A primal growl rumbled around me, and something blue and scaly moved in my periphery two feet off the ground, then three. It took a moment to identify it as the dragon’s tail.
Fuck, the dragon’s tail was around me!
The acrid scent of sulphur and brimstone stung my nose, making my eyes water. I looked up through a haze of tears at the dragon, looming majestic and lethal over me.
I was trapped.
About to die a crispy fried kind of death. Or maybe it would burn me to ash. I wasn’t afraid of the pain—there would be none, and death had only frightened me when it meant I’d be leaving Mother behind. In truth, I’d craved the oblivion, the freedom from my shitty life, at least I’d always thought so. But now, as I stared it in the face, there was no way I’d be going quietly. No way I’d go down without a fight.
I’d been targeted and attacked constantly since coming to Nightsbridge, and I was fucking done with it.
The heat of purpose surging through my limbs, I took a deep breath, then released my frustration and rage in a bloodcurdling roar that propelled me onto the beast’s tail and up into the air. “Agh!” I drew back my fist and punched the dragon in the face.
Crunch.
The impact reverberated up my arm, but did nothing to move the beast, which made sense because it was a fucking dragon, but a part of me had hoped that maybe… Maybe the Weave would have helped me again, twisting defense into offense.
Obviously not.
I expected retaliation. A snap of teeth, or a blast of flame to end me, but the dragon merely tipped its head to one side, horizontal pupils dilating to drink me in. Its regard held a human-like awareness and intelligence that made my pulse quicken with unease, my skin prickling with a subliminal awareness.
I cradled my rapidly swelling hand and took a tentative step back. “Sorry?”
A blast of wet, hot steam hit my face, and my bladder twinged despite my bravado. The dragon’s lips pulled back, baring teeth as thick and long as my forearm, and the air vibrated with a snarl. Pressure filled my head. Clawing. Whispering.
“I…see…you...”
The voice slithered into my mind. Deep and resonant, the tone like rolling rubble and gravel. It burrowed, insidious, intrusive and?—
“No!” a male voice boomed.
Cold water speckled my skin, jolting me free of whatever power had me in its grip. The dragon’s eyes flew wide before a powerful jet of water propelled it away from me and across the room toward the windows.
The beast twisted midair, shrieking with rage and baring its teeth at its attacker.
Vitra stood with one hand out, commanding a swirling sphere of water. His dark hair was unbound, floating about his head in a phantom breeze, and his eyes blazed neon blue.
The air fizzed with power, raising goose bumps up my arms. Power that came from Vitra, larger than life somehow as he faced off against the dragon. There was no fear on his face, no hint of doubt as he locked gazes with the beast, if anything, he looked downright annoyed that the creature dared to be here—and boy was that sexy as fuck.
“Return!” he ordered the beast.
The dragon recoiled, its serpentine body trembling as if trying to resist the command.
I held my breath, gaze flicking between the dragon and Vitra.
Vitra spoke in a language I didn’t understand, yet something about its cadence felt familiar. A strange conviction took root—if I just focused a little harder, if I listened a little longer, then?—
“Now!” Vitra thundered, done with the foreign words.
The dragon twisted toward the windows and smashed through the remaining glass panes, leaping out into the afternoon sun.
I rushed to the windows, but the dragon was gone, leaving nothing but sea foam in its wake.
Vitra appeared beside me. “It won’t be back.”
The swirling water sphere he’d been projecting was gone, and his eyes were back to their normal tawny shade. And when had he tied his hair back up?
He arched a brow when he caught me staring. “You’re in shock. It will wear off soon enough.”
