The commotion catches Callan’s, Balor’s, and Abraxis’s attention, and they step out of their classrooms. Students gather, drawn by the smell of violence in the air.Shit. I need to do something before this escalates into a full pack challenge. I close the distance between us with quick strides and come up behind Keir, wrapping my arms around his waist and kissing the back of his neck. My dragoness pushes harder againstmy skin, rising to the surface. His scent reminds me of hot chocolate and marshmallows—warm and sweet and comforting and mine.
My teeth change without my permission, elongating and sharpening, and before I realize what I’m doing, I bite his shoulder through his shirt. The fabric tears under my canines with a soft ripping sound. Keir’s blood floods my mouth, and it tastes like happiness and warm caramel to me—sweet and rich and perfect. The mate bond flares to life, stronger than before, connecting us in ways that go beyond the physical.
Everything around me sounds like it’s underwater. The shouting students, Callan calling for order, footsteps approaching—all of it fades away. All I hear is Keir’s heartbeat—steady, strong, mine. His pulse thunders in my ears, synchronizing with my own until I can’t tell where he ends and I begin.
Then someone makes the fatal mistake of touching me. A hand on my shoulder, trying to pull me away from my unbonded mate.
I release Keir and spin around, talons extending from my fingertips with an audible snick as I roar. The sound reverberates off of the stone walls, making several students stumble backward with their hands over their ears. I launch whoever touched me into the crowd of onlookers—they fly backward, hitting the wall with a sickening thud that echoes down the corridor. Blood smears the stone where they slide down.
The bone plates in my face shift, pressing against my skin from the inside in a way that’s both painful and satisfying. I feel her—my dragoness is in a rage, clawing to get out. Never come between a dragoness and her unbonded mate. Especially if that dragoness is a black dragoness. The edges of my vision pulse red, and I feel like I’m about to lose control completely. My scales want to break through my skin. I can feel them pressing beneath the surface, ready to erupt.
“Get her outside!” I hear my father’s voice as if he’s yelling through a pillow, distant and muffled by the blood rushing in my ears.
Arms band around me from behind, pulling me against a solid chest.Keir.I recognize his scent, his warmth, and my rage falters for a moment. Just long enough for recognition to cut through the haze. Then we’re phasing somewhere. The sensation differs from Ziggy’s displacement—faster, sharper, more disorienting. Reality bends and folds, and I feel like I’m being pulled through a straw.
By the time he releases me, we’re standing on a beach. The ocean stretches before us, waves crashing against the shore with rhythmic violence. I lose control of my dragoness the minute my feet hit sand, and I shift. The transformation rips through me violently—bones breaking and reforming, skin splitting to make way for scales, my perspective shifting as I grow. My injured wing extends fully for the first time in almost four weeks, and the relief is so intense I could cry.
I roar my rage at the sea, feeling my white-hot temper boiling under my skin like acid in my veins. Acid builds in my throat, begging to be released. The waves seem to draw back from the sound.
“Shift back, Raven! You can kill your soft-skinned mates like this!” My father’s voice cuts through my rage, and I blink, looking down. All three of my mates stand there—Corvis, Hemlocke, and Keir. They look tiny from this height, fragile. Their shifts are smaller than mine. Corvis’s silver dragon form would barely reach my shoulder. As my temper settles, the red haze clearing from my vision, I look back at my wing.
It has an odd bump to it where the break was—a thickening of the bone that will probably always be there, a permanent reminder. But it’s standing on its own, fully extended without pain for the first time since the accident. I flex it experimentally, feeling the muscles respond. Stiff, but functional.
Reluctantly, I shift back, the transformation slower this time as I force myself to calm down. I lower my head as soon as I’m human again, my leather wings folding against my back. I didn’t want them to see me like that—feral, violent, out of control. I got territorial over Keir likesome newly-turned fledgling who can’t control her instincts. White-hot shame washes over me, making my cheeks burn and my eyes sting with unshed tears.
“I’m sorry... I didn’t mean to lose my temper.” My voice comes out small, broken.
“Complete the bond before someone dies.” My father says, and I look over his shoulder. Mom and Ziggy are standing there, along with what looks like half of the student body. They must have all phased here to witness the spectacle. Great. Everyone saw me lose it. Everyone saw the heir apparent turn into a raging beast over a half-completed mate bond.
Nodding my head, I walk over to Keir, hyper-aware of all the eyes on us. Some students look awed; others frightened. A few of the younger ones look at Keir with something like envy. “Can we leave now?” With him being only half-bonded to me, it’s not safe to walk around. My dragoness will attack anyone she perceives as a threat to him. The next person who touches me might not survive.
“We should see the doctor first, then we can go anywhere you want.” Keir smiles, and despite everything—the shame, the fear, the anger still simmering beneath my skin—I can’t help but melt at the sight of his smile.
“Deal. Let’s take me to the doctor.” I extend my hand to Keir, and in a blink we’re headed to the lower nest area outside of the mini-hospital we have here. The transition is so fast my stomach lurches, and I have to close my eyes for a moment to let the world stop spinning. When I open them, we’re standing in the familiar courtyard. Blinking, I look around slowly and re-orient myself. “That was faster than how Ziggy moves.”
“We’re called blink hounds for a reason. We can vanish and move in the blink of an eye.” He laughs a little, the sound warm and genuine, holding the door to the clinic open for me like a gentleman. The smellof antiseptic hits me immediately—that sharp, chemical scent that means medicine and healing.
“Princess, where’s your cast?” Tom’s voice makes me jump. He’s standing in the hallway with a clipboard, and his expression shifts from casual to concerned the moment he sees my naked wing.
I take a step backward, suddenly feeling like a child caught doing something wrong. “I kind of lost my temper and shifted.” My eyes dart to Keir, then back to the doctor again.
“A half bond is never a safe thing with a black dragoness. They’re more volatile than usual and will kill without hesitation.” The doctor says calmly, like he’s discussing the weather rather than my capacity for violence, then motions to the exam table. “Let’s make sure you didn’t undo all our hard work.”
I climb up with Keir’s help, his hands steady on my waist as he lifts me. Then, I lay face down on the cool vinyl surface. The material is cold against my cheek, against my stomach where my shirt has ridden up. The doctor and Keir manipulate my wings onto other tables for support, their hands gentle but clinical. I can feel Tom probing the bone, feeling for any give or misalignment.
“I’m going to X-ray the bone to make sure it’s safe to start stretching the muscles again.” Tom’s voice is matter-of-fact as he moves around the room, positioning equipment.
All I can see is the floor—beige linoleum tiles with small flecks of gray—until Keir takes a rolling stool and lies on it, rolling himself under my face so I can see him. His storm-gray eyes are warm with affection as he looks up at me. “How are you lying under there? That can’t be comfortable.” He makes me laugh at his antics despite everything that just happened.
“The padded seat is just under my shoulder blades, and I just rolled. It’s worth it to see you smile.” He curls up and kisses me softly, his lips gentle against mine, catching me by surprise with the tenderness.
I hear the X-ray machine whir and click several times as Tom works. Then there’s silence as he examines the images.
“Good news, Princess—your wing is solid.” The minute the words are out of Tom’s mouth, I roll and sit up, nearly kicking Keir in my haste. Hope floods through me so intensely it makes me dizzy.
“I can fly?” My heart thunders in my chest, pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat. A huge part of the mating ritual is flying with your mate. And more than that—I need the sky. I need to feel the wind under my wings again. I need to prove to myself that I’m not broken.
“Gliding for now. Take-off may put too much strain on the wing.” The doctor, being a dragon himself, understands why I’m asking the question. His amber eyes are sympathetic.
