EMMA

Weirdly enough, Zohr remembers the way to Azar’s stronghold. Or rather, his own scent is still thick enough on the ground, weeks later, for him to be able to trace it back. I ride atop him, my gun hitched against my side, a helmet and goggles on my head. I’m even wearing a bullet-proof vest I found at an old Army Navy store. I’m ready for anything.

No one has been through here for weeks.

Okay, ready for anything but that. “What do you mean? Do you think they left?”

Azar has not left. That much we know. Zohr’s thoughts are wry. But it is odd. His humans have very few scent trails to mark that they have been here. I do not smell their metal mounts, either.

No motorcycles and no men. I don’t understand. “Do you think we’re walking into a trap, then?”

I do not know…but I know of only one way to find out.

“Yeah, me too.” Ugh. I’m not sure I like the thought, but as long as we know it’s a trap, hopefully we can counter it. “Still want to go ahead?”

Always.

Me, too. I won’t be able to sleep well until I know the bastard’s gone. “Then we keep going.”

We move through the streets, Zohr’s big legs eating up ground. I’m not tired anymore. I’m too tense and ready for something—anything—to happen. Even a bunch of armed bikers jumping out at us would work for me, because then I wouldn’t have to wonder any longer.

But there’s just…nothing.

I mean, there are broken cars everywhere and empty shells of buildings. There are patches of burned grass on hills and weeds poking up through cracks and all the devastation that accompanies an old city that’s been abandoned. But as we get closer and closer and I see the old chain hotel on the horizon and there’s still no sign of Azar and his men? I worry. At this point, they should have had perimeter guards of some kind. A patrol.

Something.

“It’s too quiet,” I murmur to Zohr. “I don’t like this.”

Nor I. There are no scents, either. He lifts his enormous head and sniffs the air, then glances back at me with one big dragon-y eye. I smell Azar nearby, though. And one other. All of the other scents are…very old.

“How old?” I ask.

He lowers his head and sniffs again. Fresher than my trail but not recent. Maybe a handful of days or longer.

So sometime between when we escaped and the last week, all of Azar’s men disappeared? Did they leave? It makes no sense.

It makes a little more sense as we continue forward, and at the front of the hotel there’s an old flagpole. The metal is burnt and discolored, a dark circle of char marking the concrete all around it. There’s ash everywhere, and old rusty-looking stains that are obviously blood. On the pole itself, I see handcuffs, just as charred and burned as everything else.

I wrinkle my nose. “I guess we found how he’s luring the dragons.” My stomach is a little queasy at the sight, because mixed in all that ash are human bones and the remains of people I talked to and lived around for a brief period of time. I try to find sympathy in my heart for them for the ugly fate they’ve suffered…but they were awful people. Nomads—especially Azar’s nomads—are rapists, murderers, and outcasts. It’s hard to feel pity for them, though no one should die like they did.

He waits inside, Zohr tells me, shifting on his haunches. His thoughts show me a picture of the big double doors of the hotel, and I’m not surprised to see that they’re still whole, the glass clean of ash. Azar likes tidiness, after all. Maybe that’s why he kept someone alive—as a glorified maid.

And the other? I ask Zohr. The other human we smell?

Inside, as well. I do not think either will come out, not if they have heard—or smelled—our approach.

“Then we go in after him,” I murmur. “Be ready to dragon out the moment you’re in danger, though. I don’t care how much of the building you take out with you.”

Zohr rumbles in amusement. Very well. As long as you are safe, I will “dragon out” as needed.

I unbuckle from my riding harness and slide off his back, thumping to the ground. My legs are a little wobbly after the long ride, and I stretch cautiously, looking around to make sure we’re not about to get jumped. My dragon noses me with affection, his thoughts full of love, and then in the next moment, I hear the clink of harnesses as they fall to the ground. Zohr steps out of them, all naked, bronzed god, and moves to my side.

I swallow hard. He’s very naked, and it’s not causing me to think filthy thoughts but worried ones. All of that gorgeous skin is unprotected in his human form. “You want to borrow my flak jacket, babe?”

No. He leans in and pulls me close, rubbing his nose against my jaw and neck. I would keep you safe at all costs.

I’m not thrilled about that, but it’s too late to turn around and get a second one. “Then stay behind me.”

His eyes flare. No. I will protect you.

“With what? Your fabulous skin tone? Your shining golden locks of hair?” I snort and wave a hand at my gun. “Sorry, babe, but this trumps all of your good intentions. I have the gun and the vest. I walk in front.”

