My mate stolen from me by time.
“No!” I roar, fighting against the bonds. “You can’t make me!”
“We’ll see.” He hauls me to my feet and drags me forward.
I don’t know how long we walk for. Or how long he walks and I fight. But soon, great, scaly forms come into view, soaring overhead. Any other time, I might find the sight glorious. Now, all I care about is escape.
My father hasn’t gotten weak with age, and he keeps hold of me until we reach the edge of a massive, icy pit. Dragons lounge around the exterior and on ledges that jut out from the steep sides. The bottom is relatively flat with only a few jagged rocks piercing the icy white surface.
The place looks like a stadium. An arena. Like something a gladiator would fight in. A red dragon the size of a fire truck waits in the pit, sharpening his claws on stone, the way a cat might on a scraping post.
“Transform now,” my father growls. “Or face him on two legs.”
“What?” I try to back away from the ledge, but he holds me in place. “You’re trying to kill me?”
“You’re a Blaythorn. He’s a nobody. A human father. His inner forge is dimmer than the winter sun. In your beast form, he’ll stand no match. Transform, begin your climb to dominance, and these years in the colony will be the best of your life. When it comes time to change back, you likely won’t want to leave.” My father’s voice turns ragged with anticipation, as if he were sprinting while speaking.
“You’re fucking crazy. I’m not fighting him or anyone!”
“Yes,” he snarls, “you are.”
Maximus Blaythorn shoves me over the edge, and I tumble down the steeply sloping side toward the middle of the pit. Ice shards nip at my skin, and every time I roll, it feels like the same stone bruises my ribs. I land in a groaning heap at the bottom ofthe incline, lying on my back as I try to orient myself. Silhouetted above me against the bright sky is my father. Dazed, I watch him strip, see his shoulders bow, track how a glowing red fire seems to grow hot and pulse under his skin. He spreads his arms wide and screeches at the sky as his skin splits open, and a massive sapphire creature of myth takes over his body.
He did it. He changed. There’s no going back for him.
But I still have a chance.
Scrambling to my feet, I’m upright only for a moment before a sledgehammer hits my side. At least, that’s what the dragon’s swipe feels like. I fly through the air farther than the barrier flung me. Big Red slinks after me, letting out a huff that sounds like a laugh. He swats at me again, and I go tumbling.
No matter how much I roll and duck and dodge, he always gets me, sapping even my supernatural strength. With my hands cuffed behind my back, I’m hampered. He’s too big. Too fast.
And after the fifth strike, it’s clear he’s just playing with me.
Because on the sixth, he lets out his claws.
The diamond-hard, razor-sharp tips rake down the front of my body, shredding my winter gear, leaving me exposed but unharmed, other than the shallow cuts on my chest. If he’d wanted to sever my head from my neck, he could have.
But it’s still a game. I’m a mouse under a lion’s paw.
I could be a lion too.
The mouse must be boring him because the next swipe is not so gentle.
He tears open my throat.
At first, I don’t feel a thing, as the cut was so quickly made. But then every nerve in my body screams in agony, and I’m sure that death must be pure fire. As my blood spills onto the snow, crimson on ivory, too much for any mortal to survive, I make a choice.
Survive. You’ll never see her again if you die.
With a roar of rage and despair, I do the one thing I’ve been warned never to do.
I release the dragon.
Esme. Her face is the last thing I see before a black rage clouds my vision and my mind.
Cuffs fall to the ground, and I attack.
5
