I take another deep breath, focusing on the bigger problem at hand.
The dragon. Again, I shiver at the thought, but I force myself to stay calm. Rational. Claudia knows a dragon and she’s fine. She’s smart and I trust her judgment. If she thinks she’s safer with her dragon than in Fort Dallas, she must be right. Okay then. Not all dragons are bad.
There’s the sound of teeth clacking together again, and I don’t have to open my eyes to know the dragon’s biting at the air again. What he sees there is beyond me, but whenever he does that, I wither a little more inside. What if he gets tired of biting at the air and decides to bite at me?
But Claudia wasn’t scared of hers.
And if he wanted to eat me, he’d have plenty of time to do so already.
It’s time to be brave. Man, I hate being brave.
I swallow hard and open my eyes. The dragon’s still staring at me, intent. The eyes flick from black to gold as I watch, and I dig my fingers into my jeans, wondering if that means something bad. Only one way to find out.
“Hi,” I say softly.
There’s no response. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. He’s a dragon, of course. I’ve never heard of them speaking. Claudia said hers spoke when he was in human form. “Can you shift into human form so we can talk?”
The eyes blink at me slowly. I’m both fascinated and terrified by the whirling gold on gold of the dragon’s pupils.
“Anything? Can you understand me?”
The dragon shifts forward on its haunches, and the head zooms close in again. I inwardly cringe but force myself to remain still as the big nose runs up my arm and then sniffs my hair. I can feel his breath on me, hot and scary and smelling suspiciously of ash, and my mouth goes dry. His teeth are as long as my forearm and inches away from my face…
But he only sniffs me, and then the nose drops lower, pushing at my hip and the wound there. A low growl escapes his throat.
“Oh God, please don’t do that,” I whisper.
The eyes flick back to me, and the growl stops. He noses my hair in a manner almost like a horse. A really, really, really big horse. With fangs.
When I stop speaking, the head lowers again, and he inspects my wound, nosing at the blood-crusted denim. I suck in a breath as he examines me, then pushes at my side, knocking me over. I land on my bad arm and choke back a cry of pain, because the dragon’s busy being fascinated with my newest wound and I don’t dare push him away. So I lie still, twisting my torso slightly to keep the weight off my bad arm.
Something hot and smooth moves against my leg, and I yelp to see the teeth come out, the dragon’s lips curled back. He growls when I move, and so I go still again, biting on my knuckle to try to stay silent. Is he attracted to the scent of blood? Is that why he’s so fascinated by my wound? Is this the precursor to his attack? I barely hold back another whimper as the teeth scrape gently near my wound, and I close my eyes. I’m such a coward for not wanting to look, but I can’t. I just can’t.
The sound of ripping denim makes me open them again. I look up in surprise as the dragon tears at my jeans, already fragile and worn from years of use. The fabric tears with a mighty rend—all the way up to the belt—and then flies off my bad leg, and then my bottom half is partially naked.
The dragon’s head lowers again, and he sniffs at my skin. I can see blood all over my hip, and bruising. One of the bullets must have winged me. He growls once more, and then as I watch, his tongue flicks out and moves over the wound.
It takes everything I have to stay still. The tongue is hot and wet with saliva, and feels like sandpaper being rubbed over my skin. It’s not comforting at all. In fact, it’s making everything hurt worse. It’s not like I can stop him, so I close my eyes and mentally go to my “good” place. In my mind, it’s back to the world that was before. There’s no Rift, no dragons, no death. It’s just nice and quiet and peaceful. I picture a meadow full of birds and butterflies, flowers blooming amidst the grasses. Today, I decide there should be deer. Maybe there’s one with a fawn that’s frolicking amongst the flowers, and the sky is so blue, without the Rift in sight. It’s calm and soothing, and I imagine a nearby creek full of fish, the water gurgling.
Everything is bliss.
DAKH
I finish cleaning my mate’s wound with my tongue, and she does not move. My heart thuds heavily in my chest, and I nose her, alarmed. Surely that small action did not break her small body? But no, she breathes.
She is just…not responding.
I nose her again, but again she ignores me. Is she asleep? Perhaps she is tired. I inspect her, running my nose up and down her small form. Her leg is no longer bleeding, which is good, though I am concerned that her soft skin cannot withstand my ministrations. She is colored a deep reddish purple in the places I licked. I tried to be gentle, but perhaps I was not gentle enough. I touch my tongue to her skin again, exploratory. She tastes sweet, and part of me wishes that she still bled so I could continue to care for her wound, to continue licking at her delicious taste.
Eat her. Let her blood wash over your fangs.
The ravens are back, gibbering in my ears. I ignore them and take another deep breath of the human’s scent. It makes them go away again, for a little while. My female smells like the human hive, but underneath, I like her scent. I run my snout along her bared skin again and pause at the apex of her thighs.
I can smell her cunt.
Need washes through me, something I have not felt in a very long time. I am surprised at the intensity of it, and then I give in, letting it roll over me. Of course I lust for her. She is my mate. I have chosen.
Weak, the ravens cry out.
I ignore them. For the first time in a long time, it is getting easier to refuse them, to push them aside. It is because of her, and I welcome it. I would much rather focus on my human than on them and their terrible words and terrible wings. I run my nose up and down her body again and then press it against her thighs, inhaling deeply of her cunt’s scent. It is musky and pleasant. Not aroused—not yet. But in time, I will make her challenge me. I will welcome her attacks, and then I will subdue her like any good drakoni male.
And when I have conquered her, I will claim her as my true mate and give her my fire. Until then, I must be patient.
Reluctantly, I pull my nose away from her sweet scent and scoop my mate up in my claws. She is limp, and I raise her to my nose again to make certain that she breathes. When I am content that she does, I relax and settle on my haunches, tucking her body close against my breast. I will sleep curled around her, to protect her.