Текст книги "The Dragon's Favorite Strays"
Автор книги: Ruby Dixon
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THE DRAGON’S FAVORITE STRAYS
FIREBLOOD DRAGONS
RUBY DIXON
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Copyright © 2026 by Ruby Dixon
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
No AI usage or training is permitted.
Cover Design: Kati Wilde
Stock photos of dragons: Deposit Photos (@mehmetbuma)
Edits: Aquila Editing
Proofreading: Fortunate Books
Formatted with Vellum
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CONTENTS
The Dragon’s Favorite Strays
The Fireblood Dragons Universe
Content Warnings
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Chapter 82
Chapter 83
Chapter 84
Chapter 85
Chapter 86
Chapter 87
Chapter 88
Chapter 89
Chapter 90
Chapter 91
Chapter 92
Chapter 93
Chapter 94
Chapter 95
Chapter 96
Chapter 97
Chapter 98
Chapter 99
Chapter 100
Chapter 101
Chapter 102
Chapter 103
Chapter 104
Chapter 105
Chapter 106
Chapter 107
Chapter 108
Chapter 109
Chapter 110
Chapter 111
Epilogue
Author’s Note
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THE DRAGON’S FAVORITE STRAYS
Cut off from his people and stranded on the wrong side of the Rift, a drakoni warrior named Murr collects strays. His home is filled with cats and kittens that need a caretaker.
His latest strays?
A human woman and her daughter who have wandered into his territory. Dakota is a woman used to being on her own. She doesn't trust or depend on anyone. She certainly doesn't trust a big naked dragon-man with a friendly smile and a kitten in his arms.
As Murr and Dakota get to know each other, their strange gathering of strays grows. Home is where your family is, and they're determined to make a new one amidst the ruins.
This STAND ALONE book features a dragon shifter hero, a world-weary single mom, found family, and all the stray animals I can squeeze onto the page. This story is low on plot and high on cozy vibes. Enjoy!
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THE FIREBLOOD DRAGONS UNIVERSE
Here’s a quick run-down on the Fireblood Dragons universe if you haven't read the series or if it's been a hot minute! It's okay!
Here's the gist:
A hole was ripped in the space-time continuum 8 years ago and dragons invaded. They destroyed EVERYTHING. The setting is now post-apocalyptic.
The drakoni have 2 forms, dragon and human. On their side of the universe, they are psychic soldiers. On this side, they have been driven insane. Think Godzilla on a rampage!
A few drakoni have regained sanity by mating with a human woman. The average Joe doesn’t know that the killer gold dragons are actually shifters. Surprise!
The humans that are left tend to huddle in ‘forts’, remnants of old cities, where they can withstand dragon attacks. People that don’t live in forts are taking their lives into their own hands.
The rift is now CLOSED. Dragons have regained their sanity, are wondering wtf happened, & have lost their psychic abilities. They can no longer communicate with each other, which poses new problems.
This story is VIBES foremost. It will be lighter in tone than the others and we are following new characters. Yes, you can start here!
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CONTENT WARNINGS
Though this story is focused on cozy vibes, the setting is bleak. There will be references to bad things that have happened in the past. Here is everything I think might be concerning for readers, and if I’ve missed something, feel free to email and let me know!
In no particular order:
A man assaulting/harassing women (not sexual).
Some on-page violence.
Some unwanted innuendo from a man.
Elderly abuse.
Dog-napping (all the animals in the story are fine!).
Mentions of past trauma.
Mentions of past food insecurity.
Mentions of past harassment.
Mentions of sick animals (they are fine and all live happily).
On page sickness of one character.
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CHAPTER 1
DAKOTA
“Do you have this one, Rabbit?” I ask my daughter, bringing her a postcard. “There were a few by the register.”
She looks up from the bookshelf she’s emptying, setting the precious contents on the ground. Her face brightens as I approach, and then her mouth twists in teenage disgust. “Mom, that’s not even a postcard. That’s a bookmark.”
“But it says Texas on it, and it has a little map. It’s kinda like a postcard. It would fit in with your collection.”
