by Abigail Owen
He’d never hear the end of it. And he didn’t give a damn.
She was his.
As he closed the distance between them, her smile returned slowly, widening with each step he took.
Still yards away, he caught movement behind her. In the dark between the trees, just across the fire from where he and Delaney had slept, something slithered. As though shadow itself flowed in a liquid stream of movement, a massive beast uncoiled from its hiding spot.
No.
“Delaney, run!” Finn shouted.
He dropped his pack and took off at a sprint, but he was too late. The black dragon rose, wings outstretched, outlined against the glowing orange sky. In less than a heartbeat, it snapped her up in its talons and took to the skies.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Move.
Finn couldn’t shift fast enough to get in the air to go after her. Like in dreams when you ran and ran but didn’t go anywhere, only this was his waking nightmare.
He willed his body into the transition, helped by the dragon within. A roar reverberated in his head, shaking his chest until he burst into the air fully formed and the sound punched from his maw.
Graff already had the advantage of altitude, having used his time wisely to get high. However, where black dragons were nimble, blue dragons were fast.
Putting every ounce of power he could muster behind the actions, he slashed his wings through the air, pushing himself higher and higher, gaining on the black dragon who had his mate.
In the softening sky, still more navy than light, tracking Graff was difficult. Instead, Finn focused on the reflective material of the jacket Delaney had donned last night.
Faster. If Graff teleported before he could get to him, Finn wasn’t sure he could track him again. Her scent would be covered by the smoke from the flames. He was dealing with a smart motherfucker.
At the same time, Finn formulated a plan in his head. No way had Graff healed from the severity of his wounds from the other day, not fully, which would leave him vulnerable. While dragon’s scales shielded them from dragon fire, if a dragon was wounded, and fire reached the wound, enough fire could eat them alive from the inside.
As soon as he got Delaney away from that fucker, that’s exactly what Finn was going to do.
…
Wind tore at her and clouded her vision, which wasn’t much in the dark anyway. At least the fire lent a smidgeon of light, and in the east, the purple glow of dawn tried to penetrate the granite mountains.
How the hell had Graff gotten to her a second time? The man was like a damn ninja.
Delaney didn’t panic. Refused to panic. Unless he teleported again. Wouldn’t he have done it by now if he could, though? Finn had said he’d injured the shifter. Maybe he’d shorted out that ability?
She prayed that was the case.
Graff had plucked her up from behind, so she lay face down within his grasp. She’d watched Finn run after her, shifting as he moved, and, finally, the spread of his blue wings as he managed to follow them into the air.
Could he catch them? Graff had put a lot of distance between them already.
Get your head out of your ass and move, girl.
She pushed against his grasp, trying to force her body from his grip. Only he tightened around her, squeezing until she could barely breathe.
“All right,” she snapped.
Delaney stopped her struggles and he loosened up.
Next option. She wriggled over to her back and pretended to go limp, as though she’d given up. After forcing herself to wait and count to sixty, she slowly moved one arm to the strap at her waist and the knife secured there, glad she’d thought to arm herself after that last attack.
No way was she going to be defenseless if Graff took her again. Happens once, shame on him. Happens twice, shame on her.
And she’d been damn right.
Now she inched up the fabric of the jacket she’d donned last night, trying not to let Graff sense her movement.
Got it.
She flipped the button to release the small leather strap holding it into the miniature scabbard and slid the knife out.
Okay. Now what?
She studied the talons holding her. Formed like a hawk’s, each individual digit was skin-covered bone, with the talon itself protruding from the tip, sort of like giant spiky fingernails. The way he held her now, the tips were under her back. She doubted she’d get through the hide of a digit, even if she stabbed him. Cutting off a finger was out.
What she needed to do was inflict the most pain possible and try to shock him into dropping her and hope Finn could catch her before she splatted.
An idea occurred. One that had her stomach clenching in squeamish knots. Screw it. No way was she going with him without a fight.
Delaney wriggled again in Graff’s grasp like she was trying to escape, working her way over until she lay stomach down. Then she settled again, so he’d loosen up his grip that had tightened back to suffocating.
After the black spots dancing in her vision cleared, she focused on her task. Without touching him, she lined the tip of the blade up with where the talon met skin—the dragon equivalent of a cuticle. She positioned herself so she could use both hands. With a forceful thrust, she stabbed up and in.
Like a form of torture—bamboo under the fingernails, the idea of which had always made her shudder—her small sliver of a dagger should’ve caused a great deal of pain. Sure enough, Graff blasted a screech and his grip loosened long enough for her to push out of his clutches before he could tighten his grip again.
Being small and human could come in handy.
Thrashing, Delaney dropped through the sky. She didn’t scream, though. As she flipped and flailed, she twisted her head, searching for Finn.
She knew he was below her. He’d catch her, she knew he would.
…
A glint of metal caught his attention as he closed in. He zeroed in on Delaney and the knife in her hand. The one she’d taken out of her drawer yesterday. His mate was no dummy, she had prepared in case Graff got her a second time. Something he should’ve thought of himself.
