The wraithlings jerked and rained down, crashing onto the forest floor. My plan in action. I had maybe thirty seconds until the stun wore off. Trembling, weakening, Iwiped the blood from my remaining eye. Perfect timing. Buds grew and bloomed all around, petals glowing like little suns, seeming to be bathed in flame, fueled by pain. The Bloodpetal Blossom.
Keeping my focus on the floret, I lunged. I sensed Taron, skirting around the field, and a faint, unexpected chuckle escaped. Following a dragon’s commands couldn’t have come easily for him.
I crouched, lowering to my knees before a flower, its petals crimson, still wet with my lifeforce. Though my ears hadn’t healed, my heartbeat pounded in them as I reached for a bloom. Did a fresh horror await me when I touched it? I wasn’t sure anyone had ever gotten this far to find out.
The sight of my arm! Skin, gone. Muscle, shredded, resembling raw hamburger meat. I didn’t doubt the rest of me looked the same.
Once more I sensed Taron. I spotted him in the distance, waiting, but he wasn’t watching the glade or the wraithlings. He stared at me in disbelief, as if he couldn’t believe a monster was willing to suffer to save a human.
Silly thoughts. Focus. I clasped the stem and gently pulled; the roots at first resisting. With a reluctant snap, the flower finally sprang free of the dirt.
Bloom in hand, I limped from the circle—or tried to. A wraithling grabbed my ankle and refused to let go.
The others began to stir. I fought with every ounce of strength that remained in my battered body. As the countdown clock barreled toward its end, a shrill ring rose and faded in my head, proof my ears were healing. Thunder rumbled and boomed, announcing a coming storm.
Good. I’d done it.
As the ruckus tapered off, something registered through the haze. Footsteps?
Impact stole my thoughts. A force like a Mack truck rammed into me, whisking me off my feet, locking me into a cage of strong arms. Then that force sprinted away with me clutched against its chest. Pine and cedar cut through the chaos.
Taron. “You asked me to trust you. Now it’s your turn to trust me. I won’t hurt you.”
I sagged against him, confused. How dare he think hecouldhurt me? How dare he disobey my express orders? But neither could be right. I’d given him an out. A chance to save himself pain and injury. No way would he risk himself to aid me. Yet here he was. I tried to ask him why, but my voice didn’t work. Maybe because the wraithlings had ripped out my throat?
“I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” he said, breathless.
If I didn’t know better, I would think I heard great concern. Which I didn’t. And even if I did, it wouldn’t matter.
The wraithlings roused completely, darting after us. I tracked their approach over Taron’s shoulder. Closer and closer. They gained in speed, coming in hot. If we didn’t exit their territory in the next couple of seconds, we might not make it out of this alive.
Taron could have dropped me and kept going, leaving me behind to deal with the attack. Perhaps he considered it. Whatever his training demanded, whatever hatred promised him safety, he chose me.
Urgency lashed until—ja! We cleared the valley, but not before a wraithling clawed Taron’s back, cutting through shirt, skin and muscle. To his credit, he merely hissed and kept going.
The thunder resumed, joined by flashes of lightning. In seconds, the sky opened up and rain pelted us. Everydrop hit my wounds like acid. Rather than rebound and recover with supernatural speed, I weakened further.
Black dots crowded my vision, the world slipping away. “I was supposed to be taking one for the team.”
“I know.”
“Then you missed the part where you were supposed to wait for me to catch up with you.”
“I did wait. I just got a bit…impatient.”
My head drooped against Taron’s warm, solid shoulder. Mmm. And it was steady. The final tether. A riptide of sleep dragged me under, plunging me into a sea as turbulent as my soul. But just as quickly, a brilliant light fractured the dark, and the waters evaporated.
That light flickered and flashed. Suddenly, I found myself standing on the snow-blanketed cliff at the edge of the mortal world, where wind howled and despair waited. I was nowhere and everywhere at once, a phantom observer hyperaware of every heartbeat and snowflake’s fall, yet I remained untouched by the cold enveloping me.
A boy cowered in the shadows of a cave, shivering, his breath ragged and fast. Terror curled in his small frame. I’d seen this child once before, on a quiet suburban street, practicing with matches. Now he was a little older.
Outside the cavern, at the edge of the same cliff where Taron had once dared me to burn him, stood an older man I recognized. His father, Julian. The Chains of O shackled on his wrists, the metal freshly cleaned.
I gasped, breath catching like a blade in my throat. Another memory. Another truth seen from Taron’s point of view, the bond no longer showing me echoes but forcing a confession.
The man turned his face skyward, frail and weak, and there I was, descending from the sky.
My jaw dropped. I’d never seen myself this way. Not from the outside. I epitomized a tempest, massive wings of shadow and crystallized smoke outstretched, my body a terrible amalgamation of woman and dragon. Summoned by the chains while in the midst of a fierce battle with shifters, crimson streaked my embergold scales and crazed flames danced in my irises. My red hair streamed behind me, turning black as twines of golden and blue fire bathed it. Smoke curled from my nostrils with every breath, rising to form horns in the air above me. I looked unstoppable. Terrifying.
