Ash lay curled on her side near the crackling fire, her pack beneath her head as a pillow, the dark waves of her hair brushing her cheek—so very human and fragile. Just looking at her eased the fury that had stalked him for centuries, giving him a quiet he’d never known in all his brutal life.
She used his cloak to cover her, but it had slipped off her.
Need her,his dragon clawed at his mind. And for once, the man didn’t fight the beast.
Race stripped off his clothes and shifted, scales rippling over muscle, the dragon taking form. He curled against the wall, then swept his tail around Ash, drawing her against his chest. She melted into his warmth, her palms resting against his scaled chest.
“You’re so warm…” she murmured, half-asleep.
A rough rumble escaped him. He liked Ash—hell, she drew him in a way he didn’t fully understand…but he didn’t want to hurt her.
And he would.
He had to get her to Michael before his control snapped, and he destroyed everything. By the dark gods, he hoped the damn portal would be accessible tomorrow.
As her breathing evened out, Race shut his eyes, wrestling against the primal pull toward her.
In his old life in Lemuria, he’d had plenty of females—she-dragons were always seeking him out. But he hadn’t connected with them on a deeper, emotional level.
As for human females…they were too fragile. His fires would kill them.
And fucking Tartarus had messed him up too badly to ever think of more with anyone at all.
Besides, no sane female of any species would want a male like him, mentally scarred, broken, seething with vengeance… Rage at the bastards who’d traded his life to the usurper in exchange for theirs fueled every inch of him—and cursed him to a hell he would never wish on anyone?—
Yeah, he fucking would.
And once he found those traitors, those assholes would suffer the same fate, the same torture in Tartarus.
Chapter
Twelve
Darkness.Rattling chains. Can’t move. No?—
Race’s eyes snapped open, his heart threatening to explode, but only darkness surrounded him.
Someone pressed against him. He grabbed the person to shove them away but encountered warm, silken skin and a scent that pulled him back, like sunlight after a storm.
Ash.
Embers sputtered, hauling him to where he was. Inside the cavern.
Dammit, he’d shifted back to his human form. And he slept. Again.
He scrubbed his face, the ghosts of chains and screams clawing in the recesses of his mind—the nightmares waiting to drag him back to Tartarus.
With deep, measured breaths, he forced his heart to steady as he stared at the hole in the ceiling.
All that mattered was getting Ash to Michael. The Resistance could burn. He wanted nothing to do with this life again—not when his own blood had betrayed him.
But while here, if they crossed his path, vengeance would be his?—
A soft sigh cracked through the red haze in his mind, hauling him back to the present.
Ash snuggled closer, her head resting on his biceps, her hand splayed, warm and soothing, over his chest. From this angle, he could only see the curve of her brow, the sweep of long lashes shadowing one gilded-brown cheek he longed to trail his lips over.
Hell, these thoughts weren’t helping his damn situation, with his cock so damn hard and uncomfortable. He should get up, pretend distance would save him.
