by T. A. White
If she survived the first and second salvo, she had a chance. Close the gap, and her odds went up even further. He was shit at hand-to-hand combat. It was a critical point of vulnerability she intended to exploit.
His hand lifted. Tate dove to the side as an intense beam of light sheared the air. Tate felt the heat of its passage. If it hit her, she was as good as dead.
Tate rolled, finding her feet. She sidestepped another beam, running full tilt toward the rock he perched on.
He cursed, standing and trying to line up his next shot. Except trying to hit a moving target was difficult, even for someone with experience.
She ran up the side of the rock in a fluid move, reaching him in the next blink.
A sword appeared in her hand just as she brought her hands down. It would have cleaved Christopher in two if it had landed. He raised his gauntleted hand at the last second, catching the sword's downward arc.
Her grin was fierce as she hammered a kick into his exposed stomach.
He gasped and folded in half.
Tate raised the sword but paused as howls and screams distracted her.
Silva wearing the masks of the Morain swarmed out of the dunes, arrowing toward them with inhuman speed.
Not good.
Tate sucked in a breath at the realization Ryu's still form lay between them and her. Defenseless.
"I guess we'll finish this another time." Christopher raised his hand, his intent clear. Tate barely got her sword up in time to deflect the light beam.
The force of the blow knocked her off the rock. She hit the ground with a pained grunt. Her back screamed in pain even as she gasped for air and fought to roll onto her side. There was no time to curl into a ball and wait for the pain to pass. She had things to do and people to kill.
What she saw struck fear into the core of her. Ryu was too far; the Morain too close. She'd never make it to him in time.
"Call them off," Tate ordered Gabriella. Her body protested as she pushed herself to her feet and staggered forward.
Gabriella shifted so she could sit up, her face puzzled as she took in the Morain.
She stood on shaky legs, wavering before catching herself. Gabriella raised her arms before tipping her head back and howling.
The sound ululated and fell as Tate made her way toward Ryu, her body still throbbing from the fall.
The howl died and Gabriella shook her head, confusion written in her expression. "They should have stopped."
"Well, they didn't."
"I don't understand."
Tate did. The Morain didn't care that Tate wasn't the deceiver. They smelled blood and were intent on getting their share of the kill.
As Tate watched, the lead Morain pulled out a long, curved blade.
"What are they doing?" Gabriella exclaimed in dismay.
Something tore inside Tate. Chains she'd never realized existed broke as desperation filled her.
A tidal wave of power surged up, suffusing every bit of her being. For the first time in their relationship since Tate could recall, she reached for Ilith's power without Ilith pushing it at her.
She wrenched it loose, tearing at the spot where it crouched inside her, throwing it on like a mantle and embracing the fiery hot pain of the change.
It felt different than when Ilith guided the transition. Danger, a mere breath away. If she wavered even a second, she'd be lost.
She forced the power higher, throwing herself headfirst into the change, blindly trusting this would work.
Awareness rushed at her, conscious, fierce and wise. It was like waking from a long nap, one where you'd slept wrong and your limbs were half-asleep. Tate's skin and awareness prickled as Ilith rose.
Hope beat in her chest as she urged her dragon's ascent.
Not fast enough. Tate did something desperate, flooding their connection with every piece of inner power she possessed, pouring all of herself into it until it snapped into place and Ilith roared into place.
Finally. Tate wasn't sure if the thought was hers or Ilith's.
The dragon surged forth, trumpeting a challenge as soon as her vocal chords had formed. For one moment, she and Tate were united, with one overriding goal. Protect their mate.
Ilith leapt, slicing through the air to land crouched over her mate.
Must. Not. Crush.
Carefully, she placed each paw precisely so she didn't step on him.
Finished, she focused on the interlopers. A dragon's smile, full of teeth and menace, greeted them.
It was amusing to watch as they backpedaled, fighting to escape, now that their prey was bigger than they were.
Ilith didn't think so. There would be no mercy for those who threatened her hoard.
Ilith crouched closer to the ground, her rear higher than her head as it wiggled. She sank her claws deep, sand spraying as she pounced.
She landed on the closest attacker, internally chuckling as his terror-filled scream abruptly cut off. Done with him, she leapt, flapping her wings once to give her pounce distance and speed, finding the second.
The rest, realizing escape wasn't so simple, turned on her, weapons raised.
She chortled. Fierce prey that dares to bite. Very well, she'd play with them. It would be like the times of old before the long sleep.
She dashed across the ground, her bulky form graceful as she rushed one, only to speed past him, just out of reach of his long claw. His attention followed her, missing the tail as it swept up, slamming him into the rocks to his left.
Ilith chortled again, not pausing as she arrowed toward her next prey.
He fell to the ground and covered his head. She paused, cocking her head as she considered his prone figure. Strange. Was this some new type of trap?
Another rushed her from behind, Ilith reared, her paw closing around their midriff as she slammed them into the ground beside the prone figure. The curled-up person squeaked, making a sound like a mouse.
Ilith was careful to keep her nose and face away as she studied them. The one she'd slammed down looked odd, blood leaking out their ears as they stared up at her blankly. No fear radiated off them as it did the first.
