soft, faded dress, is Luminoura's mother, the
baby in her arms.
Gently, I lower my claws and set Jenny on the floor in front of her. Is
this all right?
"Thank you, Mhal," my mate tells me with a sweet smile. "Are you
going to change and join us?"
I look over at Dakh. He rests opposite me, remaining in his battle-form.
He lounges on his side, but his thoughts are anything but relaxed. He is
wary. Watchful. A protector ready to go to battle to defend his mate. He will
not shift forms, not while I am here.
But I want to see Luminoura for myself.
I jump down, shifting mid-air, and when I land on the floor next to my
mate, I am in my two-legged form once more. I shake off the last vestiges
of muscle-memory left over from my other form—I can still feel my wings
if I close my eyes—and roll my shoulders as I stand up.
Jenny immediately moves in front of me, embarrassment flaring
through her thoughts. "I forgot he won't have any pants. Do you have a
towel he can wear?"
You think she has not seen a cock before? I tease my mate, wrapping my
arms around her shoulders from behind and dipping my head to breathe in
her scent. She had a baby, you know. She knows what one looks like.
 Yes, but she might think it's rude if you wander around her house with
your junk hanging out, Jenny replies primly.
The other female—Sasha, my mate's thoughts tell me—just smiles. "I've
seen plenty of naked drakoni, so one more doesn't faze me. I'll get him a
towel if you find it awkward, though. It's hard to line up our thinking with
theirs sometimes."
And then the other female looks at me and holds out her infant. She
knows the reason we are here.
Luminoura shoves a fist into her mouth, covering both her chin and her
fingers with drool. Her little legs kick wildly, and she stares at me with the
bright, swirling eyes of all drakoni. The hair atop her head is a mess of thick
black curls like her mother's and her skin is a shade of amber I have never
seen on a drakoni, much less a female.
Compelled despite myself, I reach out and take the infant, holding her
under her arms. Greetings, I say to her.
The little legs kick in the air and Luminoura makes a cooing sound
aloud. MHAL, she bellows in my head happily. MHAL MHAL MHAL.
I grin and hold her against my chest. You are a very, very loud little
warrior.
Her delighted laughter is so loud in my mind that I wince…but then I
laugh, too.

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should have known that Mhal would fall head over heels for the
baby.
He's entranced by her. I can feel in his mind that Luminoura shares her
infant thoughts with him—most of it babylike shouting—and he adores all
of it. He holds her for hours, until hunger hits her again and then Luminoura
wants her mother. Sasha takes her daughter from Mhal then, and for a
moment, my mate looks so very bereft that my heart twinges.
I somehow know how our babies conversation is going to go.
She is special, is she not? Mhal asks me, barely able to take his gaze
away from the child as she nurses. Normally this would probably bug me to
see my guy staring intensely at another woman's bared breast, but Mhal's
thoughts are in my head and there is zero interest in Sasha whatsoever. His
fascination is with the baby. Our daughter or our son would be just like
that. So strong of mind and clear-headed.
I sip the glass of water in front of me. Sasha's baked us some cookies,
too. She found a stash of brown sugar a while back in an old grocery store
—all of it as hard as bricks—and she chips a little off here and there to bake
with. The cookies aren't what I remember from Before—they're hard and
dry, but still a treat after the constant tomato- and corn-based meals in the
fort. I don't know what to think about Mhal's baby fever. Part of me thinks
it's cute. Who wouldn't love a big, dangerous guy brought to his knees by a
fat, wriggling baby?
Part of me worries about the consequences, though. If we have a baby,
are we dooming it to a terrible fate? We're assuming that enough children
will be born to close the Rift. What if there aren't? What if some are born
without the strong minds of the others? What then? Are they going to be
stuck in a world that's a double whammy of awful?
I think about my father. He'd always been strong, but after Mom died
and we were left alone together in this new world, he turned hard. He
always protected me, but a lot of the time, I wondered if he'd wished I'd
died when the Rift came instead of Mom. Or maybe he'd wished we'd both
died so he could truck on alone. Life's a lot easier in the After without a kid
in tow, especially a female one.
I don't think I'd want my baby to feel as if she was a burden to her
parents. Things are hard enough as it is.
No one would ever be a burden to you, Mhal thinks confidently. You are
not your father.
I know that. And he was a good father. I don't want you to think he
wasn't. He did right by me. He cared for me. He made sure I was safe at all
times.
As I will do with you and our child. Your father did the best he could,
but he was not drakoni. Nor was he Queen's Guard. Our child will have the
best of all guardians…me.
I stifle a snort of amusement into my cookie.
Sasha glances over at me. She's been a polite, if distant, host, her head
no doubt filled with conversations on her mate's end and taking care of her
baby. She's got some incredible snacks, though. Cookies makes her top
class in my book, and to add on to that, her water tastes clean and pleasant.
She smiles over at me and steals a cookie from the plate in-between us.
"Sorry if I've been a little distracted today."
"I'm sorry we dropped in unannounced."
"It wasn't unannounced with Luminoura," Sasha admits, watching as the
baby feeds at her breast. "She told Dakh all about it."
"Not you?"
 A wistful look crosses Sasha's lovely face. "I can't hear her thoughts.
Only the drakoni can." She brushes a pinky over her daughter's cheek and
gives her a loving smile. "I'm going to have to wait a bit longer to say
hello."
"Oh. I didn't realize." How strange and isolating it must feel to be the
mother of a baby and to be the one to feed her, and yet be cut out of the
communication chain.
"It was strange at first," Sasha admits. She takes another bite of cookie
and then sets it down, switching her daughter to her other breast. "I was
actually really jealous of Dakh, because here we've made this little person,
and she's apparently already talking her head off to her father, and I can't
hear a thing. Dakh shares the conversations with me and opens his mind so
I can feel them, too, but it's not quite the same."
"I see." In her place, I imagine I'd be jealous too. Resentful, even. It's
not something you'd think about, and then to find out everyone's talking
except you? It has to feel strange.
"In a way, though, I'm glad they have the bond," Sasha says, glancing
up at her dragon with affection. Dakh has remained utterly silent and
watchful, and I don't think he likes our presence much.
I do not think Dakh likes anything much…except his mate and child,
Mhal offers.
"Does Mhal…struggle?" Sasha's question is delicate, her gaze open as
she looks from me and over to Mhal. "With the madness? I've heard that
some of the drakoni are more settled now that the children are constantly in
their heads. Dakh has been more in his own mind since Luminoura arrived,
as well. Her presence soothes him in ways that I can't."
I do not struggle, Mhal tells me in that haughty tone of his.
I just hold his hand in mine and don't comment. Seems wiser.
Sasha fusses over her daughter for a little longer. Once the baby has
finished eating, she stands up and paces, rubbing Luminoura's back as she
burps her. "Did you come up with her name?" I ask, watching the mother
with her child.
"Oh no," Sasha says, smiling. "She came out and declared her name to
the world. I think they all will. The drakoni are born with their names, too. I
think. Dakh says he has always been Dakh. That once he was “more” than
just Dakh, but now he's just…Dakh." Her smile becomes apologetic. "I'm
sure that doesn't make any sense."
It does to me, Mhal says, thoughtful. All I can remember of my name is
Mhal, but it also seems strange to have such a short, insulting name and yet
I am Queen's Guard. Those with small names are small presences in my
world. I think my name was once longer, but I no longer have all of it.
Another piece that's been lost since you came through?
Perhaps, Mhal muses. Perhaps the rest will come back someday.
Perhaps not. Perhaps the rest will be given to our daughter.
Are we having one, then? I tap his hand with my fingertip. Is it decided?
Nothing is decided, he tells me, his tone mollifying. I just know my
thoughts on the subject. It is your body. I will honor your wishes, whatever
they will be.
"Did you guys have more questions for us?" Sasha asks in a quiet voice,
her hand moving up and down Luminoura's back in a gentle caress.
I turn to Mhal.
Can I hold the baby again? he asks.
I fight back a smile. "Mhal wants to know if he can hold Luminoura
again."
"She's probably just going to sleep," Sasha warns, even as she steps
forward with the blanket-wrapped infant. "And she's a drooler."
I pass this on to Mhal, who absolutely does not care. He takes the infant
with an expression of joy on his face and rests her on his shoulder just like
Sasha did. Sure enough, the baby goes to sleep, her mouth open (and
drooling) on my mate's shoulder. And…okay. It does punch me right in the
ovaries. He'd be a great dad.
I glance over at Sasha again. She casts another look of affection up to
Dakh, clearly in a conversation with him. Then she sits down across from
us again and relaxes, picking up another cookie. "I should have you guys
come over more often to babysit," she tells us with tired amusement. "I'd
love to have some time to just sit and read a book, and that's hard to do with
a new baby. When she sleeps, I want to sleep too."
We can stay. I will hold her all night, Mhal tells me happily. His
thoughts are so…content right now. No wonder Dakh has “settled” like
Sasha said. It's hard to see this and not want a baby, just to give Mhal the
boost of mental clarity. I remind myself that the baby would be its own
person, though, and it's more than just a quick fix. It's an absolute change of
how we live our lives. I want to think it through logically and not be
directed by impulse.
So I glance over at Sasha. "How do you feel about Lord Azar and his
little plan?"
She shrugs a shoulder. "He can plan all he wants. We're not going back
to Fort Dallas. I won't take my family anywhere near him."
"Do you believe the others when they say something is coming through
the Rift, then?" I'm curious.
Sasha nods, her expression grim. "I believe it. I've felt it. If you get
pregnant, you'll feel it, too. It's like it talks to you when you're expecting."
She shudders delicately, and above us, Dakh gets agitated.
"You think that his plan will work? To have the babies somehow seal
the Rift shut?"
"I don't know if it's his plan," Sasha admits, "Or if he's just
piggybacking on their natural inclinations. I do know that from the moment
Luminoura was born, she's protected both myself and Dakh. The moment
the thing in the Rift tries to enter our dreams, she blots it out. So do I think
Azar is going to be the linchpin in things? No. I think he's just trying to get
as many people to have babies as possible, because he wants to save his
own hide."
"Are you going to let Luminoura help, then?"
Sasha chuckles. "That's cute. You've felt Luminoura's mind through
your mate. You think I could stop her?"
She has a point.

