Too loud.
“Creators,” I mutter, tossing my cloak around my shoulders. I wedge through the exit just as she prowls around the tree, moving toward the nesting grounds.
I realize exactly what she’s doing—unarmed, bar the full sheath she always wears. Garbed in no other means of protection. Not even a little mud to mask her scent.
I grab her arm—
She whips around and shoves me back against the tree with the feral poise of a predator, her mouth at my neck, breath so cold upon my skin it almost burns.
The forest goes still and silent. Even the chaotic waking sounds of the nesting grounds seem to fade while her canines graze the heavingthumpof my carotid.
I swallow. Bring my hand around to run it between her shoulder blades, finding the muscles pinched so hard together I picture Rygun when he’s ready to fight—wings poised.
Tail raised.
Fire welling in his chest.
“You. Smell. Like. Me. LikeRygun,” I grind out, each word passed to her clearly.
Precisely.
Doing my best to cut through whatever’s come over her.
“They’ll swarm you.Killyou.”
Her snarl loses some of its edge. A little more as she pulls back.
I glimpse what appears to be the bud of a blue flame churning at the back of her throat before she closes her mouth—wondering if I’m seeing things.
If I’m going fucking mad.
Her head banks to the side as she takes me in with long sweeps of her strange ebony eyes, and something cold settles within me. Something that feels right, even though it aches. Something I don’t want to look at too closely, lest it achemore.
“I will bring her back to you when I am done.”
My skin pebbles in the wake of her words, because although it’s Raeve’s voice, it’snot. It’s the voice of something else. Something cold and ancient.
Something …
Impossible.
“You have my vow, mate of my Precious One.”
I stiffen, choking on the haunting echo of her words.
She turns for the bog, prowling toward it with long, animalistic strides, leaving me slumped against the base of the tree. Like some ancient, icy beast just sunk its teeth into my chest and tore out my heart.
Kaan follows The Other all the way to the muddy shore, like he believes the feathered beasts that govern this land will swarm her.
And perhaps they will.
But The Other knows these untamed dragons won’t maim the one she loves, their minds unburdened by a bond, their actions still wholly their own.
The wild ones may spit their flames and light up the sky with their pretty threats—or perhaps attempt to snatch her and cart her back to their nests to protect and worship—but unless threatened, they won’t hurt Raeve.
They won’t willingly maim that which has already passed.
The Other leaps from stepping stone to stepping stone, making use of someone’s old trail across the blistering bog. Glances behind to see Kaan is still following—as she expected he might—despite his instincts no doubt screaming to him that he’ll be swarmed.
