Page 69 of Fated to the Dragon Warlord

I push myself up off the ground and onto a stone ledge. My stomach rumbles, and I wish I’d eaten more when I had the chance. I doubt very much Deus is going to find food for us.

Or even he’s thought that far ahead.

“I hear you thinking, female,” he growls from the opening.

He is no longer a dragon.

“Whatever,” I mutter.

In a stupendously swift movement, Deus is in front of me, one hand slamming the rock above my ledge, the claws burying themselves deep.

“My brother needs to pay for what he’s done.”

“And what exactly is that? Did he pull your hair?” Yes, I have a death wish, but at this moment, damp and uncomfortable, worried sick about my friends and, to my intense annoyance, Darax, I decide I don’t care.

If Deus was going to kill me, he’d have done it already. He needs me alive.

“He killed my mate.” Deus’ eyes are like dark pits. There’s hardly any fire in them. “When he took us through the wormhole.”

My stomach contracts.

“You all went through the wormhole together.” I stumble over the words. “The entire fleet.”

“He had a choice. I followed because I am a good brother, but he is not. He killed her and he condemned me to this living death.”

Deus pulls back from me, breath coming in ragged waves, the occasional ember emanating from his nostrils but no smoke.

I realize it’s the lack of smoke which bothers me. The other Sarkarnii smoke like chimneys, sometimes in anger, and sometimes it seems to be a way of calming themselves. But there’s nothing from Deus. It’s as if his spark of life has gone out.

Shaking his head, Deus walks away from me, muttering words I don’t understand or are not being translated. He paces back and forth as the light outside slowly dims and then disappears altogether.

We are alone in the dark.

I hug my knees, trying to ignore the scratchy, painful feeling in my throat. My twin desires to escape and to find my friends war with the thought of what Darax is like without me.

Is he like Deus? Is Deus the end result of an unfulfilled rut? I’m not sure, but the creeping feeling I’m not far wrong makes me shiver harder.

Then the feeling of betrayal creeps through the dark, stealing into my consciousness as the sounds of Vorostor penetrate the rear of the cave. High pitched, ear splitting, bowel loosening shrieks, deep burbles, awful groans, as if the entire planet is an enormous ghost train.

I promised my friends I’d keep them safe. I promised it because I believed it. But Darax lied to me. We are not safe here.

We never will be.

DARAX

The mating mix has nowhere to go. It burns within me, setting my flight lungs on fire. My accelerant sacs full of unused accelerant make me belch up fire every nova-minute.

I’d consider myself a mess if I could think straight.

I cannot.

All I can think about is my Kerra. The need to find her, the need to get to her, to have her in my arms, to scent her skin, her hair, all of her.

“Lord Darax.” Dalat risks an interruption and gets a roar.

I open my wings, beating them wildly before landing a mere fang’s bite away from him.

“What. Is. It?” I snarl. “I have to find my mate.”

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