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e stay until late. Sasha makes dinner, a simple meat mix with
a bit of fresh zucchini and onion from her patio garden
tossed in with the spices. Mhal holds the baby the entire time, and talks
with Dakh in tendrils of conversation that drift in and out of my own
conversations with Sasha.
I've never really gotten to know Sasha well. I saw her around Fort
Dallas, but didn't know her. Sasha is an absolute bookworm and loves
romance novels especially. She pushes her favorites on me, gushing about
the characters in a book she's read a half-dozen times. She offers a few
books to loan to me, but only if I promise to bring them back, and when we
finally leave, it's with full bellies, new friends, and a reading list.
This time, when Mhal shifts to his battle-form, he's not even that
disoriented. He remembers me after only a moment's confusion, and then he
flies us home, mind-touching with Luminoura and Dakh as we go. I like
them, he tells me. I would like to visit again. I have not had friends before.
But you were Queen's Guard, remember?
That was different. Our loyalties were only to the queen. We were not
encouraged to be friendly with one another.
The more he tells me about his Queen's Guard days, the less it sounds
like a noble honor and the more it sounds like the queen was just using
them as convenient bodyguards. I try to keep that thought to myself, but
Mhal picks it out anyhow.
He doesn't like it, but he doesn't say I'm wrong, either.
When we land in our “nest,” I can't help but compare it to Sasha's cozy
place back in the other building. I liked my shack before, but now it feels…
well, like a shack. The wind whips at us, chilly this evening, and when I
step into my makeshift hut atop the walkway, the walls rattle and some of
the wind whistles in from the big cracks along the walls. It strikes me as
very temporary, this home.
It also strikes me as the worst place to raise a baby. It's like I'm seeing
everything with new eyes. Before, I viewed it all from a lens of “good
enough.” Am I comfortable? Good enough. Do I have food to eat? Good
enough. Water to drink? Enough to bathe? Something to wear? Good
enough.
But good enough won't work for a baby. Good enough won't work long-
term.
I realize I'm still living in the moment. I'm not thinking ahead to
tomorrow, or the next year, or ten years down the line. If I live in the
moment, this home—this life—is good enough.
If not…we have to make major changes.
Mhal shifts into his two-legged form and enters the hut. He gazes
around us, and I know he is seeing it as I'm seeing it. You are not happy
with our nest, he says thoughtfully.
"I am happy. I'm happy with things as they are. But if we want more…"
I understand. He picks up the plastic bucket I use to keep my boiled
water in and studies the contents. Dakh and his mate had clean, fresh water.
All they could want. We do not have this.
"The fort also has a doctor," I point out softly, and I send him a mental
image of Melina. "If we have a baby, I want a doctor to be there. It's
dangerous otherwise."
And would you like for me to give you a child, my mate? Mhal's
thoughts flare with lust. He moves toward me, wrapping his arms around
my body and tucking me against him. I press against his chest, loving how
sheltered I feel when he cups the back of my head and holds me close.
"I know you want one," I whisper. "I'm just trying to switch my head
from the present to the future. I have a hard time seeing it sometimes." I
slide my arms around his waist, his solid body warm against mine. "It's
funny, but one of the common things back in the day was when you went on
a job interview, they'd ask you 'where do you see yourself in five years?' It
was meant to get you thinking about the future. My dad used to say it
sarcastically all the time in the After. Like, he would gesture at our
surroundings and say, 'Where do you see yourself in five years?' as if the
world was playing the biggest joke on him. I think about that sometimes.
Maybe it's why I have a hard time seeing ahead."
Where do you see yourself in five years, then? Mhal asks me. Still
cradling my head, he tilts me so my neck is exposed, then leans in and
presses kisses there, making love to my throat in a way that makes me
shiver with need. Share with me what you think your life will be like. I want
to see.
I drift in my thoughts, musing. Where do I see myself in five years? It's
an excellent question. I play with the idea in my head, imagining where I'd
like to be. I imagine myself in my ideal place, living my ideal life. I
picture…a farm. A place with a vegetable patch for food, trees for shade,
and greenery as far as the eye can see. A well for fresh water. Fresh, open
air. I don't picture the metal-covered cement “safe” houses of Fort Dallas. I
don't picture anything Fort Dallas, actually. I picture myself growing my
own vegetables, wearing clothes that I've made…with my mate at my side.
If we had a little farm, Mhal could protect us. He could keep his
territory safe from other drakoni who might wander near and flame things.
We wouldn't need to be hunkered down in a fort. We'd just need to be
ourselves.
We?
I realize I'm picturing us with children. That when I tend to my
vegetables, Mhal and our children are there with me. We're a happy little
family, quiet and cozy and tucked away from everyone else. Taking things
one day at a time, but…free. Happy.
 I guess I do want kids. I just don't want the version of the future that
Azar offers. I feel guilty for even realizing that my future doesn't involve
helping out others or taking care of those in need at the fort. I just want
simplicity. I want quiet.
I want Mhal and a family, and a little place to call our own.
Mhal kisses my neck again, his teeth lightly scraping over my skin in a
way that sends goosebumps of need over my body. We do not have to take
anything Azar offers, he tells me. We can make the future our own. We do
not need to go back to the fort. We need never go back. I will keep you safe.
I pull at the laces on my dress, undoing the drawstring that holds the
simple garment to my breasts. What about the Rift? What about Rachel's
warning?
Let someone else take on the problems of the world, Mhal tells me. He
moves lower, cupping one of my breasts and feeding it to his lips. I gasp at
the bolt of pleasure that flares through my body, my arms going around him
and holding him against me as he teases my nipple with his tongue. God,
his mouth feels good. I moan as he licks one peak to stiffness, and then
moves to the other, his thumb caressing the abandoned breast. You and I
will forge our own path and we will not need anyone else.
I like that idea. I like it a lot.
Mhal's thoughts are twining with mine. He feels how much I love his
lips on my skin, how much desire his hungry mouth sends rippling through
my body. With a groan, he picks me up and hauls me to our bed. My
beautiful, perfect mate, he tells me, over and over again. My everything. My
sweet, soft Jenny.
Soft? I tease, laughing at the thought. Nothing in the After is soft.
He lays me down upon the bed with such gentleness that it steals my
breath away. The look in his intense golden eyes is full of need. But you are
soft. Your thoughts are soft, because it is in your nature to want to help
others. He strips the last of my clothing off of me, and then kisses my foot.
This is soft.
I giggle, because my callused foot is not soft, not in the slightest.
You are soft right here, he says, and kisses the inside of my arch.
I whimper, hot need flaring through my body. I had no idea I liked that
sort of thing, but his mouth there does all kinds of crazy things to my libido.
Where else am I soft? I ask, fully aware that it's a shameless leading
question.
Hot laughter rolls through my mind. Well, my drakoni says in a very
lazy, sexy tone. You are soft here. And he leans in and kisses the inside of
my knee. And you are very soft here. He continues to kiss forward, moving
along the inside of my thigh. But you are softest right here, in your center.
And he pushes my thighs wide apart, lowering his head to lick my core.
It doesn't matter how many times Mhal goes down on me, I'm always
hungry for more. I love the flare of pleasure that leaps through his mind
when he tastes me, love how much he enjoys his tongue stroking through
my folds, how much he loves to drill the tip of his tongue deep into my core
and pleasure me with it. Feeling it through our connected thoughts adds an
extra layer of enjoyment that I never suspected, and it makes me hotter than
ever. I squirm against his mouth, and because he expects that, he pins me
with one arm, holding me still so he can tongue me with abandon.
It makes me so incredibly aroused. I whimper, bucking my hips and
trying to meet his mouth as he works my clit, teasing and sucking on the
sensitive bit of flesh. He knows which quivers mean I'm close, and he
follows the slightest movements of my body like a hunter with prey. I can
never hold out for long, and before I can even feel the orgasm building up
in my legs, I'm coming with an intense wave of pleasure. I cry out, lost as
he continues to flick his tongue against my clit, dragging out the moment
for as long as possible.
 Before I can fully recover, he's over me, kissing me hard, his cock
dragging against my folds. He rubs his big body against mine, reminding
me that he's big and brawny and he owns me. I cry out softly as he fits the
head of his cock to my entrance. He always feels so big, so powerful in that
first stroke, like he's claiming me from inside out, retaking my body and
using it to suit his needs.
I love being owned by him, because no matter how careful and reverent
he is when he touches me, there's a hungry, needy edge that requires sating,
and it's never more evident than when he edges toward his own release. His
focus narrows, and then there's nothing in the world—and nothing in his
ever-busy head—other than our joining. There's nothing that exists outside
of his cock driving into my body and how it feels. His arousal always stirs
my arousal, and by the time he's on the precipice, I'm needy and wanting
once more. It's the delicious friction, the absolutely relentless pounding of
his cock into me that drives me back to the edge again, and when his release
blasts through him, I go with him, climaxing at the same time.
It's incredible—feeling his climax in his mind the same time as I come a
second time. It makes the ripples of pleasure last longer, and the afterglow
between us is so hazy and pleasant it's like basking in the sunshine.
They should have told me that when they made me hand over my
panties. I'd have been all aboard mating with a dragon if I'd been told this
sort of thing was part of the deal. I stroke my hand over Mhal's sweat-
dampened back and feel…happy.

