Page 115 of Centaur Bolt

Marcus hung limp as the Dragon lifted us. The saddle creaked, and I wondered how long the cracked leather would support a big horse with a little woozy woman clinging to it.

Something hot dripped onto me. Thick and red—I glanced up. The rain streamed crimson rivulets over Havoc’s scales. My heart constricted—was he badly hurt? There was so much blood that I couldn’t tell how much was his. Yet the Dragon carried us without obvious effort for miles along the river in the gathering darkness and driving rain, before lowering us again to the riverbank.

I clung to the saddle as Marcus limped into the trees, where we waited until the Dragon joined us as a human.

Seen with that form-fitting body suit of scales, he was so cut, every muscle clearly defined. And a few other things, besides. It seemed fighting Brock’s Dragons had elicited a noticeable reaction…

Kiko would be impressed. So was I.

Marcus inhaled and then snorted. The neck before me arched in challenge.

The Dragon’s coppery eyes flared in response. “Shelve it, Centaur,” he growled.

Marcus shook his mane and struck out with a forefoot. I ran my hand down his neck. Why was he challenging Havoc? And why did that bother me so much?

Havoc gestured. “Walk,” he said.

“You aren’t getting on?” I asked.

“He’s done,” the Dragon said. “No way he can carry me, too.”

I laid my hand on Marcus’s sweaty neck, my eyes tracing the blood seeping from the wound on his shoulder. The muscles trembled with exhaustion. “Well, if we’re walking, I might as well too.”

When I went to slide off, Marcus stepped sideways as if to stop me. His long head swung to regard me with a gold-shot eye. “Too weak.”

“That’s why I’m getting off.”

“Not me.” He snorted. “You.”

“I’m fine,” I scoffed, bracing my hands against the saddle and launching off his back.

Perhaps not the brightest move I’d ever made. As soon as my feet hit the ground, the world swayed. Strong arms grabbed me, and for a moment, I leaned into the Dragon. His arms were so hot around me, I thought they’d almost set me aflame. And when he ducked his head, his breath gusted across my neck.

He inhaled, long and hard. And as his body pressed against mine, I was sure I felt something else that matched that description.

Then Marcus shoved into us, knocking the Dragon backward. “Put her back.” He snapped with his teeth bared.

The Dragon hesitated, and then his hands moved to my waist, and he lifted me back into the saddle.

“Stay there, mini bitch.” It sounded like an order. Although the words seemed like an endearment, his copper-colored eyes glared at me.

“But—” I protested.

“Stay,” insisted Marcus, moving off down a squirrel-sized path.

I stopped arguing. Now that we weren’t running for our lives, the dizziness had returned. I wrapped my hands around the saddle horn and clung. But Marcus’s movement was becoming increasingly ragged.

I twisted to glance at Havoc. “We need to find a place to camp.”

“Yep.” The Dragon paced along behind us, ignoring the branches slapping him in the face. My gaze dropped, and I cursed Kiko. She’d basically trained this into me. It did, however, confirm my earlier suspicions.

This was one horny Dragon.

The thought fired my imagination. Images rushed through my brain—of Havoc jerking off in the forest. Heat swept over me, ending with an ache between my legs that almost had me rubbing against the bloody saddle horn.

What the hell was wrong with me? If I fantasized about anyone, it should be the man beneath me, not the one following us.

Yet I trembled with the power of it, and as my entire body dripped sweat, brilliant yellow scales erupted on my wrists.

---