“She is of no threat now.”
“You can let her go.”
“Or you can kill her and avoid later threats.”
I blink, some of the dark haze fading from my vision. Then slowly my arm loosens its grip, and she slips from my grasp, crumpling to the ground in a motionless heap. My fingers twitch, and my daggers form in my palms, my grip curling tightly around each hilt.
In the space of a heartbeat, I’m crouched over her, both daggers crossed at her throat. The blades hover inches from her skin, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I wrestle with the urge to end her miserable existence right here, right now. Every muscle in my body trembles with indecision, the temptation gnawing at me. It would be so easy—just a quick slice, and her blood would soak into the parched ground, a fitting end for someone so vile. So why am I hesitating?
The witch’s eyes snap open, her gaze locking onto mine for the briefest of moments before my blades slice through her neck. Her head falls, rolling to the side, leaving her body. The cut is clean and precise, done without any of my previous hesitation. A sick and twisted sense of pleasure rolls through me.
I force myself to straighten, muscles taut, and take two deliberate steps back. My eyes remain fixed on her form, as if I’m waiting for something—some unnatural movement or dark magic to stir her body back to life. The silence that follows is thick, broken only by the faint whistle of the wind through the valley.
The sound of approaching footsteps snaps me out of my trance. Without thinking, I drop into a defensive crouch, daggers gripped tightly in my hands.
Chapter thirty-three
Ashwiyaa
“Be her calm. Be her home.”
The air crackles with a new energy, and my attention moves along the cliff, zeroing in on an entrance in the rugged wall. The darkness is so thick beyond that opening that nothing is discernible. I shift my eyes back into those of my owl and the world becomes sharper and more detailed.
Taking slow, quiet steps, I inch closer to the cave. Movement in the darkness catches my attention, and a low growl rumbles from deep in my throat. Magic rises in my chest and I’m suddenly standing in the mouth of the cave, shadows wrapped around me.
A cloaked figure steps out from the shadows, gleaming yellow eyes piercing the darkness of the hood. Every muscle in my body tenses as the figure lifts their arms, gradually removing the hood.
I tilt my head, taking her in. She is stunning, with long, silky black hair cascading down her back and pale-white skin that seems to glow in the moonlight. But what leaves me speechless is the hypnotic shimmer of metallic scales rippling across her skin.
Realization hits me a moment later.
“They sent me here to collect a fucking woman!”
I tip my head back and uncontrollable laughter erupts from me, my voice tinged with hysteria. How did they find out about a female dragon shifter in the Outlands?
Those fucking arrogant piece-of-shit dragons.
I swallow roughly, then shift my attention back to the woman standing silently by the cave entrance, watching me. Her unnerving yellow eyes following me intently. My gaze is drawn to her clothes—she’s dressed in tattered garments that appear to be remnants of a bygone era. And despite her silence, there’s an undeniable aura of power emanating from her. She doesn’t move or come any closer as she watches me.
A low groan reaches my ears, and my pulse kicks up in response.Fuck!Panic surges through me, and without thinking, I slip into my incorporeal state and reappear next to the source of the sound.
“Kai!” His name leaves my lips in a desperate gasp as I fall to my knees beside him, where he lies sprawled in the dirt.
“I’m okay,” he mutters, his voice rough and strained.
Relief floods me, but it’s tempered by his struggle to push himself up, so I rise and reposition myself behind him, gripping under his arms to help him as he struggles to his feet. The tension in his muscles beneath my hold reveals his body is protesting every movement. He leans heavily against me, and I support him as best I can, guiding him over to a rock a few feet away. He moves gingerly, each step a testament to the pain he’s trying so hard to hide.
As he sits down, I step in front of him, unable to keep the concern from showing on my face. I cup his cheeks gently, my thumbs brushing over the several days’ worth of stubble on his face as I tilt his head up to meet my gaze. I scan him over, my eyes searching for any sign of serious injury. Despite his reassurances, the tears that have been threatening to fall finally well up, blurring my vision.
“I never want to hear the sound of your bones breaking ever again,” I whisper hoarsely.
The memory of that sickening crack—the sound of his body hitting the cliff face—echoes in my mind. The tears spill over, sliding down my cheeks as I lean in closer, resting my forehead against his.
Kai’s hands find their way to my waist, his strong grip pulling me closer until my body is pressed firmly against his. His thighs bracket my legs, anchoring me in place as he tilts his head up to kiss away the tears trailing down my cheeks, his lips soft and comforting against my skin.
“Don’t cry, beautiful,” he murmurs.
I nod, trying my best to swallow the lump lodged in my throat. But the weight of everything that’s happened, the fear and the exhaustion—both mental and physical—is overwhelming. The fatigue settling into my bones creates a wave of light-headedness, but being in Kai’s arms, feeling his steady presence, offers a brief respite from the chaos that’s been our reality.
