Taron picked up the pace, only to halt at the threshold. I smashed into him and bounced rearward as he dug inside the backpack. What?—
The reason for his abrupt stop made itself known with a low, rumbling growl.
Frostwargs. A whole pack of them loomed before us.
My stomach dropped. They’d waited for us.
They formed a line between the forest and the cavern, moonlight glinting from their crouched silhouettes. Needle-tipped ebony fur glazed with azure ice spiked along the back of each beast. The wolflike creatures stared at us, locked in, their pupils aglow with an eerie, opalescent white and their long, translucent fangs bared.
“I’ve got this,” I rasped, already reaching to unsheathe my swords. Familiar anger kicked up, breathing with new life.
Careful.I was too close to Taron, my breakable human, to rage out. And since he definitely wasn’t my firebrand, and we couldn’t be sure our unstable bond would hold, we shouldn’t take chances.
“No, Olyssa.I’vegot this.” Taron wrapped his arm around my waist and threw a grenade at the frostwargs. As the ticking bomb flew across the distance, he tucked my body against his, and I let him, my restraint buying him safety.
I barely had time to react. The explosion sent members of the pack flying—in pieces. The ground shook, knocking us down. Metal shards flew in every direction, even ours, but Taron’s body acted as a shield for mine. He grunted as a few missiles sliced his back.
“I’m immortal, you fool,” I gasped out, attempting to twist and shieldhim.
He held me steady. “Blame the bond. The thought of you hurt…” The sentence trailed off. He was already on his feet, daggers in his grip, sprinting toward the surviving frostwargs as they regained their bearings. His weapons whooshed through the smoky air, slicing through one beast after another. “Give me five minutes,” he called, “then come find me.”
The words ignited confusion and concern. He never stopped, didn’t slow, and disappeared into the trees. But did I detect a smile on his face, despite the bleeding cuts on his limbs?
The creatures gave chase, leaving me forgotten and alone. What. Just. Happened?
I unfurled my wings, whisking to my feet and shooting forward, only to stop, pant and remember his command. Scorch my tail! Taron had asked me to wait five minutes before following. He was strong, smart and capable, and he knew what he was doing. I shouldn’t interrupt his battle plan. But… I hated waiting. Every fiber of my being screamed to hunt himnow.
Not to burn him. Not to kiss. But to protect.
And if I was a hindrance to him? No telling what other weapons he wielded. One or two he might not be able to use in my presence without causing harm. In this, it was best to trust him.
Trust the enemy? Give up doing everything myself? I sputtered. What was this man doing to me?
Though it was the most difficult thing I’d ever done, I waited. An eternity, every second longer than the last. Desperation to see him spread, sharpened and cut deep.Deeper still. My dragon dragged its hooves across my mind, pain shooting through my temples.
The moment the five-minute countdown zeroed out, I rocketed past the line of snow-dusted trees. Moonlit ledges and the sweep of the valley whizzed at my sides. I tracked his boot steps…and came upon a frostwarg. It sprawled on its side, motionless. As I passed it, I realized the professor had done some slaying, and he’d been merciless. I spotted beast after beast, shredded.
Taron!
He lay slumped at the base of a tree, blood pouring from both shoulders, head bowed. His short swords on the ground, his arms limp. The pack behind him. My desperation didn’t falter; it sharpened.
Two dead frostwargs sprawled beside his legs. Bile rose in my throat. The mortal had thought he was saving me, and he’d gotten mauled for it.
I flung the last beast aside and dropped to my knees beside him, cupping his face. His skin was too pale. Too cold. “Be alive,” I whispered. “Just be alive.”
His gaze met mine, glassed over, unfocused. “Make me hate you again,” he pleaded, teeth chattering.
Relief bloomed, swift and aching. He wasn’t dead. And he wanted me more than he liked.
Hatred was armor. It was how we’d survive this. How I’d survivehim. But also, how he would survive me. Wanting left us vulnerable, something we both dared not do. So, I happily obliged.
“For starters, I plan to punish you for endangering yourself like this. Second, I killed my own father, multiple times,” I admitted softly. “I’ve never felt guilty about it. I’m only sad the killings didn’t take.”
No flinch. No judgment. Justa weak nod. “Read about that. Bad man. Right move. Lorik thinks… your father is phoenix.” A rough, almost-laugh escaped him. “Dad hoped I would be the one in the legends, if he wasn’t.”
There was no stopping my ragged cry. Taron’s understanding gutted me. His admission about his father poured salt all over the wound. I yanked the healing tonic from my bag, set the mouth of the bottle at his lips, and tipped.
“This won’t stop the frostwarg poison,” I warned, “but it’ll close the wounds.”
