EMMA

I don’t find out what’s going on with my panties for days.

At first, I think it’s just more weirdness from Azar, and make sure to keep my distance from him. He doesn’t show interest in me otherwise, so I relax a little.

One morning, I wake up and when I emerge from my room, everyone’s staring at me and snickering behind their hands. I can’t figure out what’s going on. I rub my nose surreptitiously to make sure I don’t have something hanging off of it, and my fly isn’t down. My appearance isn’t out of the ordinary and breakfast is the normal, quiet affair. I fix Azar’s food, clean the kitchen, and start to head back to my quarters, but a smirking guard in the hallway makes me pause. I can’t figure out what’s going on.

Instead of heading back to my rooms, I go off in search of Boyd. My brother will know what the deal is. I can’t find him inside, though, so I stick my head outdoors to check on things.

That’s when I see a bunch of the nomads standing around with guns. Boyd’s with them, and he smirks at the sight of me. “Come to check on how things are going? We’ll let you know if we need a refresher.”

“Refresher? What do you mean?” I gaze from face to face, but I don’t see anything that gives away what the hell he’s talking about. Everyone stands around, guns loosely held in their arms. Someone looks like he’s wearing a flak jacket, and there are a couple of metal contraptions set up in the courtyard around the flagpole. “What are you guys doing?”

“What does it look like we’re doing? We’re dragon hunting. There’s a stiff breeze today, so it’s perfect conditions.” Boyd just smirks again. “Thanks for the help, by the way.”

The help? What? I glance up, and then horror curdles in my belly.

My panties—my used panties—are flying at the top of the flagpole. They flutter in the breeze, a bright red piece of fabric against the blue sky. No wonder everyone’s looking at me in that creepy way. This is some perverted nonsense. “Why are my panties up the flagpole?”

“Scent,” Boyd says bluntly. “Azar says the dragon will come here once he smells you in the air.”

I can feel my lips curl back in a mixture of disgust and shock. Is that why he wanted my undies? Because he’s trying to lure a dragon? “Why do we want a dragon here? I thought the idea was to keep them out of our hair?” I gesture at my brother. “Isn’t that why you’re always wearing deer urine, like Jack taught us?” He’s spread the word, apparently, because a lot of the guys are covering their scent. It makes for some serious stink inside the hotel, but no one complains.

“Not if we want to catch the dragon.”

“What dragon?”

Boyd frowns at me and shrugs. “I don’t fucking know. Any dragon. There’s one in this area. Why you busting my balls, bitch?”

Sometimes I hate my brother. Most times, actually. How do we come from the same family? I slam the door shut and retreat inside, not wanting to pick a fight with my brother in front of all his friends. I know how that’ll end. I’ll lose, and if Boyd acts like he hates me, I’ll be fair game to any guy who wants to try his luck. But damn, it sucks to have to back down all the time.

A dragon. They’re trying to catch a dragon. They’re insane.

I think of Azar and his creepy, almost too-soft mannerisms and shake my head. I wish I was back at my gas station. Alone. I’m not sure if they really think this is going to work or if they’re just humoring Azar. Either way, I wish I wasn’t around to see it happen.

* * *

I spend most of the day reading a book in my room. It’s a romance, because Sasha’s so very into them, and I hope I see her again. Maybe we can talk about it if I ever get free from Boyd, Azar, and the others. I miss having female friends. Other than Sasha, I haven’t had any since the Rift. Boyd always kept us apart from everyone else in town, and Jack was a loner. For a brief time, it was nice to have a friend who I could chat with and who could understand the struggles of being a girl in the After. What it’s like. I’m turning pages in my book and wondering if Sasha’s noticed that I’m gone when I hear an ear-shattering roar.

I bolt upright in my bed, tossing the book to the floor. My heart thuds heavily, and I glance out the dirty window in my room. Something gold passes in front of the window, and I fling myself to the floor, panting in fear.

They wanted a dragon, and they got one.

Shit.

Weirdly enough, I don’t hear the guns going off. I guess it doesn’t matter—dragons can’t be hurt by guns. I pick up my knife, just because it feels terrifying to not have a weapon at hand, and move back toward the window.

