Wallaig glanced in the other direction.
His gaze landed on a moving truck parked curbside. Tall, white box. Sturdy construction. Less than thirty yards away. A quick calculation and…aye, the truck would do. Provide enough height he needed to get airborne…but only if he reached it in time.
He looked over his shoulder and checked on the rogues. Neither had moved. Good. The longer the pair remained oblivious, the better for him. Swiveling in his crouch, he drew Amantha from behind him. She settled between the spread of his thighs and pressed close, using him for balance. Wallaig wrapped his arms around her and scanned the area over the top of her head. He needed to be certain, know exactly where he was going the moment he moved. With so many rogues in the area, precise execution of the plan mattered.
He swept the street again, just to be sure.
A small car parked behind the target vehicle. No humans walking down the street. Pretty good set up, the best he would get tonight. Eyes locked on the truck, he loosened Amantha’s grip on his jacket. She drew a shaky breath but complied, letting him go, allowing him to grip both of her wrists.
“Hold on, Amantha.”
He didn’t give her any other warning. Wallaig stood instead and, jerking her forward, threw her over his shoulder. Head down, arse up in the air, she hissed in surprise. Her legs kicked. He locked her down with an arm over her thighs and, legs pumping, sprinted toward the truck. His boots hammered the sidewalk. Sound detonated, echoing off concrete and metal, rolling down the block, giving away his position.
The cry of alarm went up.
Dragons took flight. The sound of flapping wings joined the thump of his footfalls.
Adrenaline burned through his veins. Heart hammering, muscles coiled, Wallaig ran faster. Almost there. Less than ten feet away. He took three more strides and, with a snarl, leapt from the sidewalk and—
Bang!
He landed on top of the car.
Steel dented beneath his feet. He didn’t stop. Baring his teeth, he launched himself onto the top of the truck. His boots slid across the slick surface. Momentum hurled him toward the edge of the box. Not bothering to slow down, Wallaig transformed. Magic exploded in the air around him. Hands and feet turning into huge paws, his body lengthened under blood red scales. His spiked tail whiplashed. Amantha squeaked in alarm. Careful not to clip her with his claws, he cradled her in his palm and unfurled his wings. Needing more height, he flipped sideways in mid-air. His talons caught on a building façade. Chunks of stone crumbled, tumbling toward the sidewalk as he launched himself into the sky.
Wind-rush rattled his scales.
Building tops came into view.
A glint of green flashed in his periphery.
Baring his fangs, Wallaig roared in challenge. With a quick twist, he spun toward the threat. The rogue’s eyes widened, and Wallaig struck, lashing out with his tail. Razor-sharp spikes slammed into the male. The rogue’s head whiplashed. Dragon teeth flew as blood arched through the air. Shielding Amantha, he hammered the rogue again. And again. One more time, and…green scales cracked wide open. The enemy screamed in agony.
Showing no mercy, Wallaig slashed through the rogue’s wing. He plummeted out of the sky, falling fast as his buddy flew to the rescue.
Wings spread wide, he banked hard. The blue dragon lashed out. Sharp claws raked his scales. Pain burst across his rib cage. Gritting his teeth, he twisted into a backflip. The rogue tried to counter, but…too late. In prime position, Wallaig boxed him in and unleashed a roundhouse. His elbow slammed into the side of the male’s skull. The crack resonated as he somersaulted up and over. Halfway through the rotation, he grabbed the rogue by a horn. He yanked, dragging the pup sideways in mid-air. As the idiot yelped, he whirled into a mind-splitting spin.
One. Two. On three, he let go.
Unable to control the velocity, the male slammed snout-first into a concrete wall. Bone snapped. The crack ricocheted as more blood splashed up and out.
Ignoring his artwork splattered across building facades, Wallaig scanned the sky.
Four more dragons took flight.
Wallaig cursed. Time to retreat. He couldn’t get caught out in the open. Not again. Fighting rogues one and two had been necessary. Something he hadn’t been able to avoid. But no longer. He was airborne, in full flight with a wide-open sky behind him. No need to push his luck.
