by Lowe, Anna
But Liam kept roaring in an ever-deeper voice. He kept stretching too. Something ripped at his shoulders, and at first, he thought that was Petro, clawing him from behind. But it wasn’t. His body was morphing.
Stop resisting. Let me out, that inner voice snarled.
His neck ached. His tail caught on something and pulled. What the hell was happening?
If you care about Gemma, let me out, the voice roared.
He wasn’t about to trust a mystery voice, even if it sounded a lot like his own. But then it hit him. That was a dragon’s voice. His dragon’s voice.
At first, he resisted, as he’d been taught to since his childhood. Whatever dragon blood he carried was rogue blood. It would be unruly. Uncontrollable. No-good.
And you believe that? Gareth’s words echoed in his mind.
Liam bared his teeth at his conflicting memories. He thought of Tristan, too. His Parisian friend was one of the most honorable men — and dragons — he knew, and Tristan didn’t have an ounce of nobility in his blood.
To hell with the lies you were told, that inner voice snarled.
And just like that, he embraced the transformation. Wind whistled in his ears — long, spiky ears, totally unlike his lion’s. Heat built in his throat, and the next time he roared, sparks spurted from his mouth. He wanted to backpedal with his front paws, but instead, he found himself flapping wings.
Merde, Sergio breathed. Liam.
Shit was right. He’d had dragon dreams and visions in the past, but he’d only ever shifted into lion form.
At first, it was scary as hell, because every shifter knew the importance of taming his animal side, lest the animal seize control. But a nanosecond later, Liam realized he couldn’t care less. What better time to call upon the fury of a marauding dragon?
He took a deep breath, did his best to steady out on his wings, and exhaled with everything he had. An angry plume of fire lit the air in front of his snout, giving him a rush of power.
Leave this to me, that inner voice said.
And just like that, Liam became the hunter, not the hunted. A streamlined dragon, not a landlocked lion.
And boy, was he pissed off.
Chapter Eighteen
Gemma stood gripping the mantelpiece in the dining room, listening to the chaos overhead. The windows were covered by fireproof shutters, but the fight was all too easy to imagine.
Gareth tuned in to the battle with his keen raven senses. “They’ve come with three dragons…a few wolves…”
Every time a roar sounded or a burst of fire ripped through the air, Gemma winced. She paced two steps, then snapped her head up at an agonized yelp.
“Was that Sergio?”
“No, that is one of the others.” Gareth’s voice was dry as ever, but his clouded eyes said everything.
The battle wasn’t going well, and how could it? Liam and Sergio were badly outnumbered.
“We have to do something.”
“Mr. Bennett’s orders were clear, miss.”
Her hands shook in frustration. “But they need help!”
A snarl sounded, and they both looked up. A moment later, Gareth shook his head. “I believe Mr. Bennett’s military training will stand him in good stead.”
Gemma paused. What she wouldn’t give for Liam to hear Gareth acknowledge one of his qualities. Still, the battle seemed doomed.
“Please. We have to do something.”
Gareth opened his mouth, no doubt to remind her there was nothing a mere human could do. But then his eyes flickered, and he gazed upward.
“What?” she whispered a moment later.
The lines on Gareth’s brow deepened. “Enzo Lombardi is leading the attack.”
Gemma wanted to shake him. So?
“The clan leader,” he said in a frighteningly cold voice. Had Gareth and Enzo tangled before?
On the roof, a lion roared, and Gemma wrung her hands. “We have to help!”
Gareth looked at the stairs, considering. “I’ll go. You stay here. Stay safe.”
She shook her head, but Gareth motioned to the stairs that led to the cellar. “You remember what to do in the worst case?”
She scowled. Yes, Liam had already shown her the escape tunnel. Except she didn’t plan to escape, dammit. She wanted to help.
But Gareth had already whirled to go, moving faster than she would have guessed him capable of. His footsteps hammered up the staircase, and a blast of cold air whooshed in. Then a door slammed and a bolt ground into place. Moments later, the caw of a fierce raven joined the melee on the roof.
Gemma stared. Stay here. Was he kidding?
