by Noah Harris
It made Dylan’s heart flutter, his breath shuddering unsteadily as his eyes flew open, staring into the forest around him without really seeing it. “Blake...” he breathed, his voice sounding far more desperate and relieved than he intended. He didn’t like Blake being in the thick of danger, in the heat of the action, deep at the center of the fray without himself there to watch over him. Blake might have been his alpha, but Blake wasn’t a soldier. Dylan was, and he ached to keep his mate safe.
“Extraction team, are you in position?” Blake asked, voice cutting off abruptly as he removed his hand from the earpiece.
Dylan held his breath, tension seeping back into his body, curling him tight, stretching his muscles and his patience, joints aching as he held them curled, poised, and tight.
“We’re ready. What’s your point of exit?”
A pause. A moment of radio silence. None of the other teams spoke. The only thing that filled the air was the clash of dragons and magic. Then a crackle. “Easternmost door, at the side of the building. Near our entry point. Do you have a visual?”
“Aye, we’re moving toward it. ETA?”
“Thirty seconds, give or take. We had witches on our tail, but one of the other teams distracted them. I think we’re clear. Making a break for it. Lux and Cynthia will come out first.”
Dylan twisted around, moving up to a kneeling position, one knee and one foot on the ground, one hand against the tree and the other wrapped around his middle. He positioned himself next to Kara, peering around the tree. They were on the eastern side of the compound, giving them a clear view of the door in question.
He could see a team of four breaking away from the forest edge and sprinting across the lawn. All of them were shifters, and no one noticed or cared. There were far too many other things going on, and no one was around to stop them. They only slowed when they reached the building, where they gathered around the door in question, pressed up against the wall and looking around warily as they waited.
They didn’t have to wait long.
The door flew open and Lux stumbled out into the open air. She caught her balance precariously, glanced around, and only relaxed when she recognized the shifters around her. She turned, gesturing toward the door. Cynthia darted out, running out into the open space, further than the others, positioning herself so she could try to see around the corner of the building, toward where the coven leaders were dueling. He didn’t think she’d be able to see much besides flashing lights and the sound of their magic clashing.
Dylan’s breath caught in his throat as two more silhouettes appeared in the doorway. Without really thinking about it, he pulled at his inner wolf, forcing his enhanced senses to the surface. He blinked, eyesight instantly sharper. He could see farther, clearer.
Rajiah stumbled out into the open next, Remi cradled tightly in his arms and with Blake close on his heels.
Dylan finally felt like he could breathe.
Blake looked a little the worse for wear. His hair was disheveled, singed and covered in dust at one side, messily pushed back from his forehead by grimy fingers. His clothes were tight enough to keep them from being pulled too far out of position but even from here, Dylan could see the smudges on the black fabric, and the tears here and there.
They had clearly had to fight their way out of the mansion, but they were out now. They were out, and they were alive. That was all that mattered.
Dylan’s finger was at his earpiece before he even realized what he was doing. “They’re out,” he said, sounding far more breathless and relieved than he wanted.
At the sound of his voice through the comms, Blake’s head snapped up. One hand on Rajiah’s shoulder to steady them both, he turned his head automatically in Dylan’s direction. He knew that they were hidden well enough so he doubted Blake would be able to see them. He wasn’t sure if Blake just knew where they were, or instinct directed him toward his mate, or maybe he followed the bond, or it was just a lucky guess.
Whatever it was, Dylan found Blake turning to look straight in his direction, and his heart skipped a beat.
Warmth seeped through their bond. A trickle at first, before the dam broke and the flood rushed in. It filled his chest, a strange and foreign warmth, fondness, and love that wasn’t his own but still felt at home in his chest. It bounced around, building his own affection before it went flooding back through their bond and back to Blake.
They weren’t perfect. He was certain they would argue again. He was still uncomfortable in his own skin and frustrated with his role as a father. He wasn’t as confident about things as he had been before when life was simple, when he was merely a soldier.
