Lord of Rain (The Dragon Demigods #5) - Charlene Hartnady Page 0,100
by my upper arms. “Give me my power back, or Nicos will kill him. Your beauty won’t save you this time.”
My beauty? He’s speaking like he knows me.
“What power?” I yell. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Do not play dumb, harpy.”
I frown. What a thing to say. Why would he say that?
“I’m done being nice,” he snarls. Then he grabs me by the throat as well. “You are going to give my—”
I don’t hear the rest of what he says because there is this snarling sound. Then a bright flash of light and a grotesque, inhuman yell. Followed by more snarling. I can’t turn my head. It doesn’t sound like the older guy, but it has to be him. The snarl is halfway to what I imagine a lion would sound like. My first thought is for Bolt. This is bad.
The guy holding my throat gets this look in his eyes. It’s fear. No worse, he’s petrified. “My power…please,” he begs me. “I would never have hurt you. I…please!”
He lets me go and starts to run. I think I see— No! A huge creature going after him. It’s so dark. There’s more snarling followed by screaming. The scream doesn’t sound like Bolt. I shout his name. What’s going on? Is Bolt being attacked by someone else?
Something else?
“Hey, man,” the guy in front of me stutters. “Hey, I…” Something collides with him. I say something because it’s definitely not human. There’s more screaming and snarling.
I see wings and scales and teeth. It’s a dragon. What? No! I must be unconscious right now. It has to be that, because this can’t be real. The fight is over in seconds. My captor is running. The older guy is back. I can’t see him properly, but I think he’s injured from the way he is carrying himself. He’s cradling his arm.
The dragon snarls. Then it’s folding in on itself. It isn’t a dragon anymore. It’s…it’s a naked man. I know that body. I know that man. That back…that ass…those thighs. His muscles are bulging. They’re bigger, but they’re…his… It’s Bolt.
I cover my mouth with my hand. I’m gaping.
“Go!” Bolt growls. His voice is barely human. Then he braces, muscles bunch and rope, he snarls…it sounds vicious. Like it did when he was…when he was…a dragon.
No!
I’m trembling.
This can’t be real. It can’t!
I’ve hit my head. I’m concussed. There has to be a rational explanation. I’m reeling, trying to explain this all away, when I catch the face of the older guy as he runs away. He has one eye. It’s in the middle of his forehead. He’s huge and ugly. He…doesn’t look human. No way!
Bolt turns. His eyes are glowing. They’re a bright, light-gray, almost blue color. He looks beautiful. There’s blood too. His lip is cut. So is his right eye. There are gleaming scales on his chest. I look closer and gasp. His throat.
“Bolt!” I shout as his knees buckle.
I run to him. “I’ll call an ambulance,” I tell him. “You’ll be okay,” I lie. His throat is crushed. It’s crushed.
Tears are streaming down my face. I’m struggling to breathe.
He’s shaking his head, his lips are moving, but he doesn’t make a sound.
“Don’t try to talk,” I tell him. “I’m calling an ambulance.” I’m digging in my purse. It takes an age, but I find my phone. “I’m calling for help.”
I see him shaking his head. He’s wheezing, having to work hard to get air into his lungs. He’s dying, I can see it. He’s dying right in front of me. “Hold on.” I swipe my code to open my phone, and Bolt grabs it from me.
He works my device with one hand and then hands it to me. It’s dialing someone. Bolt has dialed someone’s number into my phone. “What?” I say. “No! You need an ambulance.”
He shakes his head, imploring me with his eyes. “Night,” he croaks. I’m surprised he can talk at all. “Night,” he pushes out a second time.
At least, I think that’s what he says. It doesn’t seem logical. Then he…he…dies.
I scream when the person answers. I scream long and hard. I keep screaming Bolt’s name. It takes a full minute for the person on the phone to get me to calm down. Turns out, his name is Night.
30
Bolt
I sit up and snarl. My hands are bunched into fists.
“Easy, man…you—” a voice says.
Adrenaline is coursing through me. Before I can register who or what or why, I start throwing punches. The first one connects with a crack.