by Tessa Adams
Quinn dove, heading straight for the ground at top speed, but he knew he wouldn’t get there in time. Sure enough, Logan managed to dodge the first two bolts, but the third caught him in the upper thigh.
He stumbled, went down hard, and just that easily the first two Wyvernmoons in pursuit were on him. Quinn screamed. Then he pulled out of the dive, picked up the two dragons—who were still in their human form—in his claws and threw them against the nearest building as hard as he could.
Both hit with a satisfying crunch. Are you okay? he demanded of Logan, as he stalked toward the two dragons who had dared to touch his mate.
Fine, his friend answered. Quinn was conscious of his rolling to his feet behind him. Dylan was half a block away, taking on the other eight Wyvernmoons as they tried to shift and fight at the same time.
The fact that they were shifting would give Dylan a minute or two advantage, but then he would be in serious trouble. King or no king, he couldn’t take on eight fully grown dragons in their prime alone—not if he wanted to live.
Get Jasmine back to the lab! he ordered Logan, advancing on the two shifters he already had in his sights. One shot a lightning bolt at him, which he easily dodged. Then he was on them, ripping them apart with his sharp talons and razorlike teeth.
He didn’t take his time, didn’t make it pretty. Just got in, got the job done, before racing down the street to Dylan’s side. As he did, he realized that Logan hadn’t followed his orders, but was guarding Jasmine in an alley between two buildings; Jasmine must have seen him savagely kill the two men without a qualm.
He wondered what that would do to her already bad image of him, but he didn’t have time to worry about it now. As he reached Dylan, he saw two Wyvernmoons dead on the ground, trapped halfway between human and dragon, proof that Dylan had managed to hold his own so far. Still, Dylan was surrounded by six fully shifted dragons, all of whom were bearing down on him with blood in their eyes.
Damn it, Logan! Quinn roared as he charged into battle beside his king. Don’t you leave her. She needs to be protected.
One of the Wyvernmoons swiped at Quinn, who barely managed to dodge a full set of talons in the chest. As it was, he was distracted enough that he caught them on his shoulder.
Fire exploded through the right side of his body.
I got this, Logan yelled frantically. Keep your mind on what you’re doing, asshole!
With a dragon’s scream of fury, Quinn turned toward the dragon who had wounded him and went straight for the jugular. He took him down fast and hard, ripping the other shifter’s throat out without a second of remorse, then turned to deal with the next two who were coming at him.
“Go help him!” Jasmine screamed at Logan, as she watched two evil-looking dragons bear down on Quinn. Both were pitch black and huge, their monstrous eyes glowing with flames while their fangs dripped with saliva. She’d never seen a rabid animal up close, but those two seemed as close to rabid as dragons could get.
“I’m supposed to protect you. Quinn will kill me if anything happens to you.”
“I’m fine! Besides, who’s going to protect me if the Wyvernmoons get through Dylan and Quinn?”
“Good point.” He turned and glared sternly at her, his amber eyes glowing with his own dragon. “You stay here or Quinn will kill both of us.”
“I won’t move. I swear—just go!”
Logan shifted into his dragon on the run, a huge, red beast with a spiky tail and enormous wings and claws. Grabbing one of three dragons that was currently attacking Dylan, he ripped the thing apart with his bare hands. Jasmine gasped, looked away. Then she nearly cheered when she saw four more Dragonstar sentries landing next to their king.
The battle was over in a matter of seconds, as the seven Dragonstars ripped the remaining Wyvernmoons to shreds. One took off, trying to flee, she assumed, and Logan sent a fireball straight at him. It caught him in the tail, and he dropped about ten yards toward the ground before managing to right himself.
Dylan sent a huge ball of flames straight at him, but he managed to dodge it, heading straight up into the clouds. Quinn took off after him, followed by two Dragonstar sentries she didn’t know. They caught up to the injured dragon quickly, but the next thing she knew a smaller, light blue dragon backed off.
