Page 42 of Scorched By Fate

Another half-sob, half-choking sound wrenched its way out of the woman. She stumbled another inch backward, and her heel skidded dangerously close to the wide fissure cutting through the ridge.

Hot air hissed from steam vents near the cracks in the earth, the sound sharp and uneven enough to claw through my focus.My legs burned from the scramble, my breath coming too fast, flooding my lungs with sulfur-tainted air.

But there wasn’t time for pain, for doubt.

When I dropped the last few feet from the ridge and shoved myself between them, the red-scaled Drakarn finally noticed me. His head shifted, eyes locking onto me with a predatory calm.

I raised the blade to level with his chest.

“Get back,” I said, though the quaver in my voice betrayed something thinner than confidence.

The woman went still. Her breathing was still too loud, too ragged. I’d worry about that later.

The Drakarn drew in a breath through wide flared nostrils, his lips quirking upward enough to reveal serrated fangs.

“You’re either brave,” he drawled, voice dark and unnervingly smooth, “or stupid.”

“Try me.”

It wasn’t my cleverest line, but my grip tightened around the knife all the same. The edge of its hilt dug sharp into my palm as I shifted closer, as steady as I could force myself to be.

The red-scaled bastard chuckled, low and sharp as breaking rock. It wasn’t loud, but it hit heavy, curling out with enough force to vibrate through the ever-thinning space between us.

“Stand aside, human.” He tilted his head slowly, his tail flicking behind him with a few unhurried snaps. “This one is mine."

“Not anymore.” I took one step back. Far enough that he’d have to do more than swing lazily to reach me. For every inch I moved, though, it felt like I was sinking deeper into boiling water.

Behind me, I could feel her trembling. Her panic, her desperation, was a raw heat spilling into the space like the sulfuric air hissing dangerously from the nearest vents. She hadto keep it together. If she made a break for it, there wasn’t anything I could do.

The Drakarn’s gaze burned, yellow and sharp, catching at the thin line of my knife like nothing more than child’s play.

For a moment, I thought maybe—maybe—he’d say something else. Some drawn-out breath of mockery to give me the chance to step back, shut him down before this could escalate even further.

But no.

His whole body shifted instead, his weight rolling forward into one swift strike.

It came fast—too fast. The whip of his tail lashed through the air a half breath before his claws could follow, spiking against the loose rubble ahead of him as I barely threw myself back far enough to evade.

Heat stole the air from my lungs, pulling a searing gasp out of me as my boots scraped against stone, and the knife twisted forward on instinct alone.

The strike didn’t land. He was faster, and his twisted grin made sure I knew it.

“Sloppy,” the Drakarn taunted.

I couldn’t waste time trading jibes with this beast, but it was everything standing between the woman and the narrowing sliver of rocky ridge left beneath us. I stepped forward again, blade steady, pulse anything but.

Come on, Vyne.

It was almost enough to keep him in place. Almost.

Then the sound hit.

The thump of a limp and heavy body crashing against unforgiving stone.

Then the roar.

Louder, more raw, deeper than my knife or his claw could have cut past.

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