Page 25 of Red Dragon’s Flame

“Of course,” Lucinda said—though her twitching lips confirmed she’d heard the unspoken part of the conversation as well. “She can have the guest room, at least until she wakes up and can tell us what she wants to do.”

“Or until we get attacked by flying monkeys,” Michelangela added. “We probably should get her off this roof. It’s awfully exposed.”

“We weren’t followed,” Mikah said. “I checked the airspace, and cloaked myself. I don’t see how they could have—”

At that moment, a bolt of blue electricity streaked toward them, and two black-winged men arrowed out of the sky.

Mikah moved with shifter speed, covering Shadowfire with his body. The lightning bolt struck him in the center of his back, sending excruciating pain radiating through his torso.

His heart stopped.

Chapter 13

For agonizing seconds, Mikah felt himself soaring over the void between life and death, heart still and lungs paralyzed.

Then his own innate healing magic kicked in and his heart gave a lurch. He drew in his breath with a gasp.

Fury rose up in him. If that heart-stopping bolt had hit Shadow or either of the wolves—not to mention Lucinda—they’d be dead. Only his dragon magic had kept him alive.

Cazbek had realized the same thing. With a furious roar, he bunched his legs and leaped into the air, Changing, his talons inches above the group as his huge wings unfurled, shielding Shadow and the wolves along with his mate. He breathed a gout of flame at the winged men, who scattered.

Moments later, wards blazed to life at the corners of the rooftop, creating a magical shield over the whole area. Mikah felt the magic cascading down the sides of the building, activating wards all the way to the foundation.

No dragon would make a lair in a place he couldn’t protect with magic, if he needed to. Another reason Mikah had brought Shadowfire here, instead of anywhere else.

The winged men flew at the shield, sending more lightning into it, but the wards had been built by Emon himself, a powerful Draken sorcerer, and they held. The two winged creatures hovered just above the shield, those eerie eyes fixed on the group below for a long, intense moment.

Then they silently turned and flew away.

Without waiting, Mikah scooped up Shadowfire, and everyone except Cazbek headed toward the stairway off the roof. Caz hovered in the air, covering their retreat with his body and his huge wingspan.

We can’t keep this up for long, Cazbek warned him. The wards are like a beacon for any magical bad guys who didn’t know dragons live here.

I know, Mikah said. As soon as I’m sure she’s stable, I’ll take her to Al-Maddeiri.

Followed by Angels of Death? Cazbek said. Emon’s going to fucking love that.

Yeah. Mikah just hoped that after everything he’d done for Emon over the years, he’d agree to take the risk.

Devon’s dreams were jumbled and frightening. Dark shapes chasing her, searing fire, ocean-blue eyes pulling her back from the brink only to disappear and leave her alone again.

Being constantly hunted, with no place to rest.

Suddenly she was a little girl, and she was flying off a cliff. That strange stomach-dropping feeling of floating before the agonizing crash.

Dark creatures with wings. Terrifying paralysis, unable to move, breaths growing shallower and shallower. Death pressing on her chest. And then the air was filled with fire…

She struggled to wake up, to sort out what was real, what was then and what was now. This time it had been different, she thought fuzzily. Fire in the air before she fell to the ground, so weak, life draining away from her.

And then… he came. Huge and strong and solid, a heroic figure like in the videogame. Those eyes, filling her vision. And there were kisses and fire and she was alive again.

It was too crazy. It couldn’t be real.

She willed herself to wake up, and found that it was real. She was alive, and he was there.

She lay in a bed in a strange bedroom with floor-to-ceiling windows along one wall, looking out over a vast nighttime panorama of city lights. There was only one dim lamp on the room, barely illuminating the man standing at the windows, his back to her. Tall and muscular and heroic-looking, in a black t-shirt that clung to a fantasy-level number of muscles, and black cargo pants that molded to his spectacular butt and the strong lines of his thighs.

She knew him. It was Starthrower. She didn’t know how she knew, but she did, just like she’d known it was him in the tunnel.