Page 63 of Storm of Blood and Shadow

But I’m already running to him, my chest tight, my eyes filling with tears. He catches me, and I throw my arms around his neck.

“You didn’t die,” I breathe against his throat, kissing his warm skin. “And you didn’t kill me.”

When he doesn’t answer, I rear back to look into his face. His eyes are hollow, filled with an aching dread.

“What is it?” I whisper.

He takes my hand and leads me to the broken part of the wall, where his void orb smashed it. When I lean out through the opening, I sob out a gasp and clap my hand over my mouth.

The narrow crack is gone. In its place there is a yawning void, wide open to Varex’s cave. I can see all the way to the cave’s mouth, to the darkness and rain beyond. While I was sleeping, the dragon widened the passage and destroyed my hiding place, the only area where I could be safe from him. From the burn smudges and claw marks scoring the rock, I would guess he did it with both void orbs and fire. Either I was too exhausted to hear any of it, or the water I drank had some soporific properties.

The next time he changes, Varex will break through the last bit of rock into the crystal cavern, and he will either eat me or fuck me to death.

“Don’t look at it now.” Varex pulls me back into the lavender haven. When we’re standing here, I could almost imagine that we’re both safe, and that no harm will come to either of us.

But this place isn’t safe. There is nowhere safe anymore. There’s no manipulation I can try, no schemes, no distractions. The beautiful black dragon who saved my life is going to kill me within the next several hours.

I press myself close to him, my hands curled against his chest. My legs tremble, weak from hunger and from the terrible knowledge of what’s coming.

“I wanted to see you one more time,” Varex whispers into my hair. “And I wanted you to understand the reason behind my actions.”

“It’s the fucking storm,” I grit out. “It’s wrecking your mind.”

“Yes… but it speaks some truth,” he says quietly. “I failed to save my mother from the monster that seized her. I failed to save Grimmaw and Vylar. I failed to save Kyreagan from going to war and from carrying out his foolish plan to kidnap humans. I failed to provide enough food for you. And I am failing in my struggle against this storm, this entity, whatever it is. I refuse to watch you starve in front of me, and I refuse to be your rapist or your murderer.”

I open my mouth in protest, but he hushes me gently with his fingertips.

“You know it will happen the next time I turn,” he says. “I will split you open with my cock and then tear into you with my teeth. I won’t be able to stop myself, because when I am a dragon, when my void calls to the storm and it summons me, I am not myself. I am something else, something primal and evil.”

He removes his fingers from my lips, brushes my hair back from my face, and kisses me. The touch of his mouth lights up my skin, my mind, my soul. I sweep my fingers through his snowy hair and deepen the kiss, playing with his tongue, desperate to occupy him so he won’t talk anymore. I don’t want to hear what I think he might say.

But he breaks the kiss and pulls back to look into my eyes. His eyes are brown when he’s human, not the glowing amber of his dragon form.

“I love you,” he says. “I give you my permission to devour me when it’s done. Keep yourself alive. Do whatever it takes.”

He shoves me aside and dashes for the gap in the wall.

“Varex!” I try to follow him, but I’m weak. I stumble on the way, nearly turning my ankle. When I scramble through the opening, he’s already far ahead of me, standing by our bed, his tall figure outlined in the orange light of the dyre-stones. He bends, picks up something from the ground. A sharp, triangular piece of rock.

“Varex!” I scream.

I’m running. I’m too slow.

He drags the pointed corner of the object across the side of his throat.

“Varex!” I gasp out. “Fuck… Varex…”

He’s still standing there. I rush up to him, dart around him—and I cover my mouth at the sight of the blood pouring from the gash he made.

“No,” I breathe. “No, fuck…”

I lunge forward, pressing my hand over the injury. His neck is slick, and I can’t clamp down as firmly as I want to.

“Change,” I order him. “Switch to dragon form, and maybe you can survive this.”

His legs crumple beneath him and when he falls, I try to catch him. He’s too big and tall for me to do much except ease his descent a little and pull his head into my lap. I rip off the top part of my dance costume, wad up the material, and press it hard against the cut on his throat.

The shard he used was blunter than it looked, and jagged. Though it tore his flesh, I don’t think it went deep. Maybe he didn’t strike anything vital. Maybe he can survive this.

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