Instead of chasing after the Wyvernmoon, she—at least Jasmine assumed the dragon was a she, based on her size and looks—did the strangest thing Jasmine had ever seen. With a high-pitched scream that raised the hair on the back of Jasmine’s neck, the dragon raked her claws straight down the sky.
Under Jasmine’s horrified and disbelieving gaze, the sky seemed to split in two—and out of the new portal poured too many of the pitch-black dragons to count. The first casualty was a golden brown Dragonstar sentry, who went careening to the ground after one of the Wyvernmoons raked his claws straight down the other dragon’s belly.
All hell broke loose, as the black dragons swarmed Dylan and his sentries. Jasmine tried desperately to see Quinn in the melee, but there was too much fighting—and too many black dragons—to find him.
She spotted the golden brown dragon, which had fallen a few feet away and was shifting slowly back to human form. She ran for him, once again cursing her missing medical bag. If by some miracle she managed to get out of this nightmare alive, she was going to transfer the supplies to a backpack—and make damn sure she never went anywhere without it.
As she ran, she caught a glimpse of bright green scales out of the corner of her eye and whirled just in time to see Quinn punch one huge claw into an enemy’s chest and rip its heart out. The thing was dead before it ever hit the ground, but three more dragons bore down on him.
“Quinn! Look out!” she screamed, but he was already shooting fire from his palms in a long stream that took out one dragon and seriously singed a second.
At her feet, the injured Dragonstar groaned weakly, and Jasmine forced herself to look away from Quinn and do the job she was trained for. He could take care of himself, she told herself, even against an entire clan of pissed-off dragons. She only wished she believed it.
“What’s your name?” she asked the injured man, as she fell to her knees beside him.
“Shawn.” His voice was barely audible, and when she went to take his pulse it was weak and fluttery.
“Okay, Shawn. I’m going to help you until Quinn can get over here. I’m not a healer, so it’s probably going to hurt a lot more than when Quinn does it, but I don’t think I have a choice.” She looked down at his stomach, which had been ripped open in much the same way Tyler’s had been a few days before. Damn these Wyvernmoons and their killer talons.
She looked at Shawn’s stomach, which was gushing blood. She needed her bag, an operating room, something! How the hell was she supposed to stop the bleeding if—
A thought occurred to her—a terrible thought that was probably going to hurt Shawn like hell, but one that just might save his life. Reaching into her hair, she pulled out one of the sparkly bobby pins she used to keep her bangs out of her eyes when she was working. Then muttering a prayer for this to work, she shoved her hand deep into Shawn’s pelvis, searching for the vein that was gushing so much blood.
Unlike with Tyler, she found it on the first try—thank God—and managed to clamp it with the bobby pin. It was a desperate measure—a field surgeon’s stopgap—but it would keep him from bleeding out until they could get him moved. If—and it was a big if—the fight ended in the next few minutes, he’d survive, though the extended lack of blood supply to his leg might mean amputation was the only option.
Shawn grew pale, his lips pressed tightly together in agony. “I’m sorry,” she whispered to him. “I know it hurts. Just bear with me until Quinn gets here.”
“I’m fine,” he said through gritted teeth, a blatant lie. He had a hole the size of a cantaloupe in his stomach and bone-deep cuts in his shoulder and chest; he was shivering violently despite the early summer heat. Fine was not quite how she would desc
ribe him.
Whipping off her shirt, she tried to wipe some of the blood away so she could see how much damage had been done to his chest, but every time she got it clear, more blood welled up. Finally, she just gave up and rubbed him soothingly, praying that the battle being waged in front of them would end soon—and that the Dragonstars would win it. But frankly, she couldn’t see how that was possible.
Animalistic cries and screams filled the air, along with the heavy thud of bodies colliding with each other. Lightning and fire whizzed in all directions, coming dangerously close to them on numerous occasions.
Biting her lip as one of Dylan’s dragons sent flame streaming way too close to Shawn for comfort, Jasmine climbed to her feet and began dragging the six-foot-six, two-hundred-and-seventy-pound man back into the alley where Logan had stashed her. Moving him went against all her training as a doctor, but leaving him out there—exposed—seemed like an even worse idea.
