Treasured by a Tiger

by Felicity Heaton

  The male tossed him a smirk, one that spoke of victory and flashed fangs.

  A sickening cold swept through her.

  She had let herself get caught.

  He beat his wings.

  She struggled like a wild thing, clawing and kicking at him, catching his face and neck and leaving long red marks on his pale skin. No. She couldn’t let him fly away with her.

  He had barely lifted off the earth when Grey landed on his back, savaging his left wing, sending feathers flying everywhere. The male howled and grabbed him, swinging her with him as he twisted at the waist, and she struggled again as he threw Grey, harder this time.

  She winced as he hit the dirt, rolled and shifted back into his human form.

  Grey.

  She kicked hard and fast at the fallen angel’s face with her back paws, a need to escape and check on Grey fuelling her.

  The fallen angel glared at her, and beat his wings. His face screwed up, pain flashed in his crimson eyes, and he growled through long fangs as he looked at his left wing.

  Relief crashed over her.

  It was broken.

  Grey’s last attack had torn a long gash down the curve of his black wing, exposing tendons and shredding muscle.

  He couldn’t fly away with her.

  She looked back at Grey.

  Her heart stopped in her chest.

  He was running away from her, into the distance.

  The fallen angel laughed mirthlessly. “You need to get yourself a better male than that one.”

  She looked back at him and growled, could read between the lines to see that he was insinuating that she should choose a male like him over Grey.

  Never.

  She bared her fangs, her fury rising, and her flames rose with it, coursed over her body and licked at her black fur.

  When they reached her neck, the fallen angel hissed and released her, and stared at his hand.

  The black metal of his gauntlet glowed red hot.

  He growled and shot his other hand out towards her, long claws slicing through the air.

  Something silver swept across them.

  The fallen angel staggered backwards, his agonised bellow echoing around the valley and ringing in her ears.

  She stared, blinked, unsure what had happened.

  Until she saw the two fingers on the dirt in front of her, and Grey rushed past her, two silver blades clutched tightly in his fists as he thundered towards the fallen angel and attacked him, driving the male away from her.

  Gods.

  He was glorious as he fought, his expression savage as his eyes glowed bright blue. His muscles shifted beneath his bare skin with his fluid and graceful movements, his twin swords slicing grooves in the fallen angel’s black armour, cutting deeper with each strike.

  For every blow the angel managed to block, Grey landed one with his other sword. He didn’t give the male space, kept pushing forwards, taking whatever strikes the male landed on his flesh, weathering them as he battered the male, attempting to overpower him.

  Lyra growled and rushed towards him.

  The fallen angel finally gained some space, using his battered wings to carry him a few metres backwards through the air. Grey gave chase, lowering both of his blades to his side as he sprinted towards the male.

  The shadows that writhed around the fallen angel swept downwards to his right hand and gathered there, forming a shape.

  Her eyes widened.

  The fallen angel grinned.

  Grey skidded into a hard right turn when the shadows formed a huge black blade in the fallen angel’s hand and he swung it, slicing through the air where Grey had been a second before. Grey snarled and zigzagged, kicking dust up as he evaded each strike of the male’s broadsword.

  She growled and sprang at the fallen angel as he gave her his back. He snarled and battered her with his one good wing, making it impossible to keep hold of him. She landed at his feet and he turned on her, raising his sword at the same time.

  Grey roared and she gasped as he appeared behind the male, sailing through the air, both of his blades held downwards and directed at the male’s back.

  The fallen angel turned on a pinhead and brought his black sword up, sweeping it in a fierce diagonal arc towards Grey.

  She growled and leaped at his left arm, sinking fangs into his armour and pulling it back with her weight as she dropped to the ground.

  Throwing his blow off course.

  Grey struck hard, driving one of his blades into the fallen angel’s shoulder as the male twisted with her. The fallen angel grunted and jammed his arm into her mouth with so much force her teeth ached and she lost her grip on him. He moved faster than she could track, his injured left hand flying towards Grey.

  Who growled and tried to evade, leaning hard to his left. The male’s fist slammed into his face and Grey grunted as he fell, leaving one of his blades lodged in the angel’s shoulder.

  The fallen angel snarled as he pulled it free and blood sprayed from the wound, quickly falling to a trickle that chased down the black plates of his chest armour. He tossed the blade aside and advanced on Grey, the black mist that writhed around him growing agitated and that oily sensation of darkness growing thicker, pressing down on her.

  She pushed onto her paws.

  Grey readied his one remaining blade, but he was unsteady on his feet, the deep lacerations across his chest, stomach and thighs taking their toll on him as they dripped crimson.

  She couldn’t let him fight alone.

  She focused on her flames and stoked them hotter, so they warmed her fur and covered all of her.

  The male thrust towards Grey with his broadsword. Grey leaped backwards, dodging the blow, but the angel smiled coldly, as if he had landed it, as if he knew victory would be his now.

  He threw his injured left hand towards Grey.

  Grey instinctively blocked, even though the male held nothing in it.

  And then he was shooting towards the angel as the male curled his injured hand towards him.

  Powerless to stop himself.

  She snarled as the angel pulled him through the air using telekinesis.

