She had expected better of Falthyris. He had shown her better over the last two weeks. The kindness, thoughtfulness, and genuine interest he’d behaved with made this all the worse, and she hated that his words had cut so deep. Before that day at the river, the day he’d shown her a new side of himself, she would have shrugged off such an affront. She would have been offended, yes, but the way she felt now was a great deal beyond that.
I made myself vulnerable to him.
Elliya kept her legs moving, and that mating bond coiled tighter and tighter, its pull toward Falthyris ever more insistent.
Why did she want him so badly, even now? He had reverted to his old, vile behavior, had spat upon her tribe, her ancestors, her species, all the way back to the first human at the dawn of time. She should have known that initial turn of his demeanor had been too good to be true. A person—a dragon—could not change overnight.
She released a frustrated huff through her nose as she reminded herself that she wasn’t just hurt—she was angry. With quick, firm movements, she used the heel of her hand to wipe the moisture from her eyes.
Why should she have to choose between her mate and her people? Both could coexist, both could benefit from each other. She wasn’t so foolish as to think it would be easy or instantaneous—not for Falthyris or the tribe—but it could be done. Again, all he needed to do was listen to what she had to say. All he had to do was trust her a little. Their bond had not begun ideally, but she had thought they’d at least developed mutual trust.
Her anger was as valid as her pain, and was as justified as Falthyris’s fury. To learn that he still saw her that way, as so far beneath him…
But he did not say that to me.
A pang of guilt struck her chest, making her stride falter. She had seen the look on his face after he’d spoken those words. She’d seen his shock, his shame. It would have been so easy to tell herself he hadn’t meant it, that it had been the result of the Heat clouding his judgment, as it had done with increasing frequency over the last several days. She could easily have told herself that his words had emerged in a flare of rage and spite, that they had no substance, no truth behind them.
But all that really mattered now was that he’d spoken them. Whether he had meant them or not, he had chosen to open his mouth and let those words out.
Elliya was allowed to be angry, upset, and whatever else she happened to feel. But she was still a huntress; she was normally calm and controlled, deliberate in her approaches to both problems and prey. She almost never cried, and she rarely lost her temper. When she chose to return to him—and she knew it wouldn’t be long—she would be composed. She would be in control of herself.
Drawing to a halt, Elliya took in a slow, shaky breath and willed the tension to ease from her body. She would take a little time to collect her thoughts, to determine the proper way to present her arguments to him, and then return to the lair, where she would emphasize the trust and respect they’d been building with one another.
And she would, in as measured a tone as she could manage, explain to him that he needed to stop acting like a spoiled child and behave instead like the mature, intelligent, experienced male she knew him to be.
That thought was just enough to make a corner of her mouth quirk up—Elliya, barely in her eighteenth year, scolding a two-thousand-year-old dragon.
The clatter of a falling rock broke her thoughts. She blinked away her lingering tears and scanned her surroundings. She was deep in the ravine now, at a point about ten paces wide with rock walls to either side that were nearly twice as tall as her. She glanced back. As big as it was, the rocky hill that housed Falthyris’s lair was out of sight from her current position.
Had she truly been so absorbed in her thoughts that she’d walked this far without noticing?
Another clattering rock caught her attention, and she snapped her head toward the sound. Her heartbeat quickened as her gaze locked with the beady eyes of a dunehound that was standing atop the ridgeline within a stone’s throw of her.
The dunehound’s head was down, its shoulders hunched, its muscles coiled as though it were ready to pounce. Its rough, leathery hide was mottled tan and brown, run through with faint cracks and pale scars. Though the creature was small and sleek—it likely wouldn’t have stood much past Elliya’s navel on its hind legs—its clawed paws were nearly as large as her hands.
Elliya’s fiery emotions finally wavered, retreating from a slowly spreading wave of cold—the first hints of fear.