Whipping around, he ignored the roar of enemy dragons and rocketed it in the opposite direction. He needed to kill time until daybreak. A place to hide and settle Amantha would be best. Somewhere the rogues wouldn’t think to look. Daylight—and deadly UV rays—would do what he couldn’t right now: turn the bastards around. So…new strategy. Keep ahead of Grizgunn, lose the bastards in the city, find somewhere to hold up until the sun chased the enemy pack inside for the day.
Speed supersonic, Wallaig shot across the night sky. Bright light burned across his senses as he searched for a safe place to set down. Where? Where could he go? What area held the most promise? He frowned. The warehouse district might work. Located next to the Port of Edinburgh, the area was more labyrinth than business hub. The fact that section of the city was surrounded by water and…
His eyes narrowed. Aye. It just might work.
The water would muffle his energy signal. A definite plus given the horde now hunting him. The fact most dragons feared water wouldn’t hurt either. The rogue pack wouldn’t search hard near the shoreline. The bastards would assume what all of Dragonkind knew—no dragon worth his salt would use water as a means of escape. Under normal circumstances, Wallaig would’ve agreed, but the port presented a real advantage. One he refused to ignore…no matter how much he disliked the ocean.
Wallaig grimaced. Goddess give him strength. Was he really thinking about it? He wasn’t a strong swimmer. Cringed at the very idea of being under water but with Amantha curled into the fetal position, he’d brave anything. Wet scales included to ensure she stayed hale and whole.
Flying low, playing hide and seek with the rogues on his tail, Wallaig skimmed rooftops and picked his way toward the harbour. Lit up like Christmas, bright lights glowed above concrete piers and squat buildings. Tall cranes towered over ocean freighters piled high with steel containers. Exhaust spilled into the air, making his nose twitch as he spotted humans on the ground.
He spread his wings. His speed slowed to a glide. A dangerous move, one that allowed the rogues to gain ground. His sonar pinged as the enemy closed within a mile of him. Wallaig clenched his teeth. He couldn’t stay here. Too many human wearing hardhats milling around. He must move on before Grizgunn caught up and he ended up cornered again.
Hugging Amantha tighter, he assessed his options. Not the new warehouses next to the pier. Forget about the ship in dry dock. The fishing boats moored to the docks further down might work, but…nay. None of the locations would work as places to hide. He needed to move away from the shoreline, otherwise Grizgunn would ferret him out before the sun rose and—
A rumble broke through the clang of heavy cranes moving containers.
Wallaig’s attention snapped toward the outer harbour.
Lines trailing in the water, a tugboat pulled away from a dock.
As he watched, the captain manoeuvred through water traffic and, nose breaking through waves, chugged toward a large freighter exiting the port.
His sonar pinged again. Information streamed into his head, giving him the rogue pack’s location. Half a mile away now. Goddamn it. He was out of time. The bastards were almost on top of him.
Wallaig hesitated a second, then folded his wings and drove toward the water. He entered without making a splash and plunged deep. Cold water closed around him. He flinched, but held the line, more concerned about Amantha than himself. She jerked against him. He heard her yell underwater. Cupping both paws around her, he created an air pocket, feeding her oxygen as he struggled swim.
He needed to reach the tugboat motoring above him. A rope attached to the gunnel lay in the wate
r, streaming alongside the boat. A literal lifeline, the only means of escape as he sensed the enemy fly over the harbor.
Holding his breath, he swished his tail like an alligator and swam toward the boat. A moment before he broke the surface, he shifted to human form. Amantha sputtered. Cradling her in one arm, he reached for the line with the other. His fingers caught hold. Rope burned across his palm. Wallaig tightened his grip, keeping his female’s head above the surf as the tugboat began to tow him alongside it.
He coughed up water. “Fucking hell.”
“No kidding.” Clinging to him, Amantha wheezed against his throat. “What the hell was that?”
She sounded pissed off. Wallaig didn’t blame her. He hadn’t shown her a very good time tonight. “Sorry.”
Wet eyelashes blinking furiously, she scowled. “You…you…you…”
“Lass, if you’ll just—”
“You’re a maniac!” she yelled, following the insult up with a string of French words he didn’t understand.