Something heavy slams into the wall outside, and the building shakes. I peer out, trying to see, and in the next moment, I see a clawed foreleg move along the wall, and then a giant head descends. The dragon’s on the side of the building, and he’s trying to look inside.

Ten bucks says I know who he’s looking for.

Fuck fuck fuck. I fling aside the chair blockading my door and then race into the hall. The dragon lets out a roar, and the building shakes once more. Fear makes me sweat, and I wipe my palms on my jeans, desperately trying to think. Where can I hide? I head down the hall, trying to find the most secure place I can find. I know Sasha’s dragon didn’t hurt her, but I have no guarantees this one won’t hurt me.

I turn the corner and one of the nomads is there, waiting. It’s a guy named Tom, who’s got one missing tooth and one gold one and a scruffy beard. He lifts his chin at the sight of me and waves me forward. “Come on.”

Relieved that he’s going to show me to safety, I follow him…until I realize he’s trying to go down the stairwell. “We can’t go down—”

“We can, because you’re going to say hello to our dragon friend. Azar’s orders.”

“Wait, what? No! I—”

Tom pats his gun and gives me a stern look.

Fuck. “Why is everyone here so goddamn crazy?” I growl, and when Tom gives my shoulder a shove, I head down the stairs.

Death by dragon or death by gun. It’s not much of a choice. I grit my teeth, resisting the urge to run like a chicken when I push out the double doors of the hotel and into the sunlight. The dragon’s taken to the skies again, and I see his silhouette against the clouds as I shield my eyes and glance up.

“There she is. Bring her out here,” calls a familiar voice. Fucking Boyd. Why is it my brother who’s constantly trying to hand me off to someone dangerous? He’s like a plague on my ass. I’ve got to get away from him and this place. Not “someday.” Soon. Like tonight. It doesn’t matter if they come after me—if they’re sending dragons in my direction, I’m not going to live long anyhow.

Provided I live past this at all.

But the dragon isn’t attacking. It’s the weirdest thing. He circles overhead, and I’m shaking as I step forward into the courtyard. Boyd and the others have on helmets and flak jackets, guns at hand, but they’re not being attacked, either.

The dragon circles overhead again.

“She smells like perfume,” someone comments, nudging me forward another few steps with the end of his gun. “Anyone got a washcloth?”

Boyd holds a water bottle out to me. “Use your shirt and clean off, Emma. We can’t let that dragon get away.”

Throat dry, I take the bottle and stare at my brother. “Boyd…”

“Just do it,” he barks, nervousness in his tone as he glances up at the wheeling dragon overhead. “We don’t know how long he’s gonna be in a good mood for.”

He’s not wrong. I feel trapped. Angry, frightened, and miserable, I strip my shirt off, glad I wore my ugliest, most serviceable bra today. I soak the shirt in water and then scrub at my skin with it, glaring at my brother as I do so. I clean my neck, under my arms, and then—because hey, no humiliation is quite complete without a good public cooter scrub—between my thighs. Then I fling my shirt down on the ground with a wet slap. “Happy?”

“We’ll see,” Boyd says, backing off. “Might wanna crouch near the car so he can’t pick you up.”

Pick me up?! Motherfuck. I scramble over to a stalled car in the parking lot and huddle near the front tire, cursing my brother under my breath. Fuck Boyd. Fuck these nomads, and fuck Azar for thinking this is a good plan. I’m utterly terrified, and I’m pretty sure that I’m going to run away screaming if the dragon dives again.

“He’s coming in,” someone calls out. “Be ready!”

The men scatter, and I bite back my whimper of distress, closing my eyes. I wait for the end.

There’s a heavy thud on the asphalt, and then silence. I squeeze one eye open and I see a man crouching, all golden skin and long, windswept hair. He’s golden all over, with small horns on his head and spikes that jut out from his elbows and down his arms. As he straightens, I realize he’s naked. His gaze flicks on the others briefly before he heads toward me. His eyes are whirling the gold-on-gold that I remember seeing before.

He’s looking at me like Dakh did Sasha.

Like he wants to fuck me and eat me at the same time.

The dragon-man looks so wild and feral and untamed that I’m fascinated despite my terror. I don’t dare to move a muscle as he approaches, and he reaches down and caresses my cheek, his fingers burning. Oh. I stand, looking him in the eye.