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JENNY

sit on the walkway, outside of the love shack, and watch the
skies.
I’m dreaming, I realize.
One bug flies up onto the railing and perches there, watching me. Its
eyes flicker with an almost-intelligence, and it lifts one leg and cleans its
face as its sits, and I get the vague impression it's trying to be casual. A
short time later, another bug joins it. And then another.
When I look up, there's an entire flock of them, like crows roosting.
They know you won't do anything, so they're coming out.
I turn to the person at my side. It's a small boy, one I don't recognize.
His hair is a fuzzy pale blonde, his skin the same shade as mine. He looks
down his nose at me, and that expression looks so, so familiar. I can't see
his eyes because of the dream. His hair covers them, but something tells me
I'd see the drakoni-gold swirling in their depths.
"Who are you?" I ask.
"You know who I am," he replies.
"No, I don't," I begin, but then I stop. He looks down his nose at me
once more, and my mouth goes dry, even as more bugs fly onto the railings.
They coat it now, and I can sense an oncoming darkness, something that
lurks just beyond the railing. Something unseen, but just as unclean as it's
always been. The child moves closer to me, putting his small hand in my
own, and when he touches me, everything washes backward. The bugs
disappear. The unclean feeling fades.
The child is keeping me safe.
"You know who I am," he says again, and smiles up at me.
 A knot forms in my throat, because I do. I know who this is. "You're my
son," I whisper. "Aren't you?"
He nods.
"Do you…have a name?"
"Arthromathan," he tells me proudly. "But you won't remember it. I'll
tell you again when I'm born." He holds my hand tighter. "You have to help,
Mama. If you don't, the others won't have a chance."
"What others?" I ask.
"The ones waiting to be born, of course. Can't you see them?" He gazes
around us, staring up into the skies.
I look up, expecting to see bugs and monsters flooding the heavens, but
there's nothing. Just gentle, puffy clouds and a pinkish purple sunset. My
favorite. "I don't see anyone."
"They're there." He squeezes my hand. "But they won't have a chance to
be born if it comes through."
"The thing in the Rift?"
He—Arthromathan, a fine, long name, Mhal would think—nods, his
shaggy hair in his eyes. "You have to help the others first. Tell Papa. I tried,
but he's all closed up like a fist. That's why I'm in your dream and not his."
"Okay," I say, fascinated. I stare down at the child holding my hand,
wanting to memorize his face, his name, the sound of his voice, but all I get
are vague feelings instead. Memories of things that haven't happened yet.
Motions and habits, like when he gazes down his long nose at me. I want to
memorize that, but even as I stare, I know I won't remember. I want to, but
something tells me I won't. "It's nice to meet you," I tell Arthromathan,
moving to stand next to him. I search his face, which seems fuzzy even
now. What does one say to their child when they meet them for the first
time? "I'm happy you came to me."
"I like your head, Mama. I hope I get to come again, but I might not."
He beams up at me, a gap-toothed smile. "But I'll be back anyhow."
 "I'll be here." I feel like crying when he pulls his hand out of mine.
"Please don't go. Stay with me a little longer."
"I only got to come to tell you about the thing in the Rift,"
Arthromathan says. "You'll get your farm later, but for now, you have to
fight."
I nod. "I understand."
He pulls away, then pauses. Arthromathan races back to me and flings
his little arms around my shoulders, hugging me tight. He smells like spices
and soap, little boy mixed with dragon, and the scent is so familiar that it
makes tears pool in my eyes, because I want to keep this moment, and I
know I can't. "I love you, Mama."
"I love you, too, baby." I hug him back, squeezing him tight.
"I have to go. I'll be back soon, though. Don't be sad." He pulls away
and then dances into the shadows. I watch him go, my heart both aching
and full of joy. As he leaves, the light seems to go with him…
I'm left in darkness, and the moment he disappears, I hear the buzz of
insect wings.

I jerk awake with a gasp .

Mhal reaches for me, his thoughts flowing with concern. You are awake.
Finally.
I put a hand to my forehead, frowning. I know it was a dream, and yet at
the same time…it felt so real. Images so vivid I feel as if I can touch them
scatter through my brain, but when I try to focus, they dance away. I know
I'm going to lose them. Like all dreams, they drift through my head and
disappear just as quickly.
You were having a nightmare. I tried to reach you and I could not. What
happened? He pulls me closer to him, his protectiveness in overdrive.
 "Someone else was there with me, I think."
Who?
A fragment of a memory unfurls in my head. "Our son."
Our son? he echoes. His hand splays over my abdomen, and I can feel
his mind reaching out and searching. He must find something that satisfies
him, because in the next moment, he sighs heavily with contentment. Our
son.
I stroke Mhal's hair, trying to follow the flutter of memories. They're
receding already, which breaks my heart. I want to see his little face again,
to hear his voice, but it's quickly leaving me behind. "He told me his name
but I've forgotten it already. It was such a good name, too. Long. You'd like
it."
I cannot wait to meet him. Mhal's thoughts are full of emotion.
"Soon, he said. We'd meet him soon." I run my fingers through Mhal's
wiry golden hair. "And he said we needed to help the others in the fort."
My drakoni mate tenses against me. Why?
"Because if we don't then there won't be any future." I continue to run
my fingers through his hair, comforting him. "But if we go back, we're
going to make sure we have the power. And we're going to make sure he
knows it."
I like the way you think.

W e talk the rest of the night and into the morning. In the end, our plan is
simple. We're going back to the fort so I can have the doctor present when I
give birth. We're not entirely sure if I'm pregnant yet, but after my dream, if
I'm not yet, I will be soon. Any lingering doubts I had are gone after
“meeting” my child in my dream.
 I want my son at my side. I want a future for him, and if that means I
have to go back to the fort temporarily, I will. Mhal and I will go along with
Azar's plan for as long as his goal matches ours. We'll sleep in the bed he
gives us, and eat his food, and pretend like we're on the same page.
And the moment the Rift is secure and the threat to our world
extinguished, we're gone.
Until then, I have plans. Plans for demands that the lord of Fort Dallas
will need to fulfill if he wants our help.

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MHAL

enny is calm as she packs the last of our things into bags. She
wants to return to the human hive bearing gifts for her friends.
She has spent the day filling satchels of small trinkets to bring
with us back to the fort—more of the endless plastic mugs she likes, tiny
mirrors and soaps, old towels with strange pictures of things called
“rollercoasters” printed on them, and most importantly of all, the sewing
she has worked on for the last few weeks. Each piece of clothing scavenged
from the place below has been cut into squares of fabric, and she has
worked hard to create new things out of them. There are several cloaks of
bright colors, and blankets of the softer fabrics. There are skirts and several
dresses she likes to wear.
She has made clothes for other people, too. I watch as she folds a small
cloak into one of the bags. "That one's for Bethany's son, Michael," she tells
me. "He always runs around in this torn shirt and I worry he's going to get
cold with the weather changing." Her thoughts are fond, but I can feel her
concern.
You worry about him. And about her.
Jenny shakes her head. "I want better for her, but she makes bad
choices. I don't think she had many to begin with, but I know even if we
found a way to get her away from her husband, she'd go back to him
anyhow. She feels…loyal, I guess. I don't know if it's love." She sits back
on our bed and sighs. "How can you love someone that treats you so
awful?"
Shall I eat him?
She turns to me, blinking. "W-what?"
 Shall I eat him? I repeat, quite serious. I could pretend to forget myself
when in battle-form, which is not such a stretch. You could point him out to
me, and I could eat him. Humans are not my favorite food, but it would
solve a problem.
Her mouth drops open. "You've eaten people, Mhal?" She's horrified.
I search my mind. I do not recall specific people, but I am sure I have
when lost in the madness. You are all bite-sized. It does not mean I will eat
you or anyone that is your friend. I shrug when her thoughts continue to roil
with troubled sensations. I have viewed myself as being at war with your
people for a very long time. Sometimes in war the easiest solution is the
best one. It does not mean I will continue to do so, especially not after
mating you.
Jenny purses her lips, thoughtful.
I move to my mate's side and sit next to her on the bed. This thought has
never occurred to her before now, and she is realizing just how different I
am from her. I am very different, I agree. I am drakoni. I have not and never
will be human. That does not mean I cannot appreciate and cherish my
human mate. I pull her against me, her back settling against my chest. I
slide my legs outward and seat myself behind her, curling about her as I
would if I were in my battle-form. Unlike my battle-form, though, I can
lean in and kiss her soft, fragrant neck. Do you hate me now?
"No," she answers back immediately, and there is no hesitation in her
thoughts. "But maybe…don't eat people anymore? You like longhorns.
Stick to them."
As I said before, it was war then. I press another kiss to her neck and
she finally leans into me, softening. I am no longer at war. I have joined
forces with the other side. I have defected. I lift her hair and expose more of
her neck so I can continue to kiss her. And the only human I want on my
tongue is you.
 Her thoughts groan. She tells herself she knew that comment was
coming, that I can only talk about tasting for so long before my attention
turns toward mating.
I like mating, I point out. My female is warm and eager in my arms.
Why would I not think of such pleasant things? I cup her breast. Why would
I not think about covering my female with my scent before we return to the
stench of the human hive? I see no problem with this.
She sighs, leaning back against me as I tease her nipple, and her
thoughts swirl from lazy pleasure to vague thoughts about tomorrow and
what our return will bring. "What if Azar doesn't give in to our demands?"
she asks, fretting.
Then we leave. We seek out a friendlier fort. There will be others with
drakoni and human matings, I think. There will be others eager to stop what
is coming through. We will approach others instead. Remember, we
approach him because he has something we want, and we have something
he wants. We are not giving in. Our paths are meeting at the same place
momentarily.
"As long as we're on the same page," Jenny says softly, her voice
catching in a gasp when I roll her nipple. Hot pleasure floods through her
thoughts.
I tease my mate's earlobe with my tongue, my mind full of the need to
claim my mate. We are always on the same page, I tell Jenny. You and I are
as one. Always.

T he next morning , I kiss my mate goodbye—it always feels a bit like

goodbye—and shift to battle-form. I expect to be utterly lost the moment I
shift, and for a moment, I am. The sounds and smells of this world
overwhelm my senses, and it is too much. It threatens to pull me under, to
swamp my mind and drag me down.
Then, just as quickly…it clears.
"Mhal?" my mate calls out, reaching out to me. The wind makes her
hair and her dress flutter around her slim body, and her face is resigned.
"Remember me?"
I lean in and rub my nose against her. Even before her scent reminds
me, I know who she is. Jenny. My mate. The one who carries my child. I
can smell a hint of it on the air, the subtle change of her scent as it grows
richer, deeper with my fires. And I am not as lost as I usually am.
I remember you, my Jenny. We are flying to the human hive to demand
things of the Salorian, yes?
"You remember?" She's astonished. Her hands brush over my muzzle as
she gazes up at me. "You normally don't recall who I am…"
I am clear-headed, I tell her, and breathe in her scent, because it always
grounds me. I am good this day.
"Huh. I wonder why."
The slight change in her scent tickles my nose. I suspect I know.