Boring. She swiped at it with her paw, sending the body flying in the other direction, before directing her attention back to the first.
It had moved while she was focused on the second, scooting forward as it reached for a small weapon. The jewels embedded in the weapon's short blade caught Ilith's attention, making her heart thump with desire.
Pretty, deadly jewels.
She'd hadn't seen their like since before the sleep.
Ilith sat back and waited, watching as her prey crept closer and closer to the blade, a rare piece capable of severely wounding her if not outright killing her.
Ilith kept quiet, even her tail was still despite the urge to thrash it in anticipation. This prey was the last alive except for one.
He was within reach. All he had to do was stretch his arm out.
It seemed as if the world itself held its breath as it waited for him to make his move, totally silent as his fate hung in the balance.
Slowly, as if he expected she would see, his arm moved further.
Ilith waited until his fingers just brushed the hilt before she pounced, covering the distance between them impossibly fast. Her front paw landed on the weapon—and his hand.
A shriek of pain escaped him as she crushed the hand beneath her majestic weight. She allowed herself time to savor the sound, digging her front claws into the arm under her paw.
He blubbered as the new pain worked its way to his brain.
Abruptly, Ilith grew bored with the game, her jaws snaking down as she ripped his skull from his shoulders. She tossed it like a ball as she observed the dunes in front of her and listened to the rapid breathing of the person behind her.
The tangy bite of terror perfumed the air.
This was the last one. The rest had all fallen to her amazing prowess.
Ilith lifted a paw, and flicked
a scrap of meat off it before padding silently in a circle until she faced her remaining prey. She watched the person with a calm detachment, her earlier bloodlust sated.
This prey was different than the rest somehow.
Ilith inhaled deeply, her nostrils fluttering. The scent was familiar, teasing at memories.
Silva. Ilith thought they had met before. A vague recollection of a hallway and the scent of bear teased her, along with too small spaces that had had to be widened to accommodate her majestic size. And meat. She remembered the warm taste of meat sliding down her throat.
Hmm. Female. A friend?
No. Not friend, but an acquaintance.
Ilith moved and the Silva flinched. Ilith’s head snaked forward, her teeth meeting with a snap, seconds too late at the spot the Silva had just been in. The female leapt back, landing next to Ilith's mate.
The female stood protectively in front of him, showing her palms as she babbled at Ilith.
Ilith curled her paws under her as she fixed the woman with a stare. The female's posture spoke of uncertainty and no small amount of fear. Smart rabbit. Dragons ate prey like her for breakfast. A healthy fear would keep her from doing anything stupid.
Ilith didn't think she was an enemy. She hadn't reacted like any of the dead around her, and she'd sought to protect Ilith’s mate.
Ilith would spare her. For now.
A streak of red on her lower forelegs distracted her from the serious debate of whether she should rend this person limb from limb or force her to gather all the treasure from Ilith’s now dead enemy.
Ilith lifted her leg, canting her head for a better look and snorted at the sight of blood. Not just a little either, her entire hide was dotted with the blood of her enemies.
It held a comforting warmth, the heat of the sun baking it into her scales.
She lifted a paw, her tongue flicking out to taste. Copper and rich iron flooded her taste buds. She paused in the act of washing her scales, waiting for Tate to voice her inevitable objection.
There was an echoing silence where Tate normally resided. Even her other half being knocked into a deep slumber wouldn't explain why Ilith felt only the very faintest trace of Tate.
Something was wrong, and the lack of contact with Tate highlighted the fact she had no idea where she was or how she came to be there. Normally that wouldn’t have bothered her. Her surroundings generally shifted and changed unless she was taking an active interest in events.
Ilith eyed the sandy dunes which looked nothing like the sunbaked city of yesterday. Except for an unconscious prospective mate and the Silva, there was no one else near. Where were the rest of Tate’s companions?
Ilith put her paw back down and huffed. There was little fun in acting scandalous if her other half wasn’t here to scold her.
She flopped onto her side, dragging the edge of her snout and shoulder through the sand, wiggling back and forth as she used its abrasive texture to remove the blood from her scales.
At least that was her intention.
The feel of the sand on her hide, scratching, scratching, scratching, felt luxurious. Distractingly decadent. Her eyes rolled as she wiggled onto her back, drawing the hard ridges through the sand as soft sounds and whuffs close to a purr escaped her.
This was almost better than the promise of flying. She'd have to make a point of forcing Tate to take her to the beach from now on so she could do this when they were home.
A muffled gasp reminded her she wasn't alone. She thrashed until she was on her belly again, looking down her snout at the now wide-eyed Silva.
Ilith huffed disdainfully. The two-legger could do with a roll in the sand. She looked terrible with blood all over her.
Ilith pretended the woman hadn’t just caught her rolling with abandonment in the sand. She lifted one leg and examined it, surprised when her scales shone brighter than ever. All the dead bits were now gone.
She lumbered to her feet, before getting distracted by paper-thin, translucent pieces that were lying where she'd just been exuberantly rubbing. Her scales. They looked like ghostly gems.
She snorted at one, watching as it lifted in the breeze before falling again.