They weren’t broken, but they weren’t fixed either. They were held together with duct tape, glue, and faith. They were poised to break apart again if they didn’t put the effort into actually bridging the gap between them, to finding a compromise.
But here, in this moment, it didn’t matter.
They were both alive and despite all their doubts and frustrations, the simple fact remained that they loved each other. Even when everything else around them seemed to be falling apart, even when they felt like they didn’t know themselves, their bond remained strong.
Dylan still wasn’t sure who he was anymore or who he wanted to be, he was fragmented and ready to shatter. But Blake was confident that he knew who Dylan was, and maybe, just maybe, that would be enough.
“We’re out,” Blake’s voice came through the comms. relieved but firm. Dylan could hear the smile in his voice. “Repeat, we’ve got Rajiah and Remi out. Everyone start to pull back and reconverge—“
He never got to finish.
There was a roar from above, cutting and desperate, making goosebumps rise along Dylan’s flesh. It grated against every nerve ending in his body, making his body freeze and tense despite his overwhelming need to RUN.
It was a roar of frustration and rage, trailing off into a scream of pain and desperation. An animal in the last moments of its life, desperate and clawing to survive. The fight in them becoming all the more frantic because of it.
“The dragons,” Benjamin’s voice came across, but Dylan’s eyes had already snapped to the sky. The two dragons were coiling around each other. They were too far up for him to see any details.
“Who made that sound?” Dylan demanded.
It was echoed seconds later by Blake through their comms. “Who was that?”
Benjamin put a finger to his earpiece to speak through it himself. “I don’t know. They’re still too high up for even me to see. They’re too close together. I can’t tell who’s winning—they’re falling!”
It was true, though it took a moment of watching to notice. The two dragons were curled together, locked with teeth, claws, tails, and limbs. Even their wings seemed intertwined. They were so high up that their descent seemed to happen in slow motion, seconds ticking by as they slowly, slowly grew larger.
Black scales slid against green. A ball of flesh and scales, wings and talons, teeth and blood. They were constantly writhing and coiling, as limbs and tails shifted and dug into one other. Their wings flared out around them, useless, torn, and not even bothering to try to catch the wind. Without their wings to slow their descent, they rocketed toward the earth, falling like a leaden ball of entangled dragon bodies. They rumbled and roared, screamed and cried, energy peeling off them in invisible waves as their auras flared.
It was clear that they were reaching the end of their fight. One of the dragons was winning, and the other was at the end of their rope. That rope was fraying, giving way to frantic desperation. It was clear in their screams, but it was impossible to tell who was who.
They could only watch as the alpha dragons plummeted to earth.
The closer they got, the larger they became, and the quicker their fall seemed. From high above, it had looked like a slow descent. Up close, it looked like a rapid plummet. “They’re gonna hit!” Benjamin cried. “They’re not stopping!”
“Br
ace yourselves!” Blake’s voice cried out just moments before the dragons landed.
The earth shook at the impact. Dirt, dust, and debris were thrown up in a large plume. They all ducked behind the trees, throwing arms up and turning their backs to shield themselves from the rush of wind that came towards them, carrying with it stinging bits of earth. When the wind settled and the earth stood still, it was eerily silent.
Dylan cautiously peered around the tree, one hand wrapped around his middle, ignoring the aching pain in his abdomen and the tension in his body.
There was a large crater in the center of the lawn, a hole in the field in front of the mansion. The trees and bushes at the edges of the forest had been pushed back away from it with the force of the wind. Dust had been thrown up in the air, blocking everything from view and stinging their eyes.
There was an unearthly silence. Neither of the dragons moved. The comms. were quiet. The witches’ magic was no longer flaring, either from the coven leaders or from inside the building. Even the forest itself seemed to be holding its breath.