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JENNY

he sight of the dead-eyed dragons lounging atop Fort Dallas's

barricade fills me with cold, helpless anger. This isn't right. I
know Rachel says that he won't release them because he uses them to keep
the fort safe, but it hurts me to see them like this and know that my Mhal,
my arrogant, infuriating, wonderful mate, was in the same situation.
I can hear your thoughts. His amusement floats through my head.
You are arrogant, I point out. You're allowed. My hand, chilled with
cold, rests against his chest scales. Mhal flies with me tucked close to his
chest, and his back is laden with all the stuff I've packed up to bring with
us. It makes me think about Rachel's saddle and the feasibility of it. How do
you get in and out of the thing when you're pregnant? But she seemed to
handle it all right. As we fly overhead, one of the drakoni looks up, his eyes
that terrifying, blank gray, and I'm reminded of the wrongness of the
situation. It can't be allowed to go on. Protecting one person by destroying
another isn't a solution.
And the drakoni are people.
So yeah, this stops today.
We circle around the fort a few times, giving the other drakoni in the
fort—and Azar—time to register our presence.
Jurik reaches out to me with greeting. Vaan, too. This is…acceptable?
His thoughts are full of turmoil. He wants to speak with the other drakoni.
After meeting with Dakh and Sasha and their baby, Mhal has been coming
out of his mental “shell” a bit more. He wants to ask them about their mates'
pregnancies, if they have dreams like I do, if they talk to their young—but a
shadow of the past hangs over his head. A Queen's guard has no friends, he
reminds me. I should not speak to them.
 You can talk to whoever you want, I tell him forcefully. You might have
been Queen's guard in the past, but now you are Mhal, a strong warrior
who gets stronger by the day. A drakoni who protects his mate and his
people instead of his queen.
My people. He rolls around the idea and decides he likes it. My people,
my mate, and my child. I will protect them all.
I send him an absolute ambush of love, flooding his head with
happiness. That's right. You can be more than you were. Being here doesn't
mean it's the end of everything. We're the beginning of something new,
something better.
I like that, too.
Below, people stream out of the barracks. I see two golden, naked
bodies mixed in with the others, so those have to be the other drakoni—
Gwen's Vaan and Rachel's Jurik. As we circle lower, I see a pale figure
dressed in flowing, pale robes move forward. Azar.
Ugh. Well, we'd better get all of this over with, I suppose.
Will you let me eat one more person? His thoughts fill with Azar's face.
I promise he will be the last.
No! If you eat him, I'll never kiss you again.
You like him that much?
No, I like kissing you. I don't like him at all…but just because I don't
like him doesn't mean that he deserves to die, does it? If I went around
killing everyone I didn't like I'd be… I pause, trying to think of a suitable
connection.
You would be exactly as you are, because you like everyone. Mhal's
thoughts are full of amused warmth. You say you do not like him, but you do
not hate him either, because he protects the females in the fort. Even if his
ways are wrong, there are things he does that you appreciate.
It's just that…they're vulnerable. No one looks out for women in the
After. The fact that he does gives him a few points in my book. But only a
few. I think of the ringing slap he gave poor Manda. Very, very few.
I'm going to keep that slap in mind when we do our bargaining, because
I'm not going to back down. We have a list of demands, and if he doesn't
give in, we're going elsewhere. I don't care if we're saving the universe—if
we do it by trampling down others, we're the bad guys, too.
Courage, Mhal tells me. I am behind you all the way.
I know, love.
He lands amidst the crowd, deliberately close to where they stand, and
forces them to scatter to make room for his bulk. I can feel his smirk of
pleasure at watching them hastily move out of the way. He makes Azar
scowl, too, which I know must feel good. Then, he sets me gently down in
front of him and remains in his battle-form, looming protectively over me.
I stare at the surrounded people, a little uncomfortable. "Uh, hi."
Azar steps forward, his smile triumphant. "I see you've come to your
senses and decided to do things my way," he declares. "Good."
"Wrong," I say immediately. "I've come back with a list of demands."
His face clouds up and fury practically vibrates through him. "What is it
with you females and demands?"
"If you want our cooperation," I continue on, my voice casual. I pretend
as if he's not speaking. "You have to give us a little something, too. If we
can agree to work together, great. If not, we'll be moving on to another
fort."
Silence.
The Salorian—Mhal's name for Azar's people—glares at both of us.
He's silent for so long that my skin prickles with worry. Is he trying to take
over Mhal on the sly to force our hand? I immediately reach out to my
dragon. Is he pushing at your mind? Is he up to something?
Mhal's thoughts are confident and easy. He cannot. He has five dragons
atop the walls. I do not think he can hold more. He had more once, I
believe, but I suspect he could not handle them all. His thoughts blur for a
moment, and he checks the “faces” of the dead-eyed dragons. There is a
new one with them, too. My replacement.
His thoughts are sour. Mine explode with anger. We're stopping this
today, I tell him. Right now.
I turn my gaze to Azar and the gathered audience. Melina is with them,
dressed in one of her colorful gowns, so inappropriate for a doctor—or
anyone in the After. Her face is expressionless, her mouth tight, and I don't
know if she's mad at us or at Azar. Rachel and Gwen are a short distance
away, gleeful expressions on their faces. Behind them are their drakoni
mates, watching us.
They are with us, Mhal tells me. Jurik and Vaan do not like Azar's
actions either. They have tried to get him to stop, but he insists he needs
them to protect the city.
Not anymore. We've got new plans for that.
I clear my throat, stepping forward. "First, let me say—"
"Inside," Azar says flatly. "All of you, inside." He gestures at Melina,
Rachel, Gwen, Jurik and Vaan, then at me and Mhal. He turns and glares at
the militia. "You—back to your posts."
The group scatters. Rachel shoots me a quick, excited thumbs up and
heads into the compound, and I'm encouraged.
Azar continues to glare at Mhal. "When I say we are doing this inside, I
mean all of us. Your dragon will need to shift as a show of trust."
I cross my arms over my chest, hating his imperious tone. "But we don't
trust you."
"Well, then, we're not going to get very far with these negotiations, are
we?" He curls his lip in our direction, then stalks away into the compound,
accompanied by Melina.
Never have I wanted to eat someone more, Mhal tells me. And I know he
would taste sour and stringy.
 His observation makes me chuckle, just a little. It eases some of the
intense tension coursing through my system. My teeth are clenched and my
shoulders tight, and I feel like I'm ready to go to battle—and the battle just
went inside. I guess he doesn't want to lose face in front of everyone in the
fort. And we're not trying to take the fort from him.
We're not? I would love to pry everything from that vile male's hands.
Yeah, but then what? I don't want to run it. You don't want to run it. He
actually does, and he's not terrible with the humans, so let him keep ruining
their lives. I don't care. I just want to take care of this Rift stuff and move on
to our future.
Shall I change, then? Mhal leans in and rubs his nose against the side of
my face. Or shall we begin our fight?
I look around the courtyard, where the militia is scattering and a few
worried locals peer out from behind metal shutters. If we fight, it shouldn't
be here. I guess if we're going to negotiate we should give him this small
point. Change for now.
Change for now, Mhal agrees. Eat the bastard later.
It feels good to laugh, even if it's over something as bleak as that. Mhal
nuzzles me one more time, then shifts to his two-legged form. The packs on
his back clatter to the ground, the contents flying everywhere, and I sigh
heavily at the sight. I guess I should have expected that. Ah well. I move to
the bag with the clothing in it and pull out a cloak, wrapping it around his
hips. "Here. Wear this. You know how I feel about everyone looking at
what's mine."
The look he gives me is utterly imperious, but I can feel the amusement
in his thoughts.
I hesitate over the clutter of bags and their contents. If we leave them in
the street, they'll be stolen by the time we return. I glance around, seeing a
guard near the door, and decide to play this up with complete confidence. I
march up to him and point at our things. "I brought gifts for some of Azar's
people. Don't let them be stolen. I'll be back soon. Understand?"
The soldier—who would have sneered at me back when I was in the
panty program—nods crisply at me. "Your things will be protected." The
look he gives me is one of respect, and I realize it's not just Mhal's presence
that he's responding to. I've moved into the same strange position that Gwen
and Rachel are in—where they're part of the fort but not part of the fort.
The militia can't treat me like before, so now I'm getting the good
treatment.
Well then, I'm going to take advantage of that.
Head high, I sweep into the compound with Mhal at my side. A woman
in a plain gray dress gestures that we should follow her. A servant? I didn't
even know Azar had servants, but I guess so. I let her lead us in, and she
brings us down a long hall and into a room filled with candles. Pretty
candelabras decorate a long meeting table and paintings from a museum
decorate the walls. The chairs here are big and heavy, made from so much
carved wood that they seem the height of extravagance. It's like being in a
Regency movie, and if I turn my head, servants are going to flood in with
ten courses of food in silver trays.
Actually, that's not a bad idea.
I sit at the far end of the table, as far from Azar as I can, and pat the seat
next to me, indicating that Mhal should join me. He sits, his back stiff and
regal, and I lounge in my chair as if I've always been this arrogant jerk.
"We're going to need dinner," I say. "A good one. Not that shit you serve the
soldiers and the girls in the program. Real food. The stuff you eat. And
fresh water that's been filtered, preferably cold."
Azar gives me a tight look. "It's always the quiet ones," he mutters, but
rings a small metal bell next to his hand. The servant immediately returns
and waits for instructions. "Dinner for my guests," Azar drawls,
emphasizing the word “guests.” "And a pitcher of cool water."
 The woman nods and heads out, and I glance around the table. Melina
sits at Azar's side, her chair very close to his, and her expression remains
disapproving. Well, she doesn't have to be my friend. Gwen and Vaan sit
across from Rachel and Jurik, and Rachel won't stop grinning. It's like she
knows what I'm up to and she absolutely loves it. Gwen looks distracted,
her hand rubbing the large mound of her belly. She looks ready to pop, she's
so pregnant, and it's startling to see considering she was barely showing a
few weeks ago.
It's just another reminder of how fast everything is moving.
"Name your demands," Azar says in a cold voice.
"I'd like dinner first," I say sweetly. "You wouldn't want to keep