“No, it wouldn’t.” She sticks her tongue out at my offering. “And I’m staying with postcards for a while. If I change to bookmarks, I’ll let you know.”
I just roll my eyes at her insulted tone and tuck the bookmark into the pocket of my worn jeans. I love my daughter, but man, is she particular. When she first decided to collect things, it was DVDs. So many of them had fascinating, colorful surfaces, so she kept them all in a heavy binder and tossed out the packaging. After a while, though, the DVDs made her sad because she could never watch them. Rabbit then switched to coins, since money is useless in the After. Coins got to be too heavy, so she switched to postcards.
The day will come that the postcards make her sad, I think. The maternal side of me wants to push the bookmarks on her as a “safer” alternative, but I also don’t want to be a pushy parent. I watch as Rabbit gets back to work, pulling even more books off of the shelf in front of her. A few feet away, her pack rests next to her air mattress. “Whatcha doing?”
“I’m going to move these shelves,” she says, pausing and gesturing to form a square. “Make my own private little room.”
Smart kid. Over and over again, Rabbit’s clever mind amazes me. Her company is the only thing that’s kept me sane the last ten years. I’m so lucky I found her. Hell, I’m lucky we found each other. “You want help with that?”
“Nah, I got it, Mom.”
“Okay. I’ll just be over here.” I thumb a gesture at the rest of the store. “By myself. Hanging out.”
She makes a face at me even as she gets back to work. “You wanted books! Go read books!”
Laughter bubbles up, and I feel light and carefree for the first time in months, ever since we left Fort Lubbock. I head back to my bunk in the back of the store by where the toys were. They’re gone now except for a few broken pieces, and I blow up my mattress and unroll my bed. I pick up a hardcover that had been out on a table and admire the dustjacket, then move towards the windows for light to read by.
There’s no electricity in our big store, no furniture other than the shelves and a few metal chairs in the break room. But the toilets work, the sinks work (how, I have no idea) and the roof doesn’t leak, which makes this place 10, 000 times better than the last place we lived. I’m surprised it wasn’t occupied already. People have been spreading out since the Rift changed and the dragons stopped attacking. Forts are now just convenient instead of a necessity. It’s safe to travel.
Perhaps this place was empty because it’s full of books, which are more of a luxury than anything in the After. Or perhaps it’s because the front windows were shattered, the front doors busted out. Rabbit swept up glass while I disassembled a few shelves and screwed the large wood backs to the doors to make them secure again. They’re ugly and my hands are full of blisters from manually working long screws into the metal frame, but I’m pleased with the results. The glass windows staring out into the empty, overgrown parking lot are shattered but whole, and I’ve got duct tape that can seal off any cracks.
But that doesn’t have to be done today.
For the first time in months, I realize I can relax. There’s nothing that needs to be done tomorrow, nowhere to go, nothing to hunt down. We have food and drink. Our beds are warm and dry.
And we’re surrounded by books. It’s almost like the Before times. Back then, I loved a good juicy celebrity bio and a fashion magazine, but this book looks like it’s about shipwrecks, and I figure what the hell. I’ll enjoy it anyhow.
I settle in near one of the windows, crossing my legs and sitting on the floor in a pool of November sunlight. In summer, the heat’s going to be miserable, but right now, the weather is gorgeous. I read the first page of my book and smooth my fingers down the paper, appreciating the wistful nostalgia of holding a real, genuine printed book from Before.
“Oh, hey Mom?” Rabbit trots over, her long black ponytail swinging.
I glance up. “Yeah?”
She has the broom again, leaning on it as she comes into view. My daughter might be more excited about this new home than I am, and she was too young for reading when the Before hit. Rabbit says she was about five or six when I found her, which makes her about fourteen now. She’ll get her period any day now, and it’s something I’m dreading, and not just because period supplies are hell to find.
I’m not ready for my baby girl to grow up.
Rabbit blows a lock of hair out of her sweaty face. “I forgot I had something to tell you earlier. I think someone lives across the parking lot. In the sporting goods store.”
