GWEN

The woman covers her face with her dirty hands and chokes back a cry.

"Stand up," a man says from behind me. He sounds older. Mean. If I had to guess, he probably has a big nasty beard, a big nasty gut, and a big nasty temper. I should be afraid. I really should. Funny thing is, all I keep thinking is how pissed Vaan is going to be when he sees this joker, and it doesn't make me afraid.

But I'm also not stupid, so I do stand up as slowly as I can. I don't turn around, but raise my hands slowly in the air.

He grabs at my gun belt and tries to jerk it off of me. "Gimme your piece, bitch. If you reach for it, I'll kill you."

I calmly undo the buckle without reaching for the gun, and before the belt can slide off my hips, he snags it. "You really don't want to do this, sir," I say, and my voice is nice and polite. Friendly, even. I give the woman a smile to let her know I'm not scared. That this is all under control. She looks beaten down. Defeated. I've seen girls like her before a dozen times—Fort Shreveport has its own share of refugees. Girls who have no choice but to obey the biggest, baddest asshole who's decided he's claimed her as his own. It's a situation that's all too common in the After, and one we've done our best to avoid in my fort.

Her eyes are huge and sad in her face. "I'm sorry," she whispers.

"Mara," the man growls. "Shut the fuck up and get over here."

"It's okay, Mara," I say calmly. "He's not going to hurt me."

"Well now, aren't you a confident little thing?" The gun goes between my shoulder blades and then he runs it down my spine like a creepy finger. "A nice little bit of brown sugar. Haven't had me any in a while. Been needing a taste of something sweet after spending my time with this one."

Mara lets out a choked sob.

"You are seriously gross," I tell him.

He just laughs as if I'm amusing him, but the gun jabs me a little harder. "Dragon flush you in? And you came crawling straight into my arms, didn't you?" He runs a hand down my back this time. "Where'd you come from, sweet thing?"

"Quit touching me." When he doesn't stop and instead grabs my ass, I bite back my irritation, because he's still got that gun. "You are asking for it, buddy."

He makes a mocking sound in his throat. "What are you gonna do, brown sugar?"

"Not me. The dragon." And I can't help the smugness in my voice at that.

"What's he gonna do?" The guy's clearly skeptical.

Suddenly, there's a roar outside so loud that the entire building shakes.

That, I think to myself. I tense, ready to drop to the floor at a moment's notice. I suspect that Vaan's about to charge in here and I don't want this guy to shoot me in the back in surprise.

The girl screams. The man's faint cry of "What the—" is drowned out a second later when the dragon crashes through the glass front of the building and shelves go flying.

So I drop. Of course, I drop a few seconds after the shelf next to me drops, and I realize mid-fall that I’m going to land on it—badly—and that it’s going to hurt like a bitch. I try to stop myself with my hands, but something twists and then hot, horrible pain flares up both of my arms. I bite back a scream and try to roll off to the side to take my weight off my hands, but there's debris everywhere and yelling and gold wings and utter chaos.

Through a haze of agony, I manage to roll onto my back just in time to see Vaan—dragon Vaan, not human Vaan—grab the man by the shoulders with his teeth. He tosses his head and in the next moment, the man's pulled apart like he's taffy and blood sprays everywhere.

The woman—Mara—screams in horror. I hear a crash—probably her fleeing—but all I can stare at is Vaan's gory muzzle, the unholy black flaring in his eyes. Despite the throbbing torture in my arms, I realize this is very, very bad and I have to do something about it.

He flings his head aside and the body of my attacker (well, half of it anyhow) goes flying across the store. The other half collapses all too close to my legs and I kick it aside in horror.

The dragon's attention suddenly zeroes in on me. The head lowers, and those eyes are so black that they feel like they're swallowing me whole. I'm not entirely sure he's in there anymore. It's like he's freaked out so hard that he's lost all sense of self. He growls low in his throat and I can see my terrified face in the dark reflection of his eyes.

"Vaan," I say softly, and I keep my gaze locked to his. "I know you know who I am. I'm Gwen, remember?"

The awful darkness in his eyes fades a little. He edges closer to me, that bloody muzzle moving in close. My fear lessens because his eyes aren't as black as they were before, but I need to get him to calm down. I can't have him destroying this place…or me and Mara.

"I know you don't want to hurt me," I tell him. I should touch him, I realize. Ground him in reality. Make him focus on me or else he's going to remember that Mara's huddled nearby and she'll be in pieces like her captor is.

I reach for him—and then cry out as pain swamps my body and shoots up my arms. Just moving them feels like agony. I whimper and try to curl up, my eyes closing to blot out the pain.

"Gwen?"

A warm hand caresses my cheek. My head’s fuzzy with misery, and it takes me a moment to realize that I'm crying and he's wiping away my tears. The distressed look on his face is entirely human, and while his eyes are swirling black again, it's clear that he's “in” himself. A quick glance down at my arms shows that my hands are swelling up like blimps.

Both of them.

I cautiously try to move one wrist. It shoots pain up my arms and I cry out again, but I can move it. Barely. I don't think it's broken. The other wrist is the same.

"Gwen?" Vaan hovers close to me, touching my shoulder. He's growling low, and it's clear he's upset that I'm hurt.