Dunehounds were small and often timid, acting primarily as scavengers, but their bites were surprisingly strong and were known to inflict blood sickness. The beasts could become quite aggressive when they felt their food was threatened—and there certainly had been food for them nearby. Elliya and Falthyris had left animal remains in the area for the last few weeks. Even the bones would’ve been tempting to dunehounds, considering the creatures could crack them with their powerful jaws to get at the sweet marrow inside.
But the true reason for her fear was another aspect of dunehound behavior—they always ran in packs. Elliya could defend herself from a few of the beasts on her own, but an entire pack?
Keeping her movements slow and smooth despite the tremors threatening to overtake her limbs, Elliya lowered her face, bent forward to appear smaller, and backed away. At the upper edge of her vision, the dunehound swayed toward her slightly and bobbed its head, nostrils flaring. It fixed its eyes on her. One of its paws slid forward, claws scraping stone.
These beasts were capable of hunting, but they usually avoided doing so. Elliya just needed to continue her calm withdrawal, and the dunehound would turn away, return to its nearby food, return to its pack, and that would be the end of this.
The dunehound straightened its front legs, stretched its neck to lift its head high, and pointed its snout skyward. Elliya’s eyes followed the arrow its body had formed to land on a faint but unmistakable point of glimmering red in the clear blue sky. The Red Star.
The force that seemed to be affecting the behavior of all the world’s animals.
The dunehound released a quick succession of high, chirruping howls that echoed along the ravine and across the sky. A chorus of similar calls answered it, all of them far too close for comfort—and coming from all sides.
Elliya straightened and adjusted her hold on her knife. The weapon felt wholly inadequate for the challenge facing her. She hastened her retreat as the first beast bounded gracefully down to the bottom of the ravine, kicking up little clouds of dust with its landing.
Elliya moved her eyes quickly, scanning the ridges to either side while repeatedly looking back at the first dunehound.
More of those abrupt howls sounded, and more dunehounds appeared on the ridges to both sides. There were two at first, then six, then nearly a score, all staring down at her with those dark, hungry eyes. Several leapt down from their perches.
That quickly, she was surrounded. Elliya clenched her jaw and let out a ragged breath through her nostrils. Her skin itched beneath all the predatory gazes fixed upon her. Keeping her eyes moving between the dunehounds that were slowly advancing on her, she crouched to snatch up a rock in her free hand.
One of the dunehounds growled, sinking into a lower stance with its short, thin tail curled down.
Despite everything that had happened up until now, despite the argument and the emotional aftermath, despite her own skill and pride, Elliya did not hesitate in doing what was needed. She only hoped she was still close enough to the lair for him to hear.
“Falthyris!” she shouted as loud as she could, ignoring the burning rawness it sparked in her throat.
The closest dunehound darted toward her.
Elliya swung her arm reflexively, and the rock caught the attacking beast on the side of its snout, knocking the creature away. It released a pained yelp. The scraping of claws over rock and dirt behind Elliya prompted her to spin. She immediately backpedaled, narrowly avoiding the snapping jaws of anothe
r dunehound.
She kicked hard, striking the creature in its ribs with enough force to briefly lift it off the ground. The dunehound landed heavily atop a pile of nearby stone and writhed, making desperate, agonized whines.
There was barely time to turn away before several more of the beasts rushed at her.
Releasing a primal growl of her own, Elliya fought with all the strength and savagery she could muster, lashing out with knife, stone, fists, and feet. Her thunderous heartbeat drowned out all other sounds. She perceived little in the chaos; dunehounds swarmed around her, snapping and clawing but recoiling from her onslaught. There were spots on her skin that were overly warm and pulsed with faint, far-off tingles—places where the beasts’ claws had torn her flesh.
She’d feel those wounds later. There was no time for pain now.
A dunehound leapt at her. Elliya leaned back and thrust her knife, jabbing it into the beast’s throat. Hot blood gushed onto her hand. The momentum of the creature’s leap forced her to take a single step backward. Small but powerful jaws clamped down on her calf from behind, punching through skin and muscle with numerous pointed teeth. The creature growled and yanked, sinking its teeth deeper and tearing her flesh without breaking its hold.