She glanced at the pair of broadswords hanging over the fireplace. Stay safe? Like hell she would.
She pulled a chair up, then stopped. Those swords were too heavy for her, but there were dozens more in the hallways. Rushing to the suit of armor in the nearest alcove, she studied the sword. Too long. The next one was too wide, and the next…
Her arm tingled with a memory, and it hit her. That sword she’d tried out the very first day in the castle…
Careful with that, Liam had said. The blade is spelled against shifters.
She sprinted upstairs and murmured to the empty suit of armor.
“I need to borrow this.”
The minute she pulled the saber from the scabbard, the blade flashed, and a surge of power zipped through her arm. She hurried through a few warm-up moves and, wow. It was as if the sword knew the same moves, cutting in a given direction at the very moment she thought of it. The weapon was perfectly balanced and light — far lighter than a weapon of that size ought to be.
When she spun, she caught sight of a shield. That might come in handy.
“Sorry. I could use this, too. Please tell me it’s spelled against shifters.”
Three quiet seconds ticked by as she stared into the visor of the empty helmet. Then a roar sounded, and she nearly took off running for the roof. But she froze, looking at the blade. Did she really dare take on a wolf, a lion, or even a dragon?
A split second later, she squared her shoulders. She was no damsel, letting the men do the fighting. She could sure as hell contribute to the fight.
Off she went, sprinting up the spiral stairs, making herself dizzy. The closer she got to the roof, the louder — and scarier — the sounds of battle grew. Dull, muffled sounds became fierce, life-or-death snarls. She hesitated at the metal door, then slid the bolt before her hands started shaking. Putting her shoulder to the metal, she took a deep breath and shoved the door open.
And, whoosh! Gemma ducked as a dragon swooped by, skimming the roof in pursuit of a wolf. The powerful shock of air set off by its wings nearly bowled her over.
“Liam,” Gemma whispered, trying to get her bearings.
Raindrops splattered on her face as she pressed against a wall, staring at the chaos. Dozens of ravens wheeled and cawed, harrying wolves and dragons. Most of the ravens looked ordinary, but one was the size of a condor.
“Gareth,” she whispered as he slashed a wolf’s ears.
That wolf was one of three closing in on a lone canine at the far end of the roof — one with dark hair and shining, black eyes.
“Sergio!” she yelled through the rain. He was so intent on something behind her, he barely noticed the wolves. She spun, following his gaze—
—and nearly fell to her knees.
“Liam?” she breathed.
That had to be him — that lion leaping at a dragon. Her heart thumped in fear while soaring at his bravery. But it was all wrong. The dragon had lured him over the edge of the roof. Liam would fall to his death. She was sure of it.
But the scream that leaped to the tip of her tongue stuck there, because the lion’s long body changed in midair. The whiplike tail thickened and extended. The fur receded, giving way to tough, leathery skin a shade darker than his lion hide. His shoulder blades warped, twisted, and extended into a massive pair of wings.
“Liam?” She stared.
He flew off in hot pursuit of the dragon. Literally hot, thanks to the giant plume of fire that exploded from his mouth and lit a sharp, sizzling line through the rain.
Caw! Caw! a raven scolded as it flew after the dragons.
Gemma stared. Liam could change into a dragon? Since when? And wait. Wasn’t she supposed to hate dragons?
There are good dragons, and there are bad dragons. Her father’s words ghosted through her mind.
And hell, there was no question which type Liam was. She stood marveling until something snarled behind her.
Whipping around, she sliced the air with her sword. “Hey!”
A lion — a goddamn lion! — had snuck up on her, and for a moment, it crouched, wary. Gemma stared. Gareth had mentioned dragons and wolves, but he hadn’t mentioned any lions. Was this older, scarred feline working for the Lombardis?
The blade of her sword glinted, and for a moment, the lion looked concerned. Then he stalked forward, one deliberate step at a time.
The lion grinned. Grinned, dammit, as if he was amused.
“Watch it,” she growled, swinging the sword.
But she was the one backing up, and the lion was advancing. Soon, he had her backed into a corner, where he stood out of reach. When a dragon roared from overhead, the lion’s head bobbed, but he didn’t move.