  Roared as the bastard’s black sword pierced Grey’s left side and her male cried out.

  Blood poured down his hip and his leg, stark crimson that had her vision turning blue as her fury overwhelmed her and her instincts seized command, driving her to protect her male.

  Her mate.

  The fallen angel pressed a boot to Grey’s hip and shoved him off the blade, tearing another pained bellow from Grey’s lips. He staggered backwards, fought to remain standing and dropped to one knee.

  The male turned glowing red eyes on her.

  His power swept over her, pressed down on her, had one thought spinning through her mind as she charged.

  They weren’t going to win this.

  Resignation rushed through her.

  A huge black paw shot out of the gloom, landed on the fallen angel’s back and slammed him face-first into the dirt.

  Her eyes shot wide.

  Brink.

  The enormous black dragon threw his head back, his long horns almost touching his wings as he spread them, and roared.

  The fallen angel screamed as Brink used his talons to rip away the back plate of his armour and tear through his feathered wings, and hastily pushed backwards, under the paw that held him as Brink’s head came down.

  His huge fangs snapped together, narrowly missing the fallen angel’s head.

  The dragon grunted and lifted his paw, revealing the fallen angel as he staggered onto his feet. He drove his blade into Brink’s paw again, forcing him to back away.

  Grey found his feet and ran at the fallen angel, his pain beating in her veins with each step. She growled and joined him, raced alongside him as they closed the distance between them and the angel.

  The male swung their way, bringing his black sword around and holding it at an angle in front of him, blocking Grey’s blow as her ma
le struck hard with his silver blade.

  Brink snarled and raked a talon down the angel’s back, caught it in the back of his armoured trousers, and slammed him back into the dirt.

  When the dragon lifted the male again, Grey was there, thrusting his sword forwards.

  The fallen angel didn’t have a chance to block.

  The silver blade pierced his chest, sank hilt-deep into it and punched out of his back.

  The male threw his head back and unleashed an unholy scream that sent a chill sweeping through her and had every hair on her sleek body rising.

  Brink’s left wing came down, knocking her and Grey backwards, sending them both sprawling across the ground.

  She found her paws again and looked back at Brink.

  Crimson light burst from behind his wing, visible through the leathery black membrane, and shone across his chest. He reared back, closing his eyes and tilting his head away.

  The ground trembled and then bucked, and she sank low to it, dug her claws in as it shook beneath her, and the red light grew so bright it hurt her eyes.

  She closed them just as a shockwave swept across the land from the direction of Brink, battering her and knocking her backwards, sending her tumbling further away from the dragon.

  Wet slapping sounds filled the silence in the aftermath of the explosion.

  The heavy scent of blood made her gag.

  She cracked her eyes open and grimaced at the sight of Brink.

  His wing and his body had shielded her and Grey from most of the blood and gore, pieces of flesh and bone sticking to his black scales and rolling down his leathery wing.

  She gagged again.

  Brink sneered, flashing a lot of fangs as he looked himself over, and then he reared back, turned away from her and beat his wings. For a moment, she thought he was leaving.

  Pieces of the fallen angel hit the ground hard, thrown from his body by the powerful action of beating his wings.

  “Are you okay?” Grey said from behind her.

  Lyra shifted into her mortal form and looked back at him, an answer balanced on her lips, a reassurance that she was fine.

  He collapsed, landing on his face in the black dirt.

  “Grey!” Lyra rushed to him and skidded to her knees beside him.

  She pulled him over, grunting at his dead weight, and her eyes widened. There was so much blood. Tears lined her eyes as she stared at the wound on his side, a deep hole that spilled crimson in thick rivulets. Her hands shook as she reached out to touch it, heart aching as she pressed her palms to it and tried to stem the bleeding, her hands slipping around in the warm liquid.

  Gods, she was free, but at what cost?

  She was going to lose the only male she had ever loved.

  She was going to lose her mate.

  Brink stopped beside her, back in his human form and clad in his black leather trousers, wearing a concerned look on his rough face as he studied Grey. He crouched on the other side of him to her, lifted his eyes from him and gave her back a spark of hope, one that she clung to as fiercely as she clung to Grey.

  “Hold him, and keep him as still as you can,” he whispered.

  He ran his midnight eyes over Grey again and shimmering sparks of violet and gold emerged from their depths.

  The tinny scent of magic joined the odour of Grey’s blood in the air.

  A shiver chased over her skin and she gripped Grey’s shoulder with one hand and his leg with the other, and pressed him into the dirt with all the strength she could muster.

  Brink nodded in approval. “Just… hold on… no matter what… hold him down.”

  Lyra didn’t have a clue what he was going to do, but she nodded to let him know she would do her best, and that she trusted him.

  Grey’s life was in his hands now.

  Brink placed his palms on Grey’s stomach on either side of the wound and stared at it, his eyes brightening, that scent of magic growing stronger, swirling around her and making the hairs on her arms stand on end.

  The dragon smiled faintly at Grey.

  “This is going to hurt you a lot less than it’s going to hurt me.”

  CHAPTER 17

  Darkness surrounded him.