My body immediately goes cold, flooding with panic. The urge to grab our things and run sweeps over me, and I have to hold myself still, not show my daughter the fear her words automatically trigger. I inhale deeply a few times, carefully putting my book down.
We’re not in a fort any longer. We’re safe. There are places we can go if we need to run. We’re not trapped with a bunch of terrible people behind walls.
“A neighbor?” I ask, and my tone manages to stay even and not wobble. “What makes you say that?”
She gestures at the parking lot. “I saw a lot of cats.”
I exhale, the tension in my body leaving. Thank god. If that’s all it is, I will count my blessings. “That doesn’t mean anything. There might be a mama cat nearby with her babies in one of these old buildings.”
“No, Mom, I mean there were a LOT of cats. Like dozens.” Her expression brightens. “You think we could have one?”
“I wish we could, but you know how impossible it is. They’re meat eaters and we barely feed ourselves as it is.” I can’t even remember the last time Rabbit and I had fresh meat.
“Yeah, but there’s a creek nearby and maybe we could fish for them?” The pleading look on her face makes me ache. “A kitten would be amazing, and it won’t take up much space.”
“And what’s the kitten going to eat on the days we can’t catch fish, Rabbit? Stale corn cakes like us?” We’ve been eating corn cakes for the last month, the dregs of our supplies. I’ve tried not to think about how low we are on food because we’re always low on food. We always manage to figure something out, but cats have very specific diet needs.
Her face falls and for a moment, Rabbit looks like my little baby Everleigh again, with her thick dark hair and gorgeous hazel eyes framing round, chubby cheeks. I fell in love with her the moment I saw her. Didn’t matter that she wasn’t mine. Those round cheeks fall, her expression one of pure sadness. “I just miss Boomer, that’s all.”
Our dog. Good old Boomer. He was a mutt and the most loyal sweetheart. He also got into everything and nosed one too many snakes. He’s been gone a year now and I still miss the weight of him against my legs in bed. I felt safe with Boomer at our side. People will mess with two women alone, but two women with a big dog makes them pause.
I can’t show Rabbit how much I miss Boomer, too. “I know, baby. Maybe we’ll run into someone with puppies at some point. At least they can eat corn.”
“I guess.” She eyes the parking lot again, and I can tell she’s still thinking about the kittens.
I’m going to think about the cats and the fear of a potential neighbor, too. At least until I check things out and make sure everything’s all right. “I’ll check the nearby buildings first thing in the morning, okay? You need to stay in here until I confirm that it’s safe.”
“Okay, Mom.”
“You got your knife?”
“Right here.” She pats the sheath on her hip. “But they’re just cats.”
“And a possible neighbor, like you said. Got your bear spray, too?”
This time she rolls her eyes at me. “Always.”
“Good girl.” I open my book again, force myself to find my paragraph again. “First thing in the morning and I’ll check out the situation.”
It had better be nothing. I’ll be so brokenhearted (and pissed) if there’s nomads camping somewhere nearby. I’m tired of traveling, tired of looking for the perfect spot to settle down. I want a home again.
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CHAPTER 2
DAKOTA
The next morning, I load my crossbow, strap my knives and my bear spray to my belt, and kiss my daughter’s forehead. “Stay inside until I come back, all right? And if I don’t come back by dark, I want you to grab your things and head for the nearest fort.”
Part of me expects her to roll her eyes at how dramatic I am, but this is a child that’s grown up in the After. She knows when to be playful and when to be serious. Rabbit nods and hugs me tightly, watching me head out the repaired front door and into the bright morning sunlight.
Everything is quiet. Peaceful. Birds are twittering in a tree at the front of the parking lot, and the grasses growing up through the cracks in the pavement sway in a gentle breeze. Nothing looks alarming, but that doesn’t mean anything at all. I pull back the tension on my crossbow, checking the bolt again to make sure that it’s loaded properly, and then head into the parking lot.
There’s a cluster of buildings here, all clumped together to share parking, which means there’s also a lot for me to check. Rabbit had mentioned the old sporting goods store, which I’ve been meaning to check out anyhow. I’ll get there eventually. I move to the first store, which looks like an old dental clinic. It’s totally collapsed, so I move on to the next business, a nail salon.
