out of my arms. I try to hold her, but it is like trying to grasp the wind.
I roar into my dreamscape as it crumbles around me, and I wake up in my nest with that same roar.
My dragon breaks free, uprooting the trees we were using for shelter as we shoot into the sky, filled with determination. She is counting on me, she made her wishes known. I will find the sleeping council and I will bring them there. Then we will be together.
Finally.
I roar and jerk from the magic in the chains from the moment my mate leaves my sight, my bull taking over. He wants her back, wants her touch and kisses, the gentle way she stroked his fur. He craves it, can’t settle without it, never mind the fact she might be in danger. It sends him over the edge, into a rage I have never seen before. Not even when she was alive. He was angry then but logical. Now? He is nothing more than a monster.
They must hear him or have been waiting for the unknown to be removed, because not thirty minutes after she is taken, the door opens, and a huddle of witches is blocking the light. Their hoods are up, concealing their faces, and the black material has a life of its own, moving when they move and never revealing what they seek to hide.
They step into the cell in unison. It is possible some were alive when I was, especially if they were dark witches and worked with blood magic and necromancy, but I haven’t seen any I recognise. Either way, they hate me. It is bred into them, I am the monster from their tales, the one who killed their queen and ended many of their lines. They even have a name for it, I heard it once—the great black death. So many witches died, and so many powers were lost to my sword and vengeance...now, here, their ancestors stand. Dark hate shines in their eyes and magic coats their hands as they face me, ready to exact vengeance for their lost.
I grin at them with a snarl. Bring it, I need to let out this aggression before Dawn is brought back anyway. They can be my bull’s playthings, a way to occupy his hate and mind as we wait for the return of our mate. I see the whirling of the light conjuring in their hands as they step farther into the cell and spread out in a half circle, their hands nearly joined, startling my bull as they begin to chant.
Fucking witches and their magic. Without it they are nothing…weaker than humans, and they know it. They rely on it, inspire fear and loyalty with it even as they present their hubris as their strength, but I know it and I don’t fear them. I have felt the touch of their magic and now the touch of my mate, and nothing or no one will entrap me again. She needs me, I need her.
They will die for trying to get between us.
I hear the stone behind me crack with the force of my determination and strength, giving the chains a little leeway. My bull snorts as they stop chanting for a moment, their energy permeating the air as they watch us strain to get to them. I throw my head back and roar, letting it shake the room, the force of it sending a gust of power towards them. They tumble to the floor like broken dolls as I feel the change come over my body, just like when Dawn needed it, only this time we are changing to full bull, the animal taking over completely. I feel myself become pushed to the back of his consciousness, I let him happen. He needs the bloodshed and violence more than me.
When our head is lowered, I have nothing human left, and I let them see that in my red eyes. My horns seem to grow and reach for them, my hooves smashing into the stone floor and ringing out like a fighting bell. My bull is daring them to come closer, to hit us.
They do.
Magic is flung at me from all angles, but something strange happens...some of it bounces off. Some of it sinks into my fur and skin and muscle below, making us bellow in pain, but some of it seems to be repelled, hitting my fur and then rebounding back to the caster, striking them instead.