“So now we know you can manifest Dusk’s powers.”
“Those crystals?” Layla couldn’t quite comprehend it, flexing her hands as she gazed at the rent wall. “Like you did earlier?”
“Not only the crystals, but your partial shift.” Adrian’s gaze held mystery now as he kissed her lips. “A partial shift is more difficult than fully shifting into our Dragon. When someone has a very high level of power and control, you can assume a sort of man-Dragon body, like a human but taller, scales, talons, etc. It’s something both Dusk and I have a decent amount of control over. You were channeling both Dusk’s and my powers just now. A partial shift can be spontaneous, but changing back to human so fast wasn’t.”
“What does that mean?” Layla looked up at him.
“That no one should underestimate you, or us as a group.” But Adrian’s face changed, perplexed. “When we get to Riad Rhakvir, if we’re exhibiting strange Bind effects, we should be ready for Dusk to be doing the same.”
“He could be manifesting fire.” Layla blinked as she realized what Adrian was getting at. “Or other powers from Reginald and Rhennic.”
“Dusk’s full Dragon form is so new—” Adrian gave a hard sigh. Pulling her close, he set his lips to her forehead. “I’m worried what he’s capable of if we can’t get him back.”
“We’ll get him back, Adrian. No matter how many powers he’s channeling right now.” Layla spoke stubbornly, not wanting to think about the alternative.
“I hope you’re right.” Giving her a squeeze then letting her go, Adrian stepped away. Moving to his jeans, he pulled them on and Layla found herself staring at his graceful body, rippling with honed muscle. As he turned and claimed his navy v-neck shirt and grey cowlneck sweater from beside the bed, she felt that hot lance still pulsing through her. As he sat and pulled on his wool socks and winter boots, Adrian watched her also, his eyes roiling through twenty colors of blue and green as his cinnamon-wind still eased through the jet.
At last, Layla turned and picked up her lacy beige bra, donning it, then her yoga top. But as she fixed up her curls with clips then pulled on her winter boots, she couldn’t hide the way she flushed every time she felt Adrian’s winds. It was so potent it was almost as if Layla had never bound Reginald and gained his control.
So passionate that it felt like the first time with Adrian.
They didn’t touch as Adrian opened the partition and ushered her out. Sitting once more at the table, they were barely buckled in as the jet began to sharply descend to the landing strip over the red Moroccan desert. Adrian clasped Layla’s fingers to soothe her for landing, but as soon as they were on the ground, he relinquished their touch. As the female co-pilot opened the hatch and let down the stairs, Adrian took up their bags, letting Layla precede him to the tarmac.
There was no snow in Morocco, only a bright sunny day riding high above the broad red dunes and plunging canyons all around. Beneath the fiercely blue sky, a classic black 1960’s Bentley sedan waited on the tarmac of the small airstrip adjacent to the towering red walls of the Riad Rhakvir palace. A Desert Dragon clan escort in a crisp white shirt and grey slacks leaned on the car, and though Layla had thought it might be Rachida or Adrian’s Battle-Lord Emir Tousk come to meet them in the emergency, it was actually Rachida’s paramour Soukos Alexopoulos. A Greek Desert Dragon with a classically sexy, lean-muscled Mediterranean look, Soukos was just a few years younger than Layla. But though Soukos’ dark brown eyes lit to see Adrian as they descended from the jet, he rushed forward with uncharacteristic haste, his energy spiking like biting ants.
“Clan First! Thank the sands you’re here!” Making a hasty bow, Soukos knelt on the tarmac before Adrian. The young man was deeply submissive, probably the least dominant person in the entire Moroccan and Mediterranean Desert Dragon clan. But he was beloved, and of the sweetest temperament. Reaching out, Adrian set a hand to Soukos’ crown, caressing the young man’s pulled-back black ringlets in a gentle greeting, though Soukos looked up before Adrian could finish.
“Soukos. How are things?” Adrian spoke low, as a morning zephyr stirred red sand along the tarmac. It wasn’t as hot as it would be later today, but they wouldn’t want to linger on the runway long. Especially if the panic in Soukos’ brown eyes was any indication of what they would face soon with Dusk.
“Rachida sent me, my First.” Soukos spoke as he straightened and took the travel bags from Adrian. “She and Emir didn’t want to spare any of the clan Wind-Warders or fighters to come greet you. Forgive us, my liege, for such a poor welcome.”
“As long as the clan is safe, and Dusk, that’s what matters.” Adrian spoke tensely as he beckoned for the young man to follow, angling toward the black Bentley. “I could give fuck-all about greetings in times of emergency, Soukos. Rachida and Emir know my priorities. Let’s go see what’s going on. Fill me in as we ride.”
“Of course, my First.” The young man nodded fast, tossing the bags into the Bentley’s trunk and practically running to the driver’s side as Adrian ducked into the passenger seat. Normally, he rode in back with Layla, but she knew the importance of Adrian getting a briefing while they made the quick drive to the palace. Layla settled in back, sliding into the firm leather seat as Soukos fired up the engine with deep roar. The desert heat was cast out as retrofit A/C blasted, Soukos slamming the classic car into first and jolting it as they set out.
