Page 28 of Wings of Destruction

Her insidious tremor of heartbreak adds tension to my chest.

There’s no place for that.

Not when I have a show to put on, and the lives of everyone in the cave depends on my skills.

A laugh escapes my swollen throat as she beats her fists against my chest.

“Ouch,” I say with mock agony. “If you hit me any harder, you’ll cave my chest in.”

“You deserve it,” she snarls. “You deserve to pollute the earth with your corpse rather than walk and talk and breathe.”

She lifts her gaze to mine and her blazing intensity would make any dragon proud.

“Do I? I’ve never even met you. So how do you know if I deserve it or not?”

“I saw what you did to my people. I watched you fight.” Her voice breaks. “You killed them.”

There we are, spinning around in circles. We’ve reached the tail of the serpent only to see fangs.

I press her harder against the stone. “My skills are vast, as you saw, but I can’t take responsibility for the roast.”

I can, and I do. She doesn’t need to know.

A round of dark chuckles sound at my joke, and a slap of flesh on flesh means someone has congratulated someone else. My money is on Tristan.

“Tell me how you couldn’t keep your eyes off me,” I push the redheaded girl, taunting her, forcing her to focus. “Tell me how your gaze tracked my every movement. Did you like what you saw? Did you find me attractive?”

Had Roman taunted my mother the same way? Bile rises up my throat at what I’m saying. But in order to save this fiery woman and her people, I can’t pull back.

“I was marking your weakness. The better to kill you when I get my hands on you.” She snarls again and flashes white teeth at me.

“Your hands are on me now.” I lean closer until she gasps, the sound strangled, and I hate myself even more. “If you’d like to pursue it further, then now is your best chance.”

Letting go of her is a mistake. I know it as surely as I know the importance of this moment, although the reason is nebulous and unformed. We’re on the precipice of something momentous.

“You are an imbecile. I’d no more touch you than I would touch a basilisk.”

One of the children whimpers.

“An imbecile?” I repeat. “I think you can be a little more creative.”

“Dragon dung, then,” she corrects sharply.

“Ah, there you go.” I push my body against hers, trapping her between me and the stone, and her groan shifts to a scream, the sound trapped in her chest, peeling any sense of honor I think I still have from me.

I grit my teeth and push the ploy even further. “Perfect. You fit exactly what I was looking for.”

“Let go of me!”

Messing with her isn’t one of my finest moments. How do I buy the time to figure out what to do, and how to get the children out? Death will be a much fairer sentence for these people than what awaits them at the hands of Tristan and the soldiers.

“Why would I let go when you’re so determined to fight me? It’s… fascinating.”

The first thing I should have done was to tackle Tristan with some excuse rather than letting him find the cave. The second would be to wipe the image of the redhead out of my head.

She uses both hands to shove against me. “Stop!”

A sneer twitches at the corners of her mouth. A clue. She’s given herself away.