***
Zaynah’s human awareness receded after she moved completely into dragon form.
The room turned red. The frigid wind had died down. More of her memories returned.
The times the emperor had drained her, robbing her of her dragon’s strength came back with a new clarity and depth of understanding. Anger surged through her, dulling the residual pain from her first shift. Temper blocked all awareness of her surroundings.
Something strange and terrible had happened to her.
Her body felt as if she’d been ripped apart and put back together with a lot of extra pieces, which seemed to pretty much cover the situation.
The shift hurt, but not half as much as losing Diablo and Gunn would.
She squinted through the eye-watering aftermath of her initial transition.
Prado battled the allied troops.
Her mates pounded the monstrous wyvern with fire.
They’d staged a credible rally. By using a super-blaster they’d forced him and his guards to retreat from station’s wounded.
Then as suddenly as it began the agonizing pain left. She took a tentative step forward, felt a drag, and glanced over her shoulder. A wicked tail followed her very large ass everywhere. She frowned at the new appendage, wary of its unpredictability.
Careful not to jar anyone, she lifted the tailpiece and shook off the remnants of her ruined one-piece, clinging to its sharp spikes. She managed another faltering step, still too slow and clumsy, but closer to the enemy.
Prado’s mighty head turned, jaws agape. The trooper he’d been mangling dropped from his mouth to the floor with a nerve-shredding shriek.
Zaynah quelled an urge to hurry toward the wounded man. Near enough for Prado’s stench to pinch her sinuses, she studied her foe for weaknesses. His impressive fangs dripped with blood and gore she didn’t want to identify.
His silvery gaze locked with hers. His horrible mouth gaped wider and nostrils the size of a warrior’s head flared as he drew in a mighty breath to annihilate her.
She braced for a meteor-storm force gale.
Instead of the icy wind she’d expected, he spoke.
“Hurry, I need your strength.”
His plea carried a full load of compulsion, calling to her imperial conditioning—demanding obedience.
The control center glowed a brighter red as if she viewed the battle through ruby glasses. How dare he?
A primal roar of rage and pain shook the room. Even Prado jerked back from the deafening noise. The bellow continued, gathering power, growing louder. Men covered their ears, machinery rattled and toppled. The emperor cowered.
The mighty sound that rocked the station had come from her throat.
Fierce anger unleashed her fire. She breathed white-hot flames, incinerating the last of the d’skeku flanking Prado. The heat so intense they were instantly reduced to perfect ash replicas of royal guards.
Prado’s wings had been badly scorched. He crawled for the exit. His loyal warriors crumbled to dust as he brushed past in his haste to escape.
Zaynah drew in another deep breath, focused, and then blasted his back.
His scales bubbled and blistered. Stunned, he sank to the ground.
Lumbering forward, she reached for him with awesome claws.
Unhampered by what was left of his scaly hide, her talons sliced deep, sinking into the base of his fleshy tail. She used her hold on the ancient worm to rip at his vulnerable underbelly with her free forearm, slashing ruthlessly.
Prado rolled to get away from her, exposing more of his belly. She turned using her powerful rear legs to rent him with deep slashes that spurted blood, oozed fluids, and finally gray stinking intestines spilled from him.
His irritating pepper scent blended with ancient evil and rotting flesh to form a nauseating reek that polluted the air.
She fought her gag reflex, breathed through her mouth, and extended her talons, aiming to rip out his treacherous heart for the death strike.
With amazing speed, Prado twisted again. His huge tail detached.
By the time she’d freed herself from his loathsome caudal appendage, he’d shifted to human form.
A low rumble of outraged shock echoed around the center as the trooper recognized the unmistakable profile of the Emperor Prado. Naked with a bloody nose, numerous oozing wounds, and an angry red patch over his tailbone, he limped away. Before anyone could block the exit, he scrambled from the arena, clutching his intestines.
An unexpected fireball caught the escaping Prado dead-on his reddened ass, knocking him to his knees.
