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“IDRIL!”
Branwen’s voice slices through the air, frantic and afraid. Both our attention snaps toward my friend, racing across the cavern, weaving around fallen stone, rocks, and massive chunks of ice. She trips once, stumbles, and nearly falls before righting herself, refusing to stop until she reaches us.
Her eyes are on me, so when I physically feel Vharax stiffen in alarm, I brace myself, getting ready to throw myself between them.
Branwen doesn’t even slow when she reaches my makeshift bridge, sprinting over the packed Earth and ignoring the now-calm water on either side. When she steps onto the platform, she skids to a stop and drops to her knees beside me.
She checks me over, cursing under her breath in what I think might be French. When she sees I’m not hurt, she relaxes, and that’s when she finally notices Vharax.
Before now, I’d never actually seen someone freeze like a deer in headlights.
“What—what the fuck is that?!”
I don’t answer.
The dragon takes a deep breath, each sinuous inch of her body pulling taut. Under her scales, her muscles bunch and flex as she shifts back, chest vibrating with a low rumble.
She moves so fast I have to bite my tongue to keep from screaming. One second she’s as still as a statue; the next, she’s lunging at us without actually moving. She surges forward and, in the same motion, throws her head back to face the sky. Her mouth falls open and a stream of red and blue flame shoots into the sky from her throat, so bright it’s nearly blinding.
Even from four feet away, I can feel the heat of the fire against my skin. Branwen yelps, scrambling back on her hands and knees, wide eyed, fixated on the torrent of flame.
Vharax hunches down and swings her body around until she’s facing me. The same blue eye I saw in my dream watches me now, lending the whole situation an even stronger sense of unreality.
She tilts her head, and her gaze snaps to Branwen, eyeing her like a wildfire moments before it devours a forest.
“Dragon…”
The word is barely more than a whisper, drowning in awe and reverence. When Vharax’s eyes narrow on her, she throws up her hands in supplication.
“Totally get it. No need for another demonstration. You are a super, super badass dragon.”
Vharax ignores her and turns back to me. For a breathless moment, neither one of us moves. Then she stands and takes a single, confident step toward me. Claws that look more like talons scrape across the stone with each step, and smoke curls from her nostrils, but I stay where I am, refusing to break eye contact.
I cannot show fear.
Vharax is mine. Just as I’m hers. We’re Bonded. Bound.
But unlike Shade, Vharax is the furthest thing from a pet. She’s not an animal that, while normally dangerous, will roll over and expose her stomach for belly rubs.
Vharax is dangerous. An apex predator. Top of the food chain.
And she knows it.
We may be bound, but that doesn’t make her less dangerous. Even now, she scrutinizes me not as a friend, but as something powerful and strong that recognizes the same strength and fire inside of me.
Mirrors of one another.
Once we're within a few feet of each other, she slows and lowers her head, bending until her face is level with my chest. When she exhales, my hair whips around my face, caught in a current that smells of sulfur and smoke.
Following my instincts and hoping they don’t lead me astray, I reach out my hand and let it hover between us. Vharax’s reptilian eyes narrow to slits, and the scent of brimstone explodes through the air.
Vharax opens her mouth. Before I even realize it, she aims a stream of fire straight at my arm.
Behind me, Branwen screams. And as much as I want to do the same, I force myself not to react.
This needs to happen.
Vharax hesitates, almost like she’s not sure what she’s doing, only that it needs to be done. I wish we could speak the way we did in my dream, but as I watch her now, I’m oddly comforted knowing I’m not the only one who’s stumbling blindly through just like this.
