Page 3 of An Accident Waiting to Dragon

Goran glared at Asher like he wanted to rip his throat out, playing his part. “I did what you should have done all along.”

Asher curled his lip in a snarl.

And Thanatos drew his shoulders back. “He was bringing information from a spy and traitor in my mountain to Ladon Ormarr.”

Asher snarled at Goran, straining against his shackles. “Are you in league with that godsdamned traitor?”

Goran’s lips tipped in a characteristic lopsided grin, like he didn’t have a care in the world. “To eradicate this asshole?” He nodded at Thanatos. “Yeah.”

“You were my friend,” Asher said, his voice turning raw with the undeniability of exactly what was about to happen.

Goran’s shrug held no mercy and no regret. “Then you should have listened to me when I told you to get out of Ben Nevis. You’re going to have to kill me to stop me now, brother.”

Brother. Asher had hoped that maybe Goran would become that not just in words.

“Well, well… This is a turn of events I did not foresee,” Thanatos murmured, crossing his arms as he took in the scene.

And from the glint in his eyes, he didn’t believe it, either.

He moved to stand before Asher, producing a key from his pocket. And with each click of a lock, each release of one of the bindings, more blue dragons in their human forms stepped out of the darkness and into the clearing. Thanatos’s lackies. Witnesses.

Or killers, if Asher and Goran tried to run.

“You want to prove yourself loyal to me?” Thanatos asked in a low voice. “Execute this man. Here and now.” This was it.

No choice.

There is no other choice.

Asher’s dragon, warily silent until this moment, gave a small huffing whine.

But he didn’t dare allow the emotion to show on his face. Not for a second.

Closing his eyes, Asher took a deep breath, and called forth the dragon from within, shifting and giving the animal side of him control. In a silent rush, his body changed. His soul stayed in place as his physical form shifted around his essence—everything human about him, including his clothes, absorbed into his new shape. The trees flew past as his perspective rose, higher and higher, until he towered above, his deep navy scales closer to black in the darkness.

As he shifted, Asher’s senses sharpened, his sight able to pick up the rapid pulse at Goran’s neck. His friend wasn’t as brave as he was letting on.

Who would be when facing death by dragon fire?

Bile churned in Asher’s stomach, mixing toxically with fire, while he looked his friend in the eyes, never looking away, trying to…

He didn’t even know what.

Offer some sort of comfort? Be there for him? Soak in these last moments of Goran’s life? Come up with some desperate last-ditch attempt to fix this a different way? To flee? To take his friend and run?

He was a seasoned, hardened warrior. He’d gutted opponents. He’d ordered his own men into battle and fought beside them every step of the way. Violence and bloodshed were a part of his life, and he’d never once flinched from it. But now…

Every part of him was protesting so brutally, he had to clamp down hard on his muscles to keep from visibly shaking, to keep from vomiting.

The first words Goran had said to him rattled around in Asher’s head. “Want to see what I can do?”

Goran had found him tucked between rocks on the side of the mountain the day his parents had died, when Asher had realized he had no one. Despite his illustrious blood lines, he’d had no family, no friends. He’d been a loner. So had his parents.

Goran hadn’t asked questions, hadn’t tried to cajole. Instead he’d ignored the tears on Asher’s face, focusing instead on using his magic to grow a tree where none had been before.

He’d only been six years old.

They’d been inseparable after that.

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