He shrieked like a cadet enduring first discipline.
Zaynah didn’t bother thanking whichever mate had felled him. She loped over to his writhing body and flipped him so he’d know who ended his miserable life.
Too weak to defend himself, dull gray eyes rolled back in his head as he bared his throat.
Forget tearing out his blackened heart, she severed his neck with a single slash.
His human head, with its distinctive queue rolled into the smoldering bots and incinerated.
For a second, Zaynah and her dragon watched through ruby irises, tracking his departure, tensed lest the monster rose again.
A soft groan from Diablo pulled her away from the gruesome remains. She turned carefully, eyeing him anxiously.
Terrified to touch him with her lethal claws, she scanned the area for help. She opened her mouth to summon aid. A puff of smoke rolled out and she snapped her teeth together, too frightened to attempt speech. Instead, she licked him with a long forked tongue, certain that at least the tender caress wouldn’t harm him.
No one came running to help him. She glared at the station’s soldiers.
“Do you think she can tell friend from foe?” an allied trooper whispered.
Zaynah knew she needed to move away from Diablo so he could get the medical attention he needed. Unfortunately her beast wasn’t a trusting female.
And the dragon was in charge.
Chapter Eleven
Gunn swallowed hard. Zaynah stood in front of Diablo’s fallen body, ready to eviscerate anyone, who dared approach her mate.
He sought Xeth in the crowd and caught his attention.
“Can you handle Skynet for a while?”
The old campaigned worked through the spectators.
“Take care of your family. I’ll yell if there any trouble.”
Torn between critical responsibilities Gunn hesitated.
“Go on with you. They need you, lad.” His old friend gave him a firm shove in the right direction.
The crowd parted for Gunn and strode across the center until he stood a few milors from Zaynah, holding himself as still as possible and waited for her to acknowledge him.
When she didn’t speak, he pitched his voice for her ears alone.
“Diablo needs healing. Please let me help. I promise I won’t hurt him, sweetheart.”
Her mouth opened, revealing long, wicked looking fangs. A small smoky burp escaped. She turned her head away, covered her snout with a clenched fist, and kept a suspicious eye on the restless men behind him.
“Throwing flames does that to me too,” he volunteered with sincere sympathy.
Expressive ruby eyes widened in surprise.
He reached to caress her supple neck.
“Step away from it and we’ll kill the monster, sir,” someone yelled behind him.
Gunn whirled in fury. He opened his arms and widened his stance, placing himself between her and the soldiers behind him.
“Stand down and for the Goddess’s sake, and your own sorry asses, stay well back before she incinerates the lot of you. She’s only protecting Diablo and she’s not going to hurt me.”
“Find the medi-droid and send him here.” He glowered at the men, who cowered in the face of his wrath.
They edged back, staring at him slack-jawed.
“Go,” he roared.
They backed away, muttering.
> Gunn had no more patience for spare for the ignorant troopers.
Zaynah remained too tense.
He was confident she would never deliberately hurt him or Diablo, but nervous warriors presented an obvious threat to his little dragon. More worrisome, he didn’t have any idea how much control she wielded over her beast. All he picked up from their mental link were images from the battle and fear for Diablo. She was still his—dragon or woman made no difference. The bond connecting them was permanent. Mating trumped every other consideration. However, it didn’t solve the problem of how reassure her. Plus, he had his own inner demon to contend with—that primal part of him screamed for him to protect what was his.
Zaynah’s safety and well-being were his priorities. Since he was unable to connect to her human thoughts, he guessed her dragon management ability hovered somewhere between poor to non-existent.
One of the allied troops stepped forward.
Gunn tensed and growled deep in his throat, ready to eliminate the danger to his mate.
The trooper halted at a respectful distance, dropped to one knee, and bowed low. With a graceful movement, the soldier removed the helmet, a mass of dark curls tumbled out to frame a feminine face. She lowered her head again, almost touching the floor.