On and on I go, taking the time to pick through the wreckage, looking for anything that might be of use. I’m wearing a backpack and filling it up with things I find—scissors, toothpaste tubes, an old box knife. Bigger things can be scavenged later, provided this area is safe. My stomach growls, but I ignore it. Our food supplies are thin, and we can’t hunt or set traps until we know this area is secure. I’d rather save what little we have left for Rabbit. I can miss a meal or two.
I check over a smoothie store, disappointed when I don’t even find sugar packets or napkins. It’s been completely picked over, which means someone’s been in this area before. Not surprising, given that we’re in the city. Everything easy to take was scavenged long ago.
When I exit out of the store, I hear the sound of a kitten crying. I turn, looking for the source of the sound. Rabbit had said there were a lot of cats around, but so far I haven’t seen any. I head for the sporting goods store, and as I do, the sound of the crying gets louder. It’s plaintive and reedy and tugs at my heart.
“Pspspsps. Here, little baby.” I move through the tall grass, heading toward an abandoned car with four flat tires. It’s just barely off the ground, but sure enough, I see movement underneath it. I snap my fingers, crouching low. “Come here, kitten.”
After another cry, the baby stumbles out. It’s a kitten all right, maybe a month old or so. He’s tiny with orange stripes and a cream-colored belly, and as he stumbles toward me, I see his eyes are covered in gunk. No wonder he’s lost. I set down my crossbow and scoop him up, cuddling him. With the corner of my t-shirt, I wipe at the crust on his eyes, but he needs medicine and water to clean them off. He cries and squirms while I clean him up, and then tries to snuggle in against my neck.
“I can’t take you with me,” I protest, my heart squeezing. “I wish I could, buddy. Let’s find your mom, okay?”
Picking up my crossbow with one hand and cradling the kitten in my other, I head toward the sporting goods store. As I approach, I see a few cats hiding in shadows or lurking nearby. It matches with what Rabbit had described. I don’t see signs of a human around, though. If someone was living here, there’d probably be trash piled up somewhere nearby—empty food cans or wrappers, broken gear, anything along those lines. There’s nothing that I can see and perhaps that’s a good sign. Perhaps there’s just a few random cats nearby.
“Do you see your mama?” I whisper to the kitten in my hand. I watch the other cats. One pretty calico approaches me and rubs against my legs, purring, but none of them seem interested in the kitten in my hands.
I move to the front of the store, peering inside. The interior is dark, the doors destroyed. More cats lounge in the front of the store, watching me as I climb over a shopping cart on its side. Leaves and detritus are scattered everywhere, crunching under my work boots.
No mama cat comes out to snatch her baby from my arms. “Pspspsps,” I try again. To my chagrin, another kitten emerges, this one a little black ball of fluff. He’s got the same gunk in his eyes, and my heart drops. They need medicine.
There’s got to be a pharmacy or a vet’s office around here somewhere. My dog had a medicated eye paste but that was years ago—
Something moves in the back of the store. Something big. A shelf crashes and metal groans.
I clutch the kitten to my chest harder, raising my crossbow. “Hello?”
Another shelf knocks over. I watch as it tumbles to the ground, and as it does, a massive, clawed, reptilian foot emerges. Gold scales gleam even in the darkness, and I start to pant with fear.
Dragon.
There’s a fucking dragon here.
A large, triangular horned head suddenly appears from the shadows. I scream, blood running cold, and turn and race out of the store, back towards Rabbit.
We have to fucking get out of here!
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CHAPTER 3
MURR
That human female just stole my cat.
I stare after the female, her scent drifting through the air, mixed with fear and sweat. I hadn’t noticed a human had come close to my nest today. Sometimes they wander close, but they’re easily scared off. This one scooped up one of my cats—one of the little ones—and I watched her hold it close, cuddling it. She’d made such soft noises at it that I was entranced, as fascinated by her strange, gentle sounds as the kitten was.