pregnant ladies waiting, would you?"
Interest flares in his eyes. "Then you are pregnant?"
"I didn't say that." I gesture at Rachel and Gwen. "They're pregnant.
They probably want to eat."
"All the time," Gwen admits. "All the damn time."
I decide I like Gwen, a lot.
Azar drums his fingers on the table and shoots a glance at Melina as
more of the servants come in and set down glasses in front of us, filling
them with cool water. I immediately gulp mine down, and it's just as
refreshing and wonderful as it looks. Fresh water is such a gift, I'd forgotten
how easy it was to come by in the fort. They still have a few pumps running
to give plumbing and water, and there's a well on the other side of the fort
for those that don't have water in their houses. Water's a big plus in the fort's
favor.
Dishes are brought in, and thick slabs of cornbread are set down on the
table, along with a thick, meaty soup full of greens. It looks amazing, and I
can't wait to dig in. My stomach growls at the sight. Cornbread and soup
isn't all that different from what they eat in the barracks, but the difference
is the quality. I can tell right away that there are large chunks of meat in the
soup, along with onions, greens, and even a bit of potato. Only the best for
Lord Azar. I take a spoonful of food and nearly moan aloud at how good it
is.
Your face shows everything, Mhal reminds me. You look like you do
when I have my mouth between your thighs.
Sorry. Sorry. I put my spoon down and decide to wait a bit before I eat
more. "Well, for starters, if Mhal and I come back, we're going to need a
nice room to stay in, and privacy. We also want food from your cook, not
from the barracks. I imagine we'll need supplies of all kinds, too. I'm
thinking clothing, saddles, shoes, home goods…"
"You will be a guest in my house," Azar says tightly. "That will be a
given, of course. You will have access to all the fort has to offer. Ask your
friends if you do not believe me." He gestures at Rachel and Gwen.
Mhal chimes in. Vaan and Jurik say they have been treated well. Their
mates lack for nothing. He truly just wants their cooperation with closing
the Rift.
I nod, my gaze stealing over to Gwen's belly. "We're also going to
require medical care when pregnant."
"Also a given." The lord sounds a little insulted that we'd even ask. He
looks over at Melina. "Isn't that right, my dear?"
Her expression is far less welcoming. "I would never withhold care
from someone."
Which is not a great answer, but I don't expect more from her. Melina's
always been at odds with Azar, I thought, forced to share his bed and be his
mistress so she could run her clinic without interference from the militia.
But the woman that gazes back at me today is rather stony faced.
She couldn't possibly be on his side, could she?
No one could be on his side, Mhal says flatly. Unless they like the
enslavement of my people.
Exactly. But she's always been against it. She's said so repeatedly.
 "Are those all your demands?" Azar asks in a sharp voice.
"We're only going to be here until the Rift is closed, or neutralized, or
whatever it is we can do to take care of the threat above," I continue. "If that
means two months, we'll be here two months. If it means two years, we'll be
here two years. If it means two decades…"
"God, I hope not," Rachel mutters, casting a worried look at Jurik. He
puts a comforting hand on her shoulder.
"And," I continue on, "Manda and Daniels should be allowed to marry."
Azar frowns, his expression blank. "Who?"
I should have known he'd have no idea. I bite back a sigh of pure
frustration. "A few weeks ago, one of your militia soldiers asked permission
to marry Manda, who's in the panty program. You said no. You said if she
left the program, she'd be thrown out of the fort. They have nowhere to go,
so they've stayed on but they're both unhappy. Their lives shouldn't be
fucked over just because they fell in love."
He shrugs. "I do not care about them. I would rather not lose one of the
females I've been feeding all this time." He ignores the angry look Melina
shoots him. "But if it must be done, so be it."
Now comes the hard part. I keep the bright smile on my face. "And we
want you to free the dragons that you're holding hostage."
Azar clenches his jaw. A moment later, he slaps the glass of water away
from his place at the table and it shatters on the wall nearby. He jumps to
his feet, furious. "You go too far—"
"Stop it," Melina says to him. She turns to me, shaking her head. "I
don't like it either, but he's doing this to protect everyone."
"No," I say calmly, even though I'm quaking inside. Mhal's hand is on
my thigh, holding me tight and letting me know he's got my back. I know
he'll eat Azar if I so much as nudge him in that direction, but we're
supposed to be working together. Compromising. Well, on this I won't
compromise. "He's doing it to protect himself."
 "He needs all of them to protect us against the thing in the Rift," Melina
says.
"The babies protect everyone. The dragons he has are zombies. They
can't do anything. Their minds are gone. He's using them to protect the fort,
sure, but you've got three able-bodied drakoni males right here at this table.
They can protect the fort from anyone that comes into this territory. If you
free the ones you have captive right now, more will probably match up with
some of the women you have in the program. They've been smelling their
scents repeatedly for weeks now. You might get a few more pairings and
children if you just let them go. The fort is protected.
"I will not," Azar hisses.
Melina is silent.
"You won't do it," I continue, "because you're afraid you won't be able
to keep control of the fort. Here's the thing—you've been a good leader to
the people here. The single girls are safe and protected. The streets are
cleaner than they were, and the militia listens to you instead of running
rampant. Fort Dallas isn't great, but you have things under control and we
don't want to take that from you. No one wants to run the damn place. You
do whatever you like, but you can't enslave drakoni just because it gives
you an edge. If you want drakoni to help you, you've got to give that up.
You're the enemy as far as we're concerned. You've always been the enemy.
You need to compromise."
"I will lose all control of the fort if I free the captives." He looks
incandescent with rage. I've never seen his eyes so dark before. He's always
careful to seem sarcastic or unaffected, but right now he's utterly furious. It
feels like a storm cloud brewing right over the dining table, and I reach out
to hold Mhal's hand, pressing my thoughts against his so Azar can't slip in.
"It is a necessary evil."
"Is it?" Melina asks. She clasps her hands in front of her. "Because they
sound like they can protect the fort. Is it true that you're just protecting
yourself?"
He gives her a thin smile. "Not even you are with me, my mate? I see.
Then hear this. The moment I release those drakoni, these will murder me."
He gestures at our end of the table. "I am, as they say, their enemy. I am a
Salorian. To them, I am better dead than alive. If I give up my control, I
have nothing left."
"I'm sure you'll find some way to be useful," I call out, unable to resist
taking another bite of cornbread. Why does his taste so much better than the
stuff they give everyone else? It's really incredible…and a little unfair.
Melina speaks up again. "You're good at amplifying the children's
voices. Perhaps that can be your focus instead of enslavement." She looks at
Azar with cool eyes. "You will keep control of the fort because everyone
has seen you with the dragons in the past. They will think that you can call
them back at any moment. You don't need to keep them if we have
volunteers to keep the fort safe."
Silence falls.
Azar gives Melina a look of profound betrayal, then straightens himself.
"You'll have my answer in the morning." He walks out of the room with
brisk steps, and I get the impression that he's madder at Melina than anyone
else. A moment later, Melina murmurs an excuse, sets her napkin down,
and follows him out.
There's no one but drakoni and their mates left in the room now.
Rachel gives me a giddy look. "That was amazing, Jenny. I didn't know
you had it in you!"
"I didn't, either," I admit, picking up my spoon again. I'm determined to
eat all this good food while it's still warm and delicious. "But after knowing
what Mhal went through, it's wrong to just let it continue on." I cast an
affectionate glance over at my mate. He's wearing the stiff, arrogant
expression he always does, but as I look at him, his mouth curls up into a
faint smile.
 I want to bask in that gorgeous smile of his.
You did very well, Mhal tells me. I have never seen a Salorian retreat
before. He feels cornered.
Good. Let him stew for a bit.
Gwen clears her throat. "I just hope he finally listens. We've all tried to
get him to see that imprisoning the drakoni is wrong, but it's hard to argue
when he really is protecting innocent people. But you're right—we've got
enough drakoni at the fort now that he doesn't have to hold anyone against
their will. I just hope Melina can convince him that we're right."
Mhal's thoughts fill with amusement, and then Gwen laughs quietly. I
glance over at my mate, and his eyes gleam with gold. Vaan says that it is
impossible to reason with Salorians when they do not view us as people,
just tools to be used.
Then it's going to really suck for him to realize he has to work with us, I
point out. Because I'm serious. If he doesn't give in to our demands, we're
not staying. I won't have a constant reminder of what he did to you shoved
in your face every day.
Mhal is quiet for a long moment. Then, he sends me a wave of pure
affection. I am proud of you, my mate. Your strength of will makes me so
happy. We will have glorious children together.
I just send him a wave of affection as I happily eat another bite of soup.
"I think this has chicken in it."
"Probably," Rachel comments. "Nothing but the best for our buddy
Azar. Meanwhile everyone else eats scraps."
My stomach clenches, and then I'm reminded of Bethany and Michael,
and the pot of bugs. "I forgot a demand," I admit, pushing the delicious
soup away. It now reminds me too much of Bethany's bubbling meal over
her fire. I notice Gwen's not eating, either. She picks at a piece of
cornbread, her face distracted. Rachel, on the other hand, plows through the
food with vigor. "I wanted to tell Azar that no one should eat the bugs.
They're…they're wrong. They're not from this world."
Rachel snorts. "Only a fool would see those things and think they look
like a meal."
"There are a lot of hungry fools in this fort."
She straightens, her expression pensive, and she knows I’m right. She's
quiet for a moment, and then speaks. "We'll get the word out either way.
Make sure no one touches them. Jurik and I will take care of that. We
sometimes hunt for some of the people that are really hungry, but it just
encourages others to rob them and steal the food from them. There's no
good answer."
There never is. Any time you try to help someone in the After, another
equally desperate person ruins it. It's hard to get mad when everyone's
struggling.
At the far end of the table, Gwen sucks in a sharp breath, her hand
flying to her belly. Vaan immediately jumps to his feet, a huge grin on his
face as he hovers over his mate, pulling out her chair.
"What is it?" Rachel asks before I can.
Gwen gets to her feet slowly, her face tight. She touches her rounded
stomach. "Baby."

