The woman’s dark eyes are wide, her cheeks are pale, and she appears frozen where she lies.
Well, at least she’s alive.
Her gaze swivels to us and she squeaks, “A little help?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Ilean in close to Anarchy, keeping my voice at a whisper, even though it’s likely both Riot and the woman can hear me. “If Riot was going to eat her, he would have done it already, right?”
Anarchy makes a non-committal sound. “Maybe.”
I blow out a breath. “Time to step in, then.”
Before the situation can escalate to dragon-eating, I pick a careful path toward Riot, my footfalls soft on the moss. “Okay, Riot. Time to let her go.”
He stops licking his paw and hunches down on her chest, his snarls so sudden and vicious that I pull up short.
“Whoa.” My hands fly into the air as he continues to hiss and snarl until I begin backing away. “Oh-kay. She’s all yours.”
To the teal-haired woman, I call, “Sorry, lady. You’re on your own.”
“What?” she cries. “Youcannotleave me like this!”
She’s right. I can’t. The fact that she even asked for help tells me she sensed that the fight between our people is over. I’m betting she has the same sensitive hearing I do and can hear Ryuji’s voice farther down the beach, ordering his people to stand down.
I count the steps it takes for Riot to stop snarling at me: It’s a good five paces before his hissing stops and his attention returns fully to the woman.
He grins at her in his panther way before he leans down very close to her face, his gaze honed in on her very wide eyes.
She remains frozen beneath him, her arms and hands flat against the ground, her wings not even fluttering as she whispers, “Please don’t kill me.”
He retracts his claws and she exhales audibly, her face regaining a little color.
But she tenses again when he turns his head to the side—until the tips of his whiskers brush her cheek.
Then she blinks rapidly.
He doesn’t bite her. Doesn’t extend his claws again or show his teeth. Just narrows his eyes at her as his whiskers slide across her skin. At the same time, a deep, rumbling sound resonates from his chest. A purr like some kind of thrumming machine.
She continues to blink at him as his whiskers brush her cheek and his eyes become relaxed slits.
“That tickles,” she whispers.
He draws his head back, his nose wrinkling in another ferocious snarl before he surprises me by leaping deftly off her chest and onto the moss beside her, landing clear of her wings.
Now free of his weight, she launches herself to her feet, glittering, white sand drifting off her back and wings. No doubt it had gathered there during their tumble across the beach.
Without taking her eyes off Riot, she gives herself a little shake, sending grit through the air before she fully retracts her wings and watches him warily.
Riot rests down on his haunches, positioned between her and us, and begins nonchalantly licking his paws again.
“Okay. That was… interesting.” The woman squares her shoulders, lifts her head, and attempts to step past Riot in the direction of the path.
Immediately, he leaps to his feet and snarls at her, forcing her to backpedal.
Her gaze darts to the other side of the clearing. Carefully moving toward it, she tries again to get past him, only for him to leap into her path, snarling viciously at her.
She stops dead center, and he settles down again.
