His fist struck hard. His aim true.
Zephyr grunted as Loke punched the front of his throat and immediately released him, both hands coming up to clutch at his neck as Loke withdrew. The male wheezed as he tried to breathe through his crushed windpipe, his face reddening and a wild look filling his eyes.
Loke rolled off him and collapsed onto the ground beside him, breathing hard and fighting the pain as it tried to swallow him.
Ren’s disappointed huff reaching his ears was like the sweetest music to Loke, easing his heart and his fears.
He rolled over onto his front, shoved his hands into the black dirt and forced himself onto his knees. An inferno burned white-hot in his side and he clutched it, his fingers slipping around in the thick flow of blood as he tried to stem it. He lumbered onto his feet and struggled to stay there, his knees wobbling beneath him as his head turned, spinning the world around him.
Loke frowned at the private box, trying to bring it into focus. It wobbled and distorted, but eventually he caught a glimpse of Anais. She was on her feet at the wall, her face pale and blue eyes enormous as she stared down at him. He took an unsteady step towards her and the faintest of smiles trembled on her lips.
Ren tossed a disappointed look off to Loke’s left and then beyond him. Loke looked there too. Brink lay unconscious, his arms still wrapped around his stomach and his skin ashen. Loke was glad the male wasn’t dead. He could hear Brink’s heart beating slowly but steadily. When he was strong enough, he would return to the village to thank him.
Behind him, Zephyr had lost his fight against the darkness and lay still, barely breathing.
Loke had half a mind to join them and pass out for a while, but he couldn’t give in to that need.
Anais was waiting for him, her manacles gone and a look on her face that warned she was considering clambering over the wall of the private box to reach him and escape his clan’s chief.
Loke called on the last shreds of his strength, tapping into the deepest well inside him, and roared as he transformed, unleashing his dragon form. The world shrank below him, Anais becoming smaller and more fragile looking as he gained height. The wound in his side opened wider, a great gash that spilled dark blood onto the ground as he settled all four blue paws onto the black sand. He beat his blue wings, preparing for flight, and reached for Anais.
She didn’t shrink away.
She reached for him.
Rayna went to round her brother, dark intent in her eyes, and Ren held his arm out, blocking her path to Anais.
“He has won her fair and square, by the way of our people.”
Rayna glared at her brother but Ren didn’t relent.
Loke carefully curled his talons around Anais and lifted her off the platform. She sat in his palm when he opened it, a small and fragile thing, but one that imbued him with great strength. He went to curl his other paw around her but she held her hand up.
He cocked his head, his long curved dark blue horns brushing his wing muscles as he wondered what she wanted.
“Your knife.” She pointed to it and he made a mental note to thank her later for being so thoughtful and aware of how much it meant to him, and how upset he would have been on discovering he had left it behind.
He carefully lowered her, fighting another wave of dizziness as he did so, and she hopped off his palm, picked up the knife, and clutched it. He scooped her back up again and carefully tucked her against his chest as he beat his wings. Black sand swirled around the arena as he lifted off, each powerful beat of his wings sending a gust of wind against the side where Ren stood watching him with a dark look in his eyes.
He was sure they would come to blows one day, but not today.
Today he had more important matters that required his attention.
He turned towards the mountains beyond the village and brought his other paw up, curling it around Anais, ensuring she was safe as he tucked his hind legs against his body and flew back towards his cave.
Each beat of his wings was agony, but he endured it, fighting to remain conscious as he carried his prize back to his home. He could feel one of her hands stroking the palm of his paw, brushing over his blue scales in a tender caress that he felt sure was meant to soothe him. It did. It warmed him right down to his bones and gave him the strength to keep fighting to remain airborne.
He flew over the peak of the mountains that stood between the village and his cave and faltered as a gust of wind swept up off them, battering him. He dropped several hundred feet and Anais clutched him, a startled gasp escaping her. He cursed himself for rushing and placing her in danger, but he hadn’t been able to ignore the deep need to take her away from the village. He had needed to take her away from the males who wanted her and meant her harm. She was his and he would let no other male near her.
Loke levelled out and stretched his blue wings wide, catching the air currents to conserve the last shreds of his strength and letting them carry him across the thick forest. He steadily glided over the trees and waited until the last minute to beat his wings and twist his body so he shot upwards, skimming the cragged sloping side of the mountain he called home.
He overshot the ledge and spread his wings again, stopping his ascent and drifting down to land.
His left hind leg gave out beneath him and he crashed onto the black rock, thrusting Anais forwards so she rolled into the cave and out of his path. His chest struck the ledge and his jaw cracked off the top of the arch above the cave entrance. Loke grunted and collapsed in a tangled heap, his wings draped across the mountainside on either side of the cave.
Anais regained her feet and ran to him, fear painted across her pretty face as she reached for him.
The sweetest sight he had ever seen.
His hind legs dropped off the ledge as he began to transform back into his mortal form, the weight of them and his tail dangling above the sheer drop pulling him backwards, and she swam out of focus as oblivion swallowed him.
