Page 141 of Wings of Ash & Flame
Guilt swarmed her. Dawson had warned her, and she hadn’t listened.This is my fault. She bit her lip.
Dawson leaned close, brushing his lips against her cheek. “Remember what I said.”
She clenched her jaw but nodded. If Solflara and Beck weren’t here, why couldn’t she feel their bond?
The alpha’s muscles bunched, lips peeling back in a snarl.
Everything exploded into motion.
He launched toward the alpha, his broadsword catching the reflection of dozens of eyes. The alpha lunged, all sinew and snapping teeth. Dawson was faster—ducking low, slipping beneath its advance, the air around him shifting like a living force.
Wind spiraled outward, whipping Alaire’s braid behind her.
The alpha skidded, claws scrambling for purchase on the bone-strewn floor. Its yellow eyes narrowed. Dawson didn’t wait. Time wasn’t a luxury they could afford right now, not with their bonds still muffled.
Wind hurled him forward. His blade struck like lightning.
Claws clashed against steel in a grating shriek of metal. Dawson dropped into a crouch, rolled beneath the beast, and rose with a slicing arc that cut under its shoulder.
Alaire’s heart lodged in her throat. Dawson showed why he was Aeris Academy’s most prized flier and warrior—unyielding, relentless, bending the air to his will with precision and ferocity.
The alpha feinted left, then lunged right, claws raking the air where Dawson had been. He twisted midair, shielded by the wind, and for an instant hovered above the bloodravager.
Alaire hugged her arms around herself. She hated feeling useless.
Dawson shoved his sword into its spine as he landed, dragging the blade toward him. The creature shrieked, thrashing violently, clawing the air as it tried to dislodge him.
Come on. Come on.
The alpha staggered, a deep, wet gurgle tearing from its throat before collapsing in a heap, yellow-and-red eyes dimming to nothing.
Dawson gave it no mercy. Striding forward, he gripped the hilt still lodged in its back, wrenched his sword free, and with one clean strike lopped off its head. Black blood spurted across the cave.
Good.
He crouched low, bracing his forearms on his knees, breath ragged.
A sharppopechoed, so loud Alaire’s eardrums hollowed out.
“The barrier’s down,” Dawson whispered.
Seeing him take down the bloodravager so effortlessly shouldn’t have been as hot as it was. Alaire bit her lip.
Focus. Ogle later.
A low symphony of rumbles grew into growls. Instead of scattering, the pack stalked forward, eyes gleaming. The rank stench thickened.
“What are they doing?” Dawson muttered. “They should be fighting each other.”
But they advanced—snarling, drooling, hungry.
This wasn’t the plan.
“Run!” Dawson barked. “We need to get back to the entrance. They can’t survive in the light.”
She hooked her arm through his; she wouldn’t leave him. With the barrier gone, their only chance was to outrun the pack.
Dawson pivoted, unleashing a burst of wind that blasted several creatures back, then seized her arm and sprinted.