"It's okay," I tell him tearfully, trying to do my best not to lose my shit. What am I going to do if I can't use my hands? How am I supposed to function? How am I supposed to do anything at all? But I have to calm him down somehow, because I don't need him going crazy on top of things. "Help me up?"

I lift my aching, aching arms and he immediately slides his hands around my waist and helps me stand. I cradle them against my chest, trying to smile. "It's not so bad, I promise. I don't think anything's broken."

Vaan doesn't let go of me. He pulls me close against his chest and pets my hair, growling and distressed. "Gwen." There's a wealth of recrimination in that one word.

"Yeah, I know. Maybe they won't be so bad if I can bandage them up, though."

He touches my cheek, his whirling eyes meeting mine. They're dark and angry, and I smile at him encouragingly until their color fades a little. "Gwen," he murmurs, and then stiffens. His nostrils flare ever so slightly and that furious look crosses his face once more as he turns his head.

Oh no. He smells the other girl—Mara.

"No!" I say quickly, pushing myself against him again to try and hold him in place. I can't use my hands, but I press my elbows against each of his sides and bury my face against his neck. "No, Vaan, stay with me."

He growls, his body tense, and it's clear he's torn between wanting to protect me and wanting to hold me.

I ignore the growling, rubbing my cheek against his chest. "Just stay with me, Vaan. That's all that I ask. She's not a threat to you." Despite the heat of the day, it feels good to press myself against him. He's rock hard with muscles, but his skin feels surprisingly soft and not scaly at all. And he's hot—not so hot that I can't touch him, but hot enough that it provides a pleasant lethargy in my body. "Just hold me, okay?"

Slowly, one arm curls around my waist. His growling lessens, just a bit. His hand slides up and down my back, petting me.

"That's right," I tell him softly. Then, "Just making sure you don't understand me, Vaan. I know you know your name, but nothing else, I think. If I start talking about baseball or chicken feed or how I'm going to cut off my arms and run around topless, you don't know what I'm saying, right?" I keep my tone low and even and pleasant, as if we're chatting about a lovely spring day.

"Gwen," he says, and holds me a little bit closer.

"That's what I thought." I rub my cheek against him, and his growl of response has notes of pleasure in it. He's still stiff and alert, but he's also fascinated by touching me, and I hope it's enough of a distraction for what happens next. "Mara, if you're still in here and you can hear me, this dragon is my friend. Problem is, he's seeing you as a threat right now. It's going to take a lot to calm him down, so you're going to be safest if you get out of here. I know it's frightening, but I promise I can keep him occupied until you get away."

Silence. Good. She's smart. Vaan nuzzles my cheek, and I can feel the hard length of his erection against my stomach. In a way, that's a good thing—if he's thinking about me, he's not thinking about her.

"There's a safe place to go," I continue. "Fort Shreveport. Just follow the old highways and look for the city. There's directions written on the billboards about how to get to the fort itself. Tell them Gwen sent you and they'll keep you safe and give you a home. A good home," I amend. "And you won't have to take a man as a protector."

"Gwen," Vaan rumbles, running his claws through my wet thicket of hair and inhaling my scent.

He's getting more and more into touching me, and this could get awkward fast. "You should go now, Mara," I say, and lean into Vaan's touch. It's not a hardship to do so. Considering how much I hurt, I like the comfort he's offering. It feels good to have him hold me. "Remember. Shreveport."

There's a terrified gasp and then the sound of footsteps running and boxes and bottles kicked aside. Mara's gone, nothing more than a dirty figure racing for the door.

Vaan stiffens against me, his eyes flaring completely jet black again. He watches her leave, and his entire body feels ready to spring into action.

"Vaan," I whisper, and deliberately rub my nipples against his chest to get his attention.

He hesitates and then gives a low, husky groan, his focus entirely on me.

"That's right," I murmur, keeping my voice as sultry as possible. "Stay with me. She's running. You don't need her." I tell myself that I'm rubbing up against him to save Mara's life, just like I'm with him because I'm saving the lives of everyone back at the fort. Except…it's starting to feel less like I'm doing it for them and more like I'm doing it for me. Dragging my nipples against his chest? Isn't for them. Letting my breath fan over his skin when he leans close? Isn't for them. It might all be entirely for me at this point.

The dragon-man watches me with those intense eyes, and I forget all about the blood that covers him and the fact that he just killed someone in front of me. He's looking at me like I'm the most beautiful, most desirable thing on the planet right now. I'm surprised at the pulse of heat that flares in my belly in response. I like it when he looks at me like that—like he might devour me whole if I just said yes to the opportunity. If I even hinted that I might like it, he'd be on me like a starving man.

And I'm starting to think I might be okay with it.

His lips brush against my jaw, his teeth lightly scraping at my skin, and I can't help the moan that escapes me. Maybe it's the duality of those soft lips against the danger of his fangs, but it sends shivers through me and heat pulses between my thighs.

Vaan groans, and the arm around my waist locks tighter. "Gwen." He drawls my name out, the one syllable made twenty, full of meaning and desire, and I find myself drawn to his hunger. I'm like a moth to a really, really potent flame. I can't stay away.

I shift my weight and accidentally brush up against one of his arm spikes—and it sends a fresh burst of pain through my wrist. I suck in a breath, and the moment is gone. Vaan's expression turns to concern, and when he says my name again, it's with worry.

Just as well.