He studies me with fascination, his strong, handsome features devouring me with a look. His nostrils flare as he takes in my scent, and then he touches his chest. “Zohr.”

The word is guttural and thick, and I know it must be his name. When he touches my chest, I blurt my own name out. “Emma.”

“Em-mah,” he murmurs, saying it like a caress.

Oh. No one’s ever said my name like that before. I don’t know what to think. Fascinated, I keep staring at him. I think he feels the same way I do, because he keeps studying me, gaze moving over me as if I’m the most interesting thing he’s ever seen and he doesn’t know what to make of it.

But then his expression shutters, and a look of anger flashes over his face. He crouches low, a scarce moment before three nomads tackle him.

I stumble backwards, shocked. Someone grabs me by the neck, jerking me off my feet, and I choke, flailing. “Got her,” snarls Tom. I watch, struggling to breathe, as he points at the dragon. “If you want her to live, you’ll stop fighting.”

I want to tell him that the dragon won’t understand English. That they need a mental connection to talk to people. But Zohr’s gaze darts to me, watching me claw at Tom’s too-tight arm.

And he bows his head.

Tom’s arm loosens enough that I can breathe, and I gasp, slapping at him with my hands. “Good show,” he murmurs in my ear, and I’m forced to watch as Zohr is trussed up in a collar and something that looks like a spiked vest, but the spikes are turned inward. I can guess what that’s for—if he transforms again, those wicked looking daggers are going to slice his wings to ribbons. He’s trapped in human form. Manacles are placed around his arms and legs, and someone approaches—Old Jerry, the group’s “doctor”—and shoves a syringe in his neck.

As I watch, Zohr’s eyes blaze with anger, and then he slumps to the ground, unconscious.

Everyone’s silent. We’ve done the impossible. We’ve captured a dragon.

No, I think. I’m not part of this crew. I had no choice in the matter. I grab a handful of Tom’s arm hair and twist, hard.

“Ow! Fucking bitch!”

He releases me, and I stumble forward, holding my bruised throat. “You…goddamn…asshole,” I cough. “What the fuck was that?”

“Shut up,” Boyd tells me, coming to my side and grabbing my arm, hauling me to my feet. “It’s all just part of the plan, Emma. Ain’t no harm.”

“You weren’t the one being choked!” I protest.

“If she fuckin’ tries that shit again I’m gonna put a bullet in her head,” Tom says, rubbing his arm. “The dragon can fuck her dead body for all I give a shit.”

“No one is going to touch the female,” a calm, quiet voice says, cutting through the argument. Everyone goes silent at Azar’s words. I look up at the creepy, too-pale leader and watch as his nostrils flare, just a bit. Just like Zohr’s did. His gaze focuses on me for a moment, and then he says, “We will have need of her to keep the dragon in line. You harm one hair on her, you answer to me.”

I…guess I’m safe. For now.

But I’m also more trapped than ever. I’m not leaving that poor dragon in these people’s hands. I think of the way he looked at me. Like he’d just seen the best thing in his life. Like he’d finally found a friend. There was joy there. Joy and hope and so much love that it makes my throat tighten just to think about it.

And I was the reason he got captured.

I can’t leave him. I’d leave Boyd in a heartbeat. But Zohr? It’s my fault he’s been taken and I’ve got to figure out how to free him. But how?

* * *

I don’t get a chance to help Zohr right away, though. Things get crazy around camp for a while. One of the nomads—some guy low in the pecking order named Tate—helps them kidnap someone nearby, and I’m shocked to see it’s my friend Sasha. It seems that Azar’s interested in getting more than one dragon, and Tate somehow knew that she had one.

It takes a few days, but I help Sasha escape. Even as we’re breaking out, the dragons are breaking in. Sasha’s dragon and one of his friends raid Azar’s headquarters and in one blood-filled night, kill about half of the nomads…including Boyd. I’m too shocked to grieve.

Sasha offers to take me with her. She promises to keep me safe.

I want to go, more than anything.

But Zohr’s stuck, and I won’t abandon him. It’s still my fault that he’s here. I’ve been in bad situations before, and I know I can worm my way out. It feels wrong to abandon him.

So I stay…but I hope I’m not making a mistake.