Was that sound the hammering of my heart or hooves?
I didn’t dare glance behind me. Not with a living nightmare eager for my death. Yes, I could shield myself from the venom, but the creature had fangs longer than my forearms and claws that might easily rip out my throat.
I forced myself to stand and summoned a sword, knowing it wouldn’t be enough.
The wyvern landed, and the ground shook. I’d been wrong; the beast wasn’t four times my size, it was five.
My fingers gripped the sword. Perhaps if the wyvern lowered its head …
An arrow flew past me, embedding in themonster’s neck.
It roared, spraying venomous droplets. I quickly extended my shield to protect whoever stood behind me.
“Move, Shield.” It was Grayson. The asshole had come back to help me. Something warm and unwelcome stirred in my chest before I ruthlessly crushed it. He wasn’t here because he cared—he was here because I was useful. But as another glob of venom sizzled through the air, I found I didn’t care about his motives. I was just glad he’d come.
The wyvern closed the distance between us. Near enough for me to choke on its scent—rusty blood, old iron, and death.
“I told you to retreat.”
“That won’t work.” Not when the wyvern took two enormous steps whenever I took a small one.
The beast’s gaze shifted from me to the man who stood behind me, and its forked tongue tested the air.
Its legs bent, and it leaped toward Grayson, passing over my head.
I lifted my sword, cutting a deep gash in the monster’s belly.
It twisted in the air, snapping at me.
I thrust the sword into its face, catching its cheek. Missing its eye.
Better aim. If I lived through this, practicing aim would be my sole focus in training.
“Retreat. That’s an order.” Grayson’s voice cracked on the last word.
“Retreat where?” There was no cover. No escape. Either we killed the wyvern or we died.
Grayson shoved past me with an enormous broadsword gripped in his right hand.
The wyvern spat venom, and I cast another shield. Just in time too. Grayson needed his face.
The beast thrashed its tail when its poison failed.
“If I retreat, you die.”
Grayson’s response came out as a snarl rather than words. Then he lunged toward the creature’s head.
The wyvern’s pointy jaw opened, and it trapped Grayson’s sword in its fangs, ripping the weapon from his hands.
For half a second, time froze as we watched the wyvern chomp on forged steel. Not good. Not good.
“Catch.” I tossed my blade to Grayson and then called vines—venomous vines—from the earth. If we were lucky, their poison might slow the monster. The vines wrapped around the beast’s legs, their thorns piercing its scales.
The wyvern shrieked loudly enough to make my ears bleed, then struggled against the vines’ hold.
“Kill it already.”
The weight of Grayson’s answering scowl felt different—raw, worried, desperate rather than annoyed.
