To Tame a Dragon - Tiffany Roberts Page 0,15

stinging pain atop his head, where those strands were rooted.

Spreading his wings, he ran forward and leapt into the air. Breath ragged, he fought to gain height, restricted by the awkwardness of his physical form. The mating bond pulled tighter as he moved farther from the human, demanding he return to her. His stomach lurched repeatedly as he plunged and soared, and he clawed at the air as though he’d find some purchase of which to take hold.

His scales burned—not only with the Red Heat, but with shame.

Mortal creatures were beneath dragons, they were meant to cower in fear or flee at the very sight of beings like Falthyris. He was immense, powerful, a force of nature that could not be overcome by most mortal means.

And yet a single touch from that smug little female had reduced him to this. He was like a fledgling just learning to fly—though he doubted he’d been this uncoordinated even when he’d been fresh out of his egg.

He’d barely found the first shreds of balance in his flying when he reached the entrance to his lair, an opening on a large, rocky hill not far from the river. His stupid human legs did not support him through the landing, and he crashed onto the dirt and stone of the tunnel floor, catching himself on hands and knees with a snarl. He shoved up to his feet and stalked down the tunnel with hands curled into fists and tail stiff to counter the weight of his upper body.

With his every step deeper into the cave, the Red Heat radiating through him intensified, and the mating bond wound tighter around his heart—but that bond was growing colder instead of hotter, as though standing in direct opposition to his heartfire and the Heat. He felt as though there were a tether between himself and the human, infinitely stronger than the ropes she’d used to bind his arms. He'd managed to stretch that tether, but it remained intact, and he was nearing the point at which he could pull no farther. The tension in that bond promised one thing above all else—it would snap back soon, and it would carry him straight to her.

Falthyris bristled, shaking his wings and swinging his tail, gnashing his teeth and expelling licks of flame with his exhalations. He would not go back to her. He would not be swayed by her or any other force.

He would not give in to the desperate ache in his loins, would not rut her again, would not allow himself to feel that acute thrill when he recalled their coupling and the sensations it had roused in him.

He paused when he stepped into the main chamber, which was immense from his new perspective. Chunks of broken stone lay scattered across the floor and in the sand bed, remnants of his struggle over the last several days. Each of those chunks had seemed miniscule to him before. Now some were as large as his accursed human body.

All because of the female.

His female.

Falthyris forced himself forward, into the depression in the sand where he’d slept for the last few decades