As he watched, she shoved the knife between skin and talon, and Graff screamed out his pain. Damn, that had to hurt like a son of a bitch.
Satisfaction ripped through him, but he discarded the emotion and focused on Delaney as she plummeted through the purple sky. He was positioned perfectly, directly under her. As she fell, he could see her searching. For him.
I’ve got you, luv.
Almost there. Almost there.
If he tried to catch her, the rate of her fall might crush her delicate body. His stomach plummeting with her, he let her fall past, then flipped in the air to pluck her from the sky from above, cushioning the impact by falling with her for a moment.
“Got you.” Relief slammed through him at the feel of her in his grasp.
“About time,” Delaney answered, though her voice came out in panting breaths.
The trumpet of a challenge reverberated through the sky, echoing off the nearby peaks. Graff.
“Boss, we’re directly below you,” Levi blasted into his mind.
“I’ve got to deal with your stalker,” Finn relayed to the woman clutched in his talons.
“I know.”
“Do you trust me?”
“Yes.”
“I have to let you go. Levi will catch you.”
“Do it.”
And he let her go, watching for a flash of a moment as she fell away from him, her face turned up to his, those eyes so trusting even as she dropped to the earth. His soul went with her, falling away from him.
I’m going to rip his bloody heart out and burn it.
Finn gained altitude, searching for the black dragon.
“Finish him fast. Daylight is breaking,” came Levi’s warning.
“Keep her safe. Stay out of it.” Two dueling dragons might not be seen amidst the smoke of the fire still raging below, but more was pushin
g it.
Finn paused and swiveled his head, searching the skies.
“In the smoke,” Levi called. “At your six.”
He swung around to catch the flash of a spiked black tail before it disappeared into the cauldron of gray smoke.
You’re mine.
Finn tucked his wings back and hurled his body directly into the spot where Graff had disappeared. Clear air turned to the hazy wall of smoke, obscuring his vision. Only the swirl of the air around him alerted him to the approach of something large.
Finn twisted and flipped, watching Graff whoosh through the spot where Finn had just been, leaving a spinning torrent of ash-laden air behind him. He tracked Graff’s movement through the air and went on the attack.
Both dragons swerved and turned and flipped, coming at each other, then breaking apart, each searching for that opportunity to wound their opponent where he was most vulnerable. Finn could see the slashing wounds Graff carried from their last fight. He needed to get close enough to aim his fire.
Graff wasn’t making it easy on him. Finn couldn’t see a discernable hitch to the dragon’s ability to fly, to the movement of his body, but adrenaline could be masking the asshole’s pain, or his obsessive determination was helping him push through it.
As they circled, parried, attacked, and withdrew, Finn watched.
There.
The fucker had a tendency to break off to the right rather than the left and bared his jugular as he angled away.
Finn twisted and leveled out before shooting forward, gaining speed as he powered through the air. Wait for it, wait for it.
At the last minute, he feinted to the left, then flipped, coming up and over the top of Graff and back down, directly on top of the beast.
He missed the jugular.
They came together with a clash of bodies that boomed like a rumble of thunder, grappling as they plummeted through the air. Wings wrapped around each other. They tore at each other with their talons, going for the softer underbelly.
Finn lunged for Graff’s neck, jaws snapping, only to have to jerk away when Graff twisted to strike with his own deadly bite. Twice more they went for each other’s throats and missed, exchanging snap for snap like duelers.
He managed to get a couple of shots at Graff’s wounds. Nothing that made the damage worse, but the dragon grunted in pain. Maybe it would slow him down.
Graff got his hind feet up between them and shoved, breaking Finn’s hold and pushing him lower in the sky. Finn tumbled for a second before he flared his wings wide, only to flip to his back to find Graff bearing down on him.
With everything he had, Finn hurled a fireball from his maw at his attacker. Not to melt his flesh, he wasn’t close enough for that. No, he kept up the stream of fire to obscure the other dragon’s sight. At the same time, he braced himself, ready for the hit.
With a roar, Graff exploded out of the fire like the monster he was. Only he came from the side, not above and cracked his jaws down over Finn. He missed his throat but had Finn by the head.
Finn twisted and writhed in the black dragon’s grip but couldn’t break lose. Those dragonsteel-sharp teeth dug into the top of his head and the underside of his jaw and warm blood trickled down his face and into his eyes.
Unable to claw or pull his way out, Finn flipped his body and swung his tail, his mace-like spikes battering at Graff, using the other dragon’s grip on him as leverage to hit him hard, hoping to hit one of his wounds.
After the third blow, Graff howled and loosened his bite enough for Finn to shake loose. With another blast of fire, Finn pushed away and flipped. The spikey crags of a charred mountainside rushed up at him. Finn banked hard, but had to pull up, slamming into the rock, managing to push off with his feet.
Except, as he tried to fly away, he could tell something was wrong.
…
“Where is he?” Delaney yelled. “Did he slam into the mountain?”
Wouldn’t they have heard the boom? Felt the ground shake? Fear pumped through her, trying to shut her down, but Delaney clawed her way through it.
