Page 46 of Forged in Fire
She’s right, and I know it. The strategic part of my brain approves of the plan even as everything else rebels against it.
“I don’t take rides,” I say, sounding stubborn as fuck.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she huffs. “This isn’t the time for ego bullshit.”
Goddammit. She’s got me there.
My pride wars with necessity. With the growing certainty that I’d follow her anywhere if she asked.
“Fine,” I say roughly. “But if this goes sideways—”
“It won’t.”
She sounds so certain. So confident in her abilities, in this plan, in us as a team. When did I become part of an “us”?
We make our way out of the rocks and into a clearing, maybe fifty feet from our hiding spot. Far enough from the rock formations to give her room to transform. Close enough to provide cover if things go south.
Night air cuts through my jacket, sharp with the promise of snow. My wounded arm bitches with every movement, but I ignore it. Pain is just information, and right now it’s telling me I’m still alive.
Still able to protect her.
Not that she needs it. She’s scanning around us now, clearly checking for threats. I’m reminded of how easily she slipped intothat Syndicate compound. She’s got skills. And for a man like me, that’s fucking catnip.
“You ready?” she says quietly.
She turns to face me, and I catch something vulnerable in her expression. Like she’s about to reveal a secret.
“Don’t freak out,” she says.
Before I can ask what she means, she starts to strip off, tossing her clothing toward me. I catch it, realizing I’m gaping like an idiot. Creamy skin is being revealed, soft curves, pert breasts, toned thighs.
Fuck. My dick takes note, and I turn away before I can make an ass of myself.
“It’s okay,” she says. “It won’t take long.”
“Sure,” I say gruffly, stealing a look over my shoulder. I can’t help myself. It’s not just that she’s fucking gorgeous. It’s the fascination of watching her transform.
Heat rolls off her in waves as her body starts to shift and grow. Bones crack and lengthen with sounds like tree branches snapping under weight. Her skin ripples, then hardens into scales the color of polished copper. Wings unfold from her shoulders and spread across the sky.
She grows. And grows. Until she’s massive, magnificent, utterly terrifying.
A dragon in truth. Not the half-measures and compromises I’m used to, but something ancient and powerful enough to level mountains.
Her eyes find mine—still that same copper-gold, but now large enough to swallow me whole. Intelligence burns in their depths, wild and alien but still… her.
Holy fucking shit.
She lowers her great head, and I understand the invitation.
Still, my hands shake as I approach. Not from fear—from something deeper. Recognition, maybe. Like my dragon fire is calling to hers across species lines that shouldn’t matter.
Her scales are warm under my palms, smoother than I expected. Each one fits perfectly against its neighbors. Like bullet-proof armor. Heat rolls from her skin and seeps through my jacket. It warms me in ways that have nothing to do with temperature.
I shove her clothes into my bag, then thank every hour of strength training and field work that allows me to easily climb her massive neck and settle onto her back between her wide shoulder blades, fitting into the natural groove formed there. The position is intimate, trusting. My thighs bracket her spine, hands finding a grip on the ridge of scales along her neck.
She turns her head to look at me, and I see the question in those ancient eyes.
“Ready,” I say, though I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready for this. “Head south,” I tell her. “I’ll guide you.”
