by Noah Harris
All four of them were frozen to the spot, hidden by the shadows and crouched in the underbrush, unable to move or even speak as the dragons fought.
Dylan had seen two dragons fight before, when Arulean and Lyphnia had fought their final battle. He just didn’t think he would ever see it again and he certainly would never get used to it.
As soon as Blake had told them that Rajiah and Remi were safe, Arulean had stopped holding back. It hadn’t been clear just how much he was holding back until he let go of the tight hold he had of his control. He shifted with a mighty roar, tearing through the enchanted ropes around his wrists like they were nothing. It was something that Jesse, at his side, assured him that Arulean shouldn’t have been able to do.
That alone spoke of the terrifyingly raw power the ancient dragon possessed.
He shifted quickly, throwing Thoric off of him. It had taken the other man only a moment to get over his surprise before his own rage and instincts kicked in. They finished their transformation almost at the same time. Two alpha dragons: one with inky scales, dark as the night, and the other with deep green scales, glittering like polished jade. They were both huge. Thoric’s size rivaled Arulean’s. Dylan stood in awe of them. He had only ever seen Arulean, Rajiah, and Lyphnia, and both Rajiah and Lyphnia had been smaller than Arulean by far. Thoric, however, was huge.
Despite being of a similar size, the two dragons were poles apart. Arulean’s size was elegant and sleek, his neck long and slender, his head narrow with streamlined horns and a crest. His whole body was lean and rippling with power. He was like a snake: sinewy but slender, and easily able to maneuver around so he could coil and strike quickly. Thoric was built much heavier. His chest was broader, his crest wider, his horns curling with points aimed out to the sides. His wings were broader, neck thicker, tail shorter, feet bigger. Where Arulean was built for speed and efficiency, despite his overall size, Thoric was built for power and strength.
As soon as they had shifted, Arulean shook his head, coiling his body backwards as he centered himself, putting a little distance between them to assess the situation. He was calculating and cold, even in a fit of rage. He pulled back, lowering himself to the ground, shoulders hunching as his wings flared out behind him. He lowered his head as he bared his teeth, hissing through them, growling low in his throat, long tail whipping behind him and thumping at the ground.
Thoric shook himself, wings lifting and spreading, flaring out to their maximum span. They caught the light from the setting sun, making the membrane light up with green fire. He curled low, mimicking Arulean’s stance, hissing and growling loud enough for Dylan and his team to hear from their vantage point. Though it looked like he wasn’t quite paying attention, he didn’t make the mistake of backing up far enough to endanger the mansion behind him. He did, however, send the remaining witches scattering.
They ran after Abel who was striding toward the building with anger and purpose in every step. He seemed completely oblivious to the two dragons behind him, seeming not to care about their fight. The others, however, were all too aware. They sent wary and worried glances over their shoulders as they hurried away. None of them wanted to be outside while two ancient alpha dragons fought, and Dylan couldn’t blame them.
Thankfully, his spot on the hill was far enough away that they didn’t pose any immediate danger. If their fight carried them this way or if fire became involved, that would be a different story. For now, though, they were safe.
Time seemed to stand still, the moment hanging, heavy and tense, weightless in a void where time couldn’t touch it. The four of them held their breath, frozen and unyielding to their primal instinct to run.
He didn’t know who moved first. They moved far too fast for him to see. But one moment they were still, and the next, the dragons were launching themselves forward.
They came together in a clash of teeth and claws. Giant, scaled bodies collided, using everything and anything to gain an advantage over the other. Thoric was built thicker, sturdier, but Arulean rivaled him in strength, and he was faster. Tails whipped, hitting bodies with a deep, sharp sound that echoed throughout the field.
