Page 20 of Rook
She fought like someone who knew losing wasn't an option.
Sasha fell back as the humans with guns began firing. The volley was deafening. Rook recoiled from the sound of the human weapons. They were crude, all thunder and hot-iron stench that made his nose burn. It was a miracle anyone had survived long enough to use them.
And yet, the slaver closest to the fort jerked backward, clutching his side where bullets found the gap in his armor. He fell, blood spilling onto the dirt, and didn't rise again.
All right, Rook conceded. Earth weapons had their uses.
Their victory was short-lived. A pair of slavers flanked the barricade, slipping in behind a burning RV. Sasha, focused on foaming down another blade of fire, backed right into the open. She was unaware that new threats were closing in.
Everything in him went bright and sharp. He didn't think. He didn't strategize. He just roared an old war cry and let his fire fly. The jet caught the slavers square in their chests. They staggered, howling as flames crawled up their torsos. For a split second, it was glorious.
Then Sasha, hearing him, stepped toward the jet of fire.
His heart plummeted. He tried to pull the fire back, but it was too late. There was no calling it home. He was about to watch her burn—the woman who had stubbornly marched into his thoughts, who had kissed him, who had awakened things in him he'd sworn to keep buried.
His voice broke through the chaos, a single word ripped from his throat. "No!"
Sasha's head snapped around, her eyes locking onto his. Maybe she read everything in his face, because she lifted both hands as if to brace herself. The fire crashed over her, wild and searing.
And did nothing.
The flames split around her like water against stone, coiling harmlessly over her hair and skin. She blinked as the heat whipped her hair back, but she didn't flinch. She stood untouched, the impossible surrounding her.
He stared, everything going silent except for the high whine of disbelief in his skull. No ordinary human on any world survived the direct burn of a dragon lord's fire. Only one kind of person could do that.
His mate.
He'd heard the stories of other dragons who fell for human women, whose flames marked them out as special.
He hadn't truly believed it.
He wanted to sink to his knees in the middle of this burning chaos and take her face in his hands, but there was no time for fated revelations; the fight wasn't over.
He stormed across the campground, letting his fire rip. He didn't care anymore if the humans watched, didn't care if everyone in this town woke up wondering why a man wielded fire in his palms.
Sasha was there. He would raze the world before he let her die.
She spotted him at twenty paces and grinned as if she'd conjured him from the night itself.
"Nice of you to show up!" she shouted, her voice scratchy but defiant. Her hair was singed at the ends, and she had a nasty cut above her eye.
"I got tired of sitting in the woods," he shot back, his gaze locking on hers. Deep inside, something unspooled, tension draining from him as if her presence burned through his fear.
Sasha ducked a fireball and tossed him the empty canister. "Make yourself useful, Dragon Lord. I'm out of foam, and my deodorant gave up an hour ago."
He caught it, the foam residue cold and sticky on his palms. He tossed it aside. No need for tools now. He swept another wall of fire across the camp, cutting off three slavers trying to circle the fort. The humans huddled tighter, watching him in awe and terror and maybe a spark of hope.
"Is that your friend?" the older woman called out, pulling a kid behind cover.
Sasha nodded, her smile wild. "He's on our side!"
Together, they fought their way through the burning maze. Rook shielded Sasha, his fire driving slavers back while the small band of human fighters covered their escape. His shirt stuck to his back with sweat, and his throat burned from the smoke.
But no matter how hard they fought, it wasn't enough. The slavers fell back, regrouping at the northern edge with three fresh prisoners. He watched, helpless, as a grenade burst into white light. When the smoke cleared, the slavers and their captives were gone.
He caught Sasha's eye, saw the frustration and exhaustion on her face. Red and blue lights swept the tree line. A mechanical wailing started in the distance, growing louder, more insistent.
"What's that?" he asked, keeping one eye on the edge of the camp.