  The pained roar that echoed around it resonated within him too, but he wasn’t sure it had come from his soul. Fierce and fiery agony blazed in every inch of him, rolled to new heights that seemed to rip pieces of him away, and this time he was sure the roar that rumbled through the inky black like thunder had issued from his lips.

  Had been dragged from the pit of his weary soul.

  The flames scorched his bones. Seared his flesh.

  Felt as if they would burn all of him away and leave nothing.

  In the wake of the fire, came light.

  It rolled through the darkness, a beam that cut through the endless black and drew him to it.

  As the pain began to fade, a voice reached his ears.

  Calling to him.

  Speaking his name.

  Lyra.

  He strained towards that voice, reached for it and pushed forwards, determined to shake the midnight tendrils that tried to pull him back, that snagged his legs and wrapped around his arms.

  He was coming.

  He could feel her fear, her pain, and he was coming to take it all away.

  The inky vines holding his legs and arms snapped as the beam of light reached him and he sank into it.

  His eyes fluttered open, revealing more darkness.

  And then that ray of light.

  Lyra.

  She leaned over him, tears wobbling on her long black lashes and her blue eyes overflowing with happiness he could feel in her.

  “What happened?” he croaked, and grimaced at how tight his throat was, and the ache that reached right down to his marrow and filled every molecule of his body.

  “Brink helped us… he brought you back.” She tried to smile, and tears skated down her cheeks, cutting through the ash and the blood.

  Gods. His beautiful Lyra. He had been sure that it had been the end for him, and rather than being calm and taking comfort from the thought of running with his ancestors, he had been filled with cold and fear, with terror that he had known would live on forever inside him.

  All because he had thought he would never see her again.

  Because he couldn’t bear the thought of being parted from her.

  His beautiful mate.

  The first and only female he would ever love.

  She clutched his hand above his stomach and brought it to her chest, pressed it there and held it so tightly that he knew she felt the same way about him, that the thought of being parted from him had been destroying her.

  He wanted to drown in her, to stare at her forever and never stop looking at her, but he owed a dragon a great debt, one he felt sure he would never be able to repay.

  He tilted his head right, towards Brink.

  The black-haired warrior sat on his haunches, breathing hard, his skin ashen and slick with sweat. Exhaustion echoed in his dull obsidian eyes as they remained locked on him, firmly away from Lyra.

  Grey was thankful for that too.

  He was too tired to lose his shit over the male looking at her when she was naked.

  “Thank you,” he whispered, but knew as he looked at Brink that simple thank you wasn’t enough.

  The male looked close to passing out, and he knew that first bellow of agony, one that had sounded as if its owner was ripping their own soul apart, losing a piece of themselves in the process, had come from Brink.

  Whatever magic he had used to heal Grey’s wounds and give him another chance at life, it had cost him greatly.

  Brink nodded.

  Sagged a little and landed on his arse on the black dirt.

  He sat there, his forearms resting on his bent knees, breathing hard.

  “What happened?” Brink panted and pulled down one long breath and tried to exhale it slowly.

  It didn’t happen. It ended up shar
p and short, followed by another deep fast breath. He gritted his teeth, a muscle in his jaw popping, and grunted as he ran trembling hands over his wild black hair and muttered something to himself.

  Grey mustered the strength to speak.

  “We think they were the Archangel team mentioned in Grey’s documents, the ones carrying out the research for the project his brother was interested in finding out more about.” Lyra beat him to it, and he looked at her, soul-deep grateful for her stepping up and sparing him so he could conserve the tattered remains of his strength.

  “The fallen angel?” Brink curled a lip at the blood staining his bare arms and chest.

  “Was after me,” Lyra said. “I’m sorry about that.”

  The dragon casually shrugged. “A dead fallen angel is a good fallen angel. They’re a menace.”

  “What were you doing here?” Grey pushed the words out as he felt a little stronger, the pain dulling to a manageable level where he could breathe easier and didn’t feel as if his bones were crumbling beneath his skin.

  He flexed his fingers, testing their strength as it slowly returned.

  Brink seemed more relaxed too, his breathing level at last. “Ren sent me when you disappeared. He doesn’t like people reneging on a contract.”

  “I wasn’t,” she snapped. “I always pay my debts. I was going to get the gem.”

  “I wasn’t talking about you.” Brink’s black eyes fell to Grey as he pushed himself up into a sitting position. “Still… I suppose you are off the hook now… and I didn’t exactly agree with what Ren wanted you to do.”

  It was a relief to hear that.

  Brink stared off to his left, towards the dead hunters and the lights. “No one should be enslaved, trapped against their will.”

  Grey had never really thought about how the dragons felt about their banishment, but the yearning in Brink’s dark eyes said it was hell for them, that they felt trapped in this bleak realm and longed for blue skies to fly in and the feel of sunshine on their scales.

  “Do you know of any reason why mortals are interested in this place?” He gripped Lyra’s shoulder and tried to stand. She held his arm and helped him, rising to her feet but moving behind him as she steadied him on his.

  Using him as a shield so Brink didn’t see her bare curves.

  Brink’s gaze slid to meet his, his black eyebrows dipped low, and then his focus drifted back towards the hunters, and lifted up, to the mountains.