Page 113 of Dragon’s Rebel

“I tried to help you,” Johnson said. “Now you have five seconds before I shoot.” He cocked his gun.

There was a rush of wind. Leaves blew by Rebel’s face, and her bracelet grew hot on her arm.

The ground shook, the earth lurching under their feet.

Rebel was ready for it. Mr. Johnson was not. He stumbled as the earth rocked, and she leaped for his gun, wrenching it out of his hand. She followed with an elbow to the side of the throat, and then slammed the gun down on the back of his head.

He went down.

The earth was heaving, and she heard shouts and screams from the direction of the house. Thorne. His dragon was awakening, and she needed to get higher up, where he could get to her.

Rebel shoved the Seal into a pocket of her cargo pants, and then took two steps and jumped, her hands grasping the top of the stone wall that surrounded the private garden. She pulled herself up and scrambled to the top of the wall, then turned back toward the house.

The lawn between the house and the garden was heaving and buckling. As she watched, an enormous scaly blue back with protruding spine ridges rose out of the ground, followed by two huge forepaws, clawing at the earth.

There was another great heave, and Thorne’s head and neck came free. He gave an earsplitting roar.

Rebel heard a whoomp, and a grenade shot from one of the upper windows of the house. It exploded against Thorne’s left flank, opening a bloody wound.

He roared again, then turned and slammed his forehead into the wall of the mansion with a tremendous boom. The side of the house bowed inward, and then began to crumble. Men were shooting at him from all sides.

“Thorne!” she screamed.

A putrid wind smelling of decay enveloped her, and an invisible force wrapped around her torso, pinning her arms to her sides. Rebel was yanked off the wall and onto Corwyn’s giant flying ostrich, the ground receding below.

Thorne clawed his way out of the earth, just in time to see Corwyn snatch Rebel off the top of the garden wall and pull her onto his baraka.

He was getting away.

OURS! his dragon bellowed. HE WILL NOT TAKE OUR TREASURE!

Thorne launched himself into the air, ignoring the bullets and spells stinging his hide. The healing power from the bonding was still alive in his blood, and the wound from the grenade was already closing.

Nothing could stop him from rescuing his mate.

The baraka was fast, though. Thorne sent a magic missile at it, trying to bring it down. Rebel would fall, but he would catch her. He would always catch her.

The baraka dodged, and Corwyn glanced behind him. Seeing Thorne, he cast a shield that surrounded them, protecting them from magic.

Thorne flew hard and fast. He was catching up. Rebel was fighting Corwyn; he could see her kicking and struggling. The sorcerer slapped her hard across the face.

Rage ignited in Thorne’s belly, and he increased his speed. He tried to call out to Rebel, but there was no answer. The shield must be blocking him.

Then, to his horror, he saw a portal open up in front of the baraka. They were flying straight for it.

Thorne was calling frantically to Rebel, even though he knew she couldn’t hear. Jump! he called out to her. You can get through the shield. Jump! I’m here!

He saw her craning her neck, looking for him, but she couldn’t see him.

The portal was looming up before them. If Corwyn took her through it, she could end up anywhere. He’d never find her.

Jump, he called. Trust me. Please, trust me.

As if she heard, Rebel grabbed one of the baraka’s reins and yanked on it, hard. The creature’s head jerked around, and its wings tilted abruptly.

Corwyn was knocked off balance, his hold on Rebel loosening.

Trust me.

Rebel wrenched out of Corwyn’s hold and let herself fall.