Elliya cried out, and her leg buckled, dropping her onto one knee. Pain battered her mind from all sides, demanding entry, demanding control. Keeping hold of her blood slickened knife, she heaved the dead dunehound away and twisted toward the very much alive beast attached to her leg. She screamed as she hammered the rock against its head repeatedly, each blow intensifying her own pain as it forced those teeth deeper still, further shredding her flesh. Blood poured from the open wound. Finally, after a wet cracking sound, those jaws slackened.
She swung her arms wildly, sensing more of the beasts closing in on her. The dunehounds scrambled just out of reach. There were at least five immediately surrounding her, with twice that many a little farther away—and more still up on the ridges, howling and yipping as though they were eager spectators to some bloody game.
“I am a huntress,” Elliya growled, “and you will not be my end!”
One of the creatures charged, its jaws opened wide. Elliya slammed the rock down on its snout. There was a crunch, and the beast whined, shaking its head furiously as it scurried away.
Another beast clamped its jaws down on her extended forearm. The blood slickened stone slipped from her grasp. Elliya cried out in pain even as she attacked with her knife, stabbing the dunehound on her arm straight through the eye. The beast released its hold on her and dropped away, crashing to the ground in a heap, leaving her arm dripping with crimson. She could only hope that more of the blood belonged to the dead dunehound than belonged to her.
Shifting her wounded leg, she gritted her teeth and attempted to get her foot beneath her again, to stand, but her calf cried out in protest, making her body tremble. She growled through the pain and pushed up onto her feet, leaning her weight onto her uninjured leg.
Several of the beasts advanced on her, their stances low and eyes intense. The beasts recognized her weakness.
But Elliya was a huntress still. She was the heart of her people, steady, brave, and unwavering. Her heart was fierce. And she was the bride of Falthyris the Golden, the desert’s mightiest dragon. The mating bond curled protectively around her heart, bolstering her.
She drew in a deep breath and released it in a wordless, defiant roar that rose from the very core of her being.
The dunehounds paused, eyeing her warily.
Suddenly, her roar became thunderous, blasting across the heavens and shaking the ground beneath her, rattling the loose stones along the base of the ravine. She felt it within her mating bond, and knew it was not her power—that had been her dragon’s roar.
The dunehounds whined, shrinking back and looking skyward.
Elliya looked up, too. A fiery shape was speeding toward her, its flames more brilliant than anything the Red Star could produce, more vibrant than the sun.
Another chorus of howls rose around her, more frenzied than before—and in even greater numbers. More heads popped up along the edges of the ravine, and more dunehounds scrambled down to the bottom. There had to be dozens of them now, and their initial fear was fast fading.
Apparently, the aggressiveness dunehounds often exhibited in defending their food didn’t make exceptions for dragons. These creatures thought they had claimed her.
If only they had known how wrong they were.
“Time to come for your female, dragon,” she whispered.
15
A maelstrom of fire and fury blazed within Falthyris. His heartfire had become an inferno so hot and powerful that it was consuming his body. Flames roiled over his scales and engulfed his wings, roaring as they battled the air flowing around him. This agonizing release of fire was only making that internal pressure greater, was only pushing him closer and closer to an inevitable explosion, was only making it clear that his heartfire was too much for his body to contain.
His mate was down there, his Elliya, and she was wounded. Her pain was his. It pulsed through their mating bond, even more pronounced than the agony burning across his scales. He was failing his foremost duty. Above all, he was meant to be her shield, her guardian.
She was not for the vermin swarming the ravine. She belonged to Falthyris the Golden.
Mine.
He thrust himself higher with a final pump of his wings. His heartfire blasted outward, obscuring all his senses with fire, smoke, and a hundredfold increase of his pain. Flames suffused him from within and without, swallowing his mind and lashing his soul. Only once before had he suffered such agony—in those moments following the first time Elliya had touched him.