Shawn passed out about a hundred feet before their destination, which was a blessing, since she didn’t have to worry about causing him more pain as she dragged him. When they were finally in the relative safety of the alley, she checked his pulse and breathing—both of which were weak, but present—and then looked around for a weapon.
There wasn’t much to work with, but she finally found a plastic beach umbrella that had been discarded near the Dumpster all the way at the back. It wasn’t the best weapon, by any means, but after quickly unscrewing the pole from the umbrella, she had a long, hollow stick with a very sharp tip. With enough force it might be able to do some damage—not enough to actually kill a dragon, but maybe enough to buy them time for more help to arrive.
Carrying her prize, along with a few empty glass beer bottles, to the front of the alley, she laid them down next to Shawn, then broke the bottles against the wall, like she’d seen them do in movies. It wasn’t as easy as it looked on TV, but she finally got two with wicked edges. Of course, if the Wyvernmoons got close enough for her to be able to use the bottles, she pretty much figured she’d be dead, but it made her feel a little better to have them.
A huge series of battle screams came from outside the alley. After checking to make sure Shawn was still stable—or as stable as he could be—she ran to the opening to see what was going on.
A whole other group of dragons was arriving, whose colors ranged from purples and golds to blues and reds. Dylan’s other sentries had finally arrived.
Jasmine’s shoulders slumped in relief, even though she could see they were still outnumbered two to one—thanks to the light blue dragon who had let the bastards in. The new dragons headed straight for Dylan, who was fighting back to back with Quinn and a huge blue dragon that she assumed was Gabe, as the three fought off what looked like eight black dragons.
While she watched, one of the Wyvernmoons wielded a lightning bolt like a sword. More than once it landed on Quinn, sizzling across the skin of his chest and arms and leaving black marks in its wake.
She wanted to go to him, wanted to help as she normally would, but in this situation she was seriously outgunned and she knew it. She would only be a liability. The knowledge stung.
The new dragons ripped through the group surrounding the Dragonstar king, and soon all eight of the enemies lay dead and dying on the street. Dylan and his sentries turned their attention to the other Wyvernmoons, who were locked in battle with Logan and a female dragon.
Jasmine winced as she realized how badly the two dragons were injured, guilt assailing her as she realized she’d sent Logan out into that mess. But without him, the purple female dragon—one who had arrived with the first group of reinforcements—would have been dead by now. She looked close to death as it was.
“What’s going on out there?” Shawn whispered. “How bad is it?”
“Nine other Dragonstars arrived and it’s helping. Dylan is okay and so are the others. They’re all injured, but they’re all still flying—which means they’re in better shape than you are.”
“Where’s Callie?” he demanded.
“Which one is she?” she asked. She’d met all the sentries in their human forms, but unless she’d seen them shift, she didn’t have a clue who was who.
“The light blue one that caused all this,” he muttered, and for the first time, his voice had a bit of strength to it. “Traitorous bitch.”
“That was Callie?” Jasmine hadn’t gotten much of an impression of the woman the one time they’d met at the lab, but she’d seemed nice enough. Talk about looks being deceiving.
“Yeah.”
“I don’t see her now.”
“Probably ran away like the fucking coward she is.” Shawn tried to struggle into a sitting position, but he wasn’t strong enough, and he fell back to the dirty street. She checked his pulse—at his wrist and in his leg—and didn’t like what she found. She needed Quinn and needed him now, or she wasn’t sure Shawn was going to make it.
Picking up her makeshift weapon, pathetic as it was, she told Shawn, “I’m going to try to get Quinn. I’ll be right back.”
“Jasmine, no!” He snagged her wrist as she was standing up, and though he was in bad shape, he was still incredibly strong. “You can’t go out there.”
“If I don’t get Quinn, you’ll die.”
“He’ll kill me, anyway, if I let you go into the middle of that. Just stay here. It’ll be okay.”
“No, it won’t. You don’t have much time left, Shawn.” She tried to twist her wrist away from him, but he was too strong. “Come on, let go.”
