by Liza Street
“Your queen, now,” Nolan said.
Night enshrouded them, but Nolan could see their surprise clearly enough. He could also see that their clothes were black with char, mostly rags, as if they’d been burned.
The man currently twisting Nolan’s arm let him go. He was as tall as Nolan, with dark blond hair and the kind of sculpted jaw that Kayla, Nina, and Gemma would have been giggling over. He said, “We thought the queen and king might have perished, but hoped otherwise. Who are you?”
“You must be Derrickson,” Nolan said, growling through the pain of his wrenched arm.
“Answer Collings’s question,” he said.
“Tamryn is my mate,” Nolan said.
His pronouncement was met with silence.
“The white bear doesn’t sound as if he’s lying,” the third man said in a thoughtful voice. He had green eyes like Charles’s, but that was where the similarities ended. His brown hair was far lighter and his build was thicker.
Collings shook his head. “Impossible. She was betrothed to Wexley.”
“A fine, upstanding gentleman. Obviously,” Nolan said in a dry voice.
“A fine, upstanding bastard,” Derrickson said. “I take it the betrothal is off?”
Nolan nodded. “He seemed fine with it.”
“Considering he’s planning on skinning the lot of us,” Collings said, “it ain’t much of a surprise, is it?”
“Why is he doing this?” Nolan asked. “He’s a dragon, too.”
“Money. Land.” Derrickson sneered. “We lost everything because of that witch’s spell. Everything except our princess. We’ve got nothing to call our own. Wexley must have seen an opportunity to remake himself.”
Nolan stood up and paced the length of their cage. It was formed on a trailer, like he’d first thought, the kind of thing Erena from the RCC would use to build one of her tiny houses. The bars were thick metal. He tugged at one, but he suspected that if three male dragon shifters hadn’t been able to dismantle the cage, he wouldn’t be able to, either.
The hinges and the lock on the cage door looked just as sturdy. Nolan swore under his breath.
“So none of you has shifted yet,” he said.
“We have not, no,” Collings confirmed.
“Does shifting give you increased strength?” he asked.
The third guy shook his head. “No, unfortunately. Also, one of us shifting would not leave any room for the other two; it would squeeze them to death against the bars. Believe me, we’ve considered all of the options.”
Nolan nodded. Somehow, they’d get out of this. He just didn’t know how, yet. Holding out a hand, he said, “I’m Nolan Marks.”
The tallest guy, the one Nolan had suspected was Derrickson, shook his hand first. “Fitz Derrickson. Head of the palace warriors protecting the Estrayla court.”
Collings shook his hand, too. “Already introduced meself, but I’m Ernest Collings. One of the palace warriors.”
“Thomas Grant,” the green-eyed guy said.
“Let me guess, another warrior?” Nolan said.
Grant nodded. “Precisely. Illary recruited us for her magic, and a few others, after the castle was attacked. She told us our duty lay in protecting the princess.”
“Our queen, now,” Collings clarified, his eyes lowered.
“How many of you are there?” Nolan asked. Maybe some of the others would arrive and help them battle Charles and the Bitterroots.
“We’ve no idea,” Derrickson said. “We do know they already found and killed another warrior, Jack Tyrne—it’s his pelt we’ve seen them wearing.”
Fucking gross. Skin an animal and wear it. Nolan felt his face twist with disgust.
“If we can’t open the cage,” Nolan said, “then we need to convince one of them to do it.”
“Right,” said Derrickson. “For some reason, our entreaties have gone ignored.”
Nolan looked at the waste bucket in the corner. “They ever empty that?”
Collings made a scoffing sound and pointed to the trees. “No. We toss the contents out that way.”
That explained the stench.
“They’re feeding you?” Nolan asked.
“Some,” Grant said with a shrug. “They shove packets of food and bottles of water through the bars. I believe the sustenance is just enough to keep our strength up so that it’s possible for us to shift. Not that any of us will.”
“But...if you started to shift, would they open the cage?” Nolan asked.