The last thing he saw was the dark sky.
The last thing he felt was a sensation of dropping.
The last thing he heard was Anais screaming his name.
CHAPTER 8
“Loke!” Anais hurled herself towards the edge of the platform as Loke finished transforming back and slipped over it.
She caught his arm and grunted as the weight of him pulled down on her, pressing her into the hard ground, and her muscles burned from the sudden exertion. She grimaced, gritted her teeth, and pulled with all of her might, clinging to his arm. It was wet with his blood and slippery in her grip. He fell several more inches, sliding through her grasp and sending her heart pounding and adrenaline flooding her veins, until her fist reached his wrist and butted up against his hand.
“Bloody heavy bastard,” she muttered and growled as she pulled and manoeuvred into a better position at the same time, slowly edging around until she was sitting with her feet braced against the black ground and could see the whole of his arm. “Please wake up. You’re too heavy.”
She wasn’t sure whether he could survive the enormous drop to the side of the mountain either.
He showed no signs of stirring so she did the only thing she could. She heaved, leaning backwards and pulling on his arm. Each inch she gained tore at her muscles, sending pain blistering across her bones, but she refused to give up. Loke had saved her and now she would save him.
She grunted as she shuffled backwards, her bare feet slipping on the harsh rock surface. It scraped across her skin but she didn’t feel the pain as she focused on hauling Loke onto the ledge. His head appeared in view and she leaned backwards, yelling out her agony as she fought his dead weight, dragging him up.
When his upper body was on the ledge, she put her feet beneath his arms, hooking him. She worked her hands down his arm and held it near his elbow, and reached for his other arm. He loosed a muffled grunt as she grabbed hold of it and she stilled, checking his face.
He was still out cold.
“Come on
, Loke,” she whispered and pulled him, issuing a silent apology at the same time as she dragged him across the rough ground. His injuries were already extensive. He didn’t need her adding a multitude of scrapes and grazes to them, but he was far too heavy for her to lift.
When his entire top half was on the ledge, she rolled him over onto his back, hooked her hands under his arms and stood on trembling legs. She raised him off the ground as much as she could manage and pulled him backwards with her, towards the cave.
Christ, he was heavy.
She set him down a short distance from the edge of the ledge and struggled to catch her breath. She needed to get him inside the cave, but she also needed to do it without hurting him. She looked back into the cave and her eyes fell on the furs. She hurried over to them, grabbed the biggest one from the pile, and raced back to him. She laid it out beside him and gently rolled him onto it, so he lay on his back in the thick black fur.
Anais kneeled beside him and checked him over. The wound in his side was the worst, still spilling blood over his left hip. She needed to bind it, but she wasn’t sure he had anything she could use. The furs were too thick and she hadn’t seen any other material lying around.
She looked down at her t-shirt and hesitated for only a second before pulling it off over her head. She found his knife a short distance away and used it to cut her top open down one of the seams, and then sliced it into two pieces around the middle, so it formed long strips. She wrapped one around his waist as tight as she could get it and placed the other beside him on the fur for later.
Satisfied that she had slowed the bleeding, she moved around to his head, grabbed the fur and began hauling him deeper into the cave. She diligently kept her eyes off his lower half. He hadn’t sustained any injuries there, so she had no reason to look at him below the waist.
Especially when he was completely naked.
Apparently, his trousers didn’t magically appear by themselves when he transformed back.
She stopped when they were close enough to the fire and looked around her, trying to get her mind to stop racing so she could figure out everything that she needed to do. She had to be quick, but it was hard when fear and panic were colliding inside her, sending her thoughts spinning together.
Anais sucked down a deep breath and closed her eyes, seeking some calm among the storm of her emotions.
She needed to focus.
What did she need?
Water. The pool.
Cloths. Hell, she wished she had remembered the ones he had given her to use when she had bathed before she had ripped her only top in half.
Warmth. The fire.
He had all those things. It was a start anyway.
She burst into action, throwing more branches onto the fire and leaving them to catch as she took the torch and raced towards the bathing pool. She skidded on the black pebbly ground as she ran at full pelt into the cavern and gasped as one bit into her bare right foot. Ignoring the pain, she grabbed the pail and filled it with the cool water from the well, and checked the two cloths she had left laid out over the rocks after she had bathed. They were dry.
Anais ran back to the cave and straight over to Loke.
She set the torch down by the fire, put the pail beside him and let the cloths fall from her arms. Her gaze ran over him, assessing his injuries. The grooves in his chest where he had been clawed were deep and weeping blood. She wasn’t sure how quickly dragons could heal. The slashes weren’t pouring blood as they had been before, but she wouldn’t know whether they needed her assistance to heal well until she cleaned him off.
She couldn’t do that until she had addressed the stab wound above his left hip though.
She went to his knife where it lay on the ground a short distance away and drew down a deep breath, mentally preparing herself for what she had to do. There were no needles and no thread on hand. She would have to seal Loke’s worst wound in a more ancient way.
