by Amelia Jade
No fucking thanks.
This was well and truly beyond anything she could hope to deal with. It was time to fight fire with fire, but she had no way of calling for his help.
“You will be mine.” The white dragon spoke loudly, the ice vibrating with his voice, spilling her to the floor as it shook unsteadily beneath her.
“Never!”
Behind her ice cracked, the yellow orbs flaring with anger as she shouted her defiance. If she was going to die, she may as well do so not being afraid, resisting until the end.
“YOU WILL BE MINE! I HAVE SPOKEN!”
The walls shattered as the dragon howled its proclamation at her. Aimee curled up into a ball.
“RHYS!” she screamed, wishing he was there.
He would never do this to her. No matter what he’d done, Rhys had always been a gentleman toward her. Except for that first meeting where he’d tried to eat her. But after that, he’d treated her with respect and dignity, always going above and beyond to do right by her. This was not something he would ever do.
Visions of his short brown hair and bright blue eyes played across her mind. His gentle warm touch and booming laugh. The way his nose wrinkled when he was deep in thought, and the sharp lines of his jaw that seemed soft to her touch. Memories of how he held the door for her, or his enthusiastic approval as she tried on outfit after outfit for him, somehow finding things in each one to compliment her about. Then there was the way he’d treated her in the bedroom. Like she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, clothed or naked.
His attention to her had been exquisite, and that one night of fateful passion had left her with a thousand memories to relive upon lonely nights. Never once had he pushed her, instead he’d let her call the shots, even as he’d been in control physically.
“Oh Rhys,” she moaned.
She’d never been so wrong about a man before in her life. And now it was too late to do anything about it.
In front of her the white dragon came closer, lifting its front leg high, razor-sharp claws sparkling even in the overcast skies.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Rhyolite
He plunged from the sky at breakneck pace, personal safety be damned. The only thing that mattered was reaching Aimee in time.
There was no indication that the Ice Dragon was there with her, but the storm and the increasing frequency of the avalanches—a result of it moving through the mountains most likely—all screamed of impending disaster. That and his gut was telling him that she was in danger. Real, discernable danger. He needed to be there, to put himself between her and harm’s way.
He’d spied the helicopter trailing smoke as it fled back for civilization, but he’d known that she wasn’t aboard. Tracing their path, he flew onward to the one of the more northerly peaks of the range. That was when he’d heard the Ice Dragon roar, and Aimee scream in terror.
Now Rhyolite hurtled toward the white dragon, determined that it would feel pain, and fear. As he closed the distance he opened his mouth and spat forth a lance of black stone nearly ten feet long. It combined with his already considerable speed and flew forward, impaling the Ice Dragon’s foot as it closed on Aimee, wrenching it to the side and pinning it to the ice.
“AIMEE. RUN!”
It was all he had time to shout before his wings burst open. The action slowed him just enough so the impact wouldn’t kill him as he slammed into the white dragon with a vengeance, his claws slicing through scales, spilling dark red blood across the ice, staining it nearly black.
He snarled triumphantly, pressing his attack home, trying to keep his foe off-balance. More blood splashed across the walls as he beat the Ice Dragon back, keeping distance between it and Aimee, whom he hoped had fled to the far end of the cavern.
“That is my mate,” he spat, punctuating that with a flurry of black spears that pierced one of the white membranous wings, preventing the enemy dragon from fleeing into the air. “You will pay for that.”
“Impetuous youth. Do you have any idea how badly you are outclassed?”
He felt uneasy at the calm retort. Summoning up his fire, he prepared to unleash it, ending the fight here and now. Ice Dragons were particularly susceptible to dragonfire, which is why they rarely left their icy mountain and glacier homes, where they held the advantage. Places like the crevice he was now fighting within.
Uh-oh.
Tendrils of ice snaked out from the wall, one wrapping itself around his snout, clamping it shut and extinguishing the fire he’d been building there. More vine-like ropes of ice clamped onto his legs and tail.
Thrashing about, he broke the hold on it, forced to fight the bobbing, weaving strands of ice instead of his real foe. But even as he swatted away an end, two more rose up in its place, like a hydra. They were slowly entombing him in their midst. Panicking, he reached down for the earth to call upon his own natural defense, but he felt only emptiness.
There was no earth beneath him, only solid ice!
“Fool,” came the whispered voice, threading its way through the ice and proclaiming victory in the single word.
Rhyolite fought harder and more ice shattered, but it continued to slither over him, squeezing harder and harder. He roared in pain and tried to melt it with fire, but it didn’t help. He was going to die in the ice, unable to save Aimee.
Just like he’d been unable to save his people so many centuries before. A wall of despair washed up and over him, covering him with bleak darkness as he struggled with the idea that maybe he just wasn’t meant to find love or happiness. That it was not his place to belong anywhere.
That he was a failure.
Closing his eyes, he sighed in defeat, letting the ice roll up and over him, smothering him with its cool embrace, the deep chill setting in, penetrating below his scales until it felt like he was burning it was so frigid. The sensation intensified, and he smiled to himself. This was it. The end.
The smell of burning scales reached his nose. Followed a moment later by another sensation. Pain. And lots of it.
