No… Shit!
Magma has the male by the throat. The two of them crash through a stand of saplings, snapping them off at the base like matchsticks. I have never been happier to see anyone in my entire life. The relief is so enormous it pulls a sob from me. I clamber to my feet.
The other male swings a fist the size of a cinder block. Magma slips it, steps inside, and drives his elbow into the male’s face with a crunch. Blood sprays. The male roars and charges, and Magma turns with him, uses his momentum, and slams him face-first into a tree trunk hard enough to shake loose a rain of leaves. He should be done. The Red comes up swinging, blood sheeting from his nose into his beard, and lands one heavy blow against Magma’s ribs that would have killed me outright. Magma doesn’t even slow down. He’s faster. Every move the male makes, Magma is already somewhere else, already answering, fists hammering at the Red’s jaw, throat and temple. The male staggers and Magma sweeps his legs and rides him down into the mud, and there’s a moment where their eyes meet, and I see the male understand.
Then Magma takes the male’s head in both hands and wrenches it sideways.
The crack echoes off the trees.
The jungle goes very quiet. Even the insects have stopped.
The male’s body sags into the mud, and Magma rises off it, chest heaving, and turns to me.
He’s naked, and he is carved out of muscle, the dark ink of his tattoos winding over his shoulders and down his arms. His chest is heaving from the exertion. His hair hangs wild around his face. His eyes are wild too. Lit up with something molten that hasn’t cooled yet, and they’re locked on me.
“Are you okay?” His voice comes out rough. Half in a growl.
I don’t answer. I can’t.
“Carla.” He says my name carefully, like it might break. “Are you okay?”
That’s when I realize my mouth is hanging open. That my eyes are stretched wide. I feel cold all over, even though I’m in the middle of a tropical jungle.
I shake my head.
And then the tears come. Hot and fast, flooding down my face, and I can’t stop them. I don’t even try. A sound comes out of me that I don’t recognize, cracked and awful, and I’m shaking so hard I can hear my own breath stuttering.
He closes the distance between us in three strides and wraps me up in his arms.
“I’ve got you,” he whispers into my hair. “You’re safe now. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
He’s huge, and he’s warm, and he folds himself around me like a wall between me and the rest of the world.
I bury my face in his chest. His heart is going hard under my ear, and I hold on to him with both hands, fingers digging in like he might be taken from me too.
And I pray. I pray harder than I’ve ever prayed for anything. I pray that he’s right, but I don’t see how he can be.
11
Magma
I hold her close.
She’s shaking against me; her sobs wet against my chest.
“I’ve got you, Carla,” I murmur again. “You’re safe now. He’s dead. He can’t hurt you.”
She burrows in deeper. Her scent floods me. It’s sweet like ripe berries with hints of vanilla. She smells fucking delicious. I pull in another lungful before I realize what I’m doing, my nose dropping toward her hair.
I stop myself, because what the hell!?
She’s practically naked and plastered against me. Her breasts are mashed against my chest with only a scrap of lace between her skin and mine. I feel the soft give of them every time she pulls in a breath.
My dragon stirs.
Fuck!
He uncoils inside me, slow and deliberate, and pushes up against the inside of my skin, and what he wants comes through crystal clear.
