“Aerin! Go!” The words barely make it out, as if the creature is trying to claw them back down Malice’s throat.
Knowing the Dragon, he probably is.
Reikan the Vanquisher is one of the last of his kind. True Dragons were hunted to near extinction thousands of years ago. Too massive to hide well and too prideful to work together, eventually less than ten remained. That’s when they made the bargain. Using Witch magic and willing Fae, the Dragon’s became symbiotic with the Fae they bargained with. The Dragons hid inside the Fae, living together in one body. The Fae, once weak ice-Fae, retained access to the Dragon’s magic. Together, they forged the Dragon-Fae species. And since then, those same Dragons have been passed down through their bloodlines.
Reikan is the parasite Malice was bred to carry, trained his entire Faeling-hood to control.
But right now, all that control means nothing.
Malice tries bargaining, pleading, begging for him to just wait a few more minutes. To give Malice time to shove Aerin back into the safety of Valtara, but Reikan has none of it.
Dragon-Fae are sworn to keep the Dragons a secret at all costs—even at the cost of their own lives. And when a creature stumbles upon a Dragon shifted in the forest? They don’t live to tell the tale. Dragons are vicious, prideful, violent, selfish creatures. Reikan is perhaps the worst of them all.
Reikan, despite ferociously demanding his secret be kept, continues to shred everything that stands in his way, tearing through Malice’s head like a battering ram, in his quest for control. He plows through every last one of Malice’s defenses, ones that he’s spent over a hundred years honing. Ones that until now, kept Reikan in check. It is as if, all this time, Reikan had simply been respecting Malice’s bounds rather than actually being caged by them.
Malice hates how weak he feels.
Backing away, Malice knows it will be only moments before Reikan takes control of their shared body. Aerin is still standing there, eyes curious but cautious. She doesn’t leave, but she doesn’t come closer.
Aerin Tolvare is about the pay the price of Malice’s mistake.
He looks at her one last time. She’s transcendent, in her casual clothes with her face bare and hair up. She’s still the most beautiful creature Malice has ever laid eyes on. She is selfish, vapid, reckless. But she’s also fierce, and brave, and strong. Aerin Tolvare is everything. And she’s about to die.
Reikan rips through him. Rips through Malice’s mind, his body. Malice is on fire, swallowed by an inferno, his body broken and reformed into something entirely different in one painful blink of his eyes.
Malice is behind a door. Pounding on it. Trying to tell Aerin to run. Trying to tell her Reikanwillkill her.
Aerin doesn’t move, doesn’t even blink. A sort of reverence settles on her features as she looks at Reikan standing before her.
“You are beautiful,” Aerin breathes out.
Reikan huffs, hot air filling the space around them. The terror inside of Malice grows.
Aerin takes steady and slow steps forward. Malice is sure Reikan will kill her, any second. Despite the danger, Aerinkeeps approaching with careful confidence. She raises a hand to the Dragon. A Dragon who has swallowed enemies whole and torched entire villages on a whim.
A Dragon who calls himself The Vanquisher. Who has survived thousands of years after the others of his kind were slaughtered. A Dragon who never once has bowed to anyone, who claims Fae kings and queens are insignificant beings fruitlessly playing pretend.
That Dragon lowers his head and presses his snout against Aerin’s outstretched hand. He utters one word to Malice.
[Mine.]
18
AERIN
Aerin can hardly believe her eyes. There is a living, breathing Dragon standing before her. Said to be long extinct, they were once the fiercest predators of Novhelm. Giant creatures with scales and wings who breathe fire, collect treasure, and live deep in the mountains.
Only this Dragon isn’t deep in the mountains, and it isn’tonlya Dragon, it’s Malice. Right? Aerin thinks of the desperation on her personal guard’s face while he demanded she leave. Those weren’t the expressions of someone trying to keep a secret. Malice was trying to protect her.
And if that’s the case, thenisthe Dragon Malice? The way the Shifters are themselves in their shifted forms? Or is it something else entirely?
Questions swirl in Aerin’s head, an unrelenting string that only quiets when hot breath rushes over her body in a gust.
The Dragon is gorgeous. Breathtakingly so. Taller than the trees around them, Aerin could stand between his front legs and not hit his chest. He is on all fours, wings folded over his back, tail ending in a giant spiked club, feet bearing massive talons that dig into the soft ground below. His entire body is coveredin the same scales Malice wore when half-shifted: black and rippling with iridescence, shifting from blue to green to violet under the full moon’s glow.
The Dragon’s eyes burn orange. He brings them level with Aerin’s as he lowers his snout. Aerin finds herself taking steps forward, lifting her hand toward him. His teeth are terrifying, and warmth bleeds into their surroundings with each exhale. She has no doubt he can breathe fire—incinerate her in an instant.
The Dragon is ultimately the one to close the distance between them, pressing his massive snout to Aerin’s hand. His scales are firm but not rough against her skin. A rush goes through her.