“OW!” he bellowed, rearing up as the ice shattered around him, his rear end blackened and crisped where Obsidian’s fire had penetrated through to his body. “You burned my ass, you ass!”
“Get up and fight already!” the bronze dragon snapped as it launched itself at the Ice Dragon.
But Rhyolite had a better idea. “Keep him busy!” he shouted.
“What? No! Get over here and fight with me!” Obsidian hollered as he sent another blast of fire at their icy foe.
But Rhyolite was too busy breathing fire to talk, letting it flow out of him as he slowly melted the unnaturally cold ice. His eyes fixed down the crevice where he saw Aimee crouched in the farthest corner.
He grinned, not an easy feat as he slowly sank into the ice, the water bubbling and flashing into steam from the heat. Ignoring it he went down, and down, and down.
“RHYOLITE! YOU COWARD, GET BACK HERE!” Obsidian roared, his words ending in a shout of pain.
I’ll be right there. I just need to find—
Then his claws touched it. Cool. Hard. Unyielding.
Pure rock.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Aimee
She stared aghast as Rhyolite ran from the fight by disappearing into the ice. What could he be thinking? Obsidian had come to his rescue, only to be abandoned. Although the bronze dragon was larger, and likely older than Rhyolite from what she’d picked up, he was still no match for the Ice Dragon.
He was faring better, but even as he watched he was slowly pushed back, his initial surprise wearing off as the white dragon fought with a strength she found astonishing.
A spike of ice burst from one wall, piercing Obsidian’s side at an upward angle and emerging from his back. The bronze dragon howled in agony, bits and pieces of ice shaking loose to cover her in a deluge at the noise.
“Fools,” the white dragon hissed. “Did you really think you could challenge me? I am Glacius! I ruled the mount
ains for centuries before you came along. Now I will rule again!”
Aimee tried to melt into the ice, hiding from the evil emanating from the snow-colored dragon as it crashed over her in waves, making her sick to her stomach. She was going to either die, or be forced to stand at the side of this…thing, and the idea of that made her want to wail in despair.
Where was Rhyolite? Why had he left her when she needed him the most? He hadn’t fled…he couldn’t have. She didn’t think it was in his nature, but he was gone, the only thing left of him a gaping hole in the ice.
“Submit to me!” The yellow eyes flashed with madness as Obsidian was slammed to the ground under the weight of the ice, only his head and the tip of his tail visible.
She heard Obsidian utter something, though she couldn’t make out the words. Whatever it was caused the white dragon to fly into a frenzy, lashing out at the bronzed head until it was battered and bleeding.
“You will kneel before me!”
Aimee felt tears sting her cheeks as she witnessed the proud death of the bronze dragon. He deserved a witness, and she was going to be it.
From the hole where Rhyolite had disappeared a deep voice rose up, filling the crevice with its power.
“I kneel for no one but my mate!” it roared, and suddenly the ice shattered as black stone the color of purest midnight erupted out of the hole, carrying with it a silvery-platinum dragon.
She gasped as the rock sprouted horns that plunged deep into the ice surrounding Obsidian, shattering it.
“NO!” the white dragon shouted in horror, flinging everything it had at Rhyolite.
Aimee screamed in terror, but the rock shivered and a wall of it appeared in front of Rhyolite. The ice burst apart upon impact.
Closer to the white dragon Obsidian lunged up, adding his strength as he reached into the rock that had finally made its way to him, drawing upon the power of the earth as well.
Together the two dragons fought back, and she watched with growing exultation as the Ice Dragon tried to flee, only to find the ice around it growing black as it was infected with the stone from the Earthen Dragons.
“Yes!” she cried, pumping a fist as a tidal wave of liquid rock rolled out and over the Ice Dragon, encapsulating it in a globe of hardened rock that grew tighter, stretching over the form of the dragon until it looked like no more than a statue.
With a sigh the two dragons slumped over and the rock hardened into something so smooth she doubted there were any imperfections on its glossy surface. It seemed such a thin layer of rock, she was surprised it could hold a beast as powerful as the white dragon had seemed.
Rhyolite turned to look at her, and she smiled at him, offering up a weak wave.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice rumbling along the crevice until it reached her.
“I’m fine. Cuts, bruises, nothing major,” she reassured him. “How are you?”
The dragon was suddenly replaced by the man. He was on one knee, and she could see him breathing hard. The fight hadn’t lasted long, but it had clearly taken a lot out of Rhys. She climbed out of her little hiding place and started to walk toward him.
They needed to talk. There was so much she needed to tell him, including a rather profound apology for her kneejerk reaction to the revelation of his powers. Her cheeks stung as the myriad cuts on them reacted to her embarrassment. She’d never given him a chance to explain himself, instead chopping him off. It was easier to end things than hear the long drawn-out explanation that had been the hallmark of every man she’d ever dated.
Except Rhys wasn’t a man. He was a dragon, and she was learning they did things differently. If only he could give her a second chance, an opportunity to say she was sorry, and to start fresh. Aimee could prove she wasn’t cold to the core, that she was worth loving.
“Rhys,” she started to say as she approached, but he looked up sharply into the sky, then over at Obsidian.