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MHAL

ince the Salorian has abandoned us for the night, Jurik and his
mate ensure we are given quarters in the human hive. Jenny wants
to go and check on her friends in the fort, but she is tired, her thoughts
sapped of their earlier strength. Standing up to the Salorian has taken a lot
out of her, and while I could not be prouder, she needs to rest for the
morning's confrontation.
So I coax my mate to stay, and I put on my glasses so I can see her
pretty face better. We are alone, so I can show this vulnerability, but only to
her. When Jurik suggests that I mention a bath to my mate, I do. Jenny
immediately lights up, and we head into the bathroom and fill the tub with
water. It is not warm water, so I casually stream fire from my mouth into the
tub while Jenny undresses, heating the bath for her.
I get into the tub first, then indicate that Jenny should sit between my
legs. Come, I say enticingly. I will wash you.
Jenny giggles, the sound bright and happy, and it takes no convincing
for her to join me. She slides in between my legs, her back to my chest, and
gives a little wiggle. "It's a bit crowded in here."
I do not need much more space.
That makes her laugh harder. "Because you're already hogging it all!"
She pats my knee with a wet hand. Both of my knees stick out of the water,
and her legs are crossed in front of her because the tub is not long enough.
When we move, the water spills onto the floor, and a little twinge of guilt
floats through her thoughts every time. Wasting water. She does not like
wasting water.
Think of it as the Salorian's water, I tell her encouragingly. Enjoy
yourself.
 Her thoughts drift to the bottles lining the tub and she wants to wash her
hair. I can do this for her. I pick one up and sniff it, then cough as a
disgusting scent smacks me in the face. What is this filth?
"That is flower-scented body wash." She laughs again.
It is vile.
"Yeah, it's a little strong." She peers at the array of small bottles lined
up. "Here, try this one." She hands it back to me. "And maybe don't shove
your entire nose in this time."
I wished to smell what I was putting on my mate. I did not realize
everything human was scented so terribly. I should have guessed from your
hive. Even now, the wash of scents gets overwhelming. Only Jenny's
constant, close presence keeps them from becoming too much.
She squeezes my knee, all teasing gone. "I'm here for you."
I know. I open the bottle—the scent in this one is far less offensive—and
squeeze a large dollop atop her head.
Immediately, Jenny squeals. "My hair's not wet!"
Is that supposed to happen?
She laughs wildly, leaning back against me, and I love her happiness
and her joy. My mate is worth everything. Even if I must spend months—or
longer—in the human hive, I have her. That is all that matters.
She sends mental images of how a hair-washing is supposed to happen.
Wet hair, then shampoo. Then rinse. Then conditioner. Then rinse again. It
seems like a great deal of fussing, but what is more human than fussing
with smelly things? I inwardly shrug and cup a handful of water, bringing it
over her head.
Jenny's amusement turns to exasperation and she shimmies forward in
the tub. Here, let me do this the easy way. She moves to the far end and then
leans back, dunking her head under the surface before erupting again, water
streaming down her face. She settles back against me, wiping her eyes, and
gestures. "You may now commence with the washing."
 Her tone is as silly as her mood. Amused, I put more of the strange soap
on her head and this time it lathers and foams instead of just…sitting there.
Ah. This does seem more pleasant.
"How are you doing?" she asks as I work on her hair. It tangles easily,
turning to knots quickly. The strands are fine and soft, unlike my own, and I
wonder which type of hair our child will have—hers or mine?
I am getting foam everywhere, I answer truthfully. My hands are sunk
deep into her wet hair, and the more I massage, the more it grows.
"No, I mean…how are you doing being back at the fort? How's your
head?" Her thoughts probe at mine, cautious and full of affection. She
worries this is too much for me. She worries she asks a lot for me to return
to live with the Salorian, even if only for a time.
But with my mate at my side…everything is different. Yes, the scents of
the hive are bad, but they are not overwhelming. Yes, the noise of other
minds is there, but it does not drown me. Even when it all feels like a lot to
have in my head, my mate is there at my side, anchoring me. I am
surprisingly well.
"I'm glad." She swipes foam back from her forehead, and her thoughts
are full of smiles.
A moment later, an angry voice flashes through my mind. IT IS COLD
OUT HERE! I DO NOT LIKE THIS ONE BIT!
Vaan's thoughts immediately touch the new mind, soothing. Welcome,
my son.
COLD. HUNGRY! ANGRY!
What is your name, little one?
Tunjozefren.
I am pleased for my friend, and send thoughts of pride to both. A strong,
fine name for a strong, fine son. Welcome, Tunjozefren.
Jurik is there, too, sending his thoughts of welcome to the new one. For
a moment, it feels like home as more minds reach out to greet the
newcomer. I can feel Luminoura and Sallavatri reaching out, as well as far
more distant children touch in with Tunjozefren, letting him know he is not
alone. That he is supported by his people.
And lurking on the fringes, I feel the Salorian's presence. Not attacking,
but still present. I send him an angry push, letting him know he is not
welcome, and he fades away.
"What is it?" Jenny asks, looking over her shoulder at me.
For a moment, I am confused as to what she asks about. The noise in
my head is so loud—the infants greeting one another, sending happy
emotions, Tunjozefren's newborn confusion, Vaan's delight at his son—that
I momentarily forget that my mate cannot hear any of this. Vaan's mate has
given birth. Their son is Tunjozefren.
"Oh!" Her thoughts fill with joy. "I'll have to make him some clothes.
Gwen and Vaan must be so happy."
They are. I scoop a handful of foam off my mate's head and try to
concentrate on her despite the noise in my mind. It is not bad noise, not like
usual. This is a familiar, friendly clutter of minds reaching out to touch one
another. How much more foam do we need for you to be clean?
Jenny chuckles at me. "That's plenty. Now we rinse." And she slithers
forward in the tub again, dunking her head between my thighs as she shakes
the foam free. Her thoughts drift while she rinses. Does Azar know? About
the new baby?
He was there. Lurking.
You think he'll agree to our demands? She rises back up out of the
water, sputtering and wiping her face.
I consider this. I think he has no choice. He will either continue on as he
has and risk losing Vaan and Jurik and their mates—and their young—or
he will have to give in to us. He will not like either option, but if he is smart,
he will ally with us because we do not seek to take his fort from him. He will
fight to keep control of something.
 Do you think he'll break the rules and try to steal your mind again? Her
thoughts are full of worry.
Salorians are not to be trusted, but he will lose all if he tries it. Jurik
and Vaan and their mates will not stand for it. I touch one of the rivulets of
water running down her back. If we three pairs are together, he will be
forced to bow to us.
"I hope so," Jenny says softly. She shifts her weight, her backside
rubbing against the insides of my thighs.
I grow hard, enjoying the feel of my very wet, very slippery mate
pressing up against me. More washing? I ask, even as I stroke my fingertips
down her arms.
Maybe later? Her thoughts are hazy with pleasure, and her desire
mounts. Maybe we…do something else for a bit instead?
I lift her up and settle her on my lap, sliding my legs under her. My cock
now presses against her backside, and she rubs herself against me. I cup her
breasts, teasing the tips. So responsive, my soft, pretty mate. She is utterly
perfect, my Jenny. Just…perfect. Do you want to mate here or on the bed?
She wriggles against me again, her movements deliberate. Can we do it
here?
Oh yes. I tug her backward until she is leaning against my chest, and
slide a hand between her thighs. We can do a lot here. Let me show you.
I love the sigh of pleasure she makes almost as much as I love how slick
she is for me already.