“The emperor is dead, long live the empress. I pledge my fealty to your service, eminence,” her clear soprano echoed throughout the room.
A squad of the allies joined their leader, each trooper doffing his helmet, bowing, and thumping his heart with a clenched fist in a gesture of allegiance to Zaynah.
They weren’t a threat to his female, which was all Gunn cared about.
The medi-droid rolled up. “Excuse me sir, please be so kind as to direct me to the patient.”
Gunn directed the bot to his unconscious brother. Before he’d dropped his arm back to his side, the mech whirred forward.
“Relax, ma’am this is for your own good,” the annoying mech chirped, injecting Zaynah’s generous hindquarters with something from its medical arsenal.
Gunn spun around in time to watch his beautiful dragon crumble to the floor. Her whole body shimmied, shooting off dangerous sparks. Then her scales faded into smooth pale skin.
Fear and anger warred for top spot as Gunn clenched his jaw, stripped off his one-piece, and draped it around Zaynah. Satisfied he’d covered her as well as possible; he scooped her into his arms and studied her ashen features for signs of life.
Impossibly long black lashes lifted.
“Is Diablo all right?”she croaked.
He bobbed a yes, averted his eyes, and swallowed emotions threatening to choke him.
“How are you?” She cupped his face with a soft hand, turning him back until their gazes met.
At her touch, the link between them flared to life. The connection gave all him the reassurance he needed. His terror, rage, and jealousy dissolved in the heat of her unconditional love for both him and his brother.
Her lashes drifted closed, shutting him out of her mind and leaving her much too still in his arms.
“What in the seven hells did you give her?” He growled at the medi-droid.
“Excuse me sir, are you referring to the large beast? Where is it? It seemed to be in some distress. I had to estimate dosage since I’m not programmed in reptile physiology beyond the most basic—.”
“Shut up.” Gunn cut off the mech’s prattle with a snarl. After a moment to rein in his temper, he cleared his throat and tried once more.
“What was in the injection you gave the reptile?”
The droid whirred for a minute, accessing its memory.
“Ten thousand units of Pacium, sir. Do you think the dose was too high?”
“Let’s hope not.” Gunn bit off a curse.
“Indeed sir, if you could locate the creature perhaps—.”
“Take care of Diablo and try not to kill him,” Gunn snapped, angrier with himself than the silly bot.
The station needed a real healer, had for a long time. With so many, more urgent, priorities, demanding his attention year in and year out, he’d put off establishing a functional emergency medical team. He and his brother had little need for drugs or doctors. Demons had a remarkable healing capacity and were bloody hard to kill. He hoped the same held true for dragons.
Zaynah’s shallow breathing and her weak, rapid pulse scared the seven hells out of him. He especially didn’t like the heat she threw off. Fire creatures ran hot, but his female was burning up in his arms.
He kept her snuggled against his chest and reluctantly stepped into the vacuum Zaynah left when she shifted. After setting up a triage station and moving the most seriously injured to the medi-center where Xeth’s lone medic toiled. He shunted the rest to temporary barracks. Without his mate’s help everything took too long
The allied soldier, who’d been the first to pledge her fealty to Zaynah approached.
“May I be of assistance?”
“Are you a medic?” Gunn frowned.
“I’m half water demon.” She lowered her lashes modestly.
He peered at her more closely. A faint trail of green scales peeked from under her collar, confirming her healing heritage. Rare gray-green eyes met his with calm patience.
“Check on Diablo, my brother, please.” He angled his head toward where he lay.
She nodded her agreement and joined the droid prodding Diablo with a hand held scanner. Seconds later, the bot rolled off in the direction of medi-center.
They were bloody fortunate to have her help. Water demons were rarer than duranium deposits. Almost always female, they were natural healers and empaths. To find one serving in the military boggled Gunn’s mind. He set aside the puzzle for now and pressed his mouth to Zaynah’s forehead, gauging her temperature. Her smooth skin almost blistered his lips.
