Page 70 of Of Beasts & Vengeance

“Tell me what you know, so we can figure out a plan.”

Another beat of silence passes, and I wonder if she will stubbornly refuse. She launches into her story, though, explaining about the dragon, how it was gone when she got there, what time that was. She tells me other things, too, things that make me wish the sociopath who calls himself her brother was still alive so I could kill him more slowly.

“We should leave early, then, so we can see when it leaves and go in then.”

“That was my plan,” she says smugly.

I shoot her a questioning look, and she gives me a half smile.

“What, like you were going to be able to keep me here if I wanted to go? It was your intent that mattered to me. I was coming either way.”

“And what if I had chained you up again?” I dare to ask, though I never would have done that to her.

It haunted me enough the first time, and I can still picture the raw skin of her ankle and feel the sickening sensation of knowing I caused her pain.

But I am curious what she’ll say.

“Then I would have used the spoke of your favorite belt buckle over there,” she gestures to the smaller wardrobe where my weapon belts hang. “And picked the lock, as I figured out how to do the first day I was here. Then, after I carefully maneuvered my way around the guards and sneaked my impossibly fast hestrinn out of the stables, I would have caught up to you and strangled you with that same belt.” She shoots me a vicious smile, and it stirs something in me.

I lean down to kiss her, and lightning crackles at every single point of contact between us. “Perhaps I should have been concerned about the unarmed woman chained to my bed after all,” I murmur.

She smirks and lets the fur fall back against the bed, shifting until her legs are on either side of my hips and her body is on top of mine.

Her teeth come down on my bottom lip. She tugs ever so slightly, and just like that, I lose every vestige of coherent thought I’ve ever had.

Chapter Forty-Eight

Einar

We’ve been waiting on the dragon for hours. We left before dawn so Zaina wouldn’t be seen, then made the several-hour journey here by hestrinn. It’s nearly sunset now, and there is still no sign of the beast.

Helga and Gunnar remain out of sight, just behind the tree line, while Zaina and I crouch closer to the cave.

The tension is thick between us. She knows I didn’t want her to come, and I know she’s still frustrated about that. If that wasn’t enough, there’s the ominous feeling that we might be wrong. Maybe the dragon won’t leave. Maybe the thorns will be gone, or we won’t be able to access them.

So many variables when everything is on the line.

Khijhana’s ears twitch, and she whips her head toward the cave. Zaina stills her hand on the chalyx’s neck, squinting in the same direction.

I follow her gaze. A shadow moves, and fog appears out of nowhere several meters above the ground.

Straining my eyes, I focus on the snow near the cave. I can almost make out a glittering shape hovering just above the rocky structure. The shape moves, and the light reflects around it, then the fog appears again.

“I’ve always wondered how no one knew where its lair was, how it stayed alive all these years.” My voice is barely a whisper as we stare down at the cave.

“How is it doing that?”

The chalyx watches in fascination, her ears twitching, and her purrs growing louder. She stretches her paws and kneads at the snowy ground beneath her.

A moment later, the glimmering, nearly invisible form moves upward, and the trees sway in a phantom wind.

Zaina glances up at me, her eyes wide. I give her the barest shake of my head. Then I feel it. A gust of wind so powerful it nearly knocks us to our feet. A shadow envelops us briefly, but it’s nothing more than a blurry reflection of the blue sky and clouds, a vague sensation of an oppressive presence.

Until a deafening roar shakes the world around us.

The dragon soars in the direction we came from. I am tempted to call out to my guards to take the hestrinn and flee, but I know better than to give away our position, or theirs. Besides, they are tactical. They would have camouflaged themselves.

I have to believe that.

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