To Love a Dragon - Tiffany Roberts Page 0,75

hurriedly dressed and packed the few belongings they’d taken out during their stop, but her voice was calm and steady when she soothed Serek, assuring him of her presence, of his safety, promising all would be well.

Somehow, Arysteon’s boundless admiration for her grew in those moments—as did his immense protectiveness and possessiveness.

A battle between two dragons was far too dangerous for humans to be near, especially when those dragons were in the throes of Heat.

Another roar sounded, even closer than the last. The spines along Arysteon’s back and tail stood up, and his muscles twitched as his spark again flared. He curled his hands into fists and stalked away from his humans. He could not guess how much time they had, but a feeling in his gut suggested it was not enough.

The instant he was far enough away from his humans, Arysteon released his tenuous hold on his spark. Arcs of lightning crackled across his scales, tracing erratic paths of burning, thrilling energy. That lightning burst outward all at once.

He was blind, deaf, incorporeal, blasted into nothingness, transformed into raw, uncontained power. And then—faster than any time before—he was a dragon, his massive body brimming with the fury of ten thousand storms.

Before the white flash had fully faded from his eyes, before the ringing had faded from his ears, he was turning toward Leyloni and Serek. His body crashed into trees and vegetation, but he scarcely noticed the splintering and snapping branches.

The other dragon roared with renewed fury, making the nearby boughs shake.

Fight me, that call said. The female is mine.

Arysteon clamped his teeth together to hold back an answering roar and forced his spines flat. A single stride brought him to Leyloni, who already had her bags slung over her shoulders. She bent down and scooped up Serek, clutching the baby close. Before she could straighten, Arysteon extended a hand, picked her up from behind, and lifted her toward his neck.

He heard her startled gasp, but she wasted no time in climbing onto him, settling in her usual place at the base of his neck. Any other time, he would have gladly paused to appreciate the feel of her bare legs against his scales.

The moment he felt her grasp one of his spines, he darted into motion, running with speed and urgency like he’d never achieved. Leyloni tightened her grip and threw her weight forward, holding herself and Serek firmly against his neck.

“Face me, coward!” the other dragon bellowed from somewhere behind Arysteon.

The words had been spoken in the tongue of dragons, a language Arysteon had known since his earliest memories, a language as ancient as the mountains and seas, a language he’d not heard spoken aloud in over two hundred years. He had sometimes dreamed of encountering another dragon just to be able to converse in his native tongue, just for the familiarity and comfort it would bring.

He’d known for a long while how foolish a dream that had been. Most dragons were not interested in conversation or camaraderie with one another.

“The female is in my domain,” the other dragon called. “I smell her heat. She is mine!”

A growl clawed out of Arysteon’s throat, and small arcs of lightning forked through his teeth. His talons tore the earth, roots, and brush beneath them. Trees flitted past on all sides, reduced to blurs by his speed. His heart pounded, his breath was ragged, and his spark thrummed with enough excess power to blast half the forest into ash.

Even now, his instincts were torn. Part of him needed to turn around and face this hostile dragon, to assert his claim on Leyloni, to seize a claim on this territory. Another part of him needed only to get his clan as far away from danger as possible.

Those conflicting instincts only seemed to clash harder in response to the fear Arysteon sensed through his bond with Leyloni. That she was afraid but composed was the only thing that kept him moving, was the only reason he’d been able to maintain his own shred of composure.

He reached deep inside himself, drawing upon his spark’s core, and ran even faster, using his body to shield his riders as he plowed through these unfamiliar woods. Only Leyloni and Serek’s safety mattered; nothing else was important. His pain and exertion were meaningless compared to that goal.

Though the sounds of his body smashing through the forest, his crackling spark, and pounding heart drowned out most other noise, one sound stood out from all the rest—not because it