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The male grinned devilishly, threading his fingers in her hair and guiding her toward his groin. “Welcome to the world of Dragon dicks, little vixen.”
IV
38
“We need to free some Crystal Fae to help us,” I argued, crossing my arms over my chest and glaring at Drazen across the strategy table.
“Izidora is right,” Liliana and Endre came to my defense at the same time, exchanging one of many awkward looks that had occurred since he’d defected from the Night Realm. The tension hanging between the three of them was enough to set my teeth on edge, and after a week of it, I was about ready to force Zuriel to read all their minds to pronounce their true feelings for all to hear.
The Angel perched on a stool in the corner of the gray canvas war tent, unnaturally still as arguments about how to put out the fire raged on. I still couldn’t believe he could read minds and told absolutely no one until the moment Endre was on his knees before Ruslan, waiting to be burnt alive.
Was that how we’d been able to communicate all this time? Or did we truly have a mind to mind connection like I shared with Ruslan?
Every one of us in this tent was soot-soaked, exhausted, and thirsty. Dragon fire was apparently very difficult to snuff out, and even with the might of the Iron and Day Realms’ armies, we were barely holding back the blaze.
“If we shift into our Dragon forms, we can go to a coastal town and pick up volunteers and be back within half a day. If the Night Fae are still in Vlisa, they won’t even know we were there.” Ruslan rose from his chair and stalked out of the tent, ending the conversation.
I spun on my heel and followed him. “I’m coming with you.”
I nearly slipped in the mud as he came to a startling halt and captured my mouth with his for a quick kiss. “Of course you are. We might need your magic to convince the Crystal Fae to help.”
Grinning, we rested our foreheads against one another. “Thanks for having my back in there.”
“Us against the world,” he hummed. Ruslan kissed my forehead, then tugged me along behind him as we wound our way to Rares’s tent, where the old Mage worked round the clock churning out potions and making shifting permanent for the Félvér who could only partially shift or lacked the ability entirely.
Rares barely acknowledged us as we entered his space, too focused on working with a patient. The female shifted into a Wolf, howling at the absent moon, before shifting back, her golden eyes shining.
“Thank you,” she choked out, eyes shining as she swung her regard first to Rares, then Ruslan.
Down our bond, I felt Ruslan’s pride and happiness for her, but his expression remained impassive as she dipped into a bow and departed the tent with a bounce in her step.
“My turn,” Ruslan growled his command, his tone sending a shiver down my spine and heating my low belly. We’d been so busy with everything else, we hadn’t been intimate in weeks, andmy body ached for his in a way that nearly drove me to orgasm from his raspy voice alone.
His nostrils flared, and he winked at me, his smoky grays holding a promise for later.
“At least I know you can handle the pain,” Rares grumbled, handing Ruslan a potion before running a sharp needle over a bright white flame.
I chewed my lip as my mate swallowed the drink, then ripped his shirt overhead, baring his tattooed torso. The ones trailing down his fingers flexed as he prepared himself for the injection. Without thinking, I grabbed one of his fingers, stroking the back of it soothingly.
“I’m here, and you’re safe with me.”His nervousness made sense – after all, Rares had injected him with Goddess-knew how many concoctions as a child, all against his will.
“Love you, sprite.”
“Love you, Ruslan.”
He flinched when the needle slipped into the boulder of muscle at his shoulder, and I pushed soothing emotions into him. Ruslan subtly shook his head, and I relented, allowing him to feel the pain and process his feelings.
Rares chanted an incantation over Ruslan – one that had been the background music for the past week while we remained in the war camp – as he worked his magic to provide Ruslan the permanent ability to shift into a Dragon. Back and forth on the opposite side of the tent, I paced, waiting for the process to complete. My eye caught on the perfect circle between my mate’s shoulder blades, the one that marked us for each other and told the world we’d been permanently claimed. Heat bloomed in my low belly as the bond that tied us together hummed contentedly. I stroked it absently, drawing goosebumps to Ruslan’s skin.
Those goosebumps turned to scales.
“You need to get out of the tent, now. I don’t want you shredding it to pieces when you shift,” Rares instructed, stepping back and ceasing his incantations.
Ruslan stripped off the rest of his clothes and burst through the canvas within moments. I followed him into the hot midday air, watching as he raced toward a nearby space that had been cleared for this purpose. Black scales rippled across his legs as he put distance between himself and the war camp. Skidding to a stop, I held my breath as wings popped from his back, and with a mighty roar, his massive black Dragon form forced its way into the world.
In three flaps, he was airborne and soaring toward the sea, in the opposite direction of the raging wildfire. The sun did not shine off his scales; his scales sucked in all the light, and it was as breathtaking as it was terrifying.
“Out of my way,” Drazen yelled, and I whipped around, sidestepping just enough for the male to race by me, lapis lazuli scales already taken over his entire body. Liliana jogged behind him, stopping to join me as Drazen’s shift tore through him.