Wallaig jerked his head back as she pointed her finger at him. Wow. The lass owned a temper…and an impressive vocabulary. He didn’t understand much French, but…he blinked. Had she just called him a bug-eyed toad? Amusement boiled over, threatening to make an appearance on his face. Not smart given her outburst, but…Christ. He couldn’t help himself. She was adorable. A true treat to watch as her bio-energy flared, and she yelled some more, going head mistress on his arse. A hotter than hell head mistress with narrowed eyes and pink cheeks, shooting sparks and fire.
She called him another name.
His lips twitched.
“Don’t laugh, Wallaig. Don’t you dare.” Hitching herself higher on his chest, she went nose to nose with him. “You should have warned me.”
“I did. I warned you it might get—”
“Not well enough,” she snapped, looking like a thundercloud. “You should have told me.”
“About dragons?”
Hat askew, she slapped wet hair out of her eyes with a soggy mitten. “Yes!”
“How the hell was I supposed to do that?” he asked, his tone more defensive than he liked. “Would you have believed me?”
The question stopped her mid-tirade. She pursed her lips. “No, probably not. You may have a point.”
“Thank God. About time I got one on my side of the board.” Wrapping the rope around his wrist, he turned onto his back, putting them breast to chest. Seaweed streamed along his arm, then swirled past Amantha. She shivered. With a murmur, Wallaig called on his magic. Heat bubbled up, warming the water, ensuring she didn’t catch a chill. “Give me a break, would you, Amantha? It’s not as though I’ve done this before.”
“What—rescue a girl?” she asked, aura settling into normal levels as her temper faded. Kicking out with her legs, she paddled her feet, re-establishing her hold on his jacket. “I should probably thank you for that.”
“You’re welcome, kazlita. I know I threw you into the thick of it, but I…” The tugboat throttled down. He paused, listening to the engines whine, struggling to find the right words. “I couldn’t leave you behind.”
Her brow furrowed. “But you thought about it.”
“For a split second,” he murmured. “And only before the rogues showed up.”
“Those other dragons?”
“Aye.”
Confusion bloomed in her eyes. “How is any of this possible? It’s just not…I mean…how can you be…God, Wallaig. You’re a dragon.”
Her whisper lashed at his heart. Of course, she was shocked. Stood to reason. She should be after learning Dragonkind existed in her tidy little world. “I’m no different than you, Amantha.”
She treated him to a please-pull-your-head-out-of-your-arse look. “You can’t be serious. Not after what I just witnessed.”
His mouth curved. “All right, maybe a little different.”
Amantha huffed.
“I am Dragonkind, lass,” he said, keeping it simple. No need to go into detail yet. He didn’t want her running scared. Her questions would come…eventually. Until then, he planned to provide the basics, and not a nanobite more. “We’re a different species—half human, half dragon. No less, naught more.”
“But no one knows you exist.”
“We like it that way.”
“I can imagine. Less dragon slayers to worry about.”
“Exactly,” he said, plucking a piece of seaweed from her hair.
The tugboat bumped into something. Wallaig swayed into the hull. As his shoulder rubbed against steel, rubber squeaked along the side of the ocean freighter. Throttle clicking, the captain put his boat in neutral. Big engines rumbled, kicking up water at the stern. A firm hold on the rope, he pulled his female closer and glanced up at the gunnel above his head. “Ready to get out of the water?”
“God, yes, but…” Frowning, she gripped his shoulders, then twisted to look behind her. “Are the bad guys gone?”
Fine-tuning his sonar, Wallaig scanned the sky over warehouses and granite piers. No pings on his mental radar. No bursts of light. Not an enemy energy signal in sight over the harbour. “For now.”
Concern dimmed her aura. “But not for good?”
“We’ll worry about that later. Let’s get you warm and dry first, lass.”
“Okay,” she said, sounding unsure.
The need to comfort her jabbed at him. Taking a chance, he dipped his head. His lips brushed the corner of hers. She murmured against his mouth. He kissed her again, enjoying her taste, keeping it light…and Amantha let him. Amazing news considering nothing was set in stone. Energy-fuse might be a wondrous thing, but it didn’t mean she wouldn’t run scared and reject him out of hand.
