by Lizzy Ford
“Hmmm.” His eyes narrowed, his gaze turning lethal once more. “So this takes away my magic.”
She nodded. “No more burning down buildings or terrorizing humans.”
“Interesting. What if it doesn’t work?”
“It’s never not worked,” she replied then stepped away. She spoke into the microphone. “Hey, guys, we’re ready.”
“Great work. Meet back at the truck,” Dillon replied.
“So, what happens if the dragon captures his slayer instead of vice versa?” Chace asked.
She raised an eyebrow. “I’m not understanding the question.”
“Let’s say a dragon decides to capture his slayer. He lures her into a secluded spot, lets her think she’s won then just … turns the tables.”
His words made her pulse fly. Her gaze swept over his muscular body once more.
“Why would he want to?” she asked.
“Maybe he thinks there’s something weird going on. Like that you slayers aren’t who or what you say you are. Too many inconsistencies surrounding you.”
Why does this almost make sense? She wanted to ask him more, aware of the instincts that had been trying to tell her something similar over the past two weeks.
We are the dragon’s protectors, her dream-mother had said. It was the exact opposite of what she’d been taught at The Field.
“It’s not possible with the lasso on,” she reasoned aloud. “He would’ve had to act before that. And hypothetically, if she couldn’t get the lasso on, she’d have to kill him.”
“Hypothetically, how would she do it?”
Skylar’s gaze dropped to the lasso. It was the one Dillon’s father gave her, the one used by previous slayers to capture dragons almost as old as the one before her. There was no way it wasn’t going to work, and there was no way Chace could take it off, now that she’d placed it around his neck. Everything she’d learned at the field supported her belief.
Don’t be silly, Sky. You just think he’s sexy – that’s why you’re confused.
“With a dragon scale dagger,” she replied. “It’s the only way.”
“I’m assuming our hypothetical dragon killer has one with her.”
“Of course. She never leaves home without it.”
If the clench of his jaw was any indication, he wasn’t happy with her words. Aware she was staring too long into the dark blue depths that lulled her into a sense of security like the waves whose hue they shared, Skylar started away.
“No more questions. Let’s go,” she said curtly over her shoulder.
“What if the lasso doesn’t work?”
Exasperated by the barrage of inquiries, she turned.
“It’s not possible for …” she drifted off, gaze falling to the lasso lying on the ground. The scent of fire was in the air, and the golden rope lay half in ashes at the shifter’s feet.
“All right. My turn.”
Her eyes flew up to his face at his calm words. She braced herself and whipped out the scale dagger, ready for him to tackle her.
He didn’t. Instead, he backed away into the open area, his nails lengthening and eyes flaring with flames. His skin rippled, his body beginning to expand within his clothing until they were stretched taught around bulging muscles while fire curled out of his nostrils.
“I’ll give you a head start,” he offered.
“I’m trained for this. I’m not going to run.”
“Offer’s on the table.” He grunted then dropped on all fours.
The rippling of his body continued, and she watched with mesmerized horror as his body began to grow and morph. Scales emerged from his skin while small nubs appeared on his back behind his shoulders. They expanded rapidly, turning from nubs into feathers into wings.
He was growing at a rate that alarmed her. Within a blink, his body was the size of a small car. Seconds later, bigger than an SUV – and still rapidly changing.
Gripping the hilt of her dragon-scale knife hard, she nonetheless found herself stepping back.
“Guys, we got a problem,” she whispered, craning her head back to watch the shifter go from expanding width wise to height wise. “A really, big … huge problem.”
After a full sixty seconds, Chace unfurled his long wings and shook his head. Scales were still forming along his body, though his piercing blue gaze settled on her.
“How big?” Mason asked.
“I’d say building-sized,” she breathed, unable to believe her eyes.
Chace wasn’t large – he was massive, his feathered wingspan over half the length of a football field. His wings shimmered a dark, metallic teal, and his body was thick, solid, easily the size of a small building. He stood on four legs thicker than she was wide, each of which ended in a paw three feet across with razor sharp talons half that size. A large head with fangs longer than her thigh was perched upon a short neck while deep-set eyes were lined with lashes longer than her fingers.
The huge creature before her was magnificent, beautiful in a terrifying way. The sun made his wings sparkle as if with magic, and the mesmerizing hue of his eyes was only magnified by their size.
I’ve seen a dragon before. A great one with dark blue wings even larger than Chace’s. The image in her mind was nothing more than a flash of a great beast flying over her head belching fire. It’s not possible.
Chace’s growling distracted her from the errant thought. He tossed his head once more. Smoke curled out of one flared nostril, a warning sign that jarred her out of her transfixed surprise. She’d seen that before and innately knew it was time to run.
“I’ll take that head start,” she said, hoping he at least understood her words, even if he wasn’t able to speak. “So … like ten minutes? An hour?” She backed away as she spoke, praying he gave her enough time to escape being burnt into a crisp.
He shook his head.
Uncertain what that meant, she turned and bolted between the buildings. A whoosh of air made her look up, and she saw him hovering above the buildings, watching. Expecting him to fry her up good, she hunched her shoulders and ran to the end.