For an instant, he hung weightless in the air. His body was crumbling to ash, and as the fires expanded, he was formed anew, reshaped by the flames.
Though he could not see Elliya, he could feel her—she was all he sensed but for the fire and pain. He angled himself toward her, stretching his neck, and fell into a dive. The rush of wind beat back the flames, sweeping across his thickly armored scales, but it did not cool his heartfire.
Deep in his mind, he recognized that he was whole. He was himself again—huge and powerful, a true dragon. Whatever transformation the bond had wrought upon him was finally undone. But he didn’t care. Only one thing mattered.
Falthyris flared his mighty wings, which spanned wider than the ravine, just before he landed on all fours. A cloud of dust billowed up from the ground, mixing with the thick smoke pouring off his scales to shroud everything in brown and gray. The creatures around the ravine howled, hissed, and growled, challenging him on a level he recognized in the most bestial part of his mind. These puny things were voicing their claims on his territory—their claims on his Elliya.
Her coughing below him cut through all the other sounds. Falthyris flapped his wings, blowing away the smoke and dust, and looked down.
Elliya waved lingering dust and smoke from her face and looked up at him, her dark eyes wide. The sunlight reflecting off his scales cast a soft golden light upon her, and it seemed fitting. Had not her people once treasured gold and considered it precious? Nothing in all the world was as precious as her.
That light also fell upon the blood covering her arms and legs, spattered on her face and chest, glistening through the dirt that had mixed with it.
His tongue flicked out. The scent of blood stood out over all others, recognized by his inner predator. Some of it belonged to the creatures attacking her. Too much of it belonged to her.
Falthyris reached forward, curling his claws around his beloved little mate, and drew her closer. She grabbed his finger as though to steady herself, but did not pull away.
The creatures in front of him charged out of the swirling dust.
Falthyris lifted his head, filling his lungs with air, and dipped it forward to release a roar that shook the ground beneath him. A cone of dragonfire accompanied that roar, engulfin
g the creatures and their pained cries.
Fresh howls rose behind him. He swept his tail back and forth, slamming more of the creatures against the walls of the ravine hard enough to pulverize bone and crack stone. Several of the things leapt from the ridges to claw at his back and gnash their teeth against his scales. Their futile assault only fanned the flames of his rage.
One of the beasts bounded to the bottom of the ravine and darted toward Elliya, jaws wide and fangs glistening. The smoke, lingering bits of fire, and charred corpses of its packmates did not deter the beast.
Falthyris rose briefly on his hind legs and lifted his empty hand off the ground. He threw his weight back down atop that hand, crushing the creature beneath it.
At the same moment, he bent his neck back and clamped his jaws over one of the creatures on his shoulder. The little beast thrashed and clawed. Falthyris bit down, and the creature’s struggles ceased with a crunch and a gush of warm blood. He snapped his head to the side and flung the carcass away.
Falthyris drew his precious Elliya against his chest. Despite the furious heat of his heartfire, he could feel her warmth through his scales, could feel the softness of her little body. That only poured fresh heat into his blood. She pressed herself against him, leaning into the shelter of his body.
Keeping that firm but gentle hold on Elliya, he ravaged the ravine with teeth, talons, tail, and fire, lashing out at anything that moved. Smoke, dust, ash, and bits of broken stone filled the air, and blood slickened his claws and dripped from his jaws. The crimson haze that had settled over his vision had little to do with the comet.
He could not rest until all these creatures had been annihilated.
When the howls finally stopped and naught moved around Falthyris but smoke and fire, the ravine was charred black and strewn with smoldering carcasses and mangled remains. His heartfire pulsed just beneath the surface of his scales, and the Red Heat radiated down atop them, but for once it seemed unable to gain entry.
To Tame a Dragon (Venys Needs Men) Page 14