“I suppose they might,” Derrickson said. “But you must understand, as soon as we take our dragon forms, we’re killed. I would gladly die to protect the princess—the queen—but my death would only provide the enemy with my pelt, and that pelt would be another weapon to be used against my queen.”
Nolan slumped down to sit on the floor of the cage. His skin prickled at the cold metal, but he was too tired to stand. The hole in his leg had begun to heal, at least, the flesh knitting together. It would take some time for the bone and muscles to reform, but he would heal.
Footsteps crunched over the gritty lot.
“’E’s coming back,” Collings said, peering into the darkened space. “He’s in Tyrne’s skin again.”
A stench reached Nolan’s nose—the stench of death and rot. Ponytail stood before them, holding a pelt of dragon scales over his head. The skin trailed behind him like some kind of disgusting bridal veil.
“Who wants to shift first?” Ponytail asked, his voice mocking.
The men were silent.
Ponytail sighed. “We’ll wear you fuckers down eventually. In the meantime, I get to be a dragon. No skin off my snout.” He gave a hysterical-sounding laugh.
Nolan was unable to look away as the guy cloaked himself entirely in the putrid skin. The skin glowed with a sickly orange light that grew brighter and brighter until the light faded and a reddish-orange dragon stood before them on giant, trunk-like legs. The dragon bent its neck until its snout was pointing directly at the cage.
What was he going to do now? Nolan held his breath, waiting.
“Get behind me, gents,” Collings said. “It’s my turn to bear the brunt of it.”
The dragon opened its giant maw. Four-foot-long teeth showed around a black, serpentine tongue. All smelled of rot and death, and Nolan gagged.
The dragon inhaled, its orange eyes glittering cruelly. Then it exhaled. Fire.
Collings held his arms out in front of the others and screamed. Flames licked over them all. Nolan closed his eyes.
All was fire. All was pain. Nolan allowed himself the reprieve of unconsciousness.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Night fell over the forest. The stars were out, scattered like glimmering tears over a clear sky.
Tamryn felt foolish for trying to rest. It was impossible. Her closed eyes only let her think too much, and thinking was painful.
Nolan’s body was still back at that encampment.
The other dragons were still there. She thought she’d recognized Fitz Derrickson and Ernest Collings, possibly Thomas Grant.
Could Tamryn leave them all behind? They would never leave her.
But what could she do, really? She was powerless. She was one unarmed woman who couldn’t shift into her dragon. It would be best to return to Idaho for reinforcements, if Jameson would spare any after she’d lost Nolan...
She choked back a sob. No. She couldn’t think like this.
She sensed movement nearby, so quiet that she was tempted to ignore it. Delicate footsteps sounded over the pine needles.
Too delicate for a skin-hunter or someone who meant her harm. She sat up and peered into the darkness past the boulders that made the edge of her little hollow. A doe and fawn stood, necks outstretched, noses in the air.
“Jubilee,” she whispered.
The fawn approached and sniffed her shoulder before curling up against her front.
Tears soaked Tamryn’s face.
The doe raised her nos
e to the air and seemed to be looking for danger. Finding none, she, too, lay down in the pine needles next to Tamryn.
Sandwiched between the two deer, Tamryn fell into a restless sleep.
“Babe,” Nolan whispered in her ear.
She startled and opened her eyes, looking up at him. This was a dream. The deer were gone and she wore a deep purple gown which was soft as silk against her skin. There was no wilderness around them, no other people, only a gray fog.
“I miss you,” she said, her voice cracking. She struggled to her feet to stand before him.
His arms came around her and he stroked up and down her back. The movements were soothing, but she couldn’t ignore the wide planes of muscles across his torso. After all, this was her dream, so he wasn’t wearing a shirt.
“I’m coming back to you, don’t worry,” he said.
She looked at him. “Please don’t give me false hope. You’re dead.”
Pulling back slightly, he examined his chest and arms. “I look alive enough to me.”