“Holy shit!” Mason’s exclamation reminded her that the other two were nearby. “He’s … he’s … what the hell?”
“Yeah and I think I pissed him off,” she said.
Rather than run out into the open, she stopped and tested a door leading into one of the buildings. It opened, and she hurried inside.
The storage building was only half full with an open bay opposite the stacked pallets. She tucked the knife away, at a loss as to how she was going to get close enough to use it against that large of a creature.
“Dillon, I really need to talk to your dad about now,” she said quietly. “He burnt the lasso to a crisp.”
“You’re shitting me,” Dillon responded. “It’s not possible.”
“We didn’t think he’d be bigger than a truck, either,” Mason pointed out. “Sky, he’s circling the building you’re in. Totally freaking everyone out.”
She looked up at the corrugated roof far above her. Scared yet furious at herself for running, she wished she’d spoken to Caleb more about what to do if she pissed off a dragon shifter.
“He’s torching the other buildings around you. You’re about to be trapped in there,” Mason said grimly.
“Shit, shit, shit!” she muttered. “I can’t get close enough to stab something that big!” She sprinted to the other end of the warehouse, to the side closest to the fence. Wrenching the door open, she was relieved to see no flames between her and the only escape route. About to make a run for it, Dillon’s next words stopped her.
“He’s cornered the people!”
Skylar’s hand stayed on the doorknob. The thought of hurting innocents made her sick – it was one of the reasons why she hadn’t fought her fate as a slayer too hard. She stared at the desert outside the fence. If the dragon was occupied, she had a chance to run.
I see you got my invitation.
He drew her here for a
reason, and he’d had a chance to fight her or light her on fire. What if this, too, was a play to get her outside the building?
Even if he didn’t intend to let her live, how could she run instead of trying to help innocent people?
Knowing she couldn’t just walk away when she was the only one who could possibly fight a dragon, Skylar spun and searched the interior of the building. She had to get his attention somehow, and being stuck in a warehouse wasn’t going to help.
A metal stairwell on one side of the building led to a catwalk above and a door she guessed led to the roof. Skylar raced to it and ran up the stairs, reaching the roof door breathless but determined to try to distract the dragon from his quest of hurting people he shouldn’t.
Wrenching it open, she trotted onto the roof, eyes drawn first to the fires blazing on either side of her before she spotted the massive dragon.
He’d cornered a few people against a building and was pacing fluidly back and forth in front of them, as if trying to choose which one to eat first.
Mason and Dillon were at the SUV, Dillon on the phone while Mason stood to the side, as much at a loss about what to do as she was, since the lassos hadn’t worked.
Chace brought me here for a reason. Skylar told herself this over and over. She strode to the edge of the warehouse’s roof, heart flip-flopping almost painfully in her chest.
Let’s say a dragon decides to capture his slayer.
Then again, the idea he wanted to capture her was almost worse than being fried.
“Hey!” she shouted, waving her arms. “Chace!”
For a moment, she didn’t think he was going to respond. Mason looked up at her.
“What’re you doing, Sky?” he asked.
“Saving lives, hopefully,” she replied then yelled, “Chace!”
“You got an escape plan?”
“I don’t think he wants me dead.”
“That’s not a plan.”
“I’ll figure one out.”
The dragon paused in his pacing and swung his head around to see her. She waved her arms over her head once more. After a moment of consideration, he turned and bound once towards her then leapt deftly into the air, lifting his massive body like it weighed nothing at all.
The vision of a dark blue dragon tore through her mind again, too crisp and clear to be a dream. An ache went through her, an indication she knew – or should have known – why the blue dragon was so vivid.
Skylar’s heart pounded in her ears. She moved away from the edge of the building, silently panicking. The dragon hovered in place, staring at her. He didn’t spit fire at her, which she took as a good sign.
“You … you said you were going to capture me, right?” she called. “I’m here.” She held her arms out.
“Are you nuts?” Mason belted in her ear. “You can’t remember to put the lids on jars of peanut butter. You can’t handle a dragon!”
“I’m capable of taking care of myself, Dillon,” she replied. Hopefully.
Chace lightly landed on the rooftop, wings still outspread, as if he was prepared to fly at the drop of a hat. He lowered his large head to her level, letting her see just how sharp the long fangs were.
Skylar backpedaled until she hit a ventilation box and stopped.
Chace was growling again, a rumble deep in his chest.
“You invited me,” she reminded him. “If you plan on … eating me, just do it. Otherwise, let’s leave innocent people out of this.” Like I’m in any position to tell a dragon what to do.
Chace’s wings rippled in response. He lifted himself into the air, causing a small gust of wind to sweep by her.
“Or you could just fly away, and we’ll forget this whole thing happened,” she added, skirting the ventilation box.
Chace hovered closer, and she sensed he was about to act. Though far from the roof door, she decided to make a run for it anyway.
Skylar whirled and ran. Before she made it two steps, she was snatched up in a talon. She squeezed her eyes closed, waiting for him to crush her. He didn’t, but she was soon aware of another sensation: that of flying.
