by Elle Thorne
Matteo realized only too late that the dragon was driving them forward, but not forward in an upward direction. They were headed straight into the tree and, below the trees, into the ground.
Matteo tried to reverse. He tried to get a hold of his dragon, but the dragon was in panic mode, beating his wings faster and faster, guided by the instinct for self-preservation, he wasn’t stopping to analyze.
Chapter Eight
She heard him when he touched down on the porch. For a large being, he managed a remarkably quiet landing, but of course, something that size couldn’t land without making any noise at all. No, that wasn’t how it worked.
She held her breath, hoping he’d stay outside and not trespass on whoever’s home this was. She also hoped it wasn’t his. But then again, if it were his, he’d have already been in here, right?
Stop. Nu holder du fandeme op! You stop, dammit.
The language she’d learned before any others was the one she usually cursed in, never mind that she spoke English as well as any.
Din satans nar! You bloody fool! Leave. Please, please, leave. Leave.
The next sound she picked up was that of his shift from his emerald dragon to his human.
She could hear the sound of his footfalls as he paced the large porch—larger than the inside of the tiny treehouse, she’d noticed. With a view like that, she’d have wanted a wonderful wraparound porch like that herself. Back and forth, all around the porch he walked. From her position next to the counter with the propane single-burner stove, she watched, mustering all her mana—she’d need it—for another obfuscation spell. She could tell her mana had begun to restore itself at a faster rate than it ever had when she was captive. They must have done something to keep it from regenerating.
The footsteps stilled. Beneath the threshold, she saw the boots of a man. The handle moved. She concentrated on the spell, repeating the chant in her mind, bringing about a fog that surrounded her, blended her into the surroundings, making her indiscernible to the eye. She watched as the man—and he was an impressive man, an attractive man, with dark skin, bringing to mind a Sicilian she’d met a long time ago—entered.
The dragon shifter was in the room with her. She froze. As he turned around slowly, surveilling the room, she took the opportunity to study him. The shifter’s eyes were of a brilliant green, much like his dragon’s scales. Identical she’d have to say, based on what she’d seen so far. He was muscular, with a wide chest and broad shoulders, but not musclebound in a brawny gym-rat way. He was an attractive man. One of the most attractive Jolie had ever seen, but he had an honest face. A face that held no deception. And he’d been her savior, after all, killing Bram and running Edgar off. And yet, she couldn’t find herself to trust him enough to show herself. She trusted no one right now. None had earned her trust. She—
What was he doing? Did he know she was here? Could he sense her? Did he have sorcery that would reveal her presence to him? She couldn’t afford to wait to find out because, once he knew she was here, it wouldn’t take long for him to shift and use the deadly dragon strike on her.
She pulled on her reserve mana, knowing full well it could drain her to the point of inaction if she wasn’t careful. She needed just enough to get him out of here and get her away from him. Then she’d be on the run again. Her hopes that this little treehouse home would have been a refuge for at least long enough to get some sleep and let the search simmer were gone. She needed to get out of here. Now. Though first, the shifter had to go.
Sorry, she silently apologized to the shifter. But, not sorry.
Reciting the chant in her mind and with a flourish of her fingers, a flick of her wrist, she directed a surge of supersonic shockwaves toward him. In the time she dispatched the shockwaves, he’d clearly realized something was going on because he was heading toward the door. No sooner had he opened it than the explosion sent him flying out the door and off the porch, crashing through the bannister and spinning through the air.
She dropped the obfuscation spell because it was sucking her energy dry and pulling from her body, which was leaving her weak, and moved toward the porch at a snail’s speed, shaky from energy depletion. At the doorway, she could see the man had shifted into his dragon and was trying to gain purchase in the wind. It looked like he was trying to right himself, when suddenly, he started to fly directly toward the ground.
She slapped her hand over her mouth, muffling the warning cry she was so tempted to send to him.