They fought quickly and savagely. To be still for even a moment was to give an advantage to the other, to give the opponent a moment to sink teeth or claws into flesh. So they moved, bodies constantly coming together before quickly springing apart again, only taking a second to dig their feet into the earth and launch themselves forward once again. They rolled, but neither of them could pin the other. Teeth scraped against scales with all the high pitched dissonance of nails on a chalkboard, making Dylan and the others flinch. Claws ripped at hard top scales and softer under scales alike, tearing some out and sinking into the softer flesh beneath. The thick skin of their wing membranes ripped, oozing blood that looked black in the shadows and fiery red when it caught the setting sun.
The air was constantly filled with snaps and snarls, growls and roars. A deep rumble from both of their throats seemed to vibrate through the ground beneath their feet, distinct from the earthly shake of their massive bodies impacting the dirt.
They started to move toward the trees. One retreated a few steps and the other advanced, pushing back against the foliage. Dylan tensed, a split second away from calling for his team to run when Arulean stepped back and spread his wings high and wide, crouching low with one mighty downbeat and a leap upward, he was airborne, large black wings pumping powerfully as he gained altitude quickly.
Thoric crouched low, eyes on the dragon overhead as he unfurled his wings. He leapt after him, wings pounding furiously to catch up to him.
Dylan held an arm up to shield his face from the debris and dirt that the two dragons kicked up, the wind from their wings swirling around them, tugging at hair and clothes. When it died down, he lowered his arm, gazing up to where the two dragons were fading into the distance. In the air, they had far more room to maneuver. They circled each other, diving, clawing and biting before pulling away, swirling again, trying to get a better angle and gain an advantage.
They pulled apart and clashed together again, and again, and again.
Despite the wounds they gave and received, despite the sounds of flesh, scales ripping and the grunts and cries of rage, frustration, and pain, despite the blood that rained down on the field below in thick and scattered droplets, neither of them showed signs of stopping.
And Dylan knew that neither of them would stop until the other was dead.
This wasn’t the fight with Lyphnia, where both parties had held a slight hope of the other giving in, of mercy, of banishment rather than death.
This was a fight between two alphas. One who held a grudge and aimed to overthrow the other’s throne, and one who was enraged that his family had been threatened. Neither would bend, and neither would give. This was a fight to the death, and Dylan only hoped that when the dust settled, he would be on the winning side.
One of his hands had automatically gone to his belly, arm curling around his middle protectively, his shoulder’s hunching automatically as if he could curl around it. Anxiety coiled in his gut, worry and stress forming a leaden ball in his stomach, making the taste of bile rise up in his throat. His limbs tingled, both from his inner wolf and the rush of adrenaline.
The child inside him kicked, as if it, too, could feel the stress that coursed through Dylan’s body. And Perhaps, he thought, it could sense it. The two of them were connected in ways he would never be connected with anyone else. He breathed in deeply through his nose, letting it out slowly through his mouth, trying to regulate his heartbeat.
Calm. He was calm. He was collected. The mission was going as planned so far. He needed to stay in control. Emotional strain was just as harmful to his pregnancy as physical strain, and that was something he didn’t need.
He closed his eyes briefly, counted down from ten, and when he opened them, he was back in control of himself. In his soldier mindset. Sturdy, steely, unshakable. He was a warrior, pregnant omega or no
t. He was on a mission and he had a team to lead, and a job to do. Nothing would change that. They all knew the risks. Risks were just part of the job, so there was no point in worrying about the dragons overhead when there was nothing he could do about them. He had to focus on what he could do.
Lifting his free hand to his earpiece, he pressed the button that communicated to everyone. “The dragons are airborne,” he said, licking his dry lips. “They’ve taken their fight to the sky, and so far there isn’t any clear winner. The witches from outside have moved into the building. Teams converge, keep them busy until they can get Rajiah and Remi out. That’s our main priority—“
His words were cut off as a large explosion sent his entire team ducking behind the trees, and throwing up their arms to shield their faces. Dylan turned his back, wrapping his arms around his middle. He could feel the heat of the explosion on the back of his neck and when he turned to glance over his shoulder, he saw thick, black smoke rising from the mansion.
“What’s going on down there?” He asked through the comms. crawling back to the edge of the forest to get a better view of the chaos below.
