“Tage,” I grate out in exasperation, trying not to let myself get swept away by words he cannot possibly mean.
He shrugs again. “I’m a dragon. You’re a witch. I don’t care.”
I can’t breathe. My heart gallops in my chest, threatening to burst free.
His hands flex over me. “You’re you, and I’m me. That’s the only thing that matters.”
A sound, part laugh, part sob, breaks loose from me, and then I’m smothering his lips with mine, kissing him to stop him from talking, from saying anything else that is going to undo me, that will feed me hope.
We kiss and kiss and kiss, hands tearing at clothes, eager to find skin.
A cloud passes over, temporarily blotting out the feeble moonlight.
Tage’s attention veers from me. He looks up swiftly with a curse.
I follow his gaze just in time to see.
No clouds. Bodies sailing overhead.Dragon bodies.At least four. Possibly more. They quickly fall out of view as they move past us, obscured by the trees.
He shoves me from the warm circle of his arms and grabs my hand.
My stomach heaves and sinks. “Is it them? The skelm?”
He doesn’t answer. “Come! Hurry! Before they turn back and land. You need to hide.”
“Me?What about you?”
His head whips around, scanning the landscape as though a solution would present itself. “There’s no hiding me. They saw me...if we’re lucky they didn’t notice you plastered to me.”
“There’s nowhere to hide!” I cry, my gaze sliding over snow and trees.
His hand tightens around mine, giving it a squeeze, and I follow his stare. He’s looking at the hole in the ground,my sinkhole.
Our gazes catch and hold with understanding.
“No,” I gasp as he hauls me after him. I resist, struggling, but he’s so much stronger. “No! I’m not leaving you.”
Ignoring my protests, he grasps both my hands and lowers me down into the hole, my legs dangling. “I’ll be fine. Now get down there.”
“What about you?” I demand, my upturned face locking on him.
“I’ll be fine,” he repeats. “Not a word, not a sound from you,” he advises with an optimistic wink that feels like the lie it is...and then his hands let go.
I drop.
38
Blood in the Snow
Once I hit the bottom of the pit, I scurry to the farshadows in case someone peers down into the sinkhole. Steeped in darkness, chest heaving, I look up at the jagged opening as though I might see something (or someone) in the wash of gray sky above.
“Tage,” I breathe, my heart crashing against my ribs.
Soon the world shudders, rocking all around me, and I know it’s them: dragons landing with heavy thuds. Jostled, I adjust my footing, squaring my stance, arms wide out at my sides as I shift for balance.
Is it the skelm? Sour fear sloshes in my belly at the idea, at the dreaded, awful probability.
They are the ones who destroyed my village. I can still see that poor woman tossed into the sky like a rag doll, devoured in snapping jaws. Bile surges to my throat at the memory. They were also the ones who killed Bertine and her entire village. Who knows how many lives they’ve destroyed.