Just as he was almost in the trees and out of her sight, she was sure the dragon made eye contact with her.
That complicated matters greatly.
Time to move. She’d have to get down the same way she’d gotten up. She twisted her fingers together, almost as if she was braiding them, over and over, while she chanted low beneath her breath. Swiftly, her fingers moved, quicker and quicker until the vines she’d manipulated from the ground up had risen to the porch and awaited her. She made a circle with her fingers, twirling them over and over, and the climbing plant responded, wrapping around her waist and pulling her from the porch. Making lateral rings with her fingers now, the vines obeyed, taking her down and down until she was on the ground. She slumped against the vines, too weak from overusing her mana to move. Not far away, she could hear the dragon crashing through the trees, falling, flailing.
She leaned there, against the soft leaves, letting them create a shell that ensconced her, almost like a vertical hammock, soft and comforting, trying to get her strength back.
She couldn’t have said how long she’d closed her eyes for. Five minutes? Ten? The last thing she’d been thinking about was the dragon shifter. Who knew how hurt he might be?
Guilt tore at her. She’d been the cause of his being hurt when he was the one who’d driven the bears away.
She should check on him.
No, she should not.
Yes, she should. For Oiddras’s sake. Oiddras had said all dragons were related. All went back to that couple born in the lava and ash. By not helping this dragon, she was betraying Oiddras’s memory. Oiddras, who fought—maybe died?—defending the sorceresses she lived amongst. Oiddras had been the closest thing she had to a father.
“Fine,” she uttered to the image of Oiddras in her mind. “I’ll check on him. But do not expect me to take care of him. He is not my responsibility.”
“Who isn’t your responsibility?”
Chapter Nine
Matteo could not help but stare at the vision before him. A woman in an ivy cocoon. The vines writhed and contorted around her, not in a sinister way, but like a mother would swathe a child. He’d come upon this light-skinned, platinum-haired, jean-clad image while stumbling around the forest, trying to get his bearings after his headlong crash into the forest. His arm was broken, of that he was certain, though he knew he’d heal—the dragon speedy healing thing. He had lacerations all over his face and body. His clothes were torn. He was certain he was a frightening visage, and yet, he found himself mesmerized, even in his half-dazed state, with this woman.
His dragon recognized her. Just before they’d dropped below the skyline into the trees, his dragon had seen the woman leaning over the porch. Matteo had no doubt she was the cause for his violent expulsion from the treehouse. She was also capable of creating an enchantment that seemed to make her invisible.
He was curious. He knew sorceresses. He had no issue with sorceresses. And to be honest, he’d had a fling with one—what’s a Draecenguard to do when he was isolated from others and the only options for romance were the sorceresses and dragon shifters who lived in the same house. It was not like any of them were his siblings. In fact, it was more like a coed dorm at a college—without some of the pranks and extra alcohol.
Okay, maybe there wasn’t as much sex as went on in college, but hey, they all had needs.
The woman was muttering to herself. Arguing, actually. Who the hell was she arguing with? “Who isn’t your responsibility?”
Her ey
es opened wide. Blue, blue eyes. Blue like the Mediterranean. She froze, and while she stayed there, still as prey, the vines withered and wilted away, then vanished.
Sorceress, indeed.
She swayed. He lunged forward to catch her. “You’re not doing very well.”
She gave him a once over. “You think you are?”
He had to laugh at her wit. Her spunk. Heaven knew, he appreciated a woman who gave as good as she got. “I have a feeling you’re to blame for the way I look.”
She had the grace to drop her gaze, but not before he picked up the guilt in those cerulean eyes. Seconds later, she raised her face. “I didn’t want to.” She stared him square in the face, a challenge in her mien. “I had no way of knowing if you were friend or foe.”
His dragon snarled at him, letting him know she was not being truthful. About what, he wondered. “Yeah, that’s not true.” What was she hiding?
“Just because you ran off those bears doesn’t mean you’re my friend.”