Zohr glares at me.

I glare right back.

If you are in danger—

“Then we’re both screwed. But let’s not stand out here arguing this all day, all right?” I reach up and pull him down, impulsively giving him a quick, hard kiss. “Let’s do this.”

Then lead, if you must lead. He doesn’t sound thrilled.

He doesn’t have to be thrilled. That’s fine. I tuck my assault rifle under my arm and move forward, trying to be stealthy and quiet. It’s not so easy with my vest flapping against my clothing and the strap of the gun jiggling, but I do my best.

I move to the double doors and peer through the glass, trying to see inside. The lobby’s empty. No surprise there. The walls are covered in graffiti, but the floor is spotlessly clean. Huh. I pull the door open, gesture for Zohr to follow me, and in we go.

Inside, it’s quiet. I don’t hear anything at all. Smell anything? I ask.

The other human is that way, Zohr tells me, and points at a door at the far end of the lobby, behind the desk.

Let’s take him out first, I tell my dragon, and stealthily creep forward. There’s no one behind the desk, so I move to the door and then listen quietly. There’s a low snuffling sound, and I wrinkle my nose in surprise, trying to figure it out. What the hell is that?

Zohr has no idea, either. His thoughts are one big shrug.

I suppose we go find out, I tell him. Love you, babe. I send the thoughts with a fierce push and then fling the door open, stepping through with my gun.

Inside, the room itself looks like an office. Or it used to be an office. The desks have been pushed back against the wall and the floor itself has a few empty bunks comprised of sleeping bags. Titty magazines are neatly stacked in one corner, and there’s a half-empty water bottle next to them. On one bunk, someone lies with his back to the door. His shoulders shake and tremble, and he rolls over to look at us, his face wet.

He’s surprised to see me. I’m just as surprised to see him, and crying to boot. “Old Jerry?”

“Emma? What the fuck are you doing back?” He swipes at his lined face then runs a hand down his beard, sitting up. “You’re here to kill him, aren’t you?” His shoulders sag. “Good. Bastard needs killing.”

I lower my gun slightly. “Jerry, what happened here? Where’d everyone go?”

“Go?” He begins to laugh, his voice taking on a hysterical edge. “No one went anywhere. They’re all dead except for me.”

I swallow hard. “Dead? All of them?”

“All of them,” Old Jerry confirms, wiping at his sweating brow with a pudgy hand. “Fed ’em to dragons.”

Bait, Zohr confirms in my thoughts. But the females cannot be brought to sanity. Not like I was.

I turn toward my dragon. No?

They must be conquered in order to give in to the mating request. A female would approach a male and then initiate an attack, expecting him to attack in return. Only if he conquers her is he deemed worthy of mating with her.

Eesh. And if he doesn’t?

Then it is one less weakling to be bred.

The dragon form of Darwinism, I guess. Kinda ruthless, but I guess it makes sense for a warrior race. It also explains why there’s nothing left of Azar’s men but a few splatters on the pavement. I guess he lured them in close enough and was somehow able to hook into their minds. Terrible for both human and dragon. “And you’re next?” I ask Jerry, nudging him with my shoe.

He shakes his head, trembling. “I told him he needed someone to cook and keep the place tidy. Azar don’t like messes.”

Well, that explains why the interior of this place—even this room—is so clean. A very terrified Old Jerry is housekeeping within an inch of his shitty life. I have no doubt he bargained his way into safety over someone else, because that’s how Azar’s crew works. Throw someone else under the bus, just as long as it isn’t you. That’s how you survive—by stepping on others.

I don’t know if I feel pity for Old Jerry or disgust. He swipes at his face again, wet from either sweat or tears—or both—and gives me a pitiful look under his mop of stringy gray hair.

What do you want to do with him? Zohr asks. Shall I change to battle-form and devour him?

Ick. No, babe. I’d wonder if you had bits of Old Jerry in your mouth every time I kissed you, and I like kissing you far too much. But he’s got a point. Old Jerry’s a piece of shit no matter how you look at it. We can’t let him go. He’s still Team Azar. You don’t turn your back to someone like that. He could show up again a year from now and make our lives hell. He could turn around and murder a mom and her kids for their shelter. He has no scruples.

I raise my gun to his head.

Old Jerry starts to cry again. He closes his eyes. “Make it quick, girl.”