Then a few bricks crumbled from the outside of the building, sliding and falling down to crumble on the ground. The sound echoed around the otherwise silent field, seeming far too loud in the muted space. Dylan glanced toward it, but his eyes swept past the front of the building to the side of it, where Blake’s team had been. The dust was thinner there, allowing him to see their blurry forms. They were all hunched close to the ground. Rajiah was clutching Remi to his chest, back turned to the impact, Blake positioned in front of them to further shield them.
As he watched, they started to look up, to turn toward the newly formed crater. Rajiah started to stand, taking a stumbling step toward it, but Blake was there, hand on his shoulder, holding him back. He understood Rajiah’s need to run toward his mate, and his heart went out to him.
Dylan’s eyes turned back to the crater as movement stirred the air.
They could hear the creak and groan of large bodies shifting, disturbing the earth beneath them, scales scraping against one another. Dylan’s breath came short and shallow, and he could feel the tension in his team, could smell their weariness and discontent, their worry. It was sour in the air, mixing with the overwhelmingly raw scent of the raging alphas and the stinging metallic scent of their blood. Dylan could practically taste it on his tongue.
As the dust began to settle, a large silhouette rose from the crater, long serpentine neck rising, bringing with it a bowed head, still gazing down at the lump of the other dragon on the ground. Wings flared, rising high then falling low. He stumbled backwards, unsteady on his feet for a moment, tail uncurling before swiping anxiously across the ground. He steadied himself, held himself tall and strong over the curled body before him.
Dylan’s breath caught. He was nearly certain he recognized that dragon’s shape as Arulean’s.
The downed dragon coiled and writhed, struggling far more to get to his feet. He pushed himself up several times before falling again. One wing was sorely broken, falling limp at his side while the other fluttered upward, trying to look intimidating but only looking pathetic in the attempt.
The standing dragon raised his wings, giving them several long beats to brush the dust away, revealing them both.
Arulean stood over Thoric.
Both were the worse for wear. Dylan could see the last of the light from the setting sun reflecting off the blood that covered their scales, bringing fire and life to their wounds. Arulean’s wings were torn and bruised, and one was crooked, but they were both whole.
It was clear who had won the fight, and the thrill of that knowledge ran through them like a buzz of electricity. He felt it in his chest, felt it echoed through his bond from Blake. He felt it in the air from his team. The ache deep in his belly was still there, coiling and painful, but the tension was slowly easing from his shoulders.
Arulean lowered his head a fraction, body rising and squaring, lips curling back and baring his teeth as he growled. It was a deep and low rumble in his throat and chest, one that echoed around the field, one that Dylan could feel in his very bones. Mixed with the flare of Arulean’s aura, the message was clear: submit.
Dylan could feel himself bending to the Alpha’s will. His shoulders slumped, body pressing further down into his kneel. It was like a weight on his back, and he had to fight to keep his eyes on the dragons in the valley below. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see those around him similarly fighting off the Alpha’s call to submit. Even Jesse seemed to be straining against it, and she wasn’t a shifter.
Thoric, however, ignored the call. He growled, his own aura flaring in challenge, though it was incredibly weak compared to Arulean’s overwhelming power. The green dragon shifted on the ground, still halfheartedly struggling to stand, feet desperately clawing and slipping on the earth, legs buckling. He lifted his head, growling his challenge, snapping his teeth, flaring his one working wing. His tail whipped and coiled and beat the ground.
The message was clear: he would not submit.
Arulean did not need to give Thoric the opportunity to submit. It was a mercy. Submit, and his life would have been spared. It was surprising that the mercy had been offered at all. But perhaps it had been offered only as a formality, and only because Arulean knew Thoric wouldn’t submit to him even given the chance.
No one was surprised by what followed.
Without the same reverence, hesitation, and mercy that Arulean had shown Lyphnia when she had been in a similar position, Arulean bent down, wrapped his jaws around Thoric’s throat, and bit down.