Ah, so that explained it. The bears had been pursuing her. This might answer Griz’s questions. “Who were the bears?”
She glared at him. “I don’t know you. I don’t know who you work for.”
He stalked closer, only to find her flinching and raising her hands. Probably to cast. He wasn’t strong enough to shift and fight her. He backed up, made a palms-up gesture. “I don’t mean you harm.”
“Then go away. Leave me alone.” She clenched her jaw.
“I can’t do that. We have to kno—”
Shoulders squared, she glowered. “We? We who?”
Che cazzo. What the fuck. How was he supposed to begin to explain the situation at Bear Canyon Valley? A situation which had now become complicated by the advent of the dragon shifters and the Draecenguard. “The ones—” He was stumped. He leaned his forehead against a tree, eyes closed. He needed to get her to understand, but he had no clue how to explain the situation in Bear Canyon Valley to someone who wasn’t a part of it. Who was clearly suspicious of him. He pushed off the tree and turned toward the woman. “Please, listen. I—”
The woman was gone! The ivy, which had wilted and fallen to her feet, was the only sign he’d not imagined her presence.
“That’s him! That’s the one who killed Bram.” From the trees appeared a trio.
It was apparent to Matteo the accuser had to be the bear shifter whose ass he’d kicked. He had no clue who the others were. Both males. Both exuding auras that they weren’t mere mortals. And furthermore, since he hadn’t noticed their scent or their approaching heartbeats, they were using sorcery and possibly even hunters’ block to disguise the presence.
The very notion they’d do so meant they were up to no good. His dragon roared in his mind, as though to reprimand him. Matteo tuned him out. If anyone should have any reprimanding to do, it was him, because the dragon missed their approach.
But the girl! Where had she gone? The same trick she’d used at the cabin. And since she’d felt the need to hide herself from them but not from him, then she clearly had a connection to them. One that made did not bode well.
“Well?” One of the other men, not the accuser, addressed Matteo. “Where is she?”
“She?” Matteo needed to stall. Too many shifts back and forth between his dragon and his human had left him at a deficit. He needed strength to be able to shift again. He’d never tried to shift when depleted of energy as he was now. Would he even be able to shift?
Creaking, groaning, ripping. Matteo knew only too well what that heralded. He looked at accuser. Indeed, the bastard was shifting into his bear.
The man in the middle regarded Matteo with a gaze that glowed behind blue irises. His pupils switched from black to an opaque milkiness. Not good. He didn’t know for sure what this meant, but he had no doubt this was not good.
On the other side of the man, the third one began his own shift.
Matteo wasn’t going to take the time to see what animal he would shift into. It was time for action. His best bet would be shifting into his dragon and killing them because the quarters were too close here to take wing, what with all the nearby trees. He’d never be able to take flight from this spot. Che cazzo. What had he gotten himself into?
His dragon roared agreement.
“Glad you agree, amico. Can we get this shift over with and take care of the nasty business of dispatching with these unpleasants?” he told his dragon in his head, pushing the being into a shift as quickly as possible.
Before him stood two bears, both with anger in their eyes, and beside them the milky-eyed man wore an amused smile.
Matteo found no mirth in this situation. “Go. Go. Go,” he urged his dragon. “Sbrigati!” he told his dragon. Hurry up!
Swiftly, his dragon began the shift. His skin tingled then began to burn slightly as the green scales taking effect coving his arms, his neck, his chest. This was not unusual; it was part of the shift. Of course, it was something he hardly ever noticed because it was usually overshadowed and outpained by the stretching of sinew and muscle, by the rearranging of bones. None of that was happening. What the—
What was this? The shift stopped. Mid-shift, everything froze. What was this? He stared at his arms. Covered in scales. But human arms. He felt his neck, scales, again. Not his powerful long and muscular dragon neck. His legs, still human, but he sensed the scales on them, bristling against the fabric of his jeans.
