“You are…good…shit…good,” he agrees, like saying it out loud will make it true, and his arms get a little tighter. “You’re okay. Holy shit! I thought we had lost you. We lost five females…four now that we’ve found you.”
“That’s terrible.” I feel tears prick behind my eyes, but I blink them away.
Then he pulls back and looks at me, his hands on my shoulders, his eyes going over my face; his expression is steady.
He lets me go as he looks at Magma.
Something passes between them. Flint reaches out and grips Magma’s good arm, just below the shoulder. Magma grips back. Neither of them says anything for a second.
“You crazy old male,” Flint says.
Magma shakes his head once. “Who’s old?”
Flint smiles. “You survived long enough for us to find you both. How the hell did you pull it off?”
“I had help,” Magma says, glancing at me.
Flint looks back at me and tries to keep his face straight and almost manages it. “I can believe that.”
His gaze drops down my body, and he frowns. Then he strips his shirt off and holds it out to me.
It’s too big. It falls to mid-thigh when I pull it over my head, the cotton soft and warm from his skin, and I didn’t know how badly I needed that until it’s there.
“Thank—”
A sound behind me cuts the word off.
I turn.
Magma is down.
He’s on one knee in the dirt, his hand flat against the ground, his head dropped. He moans, trying to get back up.
“Magma.” I’m next to him in a second.
“You should lie down,” Flint tells him.
I drop to my knees and help him onto the ground. Magma closes his eyes and seems to pass out.
“Magma! Magma!” I shake his good shoulder. His chest is still rising and falling, but he’s out cold.
“He’s going to be alright.” Flint’s voice comes from just behind my shoulder. He crouches next to us, one hand going to Magma’s chest. “That’s a nasty wound.”
“He has one just like it on his back.”
“Shit! He’s lost blood. He needs a doctor, but he’s going to be just fine…I swear it. The old dog has been worse off than this before, believe you me.”
I look back up at Flint. “I hope so.”
“He will be. We’ve been searching for you both since late afternoon yesterday,” he says. “There was too much unrest to attempt it before then. We had to wait for it to quieten down before it was safe to fly in. The moment it was, we came, but the jungle is thick in parts. We weren’t sure we’d find you.”
He puts his other hand on my arm.
“He’ll be alright,” he says again, and I realize that my gaze is back on Magma.
I nod. I make myself believe it.
Two figures come out from between the grounded dragons, moving toward us with the easy, unhurried confidence of people who know they’re among allies and have nothing to hide. They are completely naked. The male is broad across the shoulder, with dark tattoos laced through with threads of red that catcheven in this dim light. The female is tall and dark-haired, her own markings running from her shoulder blades to her wrists in patterns that branch like roots. She is toned, with narrow hips, a flat stomach, and perky, little breasts. She’s very pretty in that effortless way of shifters.
