Fire in Her Dreams (Fireblood Dragons)

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."