Milky Eyes laughed, the sound heightening Matteo’s panic with this half-shift.
“Come on. Finish the shift. Sbrigati!” he ordered his dragon.
In his mind, the dragon roared helplessly. What was this? What was happening.
Milky laughed once more. The bears took a threatening step toward Matteo.
“Fuck, hurry. Make this happen! Che cazzo!”
He sensed the dragon straining, pushing, pulling on all his power to complete the shift, but nothing happened, and in the background, behind his dragon’s roars, Milky’s sinister triumphant laugh prevailed.
He would not go down like this. He wouldn’t.
He crouched, ready to run, because what option did he have?
Chapter Ten
Forbaskede! Damn!
Jolie bit back the urge to scream when she saw the sight behind the dragon shifter. A shudder she couldn’t control washed over her body, leaving her trembling and cold.
Orkney, Edgar—free of the spell she’d cast on his legs—and Stork, who was another bear shifter under Orkney’s command.
Orkney was a powerful sorcerer. He controlled all of the sorceresses at the compound. He had more power than Jolie could ever dream of having. She was convinced he’d see through any spell she cast, but that did not stop her. Self-preservation’s reflex kicked in, and, rather than talk to the dragon who was leaning against the tree, eyes closed, she set into effect an obfuscation spell and prayed Orkney had been too interested in the dragon to see her.
The spell worked! She would have danced a dance if she didn’t think it would cause her concentration to wane and thereby break the spell. She watched in horror as Orkney and his miscreants approached the handsome—though badly injured—dragon shifter.
With dismay, she knew he would face certain death against Orkney and two large shifters. Even though he was a dragon, she couldn’t imagine a dragon could overpower Orkney’s sorcery. Especially not an injured dragon who’d clearly shifted at least twice in the last hour. Oiddras had told her long ago that he couldn’t repeatedly shift back and forth and back and forth at will.
She had to give this strange dragon who’d saved her credit for bravery, if not foolishness, for he began to shift, human skin once more yielding to the beautiful emerald scales which draped his dragon form
Abruptly, he stopped shifting. He went no further. His body—what could be seen of it—was all gleaming dragon scales. His face, human. His limbs and torso, also human.
And Orkney was cackling. He was belting out laughter as though a king being entertained
by a jester. His mirth sent chills racing along her spine.
The dragon shifter’s handsome face was contorted in agony and apprehension as he clenched his hands into fists, flexing his muscles.
Edgar and Stork came closer. The half-shifted man released a roar from deep within his chest that she immediately knew was his dragon. The beast was in trouble, as was the man. She couldn’t stand by and watch him be killed. Not only because preventing someone from being killed would be doing the right thing, but also because of Oiddras. She couldn’t watch this dragon die. In Oiddras’s honor, she had to do something.
But what? Her only option was obfuscation. Surely, she’d die trying to use it again, she’d already drained her mana to the point where it was taking from her body’s energy. This might kill her. And what if it failed?
She glared at Orkney, furious with him for this. He was in charge of the bear shifters. He didn’t have to command them to kill that dragon. And all because of her. Her fury rose from deep within her, hot, palpable, acidic. It was ragged and tore at her insides as she concentrated all her anger at her situation, at the dragon’s situation, at all the other sorceresses Orkney had imprisoned in that compound she’d escaped.
Suddenly, and most unexpectedly, her fury changed deep within. It turned cold and rose out of her body and she could see it, making its way through the trees, like a missile seeking its target, it wend its way through the brush. A deep bluish-purple ribbon of power that resembled a large constrictor slithering across the air.
Jolie stared in amazement. This was not something she’d created. It was unfamiliar, powerful, and frightening. She wasn’t sure why it originated from within her or what it was doing.
Orkney saw it at the last second. The laughter ceased. His mouth dropped open. His eyes widened.
The ribbon wrapped around Orkney. Neither the bears, nor the dragon shifter reacted to it. Jolie had no clue if they could see it or not.