A giant hole had been blown out of the front of the mansion. Brick and stone crumbled around it, and it was smoldering at the edges, giving a peek into the chaos unfolding in the rooms within. He could see movement around it, but for one moment, everything seemed to stand still, until more bricks crumbled and broke the silence.
“Adalaide and Abel are fighting!” Came a voice, though he wasn’t sure who. One of the team leaders. She sounded frantic, and he didn’t blame her.
“Adalaide...” Jesse whispered, crawling up beside him. He followed her gaze. In front of the hole in the mansion, several hundred yards out, a trench dragged across what had been a perfectly manicured lawn before the dragons had started fighting. He followed it until it came to an end. He jumped when he saw Adalaide there, pushing herself to her feet. For a moment, she looked shaky before she stood tall and strong, facing the building.
Without any warning, a ball of red hot light shot from the mansion, big enough to engulf her tenfold. It moved quickly, and he could feel the heat of it from the treeline. Adalaide, however, didn’t flinch. She threw up her hands, making a wide, sweeping motion, causing the air around her to ripple and glow with a vague, bright blue light. When the ball reached her, she caught it in front of her, and it hovered in the air for a moment before she shattered it. Flames blew out in all directions, intense and frightening, before dissipating like they had never been there.
Adalaide crouched, and the air around her rippled once more. Her aura was blue and seemed to peel off her like flames fanned by an invisible wind. The energy from it was strange and foreign. It wasn’t the overwhelming pressure of the dragon shifter’s aura. It was sharp, clean, like the salt of the ocean or the forest after rain. It seemed to weave through his defenses, settling into his skin and prickling him. It made his hair stand on end.
Then the aura around Adalaide intensified and she shot forward, a ball of flaming light, far faster than she should have been able to go. Witch or not, she was still human. Magic was indeed a formidable thing. Dylan’s eyes flicked ahead to see that Abel had jumped down from the building and was standing in front of the hole, the light around him flickering orange and red.
They collided in a clash of red and blue light that was bright enough to burn his eyes. He threw up an arm and had to turn away. “Abel and Adalaide are fighting on the front lawn. The dragons are fighting in the air,” he said into the earpiece, as he huddled behind a tree trunk.
Despite the light, Jesse didn’t look away. Her attention was fixed on her coven leaders, lips pursed into a thin line. Benjamin was several feet away, eyes of his falcon form fixed solidly on the sky above them. He would tell Dylan if anything drastic changed in the dragon’s fight. Kara, the other wolf shifter, hovered close to him. Far too close for it to be coincidence. She crouched at his side, eyes flickering between the two fights, face pinched in concern.
Dylan was fairly certain that Blake had asked her specifically to keep an eye on him and keep him safe. The thought made him bristle with annoyance and irritation. He did not need a babysitter. But he forced the feeling down. He had to remind himself that Blake only did it because he cared. He wasn’t trying to control Dylan or hold him back, but just...making sure he had someone watching out for him.
Besides, he had more important things to worry about.
“Everyone, report. What’s going on down there?” He asked through the comms. glancing around the tree trunk to the valley below. The witches were still fighting directly in front of the mansion, the front of the building taking most of the blows. Through the holes he could see people rushing around, and there was movement at the windows as well.
“We’ve converged on the building,” came a voice. The distraction team, he thought. “We set off explosives around one wing of the yard to draw the witches in the opposite direction from where they took Rajiah. It’s working, but we’re being forced back. They have higher numbers.”
“Back up is coming,” came a voice from another team leader. “Moving through the gardens now. Hold out just a little longer.”
“We’re waiting outside on the opposite wing,” came another voice. “Blake’s team should be coming out this side, and we’re ready to extract them as soon as we see them.”
“We’re distracting the witches who were outside with Abel. There are some shifters with them, but not many. Thoric’s following seems to be mostly the Coven. We’re holding them off while the others escape.