“Yeah, I hear it too. We need to go.”
“What’s going on?” she asked, her earlier words forgotten at the concern in his eyes.
“Your friends are returning. They will be here soon. We need to go. They cannot see this.”
She nodded, understanding. “I understand.”
He cocked his head at her, then cupped both hands together, one over the other in front of him and closed his brilliant blue eyes. Aimee watched a glow emanate from between his fingers for a moment before it subsided. Then he offered her the contents.
“What is this?” she asked, picking up the stone. It was black, cool to the touch. Turning it over she saw it was imbued with a platinum dragon’s scale worked into the surface of it.
“When you’re ready to talk. If you’re ready to talk, simply grasp it tight, think of me, and say my name in your head. Now, move back to the end of the crevice there,” he said, pointing to where she’d stayed hidden.
Aimee did as she was told, trying to work up the courage to tell him not to go, but it was too late. He turned and as quickly as it had come, the rock started to settle back into the ice. The entire place shook as the ice cracked and caved in, filling the gaping whole in the floor and everything.
In less than thirty seconds it was devoid of any indication that the three behemoths had fought there, except for the spray of blood at the center. She was going up though, and nobody would see it.
Silence settled over her, and she waited as the sound of blades chopping through the air finally reached her own ears.
“Flow, this is Angel, do you read? Flow, this is Angel, do you read?” Brian’s voice came over her headset seconds later, music to her ears.
“This is Flow. Lighting the flare. I’m at the, I think, southern end. Get that line down here ASAP.”
She slammed the butt of the flare against the ice and held it up high, the brilliant red casting an eerie glow over the crevice.
The line appeared nearby and she jogged over to it, eager to put the experience behind her. As the harness snugged tight under her weight she felt something jabbing her in the side. Feeling the bulge with her fingers, she realized it was the stone Rhys had given her.
She licked her dry lips. The means to contact him was there in her right pocket. She could use it any time she wished. All that remained to be seen now was whether she would.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Aimee
Two days later she finally returned home. The weather had kept the team busy, even though the avalanches had come to a stop, much to everyone’s relief. It was prime ski season however, and accidents still happened. She was exhausted, and very much ready for her own bed after the uncomfortable cots at the hangar base. Fighting with the key to get it into the lock forced anger to bubble up, the frustration of something so small exasperated by her exhaustion.
Aimee finally got the door open, throwing it wide as she marched inside. What she saw beyond stopped her dead in her tracks.
“Holy. Shit.”
Her kitchen table was bowing underneath the weight of all the objects piled upon it. Stacks of gold bars were mixed with chalices, coins, and statuettes, all glittered the same dusty yellow that spoke of money. Gemstones sparkled and danced as they reflected the overhead light, rubies and diamonds, sapphires, and more. It was a fortune. More than a fortune, it was a treasure.
And it could only have come from one place. Her dragon mate.
The abrupt return of her team had forced them to part without saying any of the desperate words that were necessary between them. For perhaps the first time since she’d taken up the job, Aimee hated that she was stuck at the hangar, unable to go home. Her pocket practically burned from the stone he’d given her, a temptation that she was unwilling to give in to, mainly because she didn’t know how it would work. Trying out some sort of dragon magic for the first time while trying to keep it hidden from her teammates was just not a good idea.
But now…now she could do just that.
Stabbing a hand into her pocket, she closed the door. Fingers c
losed around the cool black stone, and she closed her eyes.
Rhys?
There was no response.
RHYS!
Ow. What the hell? Give a guy a second to respond before you start yelling, okay?
Have I told you yet that I’m impatient?
Well I was busy in a real conversation.
With whom?
Obsidian. Don’t give me that tone.
Wait, you can pick up tone through this? And what tone?
Yes, so I was able to pick up your tone where you’re shocked that I have someone to talk with.
She grinned.
That depends on whether you’re talking to him, or yelling at him as you try to beat him up.
There was a longer pause this time.
I’m going to ignore that.
No, you’re going to ignore him, and get yourself over to my apartment and explain the mess you left here.
Mess? Shouldn’t you be saying thank you, or at least not being rude about it?
She did her best to send the mental equivalent of a snort through the link, surprised at how easy it was to communicate with him. She’d expected it to be much harder.
I seem to recall you forcing a terrified woman to clean up and stack your piles of gold for you, even the ones you destroyed while angry.
How long am I going to be paying for that? He sounded grumpy.
Depends how fast you can get over here so we can talk.
The “line” cut off abruptly. Aimee wasn’t sure how she knew that’s what had happened, but she did. It just ended, as if he’d hung up the phone.
“That better mean you’re moving too fast to talk,” she warned to the now dull stone.
She doffed her bag and coat, letting it fall to the floor as she tried to estimate how much money was on the table and failed miserably. It was beyond measure.
Her door thundered under a knock. She jumped and spun, scared someone was trying to break in.
“Who is it?” she called, picking up a few bars from the table and preparing to use them as weapons.
“Me.”
She dropped the gold and ran to open the door. Standing there in the dim hallway was a familiar pair of blue eyes and a jawline she’d recognize anywhere with its determined set.