Leah's Hero - Miranda Martin Page 0,19

of unexpressed desire, I turn my head to the voices. My hearts skip their next beat.

I thought they were a dream or a memory. It really is Angota and Rakstan. My brothers. Or they were, before I was expelled. Am I with the Order?

A cold knot forms in my belly, and my chest tightens. I cough and try to sit up, intending to face my doom. If the Order has me again, the Eye will not let me off with a banishment this time. I don’t know how these alien females came to be with the Order, but I will meet my end on my feet. I will not die lying down, a coward.

The angel pushes me back down, ordering me to lie. The dragon rumbles at her touch and thoughts of her touching so much more flash through my mind, but they’re gone as fast as they come. The situation is too serious for such dalliances.

A fresh cough causes my chest to feel like it’s being ripped to pieces. The wounds pull and tear. I close my eyes and lie back, left without the strength to fight my fate. If I’m going to be killed, then so be it. I’ve far outlived my usefulness to the world.

“Urukol,” Rakstan says my name, coming into my line of vision.

“Rakstan,” I acknowledge, and he frowns.

“How are you alive?” he asks.

“Tajss wasn’t done with me,” I answer.

His frown deepens, and he shakes his head. Angota appears next to him.

“They told us you died of your wounds,” Angota says. “Yet you’re here. Do you serve the Eye? Were you put on a mission?”

“A mission?” I snort but it’s cut off by a fresh round of coughing.

A metallic taste fills my mouth and my lips are wet. I wipe them with my good hand and notice that it’s covered with blood. The angel is there as if summoned by my pain. She presses a damp cloth to my face and wipes away the blood. My hearts swell, pounding against my ribs. The dragon roars, urging me to take her in my arms, but I resist. That is for a real male.

“No,” I say, coughing again. “I do not. I was left for dead by his minions. Still wounded, broken, then not even the decency to kill me but dumped in the jungle to be devoured by whatever happened by.”

“No,” Rakstan whispers, shaking his head. “Who? Who did this?”

“The Eye ordered it,” I say.

“But who would carry out such an order? Who could be so—”

“Zirthoan and JKaran,” Angota answers for me.

Rakstan’s face contorts in rage. He raises his balled fists, and I prepare myself for a blow, trying to not flinch but unable to move or defend myself.

“It can’t be,” Rakstan says.

“I told you, they are evil,” Angota says.

“But to leave him alone?” Rakstan yells.

Angota answers with a shrug. He’s not surprised by their actions. I was, when it happened, but now it is simply a thing that happened. Rakstan shakes with rage. His mouth moves, but no words come until at last he throws his fists in the air and roars. Wordless but filled with boiling rage.

The females grouped around flinch, but no one cowers or runs. Rakstan brings himself under control, but his jaw is tight, hands balled into fists, and his tail is straight up. One of the females walks over and wraps her arms around his neck. She rises onto her toes and passionately kisses him.

I turn my head away, unable to watch the display of affection. My gaze lands on the female who has cared for me. She’s looking at me and our eyes meet. My mouth is suddenly dry and my hearts race. I would do anything to keep her gaze.

My scales itch and I look away. I’m not a male. I can’t protect her, provide for her, or care for her as a male should. I am not worthy. I return my attention to the two males. Slowly, I rise onto my elbows. My head is light, the room spins for a moment, but it stops. I continue to rise until I’m sitting up.

Soft hands touch my back, and I flinch when she touches the scars where my wing should be. The scar that marks me as not worthy. I hear her gasp. Closing my eyes I grit my teeth and struggle with the darkness of my thoughts. I need to get out of here. The space is too close and growing tighter. There isn’t enough air in the