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JENNY

he next morning, Mhal awakens me with a kiss. The captive

drakoni are gone.
That shakes all the lingering slumber off of me. I race out of bed and
move toward the metal shutters of the room, pulling them open and peering
into the early morning daylight. The sun glints off some of the broken
windshields of the old cars that make the barricades, but I see no dragons
atop them. "You're sure?"
Their scents are old. They have been gone for a while. Something
happened overnight. Mhal moves behind me and puts his hands on my
shoulders. Are you not pleased?
I turn to look up at him. He's wearing his glasses, and he looks so darn
cute in them. Like the most feral, golden nerd I've ever seen. It's distracting,
and for a moment I forget my train of thoughts. "I'm pleased," I say. "I just
don't trust Azar. I'm wondering what he's up to."
Shall we go and find out?
We dress quickly. I pull on one of my piecemeal dresses and a pair of
sandals. Then, I brush Mhal's hair for him, pulling it back into a loose queue
while he ditches his glasses. He wears nothing but gray sweatpants and
manages to look mouthwateringly hot. It's distracting, because part of me
wants to drag him back to bed.
But there's so much going on we can't.
The moment we set out of our room, Vaan is there, his arms full of his
new son. We pause for a few minutes to admire the sleeping baby—
Tunjozefren is the prettiest little mite with a cap of thick black curls and
golden skin. It feels like a tongue-tangling name for such a tiny baby, but
the drakoni are very pleased with it and I know names mean a lot to them.
 When Vaan heads back to his rooms with the baby, Mhal takes me by
the hand and leads me outside, into the early morning sunlight. Fort Dallas
looks like it always does. The compound is crawling with militia, the
grounds neat and tidy and bare of greenery or things that can burn. A few
streets away, the rest of the fort huddles in the metal-covered shacks and
repurposed buildings that cluster together, making up the remainder of the
city. The smell of things hits me, and I can only imagine how bad it is for
poor Mhal and his sensitive nose. I didn't realize how dirty and fragrant the
fort was until we left and returned.
I hope we're not here for long.
Once the world is safe, we will find our farm, my mate assures me, his
comforting hand on my shoulder. Look to the edges of the hive. What do
you see?
I shield my eyes with my hands, peering up at the barricade. The
dragons are gone, all right. The skies are clear and the once-guardians of the
fort are missing. For a moment, it fills me with a hint of panic. "Today isn't
a dragon attack day, is it?" I think about all the attacks that used to hit the
fort regularly, before Azar came in with his dragons. Each one was
terrifying, and I worried we'd be killed. I didn't realize how much it affected
me until just now. The lack of dragons on the fort walls is unnerving instead
of comforting.
No drakoni are near, Mhal says. I am touching minds with the others
and we will keep watch over the hive. If another of our people comes close,
we will know about it, I promise.
I give him a reluctant smile, guilty at panicking. This is what we
wanted. I'm glad for those dragons.
I know you are. Do not worry. You are used to living full of fear. It will
take time for you to realize you are safe.
"Jenny!"
 A familiar voice calls out my name and I turn. A man in a militia
uniform with a gun slung over his shoulder jogs up to us. He pauses as he
approaches, his gaze flicking toward Mhal. It's Lucas Daniels, his
expression wary. I glance over my shoulder at Mhal, who's gone quiet in my
head, and his nostrils are flared, his expression dangerous. A tendril of
smoke escapes his nose.
I put a hand on Mhal's arm. "It's okay. He's a friend."
He carries a human fire-spitter toward you. He calls you by your name
and watches you closely. I like none of these things. Mhal practically
bristles. If I cannot eat the Salorian, let me eat this one for staring at you
too long.
It's Daniels, I remind him, shoving mental pictures in his direction,
because he is very, very serious about eating Daniels. The one that loves
Manda, my old roommate, remember?
He relaxes, but only a little. I did not recognize him. His scent is
unfamiliar to me.
And my thoughts don't come with the scents he needs, and his vision is
bad. He's just being protective. I love you, and I find it very sweet that you
want to eat everyone that looks at me sideways, but if we're going to do this,
we have to be a little friendly. Just a little.
Fine. I will not eat this one. That is my concession to friendliness. He
gives me that imperious look of his. But if another stares at you too long—
You won't eat them either, because then I won't kiss you anymore. I take
Mhal's hands in mine and then turn around, still gripping my dragon's hands
while I greet Daniels, who must be wondering why we're so quiet. "Hi," I
say brightly. "Meet Mhal. He's my mate. We're…married, more or less."
Daniels flicks an uncomfortable look toward Mhal, then slowly nods.
"I'm glad you're safe. We didn't know what had happened to you and Manda
was really upset. I'm glad you're safe. Manda will be happy to hear it." The
smile he gives me is genuine, creasing his tanned face with happiness.
"Have you heard the news?"
"About the dragons?"
He shakes his head. "About me and Manda. Azar held a meeting with
the militia last night. Said he was wanting to make sure we were content
with our roles as the fort's protectors."
They are the fort's protectors? They do nothing, Mhal interjects with the
mental equivalent of an eye roll.
"And he relaxed his rules on marriage. Manda and I found a preacher
last night and got married as quick as we could." He flashes a silvery band
on his finger with a grin. "So no one can take it away from us if the rules
change again later. She's moving into my apartments right now."
Happiness shines through him, and my heart squeezes with joy for my
friends. "I'm so glad. Can I see Manda?"
He gives us a crisp nod. "Of course. Let me show you the way. I'm told
that Azar has recruited you to be part of his special task force?" He marches
off, leading us toward the far end of the barracks.
I nearly stumble. We're what? His special task force? Did Daniels not
see us confront Azar last night? When we demanded concessions?
He has posed it all as his idea, Mhal says. We should have guessed. He
will make it all seem as if it is part of his grand plan—letting them marry,
sending the enslaved drakoni away. All of it will be to his credit. He will
make sure of that. Mhal sounds disgusted. We should have made our
demands publicly.
It's all right. Now that I've had a moment to think on it, I don't care. As
long as we get our wishes, let him do what he wants. Let him tell them
whatever. He knows the moment he breaks the rules we'll be gone and then
he'll have to answer as to why no one listens to him. If it helps him hold
onto the fort to let everyone think the changes were his idea, that's fine.
You are a far kinder sort than I am, Mhal grumbles.
 Not kinder, I point out. Just a bit more selfish than most. The After has
taught me that people want someone else to be in charge, and I absolutely
do not want to be that person. If Azar does, let him freaking have it.

M anda greets me with a happy squeal, throwing her arms around my

neck. Quickly, she realizes Mhal's presence a step behind me and backs
away, confusion on her face. "Are you…is everything good?" She has a
question in her eyes. "Are we happy?"
Aw. In a way, it's sweet of Manda to ask like this. I know what she's
thinking—do I need to get Lucas to step in and take you away from the big
scary dragon-man? But it's laughable, because Daniels can't do a thing to
Mhal. Hell, Daniels didn't lift a finger when Azar slapped Manda, and I
know Mhal wouldn't stand for anyone to touch me.
I feel guilty a moment later. We all survive however we can. I shouldn't
hate on Daniels for not confronting the entire fort over Manda and risking
both their lives. Manda seems happy at least. Her face glows with pleasure
and she sits amidst a pile of home goods in their small room. She's making
a home for them, and I realize this is all that Manda's ever wanted—a home
and the man she loves.
In a way, that's all I want, too. I think about our dream of the farm, and
the garden, and living a life of quiet with our children.
We will get there, Mhal promises me. This is all temporary.
I send back a wave of emotion, thanking him for his support. I love him
so much. I know he thinks that I'm the one supporting him and keeping him
calm, but he's there for me just as much as I am for him. We need each
other to stay sane in this world.
"We're great," I tell Manda, beaming at her. "Very happy. So what's with
all this stuff?"
 Manda gestures happily. "Since we got married quarters, Melina insisted
on having us kitted out. Isn't this amazing? She's such a good lady of the
fort. I bet she convinced Azar to let us marry."
"I bet," I echo, smiling. "How is everything? What did I miss?"
My friend goes on about the meeting Azar had with the militia late last
night, and how he wanted to move the fort “forward into the future” with
their help. How Melina was at his side the whole time, showing her support.
I have to admit, it's very clever of Azar to act like they're all a big team, him
and the militia, when I know he doesn't give a shit about them. I wasn't sure
what to think about Melina, but I'm going to have to mentally move her to
“Azar's team” in my head. She's not with us. She's with him.
I don't know how anybody can be with him, but maybe this is her way
of survival, too.
Manda tells me about how he took the militia with him after the
meeting, so they could watch him free the captive dragons. The women in
the program were outside, too, even though it was late at night. Another one
of Azar's maneuvers, it seems. "And two of the dragons flew down and
gently scooped up Trista and Cady, just like they were the most fragile
things they'd ever seen. Not one attacked anyone. They all just flew off
quietly into the stars. It was beautiful." She sighs. "Azar's a romantic with
Melina at his side, I think. He said he sensed their love for the women and
that was why he had to let them go."
"Wow," I say. Because what else can you say? It's like everything we've
experienced in the past—Azar's petty cruelty, his tantrums, his controlling
ways of treating people—are all forgotten in one night.
"And guess what else?" Manda says brightly.
"What?" What else could possibly have happened last night that I slept
through?
"Me and some of the other girls are going to start a book club!"
 A…book club. I suddenly feel like a thousand years have passed since I
shared a room with Manda and Rachel. My world has changed so much in
the last month that I'm just not the same person I was. I feel a hundred years
older than Manda. I'm happy for her, but I also want to shake her. A book
club? When there's people that need food? When the Rift might be
destroying our world all over again?
She cannot change any of those things, Mhal tells me, sending a wave
of affection through his thoughts. He is sad for me, but understands. Let her
have her club.
You're right. It's not her fault I’ve changed. I'd always wondered why
we never saw much of Rachel after she mated with Jurik, despite us being
in the same fort. Now I know. So I smile back at Manda. "Tell me more
about your book club. What are you going to read first?"
The next hour passes quickly. Manda's enthusiasm for her quick
marriage to Daniels and the changes in the fort make me happy. If nothing
else, we've been able to bring a little joy into a friend's life. Since Manda is
no longer part of the “program,” she's being reassigned to help in the
kitchens and the gardens, both of which she's excited about. "Maybe we can
finally do something about all this cornbread," she says with a laugh.
"Everyone's sick of it, but what else is there? Corn and tomatoes grow
easiest here."
Cornbread reminds me of Bethany and her small son. "Speaking of, I
need to go visit someone in the fort. I hate to cut off our visiting, but I want
to make sure Bethany and Michael are all right."
Immediately, Manda's face falls. She reaches for my hand. "Oh, Jenny.
They didn't tell you?"
Cold fear grips me. "Tell me what?"
Manda's expression is full of sympathy. "They're dead."
T he bugs are poison , it turns out. Not a fast-acting one, but one that
destroys you slowly over the course of a few weeks. At least, that's what I'm
told. An entire swath of Fort Dallas has gotten violently ill and no one
knows why.
Bethany died from it. Her husband died from it.
Michael is in the clinic now, gravely ill from the same “mysterious”
illness.
"It's the bugs," I tell Melina as she tends to him. Her hands are caring,
even if I don't trust her, and I know Michael's getting the best care possible.
Every cot in the small clinic is full of vomiting, pale people. My grief feels
intense, but I choke it back. No one needs a weepy woman standing over
them. I don’t want to distract Melina, either. So I clear my throat and get a
hold of myself. “Don't let them eat any more of them, all right?"
The doctor purses her lips. "If it's from a pathogen on the bugs, there's
not much we can do. But if it's related to the ingestion, maybe we can do
something about it. I'll consult my pharmacological manuals and see if
there’s something we have on hand that can help." She tucks a blanket
tightly around Michael's frail body. "Will you stay with him for a bit? I need
to check on the others."
"Of course." I take the little boy's hand. It's skeletal, the veins standing
out in a way that shouldn't be possible on a child. He's alive, at least. I just
don't know for how long.
I can leave my post, Mhal sends. Do you need me?
My drakoni is guarding the walls. He and Jurik are splitting shifts atop
the barricade, watching the skies (and the scents on the breeze) for anyone
that comes near. Once Gwen and Vaan's new baby is settled, Vaan will join
them. It's not so bad, since Mhal is in my thoughts constantly, and our
minds touch. But in a moment like this, I do wish he was here.
It's okay, I send to him. There's nothing you can do. Nothing I can do,
either. I hold Michael's small hand, his fingers like sticks. There's nothing to
be done. My eyes feel hot with tears.
There is, Mhal sends me, his tone comforting. We are doing what needs
to be done. We are assisting the fort. We freed my brothers that were held
captive. You helped your friends mate. We will have our child and we will
join forces with the others to close the Rift so others will not be hurt by
whatever comes through. So we will have a future, all of us. There is a lot to
do, and we are doing it.
I know he's right. I know he is. I just wish I could do more.
You are part of the solution. You are my mate, and you have a kind,
giving heart. Do what you can, and I will be there to hold you if it is not
enough.
For some reason, that's comforting. No matter what happens, I have
Mhal and he has me.
Michael stirs in his bed, and his small hand squeezes mine. "Jenny?"
"It's me. How do you feel?"
"My stomach hurts."
"I know. The doctor's going to make you feel better." I smile at him.
"I'm here now. Everything's going to be okay."
Somehow in my heart, I know it will. We're going to do this. We're
going to take our planet back and fix things. Maybe not today, maybe not
tomorrow, but soon.
We'll make this place a better home for everyone—drakoni and human.