But then the kitten cried, and my protective instincts awoke.
It’s easy enough to slip into a killing rage. It’s the state I have lived in ever since I appeared on this side of the Rift and my mind went wild. I don’t know how long I was completely and utterly feral. I only know that one day I awoke and…my mind was itself again. I remembered my name…most of it. I remembered another world, different from this one.
And I remembered speaking to others in my mind, but when I reached out for the others, all was quiet.
That silence nearly drove me wild again. I met others of my kind, and even standing next to them, I was unable to communicate. Unable to share my thoughts and feelings. Unable to share my name, my being. It was worse than being alone.
The only thing that’s saved my sanity is my cats.
I found one when I was sunning after a meal, sated and replete in the warmth of the day. The sun here is not nearly as warm as the one back home, but when I’m in my two-legged form, it feels pleasant. So I transform and nap on a large stone near the carcass of what was left of my kill. I’d heard a sound—a “mrorwr” of sorts. I’d rolled over and watched my surroundings, and saw a small creature with triangular ears and a long, skinny tail. Its fur was pitch black, its eyes a friendly, familiar yellow, and it smelled like a meat eater. It licked its chops, made the mrow sound up at me again, and then began to eat.
Fascinated, I’d watched it. Once it was done eating, it cleaned its paws with dainty movements and then approached me, fearless. It lay in the sun on the rock next to me, rumbling with pleasure, and it let me touch it. Its fur was soft and wondrous, and it rubbed its head against my fingers, desperate for ear scratches.
I complied, of course. There is nothing worse than an itch behind your ears.
The next day I’d returned to the same spot and brought a smaller kill, hoping to see my strange little friend again. The black cat returned, rubbing up against me and purring with pleasure. It wasn’t afraid of my battle-form, but my two-legged form is the one that gives it the most pleasure. Perhaps it thinks I am one of the two-legged humans that crawl all over this world.
It’s a little insulting, but I let it slide.
I returned every day to feed my little friend, and I noticed that the more I returned to this same spot, the more other cats would approach. They are all hungry and scrawny, eager to take whatever meal I bring them. I feed them all. They are my friends, my companions, my comrades in arms for a soldier abandoned in a strange wilderness.
Ever since the day my mind returned to itself, I’ve prided myself on keeping calm. I spent so many days raging and lost that I no longer want to live like that. This world I’ve found myself in is a strange one, but it is home now, and I enjoy nothing more than taking care of my cats. They are my family now, and they are what keep me sane.
No one steals my family.
My thoughts immediately grow violent, surging with rage. The strength of it alarms me, reminding me of when I was lost for so long. I can’t let myself sink into madness again…what if I forget my cats? All I want now is quiet and the company of my friends.
Reluctantly, I switch to my two-legged form and chase after the female.
She leaves an obvious trail, racing across the strangely flat ground with my small cat in her arms. She heads for the building nearby, the one with the strange musty smell. I storm behind her, and as I do, I notice that her scent is all over this area. Does she mean to stay nearby, I wonder. That is unacceptable. This is my spot, my cats.
Her smell drifts through the air, and I watch her racing away, screaming. Other than the tinge of fear in her scent…it’s a very nice scent. A good, mate-able scent. She is a fertile female, her musk enticing, and it makes my senses prick. The screaming stranger is here with another small female, but the scent of that one does not appeal to me.
Only this one. This one smells…delightful.
It takes the edge off my rage as I chase after her. She will not get far with my cat. The others are trotting at my side, mrowring as if I am going to feed them.
Patience, I try to tell them with my thoughts. They do not answer. They never do. No one ever answers.
The female charges into the musty-scented building, slamming the door shut behind her. It is a door that has been recently reinforced, and I am intrigued. I pause, studying it. Does she think I will let her stay? The arrogance of the creature.
One of my cats—one with bright orange swirls—rubs against my legs and purrs. I squat down to stroke him. We will not let her have the little one, I promise him. Stay here so I can retrieve him safely.
I get to my feet and march forward again, but my orange companion jogs at my side.
I sigh inwardly. He did not listen. Cats never do.
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