Page 42 of Ash

He took the tray to the table and leaned over to set it down.

An object flew across the room. He caught the motion out of the corner of his eye, and flinched away. Instead of beaning him on the temple, the book whizzed by his face.

The second projectile came at him from behind and bashed him soundly in the back of the head. He winced as it added to the general state of throb.

“Shards. That hurt, dammit.”

The books flew off the shelves, coming at him so fast he hadn’t a hope of avoiding them. So instead, he straightened and let them bounce off his scales. When they concentrated on his head, he raised an arm to fend them off.

The curtains exploded outward as a dark form burst from behind them. In one giant bound, it covered most of the ground to the door. The second leap took it straight through.

Tyrez let her go. He sighed and followed, to find her clawing wildly at the external door to his quarters. Chunks of wood tore free.

“Hey. Stop wrecking my door,” he complained. “It’s strong enough to hold a Dragon. No way you’ll get through, little wolf.”

It was wishful thinking on his part. If she stopped clawing and used her ability, she might blow the door free, frame and all.

Instead, she renewed her attack on him. A figurine shot off the table in the living room. Tyrez ducked, and it shattered against the wall. Then she focused on the kitchen—the knives whipped free from their magnetic holder and came at him.

It was the first time he regretted the Dragon preference for open-concept living.

He threw up an arm, and three of them deflected off the scales before the fourth one penetrated just past where they ended at his wrist.

As he grimaced and plucked it free, the pots came at him next. He deflected those as well, which was when his favorite chair flew across the room.

Moving faster than someone his size had a right to, he dodged the overstuffed furniture and held up his hands.

“Will. You. STOP.”

The coffee table nailed him behind the knees, and he barely avoided the couch. He stayed on his feet through sheer determination more than anything else.

“I won’t hurt you,” he rumbled at her.

She stared at him, panting hard. Her eyes were a deep bronze color rather than the usual gold of most Dires. Her fur was so glossy a black as to be almost indigo, and it contrasted sharply with the ivory streak running from her temple. Even as a beast, she was scrawny—her shoulder blades were far too prominent.

Mounted over the fireplace was a sword, one of his most precious possessions. Not a Dragon sword, but one he’d procured in the human realm.

It came at him, a blur of gleaming steel.

Enough.In a smooth, twirling motion, Tyrez spun away from the sword, while at the same time managing to grab it by the hilt.

She glared at him while he loomed over her, holding it aloft. Then he spun it around until the hilt dangled in her face.

“Here. If you’re going to kill me, just do it and get it over with. I’m tired of being pummeled by my worldly possessions.”

Her surprise reflected on her beast face, and then she snatched the sword from him. Her paws couldn’t hold it properly, but she rose on her hind legs and altered her fingers until they were almost human.

The partial change impressed him in one so new to shifting. This was a damned strong woman. There was no way the sword would penetrate his scales, but she might strike for his face. The threat was real, so long as he stood there with his hands up, not moving.

He swallowed and spoke in his best impression of a calming voice. “I feel it only fair to point out that you are within the main palace complex to the Dragon Emperor. Between you and the front entryway are fifty levels filled with the personal quarters of roughly two hundred Dragons, one hundred and forty-three of whom are Legion members. Those are highly trained elite warriors who are not likely to hesitate if they find a Dire roaming the halls. A naked human female might be the safer way to go. Although you still would never make it to the front doors, but for different reasons.”

She snarled. “Noo one touches me withoout permission.”

“Did I say they would? I am fairly standard fare for a Dragon. I assure you, there are several whose appearance you would be sure to find very appealing.”

She stared at him. Her long, tooth-lined jaws opened, and then closed again.

“My name, by the way, is Tyrez. Some call me Prince but I am a long way from the throne. My mother is the Matriarch, our cultural leader.”

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