Rain streamed down Gemma’s face, and her mouth swung open. The lion didn’t want to kill her. He wanted her alive — a prize for his dragon master.
She gritted her teeth. She would no sooner cower in a corner than she would wait downstairs. She had made up her mind to help Liam and Sergio, and dammit, she would.
She flicked her wrist a few times. Liam said the sword was spelled against shifters, but what exactly did that mean? She sighted down the wickedly sharp blade, then took a deep breath. She was about to find out.
“Did I mention how sharp this blade is?” She took a step forward.
The lion bared three-inch-long teeth as if to say, Get back in that corner where you belong.
Gemma’s cheeks heated. “Final warning.”
The lion’s eyes shone. My final warning.
Gemma shifted her weight from her front foot to the back. Coiling every muscle, she lunged. Zing! The sword struck stone when the lion rolled clear. When he jumped back to four feet, his eyes were red with fury.
You want to fight, I’ll fight, the lion’s gleaming eyes said.
Gemma hurried back to her starting position, on guard. The lion lunged, and Gemma found herself in a duel that broke every rule of fencing. The lion wandered all over the place, for one thing, instead of sticking to a narrow field of action. Her neat parries and thrusts quickly degenerated into rough slices and chops that would have horrified her coach. She shouted with every move, kicked at the lion, and even bashed him with the shield.
“I said, get back!” she screamed, thrusting one more time.
The lion sidestepped, and she only managed a glancing blow, but the beast screamed as if its heart had been pierced. It backed away, showing wide, wild eyes. Then it sank to its haunches with a low, mournful moan. A moment later, it fell over, motionless.
Gemma felt sick. She’d never killed anything, and she never wanted to. But this was no normal lion. It was a coldhearted man — a shifter — on a ruthless mission to make her little more than a slave. She shook away her disgust. She wasn’t going to relish killing, but she wasn’t about to regret it either.
A bird cried in warning, and Gemma ducked just in time to escape eight-inch claws that clicked over her back. Whoosh! A dragon zoomed by.
She gasped, rolled, and scrambled to her feet. The dragon twisted in midair, glaring.
I want you, Maiden. And I will have you, those fiery red eyes announced.
“Petro,” she all but spat into the wind.
Somehow, she knew it was him, the bastard. The one who had caused all the recent upheaval in her life.
Scary as it was to face a dragon, fury won over. How dare he?
She blinked the rain out of her eyes and brandished the sword, daring Petro to come closer. But the coward climbed to a safe distance and circled toward Enzo, who had been hovering overhead, observing the scene.
The older dragon’s eyes flashed. Can you not subdue a lowly human?
You try it, Petro’s unhappy expression said.
Fire flared in the east, and Gemma prayed that was Liam, not Lorenzo. Ravens cawed and dive-bombed the wolves clustered around Sergio, who was slashing and jumping in a fight for his life. Meanwhile, Enzo roared at Petro, who flew off to the east.
“Liam!” she screamed in warning.
But he was too far to hear, and she watched helplessly as Petro rushed to assist his brother. Overhead, Enzo started circling again, watching her closely. Waiting.
Well, she wouldn’t wait, dammit. Unfortunately, she couldn’t reach Liam or Enzo, but she could help Sergio.
She ran toward the battling wolves, strangely unafraid. Possessed, almost, by some untapped power within her. The power of a Fire Maiden?
She’d had time to consider that notion over the past few days, though she hadn’t been able to convince herself she could really be the one. But now, heat rushed through her veins, and her heart felt like it was pumping fire.
Then there were the bracelets, which warmed and surged with power. Dragon treasure, her father had once told her, back when she hadn’t taken him seriously.
Well, she sure took him seriously now. If the sword was spelled, the bracelets could be spelled too.
“Back!” she yelled, running at the wolves.
The ravens scattered, and the wolf closest to her whirled. Enzo roared, egging her on.
Yes, my dear Fire Maiden. Show me how powerful you are.