She wouldn’t spoil the dream by recounting his fall, or the way she’d seen all that white fur stained with his blood. Wrapping her arms around him, she tugged him close until their faces were right in front of each other. She was close enough to count his blond eyelashes, close enough to kiss his lips with hers, close enough to feel his heart beating, so strong beneath the palm of her hand.
He lifted her gown, inching it higher over her legs. His hands were hot, commanding. It felt so real, the way he caressed her skin, bringing his hand up and up to her knee, then to her inner thigh. She gasped and bowed her head until she rested against his strong shoulder. His fingers were right there, so close to where she wanted to be touched.
“I need you,” she whispered.
Stepping away, he let go of her and let her gown fall back around her legs. He winked and whispered back, “So come and get me.”
Then he disappeared into the darkness.
“Wait!” she called.
The sound of her own voice woke her up and startled the deer. Jubilee and her mother each scrambled to their feet and jumped a few feet away from her. She was no longer enveloped in a thick gray fog. Instead, the sun was rising, setting the tips of the trees orange.
“Apologies,” Tamryn said to the skittish deer. “It was a dream.”
And it had been such a good dream, until the end.
Then her mind made the connection her heart had been afraid to. Nolan had talked about dreams, and how his father and brother were dream-walkers. He’d said that he didn’t have the ability, but what if he did? After all, he said he often woke up knowing things. He’d known the song Tamryn’s mother used to sing to her. Perhaps he’d found the dream-walking ability within him during a time of great need?
In the dream, she’d said she needed him. But he needed her.
There was still hope. Hope for Nolan, was her wish, but also for the dragon shifters they’d seen caged. She could go back and see her mate and her people saved.
Jubilee and her mother turned their heads, peering at her cautiously as she stood up.
“The two of you may want to hurry away before you see what I become,” Tamryn warned them.
Jubilee inched forward and brushed her wet, dark nose against Tamryn’s hand.
“Be well, little fawn,” Tamryn whispered. “Thank you, and your mother, for keeping me warm.”
Then Jubilee bounded away, and her mother leaped through the trees after her.
There was no doubt in Tamryn’s mind as she stripped off her shirt and pants. No hesitation. She knew what she must become, and she would become that thing. Her dragon would save them all.
Instead of sitting down to meditate, she remained standing. Closing her eyes, she breathed in and out.
“I am a daughter of the Estrayla court, and I will save my people.”
Heat flared over her body. She opened her eyes to see violet and purple light surrounding her. Her legs thickened before her very eyes, and pale purple scales formed over her skin. Pain shot through her limbs as her bones lengthened, and when she cried out, she heard a guttural growl instead of a scream.
She smiled through the pain, knowing that the effect would have been grotesque to anyone looking. But her lips formed a grin, because the pain meant that she was becoming who and what she needed to be.
She was doing what her mother—and Nolan—had asked of her. She was becoming strong.
She would save her people.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Nolan’s skin felt blistered. When he moved his mouth, his lips cracked and stung. Someone’s heavy leg was draped over one of his. He heaved it off of him as he sat up.
Trees swept past them, trunks and branches blurring together when Nolan let his gaze unfocus. The occasional bumps jostled Nolan and his skin screamed with each disturbance. The cage was moving.
Scents of charred flesh and hair filled his nose. Derrickson was sitting up, his head leaning against one of the cage bars. Most of his shirt was gone, or melted to his chest. He stared back at Nolan, eyes filled with despair and pain.
Next to Nolan and prone on his back was Grant, his light brown hair sticking out on one side of his head, burnt away on the other. His arm was twisted unnaturally; it had to be broken, at that angle. His chest rose and fell with short, shallow breaths. Injured, but alive.
Collings, though. Collings had taken the brunt of the flames. Nolan flicked his gaze toward the other end of the cage. A pathetic shape lay across the width of the cage, unmoving. No breath lifted the blackened torso.
“Dead,” Nolan said aloud, forcing the word through his scorched windpipe.
“Aye,” Derrickson confirmed. “He took his final breath an hour or so ago. He was a good warrior and a good man.”