Fear had no place in this moment. She couldn’t let it.
She lifted her gaze to the golden dragon hovering behind her, his massive head hanging over hers like a protective cliffside.
Levi ignored her, scouring the sky with his sharp-eyed gaze. “There.”
Delaney whipped her head to follow the direction in which he looked. Sure enough, a blue dragon emerged from the smoke. Still flying, but…
“Something’s wrong.”
The two white dragons flanking Levi tensed, their scales shushing, responding to the muscles moving underneath, as they brushed against each other.
But Levi held perfectly still.
“Levi—”
“I see it.”
Whatever had happened between Finn and Graff, Finn appeared to struggle to lift his head, flying hunched over, his neck drooping under the weight.
She put a hand out, touching Levi’s leg, needing to brace herself. “Is he bleeding?”
“Yes.”
“Can you hear him?” Panic edged her words.
Levi didn’t answer. That couldn’t be good.
“You have to go.” She gave him a shove. “Help him.”
“I have orders. I have to protect you.”
“I’m nothing if he doesn’t survive, Levi. You’re protecting nothing.” Less than nothing. How Finn had become this important, this vital to her, in such a short time was beyond her, but if he died, she wouldn’t be far behind.
She’d survived her parents’ death, her little brother’s. She’d pushed through the devastation of losing her home and every physical reminder she had of her family. Losing Finn…
She wouldn’t survive that.
“We can’t expose ourselves to the humans and they’re moving over where the crews are working.”
“Screw the rules.” She shoved at him with frantic pushes that did nothing to dislodge his hulking form from where he stood over her.
Rivin’s loud voice spiked through her mind, but she didn’t protest the pain. “We can blend with the smoke.”
“Send them,” Delaney pleaded.
Levi turned his head to the right and left. Was he talking to the white dragons? “Go.”
Long and slender, with fewer spikes and more streamlined bodies, the two white dragons seemed to slither off the cliff on which they stood, dropping, then flaring their wings to glide back up.
Meanwhile, Finn continued to struggle, flapping his wings to gain altitude, only to pause and drop again with a jerk, as if his wings couldn’t work with whatever was wrong with his head and neck.
A shadow against the smoke materialized above him, a glint of the fire reflecting in obsidian scales giving away Graff’s position.
Delaney gasped. “They’re not going to get to him in time.”
Rivin and Keighan, white specks against the purpling dawn, flew toward their leader, but they were still too far out. Oh God.
Graff pulled his wings in against his back and dove straight down, aiming directly at Finn. Even from this distance, with her puny eyes, she could see he was set up to deliver the final blow.
…
“Hold.” Levi’s steady voice reached Finn, and he held.
“I hope to the gods you know what the hell you’re doing,” Levi muttered.
So did Finn.
He had no idea if this would work. He wasn’t faking his injuries, knew that he likely wasn’t going to survive this last clash. But if he could keep Graff distracted long enough for Rivin and Keighan to attack, he could live with the consequences.
As long as they killed Graff and Delaney never had to deal with him again, Finn would be satisfied, regardless of what happened after.
“Hold.” Levi said. “Hold.”
Finn continued to limp along, probably looking like a blind bat, flapping all over the sky.
“Hold…”
The fucker had to be close.
“Now!”
Using every last reserve of will, Finn curled in on himself, a desperate action that forced the spikes along his back to protrude directly upward.
A blast of air told him Graff had flared his wings, probably scrabbling to keep from being impaled. An instant later, the black dragon slammed into him.
Graff screamed, even as the impact jarred through Finn.
Good. He hoped he’d skewered the bastard.
Meanwhile, Finn tried to keep Graff’s momentum and their combined weight aloft, but he couldn’t, not with his injuries. Together they tumbled, the flame-scorched land flashing by growing ever nearer.
“Got you, boss.”
He caught Keighan’s words a second before his momentum slammed to a halt. Graff screamed again as he was plucked from Finn’s back.
No longer hampered by his passenger, Finn managed to stay in the air on his own. He turned, beating his wings to hover. Rivin and Keighan had Graff by the wings, one of them on each side, stretching him wide.
Blood dripped from the various wounds across his belly. Satisfaction welled up inside Finn.
Got you.
Before the fucker could get away, Finn sucked in a breath, stoking the inferno inside him to white hot, his blue scales likely glowing with the conflagration. Then he blasted a stream of angry fire directly at the black dragon held by his men.
Graff’s scream pierced the air, and he jerked and writhed in Rivin’s and Keighan’s grasps. Finn didn’t let up for even a second. He closed the distance, covering Graff in fire, ensuring the flames would find every wound, every weak point on the dragon’s body, and worm its way through the gaps in his scales where it would melt him from the inside out.
Only when Graff’s screams cut off with finality and his body went limp between the two white dragons did Finn stop.
With a nod to his men, he watched as they released Graff. His body dropped into the raging blaze below, disappearing into the heavy gray and white smoke unfurling from the mountainside.
It’s over.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
For a second, Finn plummeted through the air, but managed to catch himself. Shit. Graff might be over, but maybe he was, too.