Thoric struggled, limbs flailing, tail whipping, wing stretching uselessly. It was all a vain attempt, the final struggle as the life left his body. A rush of red flowed down the deep green scales of his neck. Arulean’s black scales around his mouth were similarly stained. He bit down hard and fast. There was no melancholy in the action, no regret. It was swift and quick, fueled by a fading rage and the humming buzz of an intense victory.
The valley fell silent as the green dragon struggled, his attempts at life slowly growing weaker as his strength slipped away. The cry he let out was harsh, strangled, and primal. It was the sound of an animal in pain. The last breath of a mighty beast. It was as sad as it was torturous, but soon even that faded.
And then he was still, as his large scaled body slumped against the crater he and Arulean had created. Arulean waited a moment longer. Dylan watched as his jaw tensed, head jerking with a gruesome crunch to finish the job.
Then Arulean’s jaw released, letting Thoric’s head drop to the ground as he stepped back. He threw his head back, unleashing an earth shattering roar that rattled them all to their bones.
It continued until his lungs were empty before finally fading out. Then he turned his head, his large inky eyes looking out across the mansion and field before sweeping round and settling in the direction where Rajiah and Remi stood. He flared his wings out behind him as he climbed out of the crater, large and majestic, bloody and torn, but victorious and hauntingly beautiful.
As he reached the rim of the crater and stepped out onto level ground, he shifted, scales and wings receding back into the flesh of a man. Behind him, Thoric’s body started to shift back, too, no doubt damaged and broken, but out of sight for the moment.
Movement caught Dylan’s eye, and he turned just as a shout rose up, far less intimidating than a dragon’s roar, but filled with just as much raw emotion. It was rage and desperation. There was a flash of orange and red light, a ball of it shooting like fire across the lawn, aimed at where Arulean stood.
The dragon shifter stopped, head snapping toward it, standing tall and holding his ground, but Dylan could see the way he swayed on his feet, weariness and wounds taking their toll.
It took Dylan a moment to realize the ball of light was a person. Abel. The white engulfed in flames of raw energy and magic, shooting across the field in a fit of rage.
Dylan tensed. His stomach rolled, sharp pains shooting up hi
s spine, centered deep in his gut. Kara squeezed his arm. Jesse let out a wordless shout. Benjamin cursed. But Abel only made it about halfway to Arulean before a flaming ball of blue collided with him, taking them both to the ground.
Adalaide.
The two of them tumbled and rolled, flames fading but energies still sparking off one another. They flailed. Abel struck out with bolts of deep red lightning, and Adalaide blocked with sparks of blue. Their magic flashed purple where it clashed.
They both climbed to their feet, putting space between them. They circled until Adalaide stood between Abel and Arulean, a fierce wall separating the two. A shield. Both of their bodies were heaving with each breath, and it was clear they were both physically exhausted, their magic drained.
Abel threw his arms up, shouting wordlessly, rage and desperation clear in his cracking voice as he flung his hands out to the side. Red lightly crackled from his hands, shooting out toward Adalaide and Arulean in a terrifyingly wide beam. With a mirroring shout, filled with her own anger and frustration, Adalaide threw up her own hands, sending out waves of blue and white magic.
Their magic clashed in the middle, flaring brightly. Dylan had to shield his eyes from it, squinting against the light. His free hand was clamped down over his belly, fingers curling in tight to his shirt. He hurt. He knew he hurt. But it was a concern that was pushed to the wayside as he focused on the problem at hand.
The magic crackled and flared, loud and piercing. For a moment, it didn’t budge, but then it started to push toward Adalaide, looking like Abel might win. Adalaide shouted again, and her magic flared, bright and determined. With that final push, her magic overran Abel’s. Her wave of magic hit him, and he screamed, high and torn, as he was catapulted backwards.
His magic disappeared. Even his aura was subdued, leaving him empty and barren. His body flew several yards backwards, landing harshly and rolling to a stop.