To Love a Dragon - Tiffany Roberts Page 0,22

sensed the flow of air around him.

The wind had eased significantly from the gale force it had achieved during the storm’s peak, but it was unmistakable—and he was still moving against it. That was good. Even though the rain was dulling most other smells, it was not eliminating them fully. With the wind in his favor, he’d scent his prey before it could scent him.

He extended his tongue and lapped in air, pressing the smells to the roof of his mouth. There was something there—deer or elk, perhaps—but he would have to follow the scent until it was stronger before he could know for certain.

He had tracked Leyloni and Serek in the same fashion.

She nearly touched me.

Arysteon gritted his teeth against the ache in his heart. Flattening his spines, he pressed onward, feeling out each step with a speed born of familiarity. He’d hunted this territory for over two centuries. He knew it no matter the conditions.

He sampled the air with his tongue every few steps, altering his course based on the scents he detected. Lightning pulsed overhead, providing fleeting illumination. Though it was far off, Arysteon felt its energy, felt a little of it seep into him, amplifying his spark. Several heartbeats later, thunder boomed.

The scales on Arysteon’s snout warmed. Before long, they were crackling with a hint of his spark.

Was that how Leyloni’s touch would have felt? Was the bond formed between dragon and human by touch—the bond he had been warned of throughout his youth—somehow tied to his inner spark?

A branch snapped somewhere ahead. Arysteon froze. Had the sound been caused by the passage of an animal, or had it simply been a tree limb giving up after days of punishing wind and rain?

Arysteon lay as flat as he could, unbothered by the gnarled roots and chunks of stone under his belly, and listened, seeking anything separate from the rain’s unrelenting patter. His thoughts swiftly returned to Leyloni. To that almost-touch.

He knew it would have meant changing, would have meant becoming more like her, but what would that entail? How would it happen? How could a dragon become more human?

And once that change occurred…would he ever be a dragon again?

Those ominous warnings from the elders might have done well with some supporting details.

When it seemed no other sounds would rise over the rain, Arysteon pushed himself up and continued forward.

Fresh lighting lit the sky and filled it with crashing thunder. Arysteon paused again, tasted the air, and closed his eyes in concentration as he sorted the tangled web of smells. His chest warmed in delight as he focused on one of those scents—elk. A full-grown elk was adequate as a single meal for him, but it would provide a feast for his human.

That notion prolonged his pause.

His human. His humans.

Was that what Leyloni and Serek had become over the last couple days? It seemed impossible to have developed such possessiveness over them so soon, seemed foolish to allow himself to get attached to creatures so short lived and fragile, but thinking of them in that manner felt right. They were his. They were his clan.

Arysteon’s spark flared, its thrum permeating his body. Perhaps he’d grown so quickly attached to these humans simply because he’d been alone for so long, perhaps it had been due to his desperation for a purpose, for redemption—for a clan to protect. Perhaps it was because, for all her drive and determination, Leyloni seemed just as lost, just as broken, as he sometimes felt.

Perhaps it was simply the light in her beautiful green eyes.

He never could have imagined that a human would be so appealing to him, and yet he had often found himself unable to look away from her. How much more of her beauty would he be able to see up close, on her level? What details was he missing from his current perspective?

Could he give up what he was, give up his immortality, for her?

That question pierced his heart and sank deep into his chest, bearing all the weight of a mountain. There was nothing simple about any of this, nothing insignificant, and none of the answers were without their own consequences.

Arysteon shook himself, shedding water from his scales—but his heavy thoughts could not be shed so easily. With a soft growl, he pushed onward, slinking through the shadowy forest, through the rain and gloom, in his pursuit of that strengthening scent.

His efforts to focus solely upon the hunt were unsuccessful. All those questions loomed in the back of his