“I’m sorry we lost him,” Nolan said.
“Yes, me, too,” Derrickson said.
Something unfurled in Nolan’s chest, like a flower blossoming. It felt at odds with what he saw before him, but then he remembered. He’d dreamed of Tamryn. He’d spoken to her. She was safe, alive. He wondered whether or not to share the information with Derrickson, then decided that it couldn’t hurt anything.
“Tamryn is alive and unharmed,” Nolan said.
Derrickson shot him a suspicious look. “And you would know this how, exactly?”
“Dreamed her,” Nolan said simply.
“That isn’t the most outlandish thing I’ve ever heard,” Derrickson said.
Grant moaned. He moved his arm as if he’d pick himself up, then stopped suddenly. His moan turned into an anguished cry.
“Tommy,” Derrickson said. “Wake up, mate.”
It took Nolan a moment to remember that “mate” also meant “friend” to the English.
Grant opened his eyes. Nolan helped him sit up so he wouldn’t need to put weight on the broken arm. Wincing, Grant leaned against the side of the cage. His eyes found Collings’s body and his expression shuttered.
“I should’ve been the one to take the flames,” Grant said. “It wasn’t truly his turn; it was mine.”
“He died a hero,” Derrickson said, eyes flashing.
“Yes, well, that’s quite like Collings,” Grant said. “Always stealing the glory.”
Nolan watched, perplexed, as the two men smiled at each other. They started to laugh, but their laughter dissolved into pained coughing.
“He’ll be missed,” Grant said once he could speak again.
“Aye, he will,” Derrickson said, sobering.
The truck pulling their cage came to a stop. Nolan looked up in alarm.
“They’re going to move a fallen tree or somesuch,” Derrickson said. “The road isn’t well-maintained, apparently. They’ve had to stop several times. I’d wager we haven’t traveled more than a mile since leaving the camp.”
“How many vehicles?” Nolan asked, trying to remember how many he’d seen at the campsite. “Two?”
“This one pulling us along, and another in fron
t of it,” Derrickson said. “You’d think they might move faster with these modern machines.”
“We should use this stop to our advantage,” Nolan said, lowering his voice.
“You have ideas?” Derrickson asked.
Even Grant perked up.
Nolan looked down at his body. He was in no condition to fight. Angry red burns covered his legs and much of his torso. Even his dick had been burnt. He’d heal, but everything looked raw and hurt like a motherfucker.
They had to get out of here before that asshole decided it was time to test them again. He didn’t want to see another one of these men die, and he sure as hell had more to live for than he’d ever had before in his life. Tamryn. The thought of her out there, struggling to find safety, steeled his resolve.
“You’re not gonna like my idea,” Nolan said.
Derrickson flicked his gaze to Nolan. “Whatever it is, we’ll do it.”
“We use Collings,” Nolan said.
“It’s not as if they’ll remove his body. They don’t care if he’s dead in here with us,” Grant said.
“They will if we tell them he’s shifting to heal,” Nolan said. “They don’t know he’s dead, do they?”
“We can’t fake the glowing light of a shift,” Derrickson said. “Not unless we’re actually shifting into our dragons.”
The sound of a chainsaw started up as Bronson’s men began to take care of whatever tree had fallen across the old road.
“I can shift, and there’s light when I do it,” Nolan said, pointing to himself. “You two can get in front of me and Collings, like you’re trying to hide what he’s doing. I’ll be behind, shifting.”
Grant looked skeptical.
Nolan shrugged. “We have to make them think we don’t want them to open the cage, but we also don’t want to get squished by a dragon shifting within the bars. Hopefully they won’t think to count who’s standing.”
“I said we would do it, whatever it was,” Derrickson said, rising up to stand. “Come on, Tommy.”
Grant’s arm was already starting to heal, and he moved it carefully back and forth as he came to stand beside Derrickson. Nolan and Derrickson eased Collings’s body to the rear of the cage, where Nolan and the body would be mostly out of sight.