Page 66 of Dream Reaper

He shook his head to indicate he didn’t know. A part of him wanted to reach back to take Ava’s hand, to reassure her it would be all right, but that was such a foolish notion.

Need hands for killing, Dragon muttered, sounding a little petulant.

Was he jealous?

Jerrid ignored the seething emotion washing over him and hurried in the direction of the girl’s scent. The myrk hound’s aroma grew stronger too, which meant it might already be stalking the girl. Perhaps it had already found her. If they didn’t hurry…

He broke into a trot, carving a path through the undergrowth for those following him. They couldn’t be far ahead now—the girl or the beast.

He skidded to a halt after circling an unusually large tree that split in the middle and arched in separate directions toward the glowering night sky above.

A dozen yards ahead of him, a dark shape with an arched spine spun to face him. Jerrid crouched, baring his teeth instinctively as the predator snarled a warning. Beyond the creature, lying at the base of a tree, was a body.

Something inside Jerrid tightened and grew hot.

The myrk hound circled slowly to face him full on, its teeth bared and gleaming white. Jerrid growled back at it, but the hound ignored him, padding toward them on huge paws.

It wasn’t going to stop. And the only thing that stood between Ava and certain death was his own feeble human form.

He shouted Dragon’s name desperately into his mind.

The myrk hound launched forward with a guttural bark. Jerrid dove toward him to close the distance faster. His hand lashed out, and claws pushed against his fingernails. He let them come, focusing on the claws—only the claws. Dragon needed to stay where he was.

But Jerrid needed him.

As the hound leaped from the ground, Jerrid ducked and lashed out with his right hand, claws raking through fur and flesh. The beast howled in pain, knocked off course by the blow. It skidded through the damp leaves coating the forest floor and came round to face Jerrid again.

This time, it eyed Jerrid with new wariness. Only a couple of yards separated them. He stood so close to the myrk hound, he saw the drool dangling from its dark lips, the fury in its dark-brown eyes. Jerrid bared his teeth again.

“Mine,” he snarled.

The hound snapped at him, the spiny fur on its shoulders bristling. It took a step forward, planting a heavy paw on the ground with deliberate force.

It was a challenge.

“Mine!” Jerrid shouted and flung himself forward.

The hound growled and raced to meet him. They collided, fur and bone, and rolled across the forest floor. Jerrid came out on top, lashing out with his clawed hand. He tore into the hound’s exposed side and ripped through flesh.

Blood spurted across his hand, but he didn’t flinch away. He couldn’t.

Mine, Dragon repeated in a hoarse whisper. Ours. Mine…

In that moment, Jerrid realized it didn’t matter. For once, he and Dragon were in complete agreement.

Ava belonged to them.

And this hound wouldn’t lay one tooth on her. He wouldn’t even lay a glance on her, not if they could help it.

The hound snapped at Jerrid’s hand, its massive teeth sliding over the scales protecting the back of his knuckles. Jerrid punched it hard in the jaw. The hound roared, kicking with its powerful hind legs and hurling Jerrid to the side. He tumbled, rolled, and came up in a crouch, sliding through the leaves.

To his right, Ava and Brynja lifted a motionless form between them.

Good. That was good.

Get away!

Yes, get away. They needed to get away.