She didn’t mind latching on to fury and using it to her advantage. But when hate — and even worse, the cruel thrill of killing — crept closer to her heart, she looked up, aghast. Did Enzo Lombardi harbor enough power to manipulate her in some way?
She shook the sword and shield, yelling at the top of her lungs. “I will never, ever help you. Never!”
Oh, but you will, his red eyes said.
A raven screamed, drawing her attention back to the roof. The nearest wolf was lunging at her. Ravens swarmed in, clawing at its eyes. That left an opening Gemma rushed into, attacking the other wolves from behind.
She swung the sword again and again, cutting, slashing, and screaming. For a few minutes, everything was a blur, and it took all her concentration not to hit Sergio. A good thing his eyes shone with an intensity the others lacked, and his dark hair made him easy to recognize. Gemma hardly recognized herself, on the other hand, because she’d never wielded a sword with such determination or power.
When the last of the three wolves fell with an anguished cry, she stepped back, feeling her energy drain. Sergio panted as hard as she did as they both looked up.
Enzo glanced over his fallen mercenaries in disgust, then whipped around when a fireball exploded against the ground in the distance.
Boom!
Gemma gasped. Please, let that not be Liam.
But Enzo roared in protest, while Sergio barked in an Attaboy way. Gemma exhaled. Liam had killed one of the Lombardis. However, the other had wheeled around to rush back to the castle. Petro, she decided. Both he and Liam flew full tilt, directly at her.
Gemma’s knees wobbled. They weren’t just flying toward her. They were coming for her. She could see it in the cruel glow of Petro’s eyes. Sergio growled and leaned against Gemma’s legs, warning her to take cover.
Petro’s voice rumbled faintly in her mind.You will be mine.
Yes, you will be ours, old Enzo echoed from above.
Gemma swung her sword. “Never!”
Petro’s eyes flashed as he raced ever closer. Then you will die.
Liam was directly behind him, beating his wings in a desperate attempt to close the gap. But he was running out of space to catch up.
Run, Gemma! Run
, he yelled into her mind.
Yes, run, Enzo cackled. Entertain me.
Petro opened his mouth, revealing a row of razor-edged teeth and a glowing point of light. Gemma gulped as he gathered his inner fire and aimed it at her.
Sergio rumbled, putting more weight against her legs. Run, Gemma!
She took a deep breath and tapped her shield, hoping to hell it could withstand fire. Then she braced her feet, making it clear she wasn’t going anywhere.
Gemma! Liam shouted as Petro zeroed in.
She waved the sword in a Come and get me gesture, then muttered to Sergio, “Take cover by the walls or get behind me. Your choice. But hurry.”
An offended growl told her Sergio wasn’t going to flee any more than she would.
“Then get behind me. I mean it,” she muttered. “On three. One…”
Petro’s eyes narrowed to glowing points of fire.
“Two…” she barked, ordering her knees not to tremble.
The inferno in Petro’s throat gushed forth, reaching for her.
“Three!” Gemma yelled, dropping to one knee with the shield thrust before her.
She had just enough time to gulp a lungful of air before the fire hit — really hit, nearly bowling her over. If Sergio hadn’t been huddled behind her, she might have tumbled backward. But together, they withstood the force of that fiery onslaught, and the fire divided around either side of the shield, missing them both.
Gemma! Liam cried.
But everything was distant, even the sound of his voice, what with the roar of the fire all around her. Petro was zooming in at low altitude, and her moment to strike drew near.
Now! something in her yelled as Petro’s pale underbelly zipped overhead. The huge span of his wings blocked the rain, and his tail coiled, ready to bash her to her death.
Gemma held her ground. She would strike first, dammit.
She lunged upward, burying the spelled blade in the dragon’s underside. For a few heart-stopping moments, she was dragged along, bumping and bashing the flagstones of the roof.
Let go! Move over! Liam boomed into her mind.
With a sharp grunt, she released the sword, then slammed to the ground and rolled. At the very same instant, a river of fire erupted behind her, overtaking Petro. He clawed at the blade buried in his belly and screamed at the oncoming fire. The sword clattered to the roof, but Liam’s fire closed around Petro, throwing him to the ground outside the castle walls.