Anais toyed with the knife as she built up the courage she needed. It was going to hurt him and he was already weak, badly injured because of her, but she had no choice. If she didn’t seal the wound, he might bleed out.
She took another of the furs and laid it over his hips, giving him some warmth and dignity, and then kneeled beside him, between him and the fire. She set the knife down, took up the smaller cloth, and plunged it into the pail.
Anais focused on Loke, slipping into a detached and methodical state as she worked to remove her makeshift bandage from around his waist, wring out the cloth and use it to clean his stab wound.
It was ragged.
She tentatively prised it open, stopping when she reached a point where his flesh was already knitting back together. Blood rose like a tide, filling the wound and spilling across his pale skin again. She mopped it up and applied pressure to the wound while she picked up the knife with her other hand. He was healing, but not quickly enough. She needed to seal the jagged cut for him.
She held the knife over the fire, waiting for the blade to glow red-hot before pulling it out, lifting the cloth from the wound and pressing the blunt edge of the knife against the gash.
Loke arched upwards, his bellow deafening her and making her ears ring long after he had fallen silent and still again.
“Sorry,” Anais whispered and peeled the blade off him, revealing angry red raw skin. She bathed it in cool water, her hands shaking.
In the quiet, alone with him, it all threatened to overwhelm her.
She was safe now because of him. He had fought for her, had taken blows meant to kill him, in order to stop another male from being able to claim her. It was all her fault. She was the reason he was in this state, fighting for his life. He had saved her. Again.
Tears filled her eyes and she scrubbed them away, refusing to let them come.
What he had done was noble and kind, and she had realised something as she had watched him fighting for her, being clawed and beaten.
She felt something for him.
Perhaps that wasn’t entirely the truth.
Perhaps she had realised it before that moment, when she had seen the way the female dragon had looked at Loke and it had dawned on her that the female wanted him. That bitch had taken Anais from him with the intention of handing her over to another male so she could have Loke for herself.
But Loke had looked at her with only hatred glowing in his eyes.
And he had looked at Anais with a wealth of tenderness and heat.
That tenderness and heat, and the feelings she felt for him in return, had been the reason she had foolishly kissed him. She hadn’t meant it as a good luck kiss. Hell, she had intended it to be far from that when she had pressed her lips against his, but her courage had failed her, even when he had begun to respond.
She had feared what she had done, so she had covered it up by pretending she had done it purely to wish him luck.
Was it so wrong of her to desire him?
She stroked her fingers across his brow and looked down at his face, studying the strong line of his jaw and his straight nose. His dark lashes and wild blue hair. His sensual lips. Lips that had felt right against hers. Heat curled through her, stirred by the memory of their kiss.
He was handsome, noble and kind. He was gracious and tender, and attentive. He was brave and strong. A warrior who spoke to the one within her. He didn’t coddle her in a way that made her feel weak or belittle her. He was everything she had ever wanted in a man.
But had never expected to find in a dragon.
Anais leaned over him and pressed a long kiss to his brow. It was damp beneath her lips, dotted with sweat, and cold. Those two things drove her concerns about herself and what she was doing out of her mind, replacing them with concern for him. He needed her now and she would take care of him.
She focused on washing him, bathing him from head to toe and tending to every one of his wounds. She carefully cleaned the claw marks on his chest and inspected them. Beads of blood broke the surface in a few place
s down each red line, but the slashes were already closing so she left them alone, allowing them to heal naturally.
When she was done with washing him, she covered him with the furs and then rolled one and placed it beneath his head, raising it off the ground. She kneeled beside him and watched over him as he slept, determined to stay awake and on hand in case he needed her.
Behind her, wind whistled across the cave mouth.
A quiet voice pointed out that this was the perfect opportunity to escape and she pretended not to hear it. She didn’t feel like escaping anymore, and her change of heart had nothing to do with the other dragons or any fear that they might grab her again. The desire to stay came from Loke alone. He had fought for her and now she honestly believed that he had meant every word that he had said to her.
He wanted to keep her safe.
He had done just that.
Now it was her turn to keep him safe.
Anais brushed her fingers across his brow, smoothing strands of his rich blue hair from it, her gaze fixed on his face as he slumbered.
She had been so afraid when she had watched him fighting for her. She had felt on the verge of losing him and it had filled her with dread, with a deep consuming need to call his name and somehow convince him to break with his warrior’s code and fly away with her.
Far away.
She no longer wanted to run away from him.
She wanted to run away with him.
But he was right. They couldn’t run.
They couldn’t run because Loke wasn’t the only one who needed her now.
She frowned down at him as anger burned through her veins, setting her blood aflame.
Her friends needed her too.
She didn’t know how many huntresses the other dragons had taken from the battle, but she was going to find out. She wasn’t going to let them suffer anymore.
She would find a way to save them just as Loke had saved her.
Taken by a Dragon Page 10
