Tossing it into the dirt where it belongs and spitting on it, I stroke a hand down her side and carry on my thorough inspection cataloging her injuries. “You brilliant, badass, amazing mate of mine. I’m so fucking proud of you for fighting your way free, but so godsdamned sorry you had to. You never should have been in that position to begin with, and I will spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you.” Her distressed whine has me pausing, but her head is turned away from me, so I can’t get a good read on what’s upsetting her; pain, or my words.
When I run a hand over her wing, she jerks away with a pained cry, and I grind my teeth.
She flew with a broken. Fucking. Wing to escape him. We don’t deserve to call ourselves her mates.
“Shift back,” I whisper, pleading. “It'll hurt like a bitch for a few seconds, but the bones will reposition themselves correctly when you draw your wings in.”
She snarls, twisting away from me to keep her damaged wing out of my reach. Humming a soothing sound, I continue my steady strokes over her side higher up, brushing away more dried flecks of old blood. Chest heaving with labored breaths, she rests her head on her front legs. Even if she refuses to give Amara the reins back, she’s far less hostile now that the brutal wound on her stomach is beginning to heal.
While I fear the wrath of my mate more than the dragon in front of me, I’ll welcome any rage either throw my way gratefully, just thrilled to have Amara back in my arms.
“If you don’t shift back, how will you tell me where that coward is hiding so I can melt the flesh from his bones?”
A low growl reverberates through her entire body and into mine. She swings her head around to catch my eye. Exaggeratingly slowly, she lifts a bloody claw to her mouth, licking it clean and purring in approval.
Surprise skitters throughout my system, talons extending and retracting just as swiftly. “You killed him? Are you sure?”
She snorts a dismissive sound, closing her eyes and settling down again, effectively telling me to fuck off because she's already done all of the dirty work that we should have dealt with.
Crouching in front of her, I cup her jaw, pressing my forehead to her scales. “Don’t give up on me,solas mo shoal. I’ll spend the rest of my days earning your forgiveness, but I can’t lose you again.”
The ear splitting roar of the rest of our legion settles something deep in my bones with a sense of peace I’ve never felt until now. I nuzzle my cheek against her. “None of us could survive it.”
ChapterEight
AMARA
It’s sweltering, but the press of heated bodies caging me in is more comforting than stifling. Every side guarded, no fears of anyone catching me unaware. After a week of living in a constant state of anxiety, scared to close my eyes for more than a few minutes at a time, I’ve finally been able to sleep. Now, I’m afraid to open my eyes.
Why would I want to wake up when I’ve only even been safe in my dreams?
Tiny, sharp talons dig into my shoulder and, as I squirm, my nest of bodies turn rigid. But Avery’s presence gives me the courage to tentatively face reality. Heart in my throat, I slowly breathe a sigh of relief at the sight of three dragons on high alert, scanning the open skies with deadly focus to see what made me react. Stone’s closest to my face, so I nudge him with the side of my massive skull, struggling to pull off even that much reassurance. My dragon is in the driver’s seat, and while I’m relieved as fuck, she’s not really feeling ‘team fated mates’ right now. If it wasn’t for the broken wing, I’m not sure she even would have let them get close enough to surround us so we could sleep.
Content that I’m not fidgeting in response to a threat, Stone shifts back, resting his forehead against the side of my jaw. “Amara,” he breathes, leaning in to stroke my neck like he has no plans to ever stop touching me again, assuring himself I’m real. His fingers tighten, the scratch of his nails along my scales accompanied by his dark promise. “Mo stor, you can’t leave me again. Ever. The world won’t survive it.”
Raiden remains on high alert, curling his body defensively around mine and glaring out at the world. Kodiak shifts back next, his tortured expression downright heartbreaking. “I should have listened to my gut instead of leaving a tray outside your door. If I’d insisted you eat something, we’d have realized sooner, and-”
My dragon flicks her forked tongue over his face, cutting off his apology with a lick to shut him up, begrudgingly offering as much comfort as she’s able to muster. Kodiak radiates golden retriever energy; loyal to a fault, genuine love and devotion, and wears his heart on his sleeve. Despite how irritable my dragon is, even she’s not so much of a monster that she’d kick a puppy.
A part of me wants to shift back, if only to explain that I don’t blame them for me getting kidnapped. They did everything right, and I trusted the security of the castle too. I should be overjoyed that we’re reunited, that Malcolm's finally dead, and I finally have the power to protect myself. But I’m just… not.
Even exhausted and sore, I can feel electricity thrumming through my veins, sense it as a quiet, constant undercurrent in the world around me. It didn’t happen when I shifted, though, it happened after I tore out Malcolm’s tattoo.
They knew what he was doing. Or suspected, at least. Otherwise they wouldn’t have been trying to remove my tattoo, but even when I called them out on talking about me behind my back, they didn’t tell me.
It’s one hell of a betrayal that’s overshadowing every victory I should be celebrating right now. The last seven days were emotionally and physically draining, my mind is a riot of conflicting emotions, and I’m just not ready to deal with the fallout of a confrontation over it on top of everything else yet.
“Amara?” Stone asks softly, waiting until I glance his way to continue. “The longer you wait to shift back, the more it’s going to hurt; the bones will have set in your wing by now and need to be rebroken.” As if he can read my mind, he offers a sad, knowing smile. “It only feels like she has more control because she’s driven to protect you. She’ll feed off of your volatile emotions and respond accordingly. So if you want to shift, you can’t just tell yourself you’re safe with us, you have to actually believe it.”
Raiden’s discontented growl rattles the pebbles around us, sending rocks skittering. Kodi rakes a hand through his disheveled hair, pacing. “How the fuck is she ever going to feel safe when we let her get kidnapped from ourhome? While we were right in the other damn room?!”
My dragon bares her teeth, letting her condemnation at that fact ring clear, and it kills me that they assume it’s mefeeling that way.
Our lives are a fucking mess, but I’ve learned the hard way that running from my problems only delays the inevitable.
My stomach audibly growls, and I swear, the three of them are about to rock paper scissors for the honor of who gets to suck up to the angry dragon by feeding her. Raiden beats the others to the punch, but rather than immediately taking to the skies, he swoops down to the forest at the base of the cliff. Before I have time to wonder, faint screams are drowned out by the roaring stream of fire as he sends the humans that had regathered hoping to catch a glimpse of us scattering. My heart hurts for the line of trees being sacrificed to become a wall of flame keeping the three of us a little safer before Raiden is comfortable leaving to hunt down food.
Catch twenty-two, because it’s also guaranteed to draw out the fire department. While I enjoy staring at fire fighters as much as the next person, I don’t think having a dragon watching them work will inspire them to strip off their shirts. All it’s going to do is draw in a bigger crowd, and in turn, more news crews.