A bad outcome. A distinct possibility the second her feet touched down on solid ground.
Not everyone could handle the truth. Or turn away from the world they knew to begin again in a new one. But as he climbed the rope with Amantha on his back, her welcoming response gave him hope. Maybe—if he got really, really lucky—she would be brave, embrace the unknown and claim him for her own.
Ten
Nerves stretched so thin her muscles felt like wet noodles, Amantha allowed Wallaig to lift her over the railing and onto the deck of the ocean freighter. How he managed to the scale the smooth steel hull, she didn’t know. Didn’t care to either. She’d refused to look, squeezing her eyes closed, pressing her face against the nape of his neck, trying to pretend she wasn’t clinging to a guy climbing the side of a ship.
An idiotic thing to do. She never stuck her head in the sand. Facing things was more her style, but…not tonight. No matter how independent she strived to be, she ended up relying on Wallaig. Damned embarrassing. A bit of a setback on the feminist front but after all the crazy dragon stuff, she couldn’t handle any more. No hiccups. Zero bumps. Just a whole lot of smooth sailing on the way to wherever he was taking her.
She hoped it was somewhere warm. Being half frozen wasn’t any fun.
Drawing a shaky breath, Amantha pried her hands from the lapels of his coat. Her fingers burned with the cold, making her joints ache and her skin hurt. A shiver rattled her bones. Wallaig cursed and, pulling her closer, yanked off her mittens. Tossing the soggy pair over his shoulder, he cupped her hands. Heat streamed from him into her, making her moan in gratitude.
Another tremor racked her. “God, you’re so warm.”
“The upside of being a fire dragon.” Dipping his head, he blew hot air on her fingers.
“Fantastic perk.”
“No question,” he murmured, his tone as warm as his body. “Especially after being dunked in a harbor.”
“In the middle of winter.” A snowflake drifted past her nose. Water dripped off the hem of her coat, leaving puddles on the deck. Her teeth started to chatter. “We’re not doing that again, are we?”
“Nah, we’re going to steal a bed instead.”
The news gave her hope. “Where?”
He tipped his head toward the ste
rn of the freighter. “Inside. Ships like this always have empty cabins…a suite for corporate VIPs. How be we find it?”
She nodded, liking the plan.
Shifting focus, he transferred both of her hands into one of his, sharing his heat as he turned toward the afterhouse and headed toward the back of the ship. Large steel hatches covered the cargo holds, tall booms rising between each one. She didn’t know a lot about boats, but the one she stood on seemed like a good one, capable of carrying vast amounts of cargo to ports all over the world. An efficient machine. Beautiful in its own way, and…Amantha glanced around at the deck. Smooth steal, no dings or dents, not a rusty spot in sight. Even the smokestack boasted a coat of shiny red paint.
Her gaze jumped to the bridge on the top floor of the afterhouse. Men stood behind wide windows, busy navigating the ship out of the port and—
Amantha jolted. “Can they see us?”
“Nay, lass, not while we’re cloaked. Donnae worry.”
She blinked. “We’re cloaked?”
“Aye. Completely invisible to human eyes.”
“Another of those dragon perks.”
“A necessary one,” he said, stepping around a large spool bolted to the deck. “Can you imagine what would happen if humans saw a pack of dragons flying around late at night.”
“Keys to nuclear launch codes would get dusted off.”
He snorted.
Her mouth curved, reacting to his amusement. “Why only late at night?”
“Dragonkind doesn’t tolerate sunlight.”
“At all?”
His expression tightened. Wallaig shook his head. “UV rays burn our scales and damage our eyes. If one of my kind stays out too long, the sun will reduce him to ash.”
The quiet fury in his tone put her on high alert. Her hands flexed around his much larger one. The strange connection she sensed growing between them flickered, then opened like a faucet inside her head. Pain and anger poured through the link, making her stomach dip and her chest go tight. And just like that, she could feel him—all the anguish Wallaig fought to hide and…oh, God. Something bad had happened to him. Something to do with the sun.
Fury of Denial: Dragonfury Series SCOTLAND Book 3 Page 6