Page 113 of Resurgent

A few recruits visibly swallow hard as Lorenson gives the signal, and then everything happens at once.

One recruit stands completely still as the massive blue dragon he approaches lowers its head and sniffs him from boots to shoulders.

Another dragon simply settles onto the ground and waits.

Then—

A yellow blur launches across the grass, and I barely have time to register it.

“Matt!” I scream as Zest hits him like a furry—well, scaly—missile.

Matt disappears beneath several hundred pounds of dragon as my heart leaps into my throat.

Then Matt's laughter cuts through the chaos…He’s…He's fucking wrestling with Zest!

Zest's wings flap wildly as Matt grabs onto one of his forelegs, rolling across the grass while the dragon snaps playfully at his shoulder.

“You two are insane!” I yell.

Zest lets out a deep, rumbling sound that almost sounds like laughter just as Matt manages to shove him away. Zest immediately pounces again, pinning Matt to the ground as his tail whips back and forth.

And then everything changes.

Zest goes completely still.

His eyes widen.

The yellow scales along his body begin to glow, not brightly, but a soft, unmistakable radiance beneath the scales, as if the sun got trapped beneath his skin.

Matt freezes, his expression changing too as the laughter disappears.

For one suspended second, my entire world seems to stop as I forget how to breathe…Then, as if it never happened, the glow is gone—Zest's scales back to their normal golden yellow, and he’s pressing his forehead against Matt's.

I smile before I can stop myself.

“Well,” I murmur. “That was the most beautiful and fucking stressful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Matt looks up at me, completely smug as he calls, “Told you!”

“Who tries to wrestle a dragon?” I laugh.

“He started it!”

I shake my head. “You're both fucking ridiculous.”

Zest nudges Matt hard enough to nearly knock him over.

“I told you not to worry,” Tyr boasts. “They were made to be bonded.”

I’m just about to tell him bragging doesn’t suit him when a scream tears across the grounds.

Everything inside me goes cold as I turn to see a recruit stumbling backward.

The dragon in front of him is livid, smoke billowing from his nostrils, and I can only assume the recruit must have failed whatever test the dragon gave him. His face is pale, his breathing ragged, and he's backing away with one hand raised defensively.

“Easy,” Lorenson calls, but it’s not enough.

The dragon snaps, and the recruit jerks his arm away too late.