But something in his golden eyes felt less like a hunter zeroing in on his prey and more like…like he was sad I’d been running away.
His bright eyes, as golden as the markings on his scales, glinted at me. He was young, smaller than Azeron, his face not much taller than my own. He tucked his head around toward his wing and snorted, sending a sputter of sparks over his scales. They skittered and hopped, bouncing off his dragonhide, except in one place. At the joint where his left wing met his back, there was a gash. A handful of sparks settled on his wound, and I cringed at how much that had to hurt. The dragon, however, didn’t seem bothered at all. In fact, he let out a small hum that felt like it vibrated in my very bones.
A spark fell to the ground, petering out in the wet leaves between his feet. The dragon, it seemed, was too young to breathe true flames. He settled onto the leaf-covered ground, crushing a small purple flower under his claws, and folded his wings.
For a moment, we stared at each other.
Slowly, I started backing up, sweat beading on my forehead in the damp morning air. “Easy,” I muttered, not making any sudden movements as I tried to put space between us. The dragon’s large sides heaved in and out, flooding the woods with his hot breath.
A strange feeling washed over me, flooding my senses. Warmth but also joy, an exhilaration I couldn’t control, until laughter burst from my lips. I clamped a hand over my mouth, worried I’d startled the dragon. He might not be able to flame me, but he could snatch me off the ground and devour me in two gulps.
I hurried backward a few more steps. The dragon stood up once more, his wings spreading, and I went still.
Without moving his feet, the dragon stretched his neck forward until his nostrils were close enough to my face that his breath stirred my hair. I shook with fear, an almost imperceptible whimper sounding behind my pinched lips. I crammed my eyes shut.
A scaly nose bumped my arm and I screamed, stumbling backward.
Before I could hit the ground, that same nose curled around my back, catching my fall. He pushed me upright and quickly pulled his head back, away from me, one eye turned toward me.
“You caught me,” I murmured, too stunned to move.
The dragon blinked, and I could have sworn he was acknowledging my words. Another feeling rose inside me, one that felt too foreign to be my own. I couldn’t quantify it at first, only a hollow ache, so deep and vast that it emptied me of all other sensations and left me bent forward, clutching my knees and gasping for breath.
Then, as the dragon turned his face away, slowly, almost mournfully, I understood.
“Wait,” I said, reaching for him. Reason told me to run. History told me to hide. But the books I’d stolen from the Belleville library, from the crumbled pile of ash that had once been a locked room, had taught me that a dragon longed to find his heart bond. And that, while intangible and inexplicable to most, a dragon’s heart could be felt by the one person he chose to bond with. I couldn’t just walk away. Yet.
But he was also wild. Wild dragons, unlike the flameless domesticated ones, were killed on sight. Their very existence was a threat to our way of life, their flame a worry for every farmer, every person whose home could in an instant be consumed by the fire hot enough to melt metal and bone. Wild dragonscouldn’tbond. Their flames prevented it. Disabling their ability to flame was what had shown the first riders centuries ago that dragons could be something besides an enemy.
The dragon’s golden eye swiveled toward me.
I froze. I was crazy. My mother was right. I’d dreamed of dragons too often to have any sense.
I didn’t imagine it when the next sensation sprang up from my toes—elation. I didn’t imagine it when the dragon’s nose bent toward the ground, snorted, spraying me with dirt, then lifted into the air.
He was laughing at me.
Deep in my blood, I could feel his joy. A smile broke across my face, and a desperate laugh burst from my mouth.
Some people described their bonding moments as agonizing, others as jubilant. It depended on the dragon. But no matter the case, no dragon nor human could stop a bond once it had formed, like a blade forged in a blacksmith’s furnace and plunged into water.
Gasping and laughing, half-crying, I sank to my knees in the cool earth. The dragon before me lowered his face until it was level with mine. A drumbeat sounded in my ears, and I leaned sideways, watching as the dragon beat his tail against the ground. It was the same simple beat I’d used at the Covingtons’ lair to scare him away.
“You liked that, huh?” I said, shaking all over.
The dragon snorted, but he kept smashing his tail into the forest floor, sending twigs and dirt flying. Cautiously, I got to my feet. The dragon raised his head at the same time, never breaking eye contact.
Neither of us expected the gunshot.
It shattered the connection between us. The dragon’s wings spread, but he struggled to gain height, barreling through treelimbs once again as two men brandishing pistols rushed down the path.
“Ari!” my brother shouted, aiming his pistol at the dragon and pulling the trigger.
CHAPTER 5
Breaths heaving, I tipped forward as the sound of wingbeats faded, my heart aching like a fish hook had just been ripped out of it. Bennett rushed forward, another man hurrying up the trail behind him.
“Are you all right?” He squatted beside me, placing a hand on my back. The echoes of the gunshots rang in my ears. “When I saw the dragon reaching for you, I thought you were…” He wiped his face with the back of his hand.
