Judging by the tone of her hiss, she’s more disgruntled than angry or afraid.
The dragon allows Lucian to slide to the ground but doesn’t seem to care that he lands in an undignified heap. His knees meet the ground before he falls forward onto his face, a soft landing in the thick moss, upon which his head somehow glides a little farther forward and turns to the side so that one cheek is smooshed against the earth while his butt ends up in the air.
The dragon huffs at him.
There’s certainly no love lost between them.
My greater concern right now are the flames licking along the edges of one of Diavolo’s wings and rising up at his back—which would explain the scent of burning when I regained consciousness.
“Fire!” I gasp. “You’re on fire!”
Dark saints, the fire can only be from the explosion before he brought us to this place. His body must have taken the brunt of the flames to protect the rest of us.
“Iamthe fire.” He growls, rolling his shoulders, at which a shiver travels through his wings and body.
The fire immediately disappears, but astonishingly, it doesn’t seem to extinguish. Rather, the tendrils seem to suck inward—toward his hide.
In the next moment, his lips part, revealing a mouth full of flames before he gulps them down. Then they’re gone.
Well, nearly.
One little flame dances on his right foreleg—possibly the flame I saw when I regained consciousness moments ago.
He sees it, swipes a claw across it, and catches it in his closing fist.
When he opens his paw, the flame is gone.
“Fuck,” I whisper, staring up at him.
He looms over me, blocking out much of our surroundings before his form changes again, slowly morphing back into his dark-haired, blue-eyed persona.
His stature may be smaller now that he isn’t a dragon, but he isn’t diminished. If anything, it feels like his power is even more concentrated. I wasn’t sure if he might choose his calmer demeanor, but I guess he’s still angry.
He kneels at my side and leans over me. “Let me see your wounds,” he says, “so I can be sure to heal them all.”
His hands move across the air above me—starting at my face, then traveling down across my arms and chest.
“How did you find me?” I ask.
He can only travel to places he’s seen. And he’s only seen places where dark creatures have died, since he has access to their final memories and therefore knowledge of the circumstances of their deaths.
Of course, that dark room felt like the kind of place my father might take enemies to end them, so maybe many dark magic creatures have died there.
“I will always know where you are.” Diavolo’s voice rumbles softly as he returns his focus to my face, assessing my cheekbone. “Your heart will always lead me to you.”
At this angle, with my left eye sealed shut, I can’t really make out his expression. “Even if you’ve never seen the place before?”
“Even then.”
Good to know. “And this place? Where are we now?”
“This is a vast forest in Portland, Oregon. Many dark witches have died here, so I know its layout very well.” He leans back on his heels. “Most importantly, the life force in a single one of these trees will give me all the energy I need to heal you.”
While he studies the trees around us—presumably to pick one—I’m finally able to pay attention to our surroundings.
They’re enormous, their trunks so wide that they can only be hundreds of years old. Maybe even older.
I’ve never seen anything like them.