She shook her head with regret. There was no time to admire them further, and no way to take them with her. She'd just have to gift them to the desert. It no doubt appreciated the glittering beauty she left behind.
She picked the jeweled dagger up with her teeth, clasping it carefully—she didn't want it igniting—before prancing across the hot sand to the woman and Ilith’s mate.
The woman remained motionless as Ilith dropped the dagger at her feet. Ilith waited. When she still didn’t move, Ilith nudged the dagger closer and huffed. It would be safer if the woman carried it.
The woman didn’t take her eyes off Ilith as she bent ever so slowly, gingerly picking the dagger off the sand. Ilith’s tail snaked around her, wrapping firmly across her waist. The woman let out a cry of dismay as Ilith lifted her into the air, pausing only to gently pick up Ryu with her front paws as her back legs bunched.
She leapt into the air, her wings snapping out to catch a rising draft. She soared, the feel of the wind glorious against her scales as the high-pitched cries of the female she held with her tail filled the air.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Ilith lost herself in the beauty of flight, the wind ripping past her wings, the hot sun above her and the rippling land beneath her. The lessons Ryu's dragon had forced on her had strengthened her wings and whatever had forced her into that unnatural sleep had given her the missing piece she needed to fly. This was the best she’d felt since she and her Savior had returned to the world.
Right now, she felt like she could circle the globe and still have energy to burn afterward.
Her body still wasn't quite comfortable, but her muscles were beginning to remember this activity that had once come to her as easily as breathing.
For a stretch of time, Ilith forgot what she was supposed to do and simply became a creature of air and sky, content to feel and exist.
Eventually the drag of her passengers reminded her of her purpose. She banked, circling before changing direction as she soared away from the dunes. The shadow of her passing rippled over the land as it gradually became rockier, leaving the sand dunes behind in favor of hard-packed dirt.
A small tug inside her chest compelled her onward.
Ilith obeyed.
The sun was beginning its descent when she saw green dotting the horizon, the beginning of a jungle in the distance promising relief from the endless brown and reds.
Ilith's sharp vision picked up more and more signs of activity of the two-legged nature. She altered her flight path, following the tracks of what looked like a large caravan. There were signs of wagons and footprints trampling the ground, easy for any creature with a speck of intelligence to follow.
Ilith banked again, arrowing through the sky as that same tug increased. She was close to whatever was drawing her in this direction.
The white tops of tents began to take shape below her, where their owners had elected to camp on the very outskirts of what promised to be a lush jungle
A small figure pushed out of one of the tents and looked up. They pushed their hood away from their face before shouting over their shoulder. They raced for the outskirts of the little camp as a furred creature quickly followed, weaving between obstacles with a predator's precision.
Ilith circled the camp once, her altitude dropping as she prepared to land. Except, she hadn't taken into account how difficult that would be while clasping her mate in her front paws.
Her back feet touched down first, her tail lifted unnaturally high as she flared her wings, trying to maintain her balance with her unwieldy cargo.
She wavered, trying not to tumble headfirst into the dirt. Instead, she flopped onto her side, her passengers held up off the ground. She gently lowered them before she struggled back to her feet, shaking herself all over.
She kneaded
the ground with her front paws, grateful to have their full use again. Carrying things in them was hard. She didn't know how all these two-leggers did it.
"Ilith," a voice cried, right before the boy Tate called brother threw himself at her chest.
She tried to shy away only to find her path blocked by her sleeping mate.
She was forced to either endure the small one hugging her or snap him up in her jaws. She chose to endure, as he buried his face against her scales, his arms reaching as far around her neck as they could go—which wasn't far.
A purring near her feet told her the two-legger wasn't the only one expressing his admiration in inappropriate ways. The bearcat wove between her feet, pausing to press the sides of his face to every part of her he could reach.
I am glad to see you again. The words pressed unwelcome into Ilith’s brain, evidence she and the bearcat were forming a mental connection. It was much clearer than the last time he’d tried this.
She grumbled at both of them. Neither seemed willing to heed her warning. Fear didn't soak their scent. There were no screams of terror.
She grunted before looking away. Well, if they were going to be so emotional as to ignore the danger, she could allow them this small trespass against her magnificent self—but just for a moment. Some simply couldn't handle themselves in the presence of greatness.
Ilith narrowed her eyes as movement from the tents produced more people. These new ones were smart, hanging back a respectable distance as they watched her and the two pesky irritations at her side with acceptable awe.
One radiated power and possessed a scent similar to Dewdrop's. Ilith was familiar with it from Tate's last encounter with him. The Avertine. How did her other half's bond mates come to be here?
She prodded at the place Tate normally curled in her mind, frustrated when the other still didn't respond.
Ilith disliked this separation. Her kind were strong and powerful, but emotional and physical bonds were necessary to keep them from fading. Somehow theirs had become worn and frayed.
What had her other half been up to while Ilith slept?
She hadn’t seen their bonds so damaged since before the sleep. Only time would heal them, but until then their situation was perilous. Tate was the thread keeping her sane. Her other half's light was a beacon in the darkness and having it walled off for any length of time wouldn't do.