He settled them on a bench, cradling her against his chest. To distract himself from her frightening fever, he spoke to the healer, “What’s your name?”
“Are you talking to me?” The female glanced at him over her shoulder.
“Yes.”
“Nadia.” Her focus returned to Diablo.
His brother’s chest rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm and his color had improved as she bathed him with ice water and extraordinary talent.
The healer seemed to be doing an excellent job with his brother, but Zaynah wasn’t another soldier or even a demon.
Dangerously weakened by her first transition, she was vulnerable. Dragons were rare and coveted for their magical power throughout the known universe. Even a few drops of wyvern blood sent the super-rich into a bidding frenzy. Could he trust this half-demon with his mate’s life?
He swallowed a reluctant sigh, although he was a possessive male, he wasn’t selfish enough to deny his mate care in order to keep her close. At last decided, he rose and strode to where the water demon worked, cradling his unconscious mate.
“She’s burning up.”
Nadia nodded while she continued to sponge Diablo’s forehead with a cloth dipped in melting ice. Only when she seemed satisfied his brother was stable, did she turn to assess Zaynah. Cool gray-green eyes skimmed his mate’s slender body. Gently, she laid two fingers on her wrist.
“Please put her next to her mate.”
Gunn blinked stupidly, then realized she meant next to Diablo.
“I’m sorry. I just assumed that you were aware she’s bonded to both of you.” Her voice trailed off and her cheeks grew pink.
“I knew. The bond is new,” he explained gruffly.
“Oh.” She regained her poise. “Then you’ll understand his presence comforts her the same way yours does.
“Of course.” He dipped his chin.
Nadia examined Zaynah with cool, deft passes of a medi-scan.
“The fever seems natural. Her system does register an unusually large amount of an unknown sedative.”
“Pacium,” Gunn muttered.
“Perhaps she’s having a reaction to the drug. Di
d she ingest anything else unusual?”
Did inhaling noxious air dragon gases qualify? Gunn shuddered.
“Not that I know about.”
“I’ll keep a close watch on both of them.” She regarded him with professional detachment. “You need rest as well.”
“Tell Xeth to wake me if there’re any problems.” Happy to accept the healer’s suggestion, he nestled next to his mate.
***
Diablo woke first, checked on Zaynah’s condition, and then Gunn’s. Both were cool and peaceful, sleeping like exhausted newts.
The last thing he remembered was collapsing during the fight with Prado.
Someone had moved them to the commander’s quarters. He frowned. Where were the cots, gurneys, and wounded troops in Zaynah’s emergency triage station? And who was running skynet?
He padded out to the command center.
Xeth grunted an acknowledgement of his presence and nudged a meteor shower away from Ranin Seven without taking his gaze from the monitor.
Diablo grinned. He should have guessed their old friend was a fire demon.
The displays revealed nothing more threatening than repair crews working on the bays and tarmac. The worst of the interior mess had already been cleared. A heavy tarp backed new syn-steel grid work along the north side of the station. Power equipment whirred and hummed while a small army rebuilt their fortress.
“What are you doing up and about, lad?” Xeth asked.
“Can’t keep a fire guy down.”
“Himself gave it his best shot.”
“Zaynah kicked his ass.”
“The lass did a grand job.” Xeth chuckled.
“If you can handle skynet for another half hour, I’m going to hit the sanitizer and try to soak out the worst of my kinks.”
“You’ll be needing more than hot water for that, lad.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” His abused muscles protested and his joints creaked on the short trip back to their quarters.
Diablo slipped into the attached facilities for a shower. After fifteen minutes of steam cleaning his sore limbs still weren’t ready for battle, but he was fit enough to monitor threats and run the console.
He dressed and walked through of the station again. The monitors displayed the surface and docking bay damage. Thank the Goddess he didn’t spot any new problems. He greeted his men, disheartened by the numbers still recovering from serious wounds—a greater percentage of their force than he’d hoped.
Flight of Dragons Page 77