Fuck. I stare at him, his greasy forehead an inch from the barrel of my weapon. I know he’s a bad man. I’ve seen him do bad things. I’ve heard him talk about worse things. I know letting him go is a mistake. I know it. I know this is the smart thing to do. Jack would have no qualms about this.

I swallow hard and wait for my survival instinct to kick in. For self-preservation to make me pull the trigger and put this man down so he can’t threaten me and mine in the future. Jack would look at me in disgust for my hesitation right now.

Jack took you and your brother in, did he not?

Zohr’s gentle words are like a splash of cold water. He’s right. Jack might have talked a big game, but he had a soft spot, just like anyone else. That’s what makes us human. He couldn’t abandon two kids in need, and I can’t kill Old Jerry in cold blood. Doing so would make me no better than Azar.

I lower my gun. “Get your bag and get out of here. Never come back.”

He opens his eyes and stares at me in surprise. “You…you mean it?”

“Go before I change my mind,” I warn him, and nod at the door.

He scrambles to his feet and grabs a bag at the end of the bed. He stuffs a few things in there—including a titty mag—while glancing back at me and Zohr. “I don’t suppose you…”

Zohr growls low in his throat, and it manages to sound just as menacing in human form as it does in dragon form.

Old Jerry goes pale. “Right.” He shoves a pair of shoes onto his feet without bothering to lace them and grabs his bag, then rushes out the door.

Not even a thank you, I muse to Zohr. Figures.

His whirling eyes regard me. Do you regret your decision?

In another year or so if he resurfaces, maybe. Right now? No. I shake my head and stare down at my gun in disgust. I talk a big game, but when it comes to doing the deed, I guess I’m not as bloodthirsty or ruthless as I’d like Claudia and Sasha to think.

That is not a bad thing, my fires. He pulls me close against him and presses me against his chest.

Yeah, well, it kind of fucks up our plan to come and take out the bad guy when I end up having a massive change of heart, doesn’t it? I lean in against his warmth, closing my eyes. I feel both good and bad about my decision. I’m glad I didn’t kill Old Jerry in cold blood. I just worry I won’t be able to do the deed when it comes to Azar, either…and that fucker really needs killing.

Do you want to return to the others? Talk strategy and see what we decide? He strokes the hair back from my face with his claws. I am pleased with whatever choice you make.

What if it’s the wrong one?

Never wrong in my eyes. My mate is as fierce as she is beautiful, and that has not changed.

I sigh. “I just don’t know—”

A bell tinkles in the air.

I freeze, my blood going cold. I know what that bell is. Azar’s in the dining room, waiting to be served. Or…just waiting for us.

I pull away from Zohr. Our eyes meet, and he nods. Time to do this.

There’s a dry knot in my throat as I grip my gun and head out of Old Jerry’s room and back into the main lobby of the hotel. I know this place. I know the kitchens like the back of my hand, thanks to the many hours I spent sweating in there to fix Azar his fucking pancakes three times a day. I’m a little worried, though. He has to know that we’re here.

He does. He would be able to smell us.

I suck in a breath. No time to waste, then. He knows where we are. We know he’s got no men left to hide behind. “Let’s get this done,” I whisper to my dragon.

Zohr nods. Stay behind me.

I sputter. “I’m the one with the gun, chacho!”

Yes, but you are my mate. He steps in front of me, one arm aimed to ensure that I remain behind him. And he will not harm me. He wants me to fly to the Rift, remember?

“Doesn’t make me feel better to think about that,” I mutter. I try not to think about how he took over Zohr’s mind while he slept, either. I don’t want to have to put a bullet into my dragon. The thought’s devastating.

He will never turn me against you, Zohr says fiercely, his thoughts intense. He took my mind while I slept because my guard was down. I am aware of his tricks and will not fall for them this day, I promise.

I trust him and I know he makes sense. I’m just so terrified of Azar stealing away my fragile happiness. Of ruining it and leaving me alone. I can’t go back to being solitary, not after knowing what it’s like to be loved by my dragon. My Zohr. I love you, I send to him fiercely. Please be safe with this.

He sends me thoughts so full of love and affection that my throat aches. My sweet fires.

I clench my hands around my gun. “All right, let’s get this taken care of so we can have a make-out party to celebrate our victory when we get home.”

Zohr rumbles with amusement at the thought. Only you could make me laugh when I am about to rip out the throat of the enemy, my Emma.

That’s me, always bringing laughter to a gunfight. But I follow behind my Zohr, because he’s not going in there without me. We cross through the lobby and down the hall into the enormous dining room.

Azar’s waiting for us.