Soukos was normally an impeccable chauffeur, but Layla watched the young Greek’s tanned hands tremble with tension now as he cranked the wheel and roared away from the landing strip. Pulling a tight turn, he headed the car to the road that connected the private landing strip and hangars to the palace proper. The immense complex of Riad Rhakvir sprawled through the red sandstone desert just ahead, up on a cliff of bedrock above the rest of the desert. Hot dunes already glimmered with a mirage all around, wavering the gargantuan palace’s red walls and white domes with their cobalt-patterned tiles.
“Take a breath, Soukos, give me details.” Adrian spoke calmly, watching the Greek with his straight dark brows knit in worry.
“Dusk won’t listen to reason, my First; when you look at his eyes, there’s no one home inside his Dragon,” Soukos took a deep breath, trying to calm himself as he wound the car up the red ridge toward the palace. “Rachida, Emir, and the Wind-Warders have a barrier up around him so he doesn’t smash down the entire palace. But it’s taking all of them to hold it.”
“All of them?” Adrian blinked, and Layla saw him blanch. His Wind-Warders were tested warriors, over a hundred currently in-residence at the Riad. Adrian’s Battle-Lord Emir Tousk supervised their training and missed nothing. That it was using all of the clan’s defensive host at the palace to contain Dusk was a bad sign, and Layla felt it as Adrian heaved a hard breath.
“What else, Soukos?”
“Dusk has crushed the Crystal Atrium, the Flying Hall, and the East Dining Hall.” Soukos continued as they drove in through the thick red stone wall of the palace, ornate wrought-iron gates parting to admit the car into the verdant garden within the walls. “Rachida’s got everybody holding their wind-ward around the area, but it’s a war-zone. Nobody can get close, even in Dragon-form. Dusk just goes ballistic, thinking he’s under attack. We implemented the singing bowls like you suggested; they’re helping a little. But still, no one can get inside the wind-ward to calm him.”
As Soukos spoke, he navigated to an alabaster flagstone drive inside the walls. Wide enough for the car, it was a modernization of the palace in recent times like the runway. All around, the ornate gardens of Riad Rhakvir sprawled in luscious grace, the palace a true oasis in the desert and large enough to house a thousand people. It was like a mini-city as they drove through, ornate tiled fountains burbling beneath stretches of towering palm trees that cast shade over alabaster minarets and domes. Bird-of-paradise flowers and white jasmine vines rioted thorough everything, fruit trees in massive cobalt-glazed pots lining every ornately carved walkway. Moroccanzelijtiles decorated everything in vibrant colors and classic patterns, though their scenes often depicted Desert Dragons.
Pulling up next to a broad alabaster path that led to an orange-grove courtyard with a tiled fountain in the center, Soukos cut the car’s engine and hopped out. Adrian and Layla were quick to follow, leaving everything in the car. Already, Layla could see the damage as she followed the Desert drakes with quick strides, moving in the direction of the carnage. White alabaster dust coated the glossy orange trees like someone had been jack-hammering concrete; pieces of colored glass tiles littered the plaza like a dozen car-bombs had gone off nearby.
As they picked up into a fast trot with Adrian in the lead, Layla heard a roar so loud it shuddered the ground under their feet. A rolling earthquake heaved through the plaza as a shockwave hammered the air, shaking the palms with a hurricane force. Layla felt the sharp compression slam into her; Dusk’s power felt like someone had just hit her with a two-by-four. She staggered but kept her feet, running after the men as they rounded the broken edge of a building that had once been a lovely glass-roofed breakfasting hall with a view out over the eastern desert.
The breakfasting hall was gone. As Layla rounded the broken wall after Adrian, she staggered to a halt beside him, breathing hard in shock. Before them was a war-zone, big as a city block. All around in an uneven ring, standing on rubble that had once been buildings, Adrian’s hundred Wind-Warders held a barrier around the carnage. Some were still in human-form with their arms spread wide to hold the enormous wind-barrier swirling around the devastation, while others had shifted into Dragon-form.
Red, umber, and sand-colored, the Desert Dragons of Morocco and the Mediterranean were fierce with their vivid blue eyes and cruel talons gouging the ruins as they roared to the high noon sky. Cast from all the colors of the desert, they had only forelegs and no hindlegs, their arching necks and backs vicious with mantles of sleek spikes, their elegant skulls arching back and up with elongated pairs of corkscrewing horns. Large as a bull elephant or small house, they resembled Asian art, some coiling aloft on currents of wind from their magic, some curled up into defensive positions in the rubble as they swirled their magics into the wind-barrier with flowing breaths and writhing movements like a sidewinder over desert sands.
But despite the magnificent display, Layla saw how the Wind-Warders already in Dragon-form trembled. These defenders were less powerful than those still able to stand as human, and as Layla watched a number of them shudder viciously from exhaustion, she saw they couldn’t hold the wind-wall much longer.
