To Love a Dragon - Tiffany Roberts Page 0,77

back what he received and more, mercilessly slashing with his talons and clubbing his foe with his tail as lightning pulsed over his scales. The scent of Pavoss’s blood filled his nostrils and urged him to greater ferocity. He was barely aware of the trees and undergrowth being crushed by the struggling draconic bodies. His mind could only comprehend two things—Leyloni’s presence, which was moving ever farther away, and his enemy.

Pavoss clamped his jaws around Arysteon’s neck. Growling, Arysteon forced the bony spikes along his spine fully upright. He felt two of them sink into the fleshy roof of Pavoss’s mouth. Pavoss had barely growled in pain before Arysteon forced his spark outward, willing it to course over his scales with new intensity.

For an instant, Pavoss’s jaw locked tighter, forcing those spikes even deeper. Then the larger dragon tore his head away. Blood—both his own and Arysteon’s—sprayed from his mouth as he snapped his head from side to side, trailing wisps of smoke.

Warm blood trickled down Arysteon’s neck scales, and the wounds pulsed dully, but he did not hesitate. His head darted forward, jaws parted—ready to tear a chunk out of Pavoss’s throat. He would taste the blood of any creature that dared endanger his mate and youngling.

Pavoss scrambled backward, swinging his neck to evade Arysteon’s jaws. The bronze dragon’s body heat suddenly flared. He opened his own mouth wide, and fire roiled in the back of his throat.

Arysteon had time enough only to squeeze his eyes shut before that fire erupted from Pavoss’s maw. He shoved himself backward as the flames lashed the scales of his snout, hotter than anything he’d ever felt. He landed heavily on his side, shaking his head wildly as though it could eliminate the pain or reverse the damage that had been done.

Pavoss’s weight crashed down upon Arysteon. The bronze dragon slammed his claws on Arysteon’s front legs, pinning them to the ground.

“You are no dragon,” snarled Pavoss. “You are a worm, forever slithering in the dirt. You are nothing—and your female is mine.”

The memory of the clanmates Arysteon had lost to aggressive dragons like this, of the hardships and tragedy he and his kin had faced because of such attacks, raced through his mind, but they were not his focus. That was on Leyloni—his Leyloni. His mate. His love, his purpose, his everything.

Arysteon growled, the sound growing into a roar that tore up his throat. His every scale buzzed with power, as though his spark was drawing it in from the air all around.

“I am Arysteon!” he bellowed, unleashing the full fury of his spark.

The flash of lightning was so bright that Arysteon’s vision went white even through his closed eyelids. His entire being thrummed for an instant, so overwhelmed, so overcharged, that it could not possibly hold itself together.

He felt the blast down to his bones, felt its aftermath rumble through him like a thousand peals of thunder. Pavoss’s weight was abruptly lifted away.

Arysteon opened his eyes and righted himself, pushing up onto his feet. His vision cleared slowly. A thin haze hung in the air, spreading that crisp, after-lightning smell—and the stench of burned flesh.

Pavoss lay on his side nearby, propped up against a fallen tree. He stirred slowly and struggled to rise. Tendrils of smoke wafted from scorched patches on his scales.

Arysteon felt Leyloni’s retreat slowing, felt the invisible tether that bound them together pull taut. But she couldn’t stop—not yet. Not while Pavoss remained a threat.

Arysteon advanced on his enemy.

The bronze dragon bared his teeth and swung his head toward Arysteon. His chest swelled with a deep breath, and again his jaws gaped. Orange light flared in his throat.

Faster than conscious thought could have allowed, Arysteon forced a bolt of lightning out from his spark. It flashed through the air in a dancing fork, striking Pavoss in the mouth. For an instant, the two dragons were bridged by that energy.

Pavoss’s head snapped back, and he released an agonized, sputtering grunt. A cloud of fire burst from his mouth and nostrils, briefly engulfing his head, and a puff of black smoke billowed over him.

“I am the lightning and the thunder!” Arysteon declared, charging forward.

He slammed into Pavoss, knocking the larger dragon onto his back. The crimson fog over Arysteon’s vision only deepened as he sank his claws into Pavoss’s ribs.

Pavoss thrashed wildly, his movements granted strength by his desperation. Arysteon’s claws were dislodged as a result, but not before tearing chunks of bloody flesh from the bronze dragon’s sides. Snarling