“No.”
Gritting her teeth, knowing that every second that passed was precious, she finally did the only thing she could think of. She dropped the umbrella pole and with her now-free hand hit Shawn hard in his leg wound, with all of her body weight behind it.
He didn’t make a sound, but his eyes rolled up into the back of his head as he passed out. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, grabbing up the meager weapon and running for the opening at the front of the alley.
She’d barely taken two steps onto the sidewalk when the light blue dragon—Callie—landed in front of her. Unsure of what to do, knowing only that she was in seriously deep shit judging by the red haze in Callie’s eyes, Jasmine started sidling toward where the other dragons were fighting. Surely, if she got close enough, one of the Dragonstar sentries would notice her being stalked by a rabid, pissed off dragon. If she was really lucky, maybe Quinn would notice, and she could kill two birds with one stone.
But with her third step, Callie let out a horrendous screech and came straight at her—razor-sharp talons raised to do as much damage as possible.
Jasmine clutched her umbrella pole, pointing the sharp tip straight at the dragon, who barely seemed to notice the weapon. This was completely understandable, as the metal was no match for her claws, her teeth or the fireballs Jasmine knew she possessed.
Still, standing and taking it wouldn’t do any good. Jasmine stepped forward as Callie got closer, raising the pole straight up and shoving with every ounce of strength she had.
It went straight into the dragon’s sensitive underbelly, impaling her. Callie screamed, loud and long, and still Jasmine pushed, afraid to stop. Callie’s eyes glowed feverishly and, even wounded, she lifted her talons to strike her attacker. Jasmine braced for it, knowing it would be a killing blow. Knowing there was no escape.
The claw came down and Jasmine gritted her teeth, preparing for the pain—but the blow never landed. In the blink of an eye, Quinn was there, grabbing Callie’s talons in his teeth and crunching down. Jasmine heard the bones break even over Callie’s screams, and then even the shrieks were silent as Quinn sliced her neck open, from one side to the other.
Callie was dead before she even hit the ground.
Quinn shifted quickly. “Jasmine, what—”
She pointed to the alley. “Shawn’s dying. You have to help him. He won’t make it much longer.”
Quinn didn’t argue, just picked Jasmine up and ran with her
back to the alley. Quinn started cursing as soon as he saw Shawn, but he was incredibly gentle when he set Jasmine back on her feet. Jasmine watched him run to the other male. Wanting to help as well, she started to follow, but with the first step her legs went out from under her.
She hit the ground hard, then didn’t even try to fight it as she passed out for the first—and hopefully last—time in her life.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Hours later, Jasmine stood in a hot shower at Phoebe’s house, washing blood and grime and God only knew what off of herself. She knew her friend was doing the same, as were Dylan and Quinn and a number of the other sentries. It was a good thing the house had a lot of bathrooms.
She still couldn’t believe the fight was over—and that Callie was the only Dragonstar to die, despite the Wyvernmoons best efforts. Shawn had been badly injured, as had Jase and Riley, and it would take time for them to recover, despite Quinn’s healing powers. But the others had been in pretty decent shape, and she, Phoebe, and the clan’s other doctor, Gerald, had been able to patch them up without Quinn’s help.
This was a good thing, as Quinn was still pissed at her for passing out. Like she’d had any control over it. Hell, she was pissed enough at herself for both of them. She still couldn’t believe she’d keeled over like a total candy ass. She’d been through civil wars, bomb blasts, firefights and the worst viruses on the planet and never lost her cool. But one fight with a bunch of dragons, and she face planted at the first opportunity. It was humiliating.
Feeling dirtier than she could ever remember, Jasmine scrubbed and scrubbed at her skin, ignoring the pain in her ribs where Brock had cheap-shotted her, as well as the large, very painful bruise on her shoulder. She had bigger things to worry about.
She told herself it wasn’t her fault. Callie had attacked her first, and she hadn’t even been the one to kill the dragon, but it didn’t matter. She couldn’t forget driving that pole into Callie’s belly, punching through skin and muscle and internal organs.