While they went back and forth over the comms. calling out their positions and requesting back up, converging together, holding off the coven and Thoric’s shifters, Dylan held his breath. He held his breath and waited. And waited. And waited. His body was strung tight as a bowstring, tension coiling unpleasantly in his gut. The child in his belly kicked again, seemingly just as restless and agitated as he was. His free hand rubbed his bump over his shirt, trying to soothe them both.
Waiting to hear Blake’s voice.
He had to hear Blake’s voice.
He could hear screaming, and explosives, and growls, and crumbling bricks and stone both in person and echoing through his earpiece. The dragons roared above, the sound fading to a terrifying background noise compared to the chaos on the ground. The smell of smoke and singed flesh reached his nose.
His breath started coming in short gasps, shallow and unfulfilling. He was unable to breathe deep enough and he felt like he was choking. His chest was tight, limbs tingling, hair standing on end. Adrenaline surged through his system but with nothing to do, it left him feeling jittery and anxious. His stomach twisted, his gut feeling like lead. An ache started low in his abdomen. One centered around his swollen belly, deep and sharp, coming and going in waves.
He didn’t know what was happening, but he knew it wasn’t good.
“Shhhh,” His attention snapped to the side, eyes fixed on Kara. She was close, her beta scent thick and calming in the aftermath of all the aggressive alpha dragon scents and the residue of magic. It smelled soft and clean, like laundry detergent and a gentle ocean breeze. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, letting it wash over and soothe him. It was neutral, clean and calming, so unlike most alpha or omega scents.
Distantly, he realized that maybe, just maybe, Blake hadn’t sent her to babysit him as a protector, as he had originally thought. No, Kara didn’t look like a fighter. Well, she was a fighter. But if Blake wanted someone on his team for physical protection, he would have chosen someone bigger, faster, stronger. No, he had chosen Kara to calm him, keep him grounded in case the stress became too much.
And just like that, all of his earlier annoyance and irritation dissipated like smoke, replaced by a warm gratitude as he breathed in the female beta’s scent.
“It’ll be alright,” She said, voice low and soothing. She laid a hand on his arm, not tentative, but still gentle. She squeezed briefly. “He’ll be alri
ght, he’s just focused right now.” How she managed to guess what was worrying him, he didn’t know. But then again, he supposed it should be obvious. His mate was in the fray, wasn’t checking in, and Dylan reeked of distress. Pretty easy to connect the dots.
Dylan let out a shaky breath, keeping his eyes shut. “You’re right...I know. I know you’re right,” he said, more to himself than to her.
When he opened his eyes and glanced at her, she was giving him a soft, kind smile, mischief twinkling in her eyes. “Besides, have you ever known Blake to get into trouble?”
Dylan snorted, rolling his eyes. “Into trouble? Yes. Get hurt?” He let out another sigh that sounded like relief. “No, not really.”
“Exactly,” she said, hand squeezing his arm once more before moving to rest on his shoulder.
She kept her eyes on the building while Dylan sat with his back to the tree. He closed his eyes again, curling protectively around his swollen belly as he listened to the roar and clash of dragons above them. It was no longer excruciatingly loud, but no less intense, and no less a threat. He listened to the sound of magic clashing, sounding like fire and lightning, crackling and snapping in the valley below, like energy from a live wire. He listened to the stream of updates coming from his earpiece. Now that everyone was in the fray, they didn’t need his updates. They all had more immediate things to worry about. If anything happened with the two main fights, his team would tell him.
So he listened, and he waited. All the while he let Kara’s calming beta scent wash over him, let it drown out all the harsher smells. It didn’t quite get his inner wolf to calm down completely, but it eased some of the tension from his shoulders and made the leaden lump in his stomach uncoil just a bit. He no longer felt like he was going to crawl out of his skin. Instead he was numb, breath even and steady as he waited, counting the moments until he heard—
“We’re almost out,” Blake’s voice cut through the others. It was breathless and rough, distracted in a way that had Dylan picturing him constantly looking over his shoulder. His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried, the authority and seriousness prevailing in a way that oozed confidence, encouraged others to follow. A true alpha.