Opening her eyes, she stared at the warehouse area as the buildings became smaller, distant and the ground far, far away.
Oh, god. He’s going to drop me!
She waited for it, terrified of the dizzying height to which he took her before he began flying westward at a speed that made the terrain below pass as quickly as if she was in a plane. Wind flattened her hair against her head while his uncomfortably tight grip kept her arms pinned at her sides. She’d never gotten air sick before, but the knowledge that there was nothing between her and instant death except for an angry dragon shifter made her want to vomit.
Instead she closed her eyes and tried to focus. If she could get to the knife, she could stab him.
Then fall screaming to her death.
Okay. Maybe wait til on the ground. She tried to pretend she was hang gliding or standing on a cliff with the wind rushing past her or … something. Anything to take her mind off the dragon carting her off to some unknown place.
The images behind her eyelids were almost as distressing. The dreams were no longer constricted to her sleep.
Skylar stood on a hill overlooking a large farm that was ablaze, from the farmhouse where she’d spent her summers to the cornfields that ran in each direction as far as she could see. Her gaze followed the billowing smoke upward toward the sky, where she saw the great blue dragon circling high above. Sun glinted off his dark scales, creating small rainbows around him.
She was eleven or twelve in this vision.
“Mama, where is he going?” Skylar asked.
“C’mon, Sky. You have to get out of the open. They’ll see you!” her mother said urgently.
Skylar retreated from the hilltop to the car waiting down below on a dirt, country road. Her mother was shaking, her face covered in soot.
Skylar looked down at her hands and saw them, too, covered with soot and streaked with blood. The sight left her rattled.
“Are we going home now?” she asked anxiously.
“No, baby. We can’t go home. They’ll find us there. We just have to keep moving,” her mother said and got into the car. “Get in, Sky.”
Skylar sensed Chace turn and risked a peek below, more than happy to leave the disturbing daydream alone. The desert had given away to greener areas: mountains filled with pine trees. Chace was lazily circling one mountain, descending slowly as he did. Clearly, he wasn’t going to drop her, which left her insides tight and knotted not to know what his intentions were.
The circles made her nauseous again, so she closed her eyes, waiting for the horrifying ride to end. Abruptly, he released her. She didn’t have time to scream; the fall to the grassy earth was about a foot.
Her eyes flew open, and she quickly tried to get her bearings. It was cooler here than in the desert, the air clear and crisp. She was on a grassy plateau surrounded by pine trees and …
His cabin. The same one that had been behind the bar.
What the hell?
She hopped to her feet and faced the massive dragon, whose wings were folded. He lifted his head towards the cabin.
She wanted to refuse, but faced with what was outside, she decided against it.
Skylar fled, shoving open the door and slamming it shut behind her. The cabin was cozy and homey like she recalled, his subtle scent in the air. Shaking from adrenaline and fear, she sat down on a chair, eyeing the door fearfully.
“You guys there?” she asked.
“Oh, thank god!” Mason exclaimed.
“You’re alive? For reals?” Dillon almost managed to sound concerned.
“So far,” she said wryly. “No idea where I am. We flew west for like, ten minutes and are now on some mountain.”
“I’ll see if I can Google it,” Mason said.
“What the fuck is going on?” Dillon demanded.
“Damned if I know,” she admitted. Recovered enough to take i
n her surroundings, she stood and drew her knife, going to the door. “I’ve got one plan. After that, I’m out.”
“Knife?”
“Yeah.”
“If the lasso didn’t work, I wonder if the knife does.”
She looked down at the grey-black knife that looked like stone. “Dammit, Dillon. Can you be supportive for once?” There was a note of panic in her voice, one she hated to hear.
The screen door of the cabin creaked open, and she steadied her breathing. Her focus was all over the place, affected as much by emotion as the bombardment of sensations from flying.
“Be back, guys,” she whispered and crept to the door.
Skylar stood behind it, praying for all she was worth that the dagger would take out whatever came through the door.
It opened, and she waited.
Chapter Eight
When his leg appeared past the door, she shoved the door closed and lunged.
Chace responded with reflexes unlike any she’d seen, twisting. The blow aimed at his heart scraped his bicep instead. He snatched her wrist and used her weight against her, yanking her hard.
Completely off-balance, she had no choice but to fall into the direction he pulled her. He bent her wrist until she released the weapon then snatched both wrists, and hauled her into him, trapping her in his arms. She shifted one leg back between his to regain her balance, surprised at what she felt along her thigh.
“Jesus, are you … naked?” she asked.
“Oh, now you’re a girl scout,” he growled. He held her in place the way he had in the bar the night they first met.
The body behind her was warm and solid, assuring her he wasn’t a dragon any longer. Except that, right now, she was recalling how delicious he looked naked and how much she’d enjoyed his body.
“They don’t make dragon-sized clothes, do they?” she asked in the awkward silence.
He didn’t respond but pinned her hands above her head against the wall in a familiar pose. He leaned into her, his body resting against hers as his wide palms and long fingers ran from her wrists down her arms and to her chest.
Don’t be turned on. Don’t be turned on.