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 EPILOGUE

Three Months Later

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M
MHAL

y Jenny is so brave.
She remains calm when her water breaks, and when her
belly contracts. She simply gets up from the chair where she sits, helping
Michael read, and looks at me. "It's time to go to the doctor."
I am the one who is flustered. I am the one full of worry. I grab my
picture books—Jenny is teaching me human words, too—and race around
our living quarters. "Yes?" I say aloud. I am learning human words. I am
not fond of them, and they feel grating coming out of my mouth, but
Michael cannot connect minds with us. He gets scared if I am quiet for too
long, and so I use words for him. "Yes doctor?"
"Yup," Jenny says, grimacing. "I need to change first. Michael, can you
go visit Auntie Rachel for a bit? She and Jurik said they wanted to play a
board game with you."
"Okay." The small boy gets up. He is still pale and thin from his
sickness, which took a very long time to recover from. He is a smart boy,
too, and I wish I could touch minds with him. I bet his is full of clever
things. He pauses as he closes his book. "You…you're coming back, aren't
you?"
His words are filtered through my mate's mind, and she shares them
with me so I can follow along in the conversation. Her heart is full of
affection for Michael, who has come to live with us now that his parents are
gone. He will be our son, too. Right now she suspects he is afraid we will
not come back from the clinic.
I move to the boy's side and put a hand on his head. His hair is soft, like
Jenny's. "Michael…brave. Yes?"
 He nods, his eyes big. I pick him up and hug him, a human signal of
affection I am growing used to. Jenny likes to hug, too. A drakoni would
rub noses, but Michael still gets scared when I am in battle-form, so we take
small steps with him. I hug my human son and pat him on the back.
Maybe he could come with us? Jenny asks, her thoughts full of worry
for Michael. If he stays in the other room? I think he'd rather be with you
and me than with Rachel and Jurik, and their little Malliope has been fussy
lately. They might not have the time for Michael.
So soft and giving, even in this moment. Jenny's belly clenches with a
contraction and pain ripples through her thoughts. It makes me want to grab
her and race to the clinic, but I know she wants us to be calm. So I pat
Michael's back as he clings to me. "Michael…doctor? Yes?"
"Mhal wants to know if you want to go with us, Michael. Our baby's
being born."
The boy nods, clinging to my neck.
It is settled, then. Our family will go together.

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JENNY

Giving birth sucks. There's no better way to put it. Without a real hospital,
Melina doesn't want to give me an epidural unless the pain becomes utterly
unbearable, so I have to have my child naturally. Hot pain cramps up and
down my belly and deep inside me, and I have to hold back cries of pain
because I don't want to scare Michael, who sleeps on a cot a few beds over.
I hold Mhal's hand the entire time, my nails digging in as I scream
inwardly, instead.
Share your pain with me, my mate soothes. I am here for you. Take my
strength.
He talks me through every moment, and late in the night, my half-
drakoni son is born. He's immediately handed off to Mhal, as Melina cleans
me up. "You did amazing," the doctor tells me. "I'm impressed. Rachel
cussed at me the entire time."
An angry wail splits the air, and Mhal's mind overflows with pure joy.
He is very mad!
For some reason, that strikes me as funny. I chuckle, though the action
hurts everything downstairs and then some. I fall back on the pillows,
sweaty and exhausted. Well, sure. He just left my nice warm body for this
hellhole.
His mind is so strong. Mhal's thoughts fill with awe. Here, Jenny, let me
share it. He opens his mind and then mine fills with furious, hungry baby.
It's the sweetest thing, and it fills me with an envious ache. I wish I could
hear it like he could, all the time.
Just like I wish I could touch minds with Michael, Mhal sends to me. I
understand. He gazes down at our newborn son, and I've never seen a man
of any species—human or drakoni—so utterly full of joy.
 "Let's get you all cleaned up and get that afterbirth taken care of,"
Melina says to me, all business. "Then I'll leave you all alone."
I have a few minutes to rest. Mhal introduces the baby to Michael while
I “birth” the placenta and then Melina changes the sheets, gives me water,
and washes me up. She hurries away, and I suspect she's off to tell Azar all
about our healthy baby. I'm so tired that my eyes want to flutter closed, but I
need to stay up. Our son needs to be fed, and…I just want to kind of gaze at
him for a while and drink him in.
His name is Arthromathan, Mhal tells me reverently as he returns to my
side with the wrapped bundle. He washed our son, who did not like that,
either, and a fussy, furious baby with a big name is placed to my breast.
Oh. I know that name. He told me it in my dream. "Hello,
Arthromathan," I say softly, gazing down at the infant that presses his
mouth to my skin, not sure how to suck. It takes a moment to show him,
and then he latches on, the sensation odd but…kind of soothing. His little
face is flushed, his skin pale like mine, but with his father's scale pattern
and the wild golden hair of his dad. His eyes are squeezed closed, but I'm
positive they'll whirl with emotional color, just like the other half-drakoni
babies.
Maybe I'm biased, but he's the prettiest one yet, and I have no doubt
he'll be the strongest.
A small body creeps next to the bed, and Mhal lifts Michael into his
arms so he can see.
"Arthromathan," Mhal says to Michael, gesturing at the baby. The word
is clumsy in his mouth, but there's such pride in Mhal's face that it makes
me ache. Can a human body stand so much happiness all at once? I feel like
I'm overflowing with it.
"That's a big name," Michael says. "Are we gonna shorten it like we do
mine? Can we call him Art?"
 "Oh, I don't think so." I smile at my other son—because he's just as
much mine now as the one at my breast. "Names are very important to the
drakoni. A long name is a sign of strength."
"But Mhal's name is short," Michael says. "And he's the strongest guy I
know."
I keep waiting for Mhal's thoughts to flare with offense, but he's so good
with Michael. With all kids, really. He just hugs the boy and grins, his
chipped tooth flashing. Tell him that I was too much for this world. Imagine
how strong I would be if I had my full name.
I pass it on, and Michael's face lights up. "I want a long name, too. I
don't want you to call me Michael, Jenny. I need a super long name like
Ar…Ar…"
"Arthromathan," I say, and the name feels as comfortable on my tongue
as my own. It's like a memory that's suddenly returned. Of course my son's
name is Arthromathan. It fits him perfectly, and I can't wait for him to grow
into it.
"Like him," Michael agrees.
If he wishes a name of power, let us give him one, Mhal sends
affectionately.
"What's your middle name?" I ask Michael.
"Andrew."
"Michael Andrew," Mhal repeats. "Michaelandrew."
The delight on his face is perfection. To think that I didn't want to come
back to the fort.
We would have missed out on our first son, Mhal agrees. Arthromathan
was wise to guide us back here through your dreams.
My dreams. They've been quiet as of late.
It is because our son protects you. All the children do. Their minds grow
stronger all the time. Mhal is full of awe as he gazes down at our newborn
son. They talk to others in forts a long flight away. Soon, it will be time to
take care of the Rift.
I look forward to it. I'm ready to face the next chapter in our world.
With my Mhal and my boys at my side, I'm ready to face anything.

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 AUTHOR’S NOTE

Hello there!
Thanks for being so patient in regards to this book! It’s been a year
since the last one came out. I know that’s a long time to wait between
books, but Covid-19 happened and I had a hard time getting into the
mindset of the Fireblood universe. It’s a bit more grim in Fort Dallas, and
the thought of heading into a post-apocalyptic story when a real apocalypse
was happening around us (I exaggerate of course) made it tricky.
So I put it off. :)
But! Jenny’s book is finally here and I hope you enjoyed her and Mhal.
I had a lot of fun writing their dynamic, and I kinda fell in love with the
idea of a dragon communicating with someone in dreams, when the mind is
more open. I also loved the idea of an abandoned amusement park! Jenny
and Mhal don’t spend too much time on any of the rides, but anyone that’s
grown up in the Dallas-Fort Worth area will know the park and the oil
derrick in question I’ve written about.
As for the overall story…I’ve said before that Azar’s book would be the
final book. It will. It’s also the next book. I feel like the story has moved
along enough to show his soft spots. Is he likable? No, he’s an ass. But can I
write a convincing love story for him and Melina? I think I can! I want to
wrap things up and give you guys the conclusion you’ve been waiting for,
and so I’m putting up a preorder for Azar’s book AS WE SPEAK. It’ll be
called DARK FIRE (ooo, a formula change for the name, so daring!) and
I’m putting a release date of December 31st out there. It could absolutely
move up because my schedule is always a little higgledy-piggledy and
shuffling about. But my goal is to get it out BEFORE that date.
I am not going to string you along - it will get wrapped up, I promise! I
have a few more books to clear off my plate first, so it’ll be a few months.
Until then, enjoy Jenny and Mhal! <3
— Ruby

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 WANT MORE RUBY DIXON?

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Want the rest of the Fireblood Dragons series? Go here! Amazon has them all listed on one page.
Fireblood Dragon Series

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Bound to the Battle God

Want mail order brides (in space!):

Risdaverse Tales (a four story compilation)

Want cinnamon roll heroes with horns and spurs?

Ice Planet Barbarians

Everything is always Kindle Unlimited, so borrow away!

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