Page 12 of Surrendering Her Heart

I press my forehead against the stone, my hands shaking. The Zmaj shifts beside me, his tail curling near my feet.

“That,” I gasp, “was too damn close.”

“Let’s not do that again,” Dan says, letting out a sharp, nervous laugh.

No one argues.

The silence stretches, thick and suffocating. We’re all listening, straining for any hint of movement beyond the rocks. My breath is loud in my ears, heartbeat a ragged drum.

The Zmaj moves first. His tail flicks once, then stills. He shifts slightly, adjusting his wings, and his body heat radiates against my side. A low, cautious rumble vibrates in his chest.

Dan exhales, soft and slowly. “Is it gone?”

“If it’s not, I vote we pretend we’re already dead so it loses interest,” Shaun groans, half-sprawled against the rocks where the Zmaj dropped him.

Dan lets out a dry, breathless laugh, but it doesn’t ease the tension. The air is heavy with the stink of the vorkesh, a thick, cloying scent that turns my stomach.

I press my hands to the rough stone, forcing myself to focus. Deep breath in, hold, release. Again. This isn’t fear. This is terror. If that thing is still out there we could be trapped for hours. Days. We don’t have the supplies for that, not even considering why we’re here. To save the rest of the human race.

“We need to keep moving.” My voice is hoarse and raw from the run. “That thing might be gone, but I don’t want to be here when it decides to come back.”

Shaun mutters something that sounds like agreement. The Zmaj doesn’t move right away. His gaze is still fixed on the open desert beyond the rocks, eyes narrowed, focused. His nostrils flare as he scents the air. Finally, he blinks and looks down at me.

“We move soon,” he says, his voice deep and calm, but there’s an edge to it. A warning.

“We have to try again,” Dan says, wiping sweat from his bald head. “We’re dead without those supplies.”

“Well, then, let’s get this over with before I have time to think about how stupid it is,” Shaun says, pushing to his feet.

He’s right. Hesitation won’t help us. I push off the rock and scan the terrain beyond our shelter. The desert is deceptively still, but I know better now. It onlylooksempty.

“Quick and quiet,” I say. “Grab what we can and get back here.”

None of the Zmaj argue, but they exchange a look amongst themselves. One of those silent conversations that seem to mean more than words. They move out first, and the Zmaj…my Zmaj?...steps in front of me as we move.

I don’t fight with him about it. If that thing does come back, he’s the only one fast enough and strong enough to keep me from being swallowed whole.

As we creep out from the shade of the rocks, the heat of the open desert slams onto us. The sand is broken and churned where the vorkesh attacked, jagged ridges and deep scars marking its path. Somewhere in that mess are the supplies we desperately need.

Dan spots the first one, half-buried. He lunges for it, shaking off the sand.

“Intact,” he whispers.

Relief flickers across his face as he pulls out a water canister. Shaun snatches up another bag a few feet away, but when he upends it, the contents spill out. Most of them are useless. Torn fabric and a shattered ration pack. He swears under his breath.

I scan the sand, my pulse hammering. Then I see a crate, barely visible beneath a layer of shifting dirt and sand. I dart forward, ignoring the way the Zmaj tenses at my side.

I grab the handle and pull. It’s heavy and resists. I lean back, using my weight. It shifts a little, but not enough. Gritting my teeth, I strain, muscles burning, until a groan slips out.

Then the Zmaj is at my side.

His hand closes over mine. Cool, despite the relentless heat, and sobig. Heat of an entirely different kind flares through me. He adds his strength and the crate slides free easily.

His hand lingers on mine. Neither of us pulling away or breaking the moment of contact. His presence looms over me. My shoulder is touching his abs. Hard, like they’re carved from stone, and also cool. His hip touches the side of my ass…. I shift away.

Stupid. What am I even thinking?

Working the fasteners, I open the crate, hoping against hope that it holds something useful.

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