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The guard drew his sword and dashed toward her, face twisted in hate. She lifted her sword with no real knowledge of how to hold it, how to wield it, and she knew that the guard’s murderous expression would be the last thing she ever saw.
At the last second, a fat, scaly tail whipped out and clotheslined the guard, slamming him back against the doorjamb so hard that June heard a sickening crunch and the guard slumped to the ground. Unfortunately, the move distracted Tristan and one of the attacking dragons managed to sink its razor-sharp fangs into his neck. He let out a mighty roar that tore at June’s heart.
“Stop it!” she screamed, drawing the attention of the other dragon. Its pupils narrowed into thin slits and its lips peeled back to show slavering, bloodstained, sharp-as-knives teeth. If a dragon could sneer, that was it. Something in that look told her this was Belinda.
“Hey, Belinda.” Her voice shook worse than the tip of her blade. “We don’t have to do this.”
Tristan twisted and thrashed, trying to dislodge himself from the dragon-guard’s hold. Belinda slinked closer to June, eyeing her like she was walking, talking lunchmeat.
“I bet we’d be friends if you really got to know me.”
Still Belinda stalked her with ruthless intent. June’s palms grew sweaty and beds of perspiration dripped down her spine. This was it. She was a dead woman.
Like a snake with prey in its sights, Belinda’s head reared back and she opened her monstrous jaw. Gazing into the glossy red throat of a giant predator sent paralyzing terror through her veins. Her hair stood on end as if the fingers of death stroked her neck.
Then Belinda struck.
Closing her eyes, June spat a curse and flung the blade out in front of her. Her back hit the wall, knocking her senseless and blasting the air from her lungs. She slumped to the floor, knees in her chest. As she sucked in much-needed oxygen, all she could smell was something hot and foul wafting around her. She gagged and heaved as she struggled to fill her lungs and regain her senses. Her dizzy brain registered a sharp, throbbing pain in her shoulder.
When the world stopped barrel-rolling and her vision cleared, she blinked at the sight before her. She was wedged against the wall and…Belinda’s massive mouth, which hung wide open and was nearly wrapped around her. Rows of glistening fangs as long as her forearm and as sharp as blades bore down on her, slick and dripping with saliva. All Belinda had to do was chomp down and June would be dinner. But there was no movement. It was surreal, like a moment captured in time…
Because her sword was buried deep in the roof of Belinda’s throat.
The pain in June’s shoulder intensified, and she realized just how close to death she’d come. One of Belinda’s fangs had stabbed right through her shoulder. Blood bloomed from the wound, dripping down and staining the sheet still loosely wrapped around her.
Belinda exhaled one long, final breath. Then her massive body collapsed under its own weight.
Shaking, stomach roiling, June was forced to sink down and forward, farther into Belinda’s mouth to slide her shoulder free of the fang. The pain of it made her cry out and her brain began to spin. More blood gushed. From the cacophonous sounds, war still waged outside her putrid cocoon.
As she attempted to crawl free of Belinda’s jaws, she slipped on something slick.
Blood. A lot of it. It was pooling under her.
New pain registered. Her right leg had been sliced open from her knee to her hip. There was a knot on the back of her head from when the force of Belinda’s attack had slammed her into the wall. Her entire body ached, and her vision danced and dimmed and sparkled with the threat of unconsciousness.
Then came a sickly crunch and an agonized roar that trailed off into a gurgle. June’s heart thundered in her chest. Had Tristan been defeated?
She worked harder to squirmed out from under Belinda’s jowls just in time to find Tristan had gained the upper hand with his attacker. The creature’s head hung lifeless, its neck clamped in Tristan’s jaw. His eyes were wild. He snarled and smoke puffed from his snout. Magnificent creature.
June attempted a triumphant smile, but dizziness swept through her and her vision faded to black.
23
Seething with a ferocity that spread like a contagion, Tristan snapped the dragon’s neck and felt the satisfying pop of bones rending apart. His foe fell limp. Yet Tristan was in no way mollified. Unmitigated rage swamped his brain. They had attacked him. They had attacked his woman! He needed their blood. He needed to hurt them. He needed vengeance. He would not be satisfied until he tore them all limb from limb, shred their guts with his claws and burn their bodies to cinders. Burned them until they were dust and ash and soot. Erase them from existence.
He felt the preternatural fire in his gut churn to life and warm his belly. He would start with these two.
Movement caught his reptilian gaze and he snarled, ready to extinguish his next adversary.
Draped across the broken bed, a bloodied figure gazed up at him with beautiful lagoon-colored eyes. Eyes that had looked at him a thousand different ways: with humor, with irritation, with fear, with hope, with pleasure…with love.
My June.
In the next instant, her body slumped, lifeless.
On a terrified roar, Tristan spit out the dead dragon and then transformed from his dragon form. He rushed to loom over her. “June! June!”
Blood was everywhere, thick and sticky. It poured from a wound on her shoulder. Her leg, too, was lacerated…deeply lacerated. Unfathomable terror twisted in his chest and he nearly doubled over. There was even blood on the back of her skull. How long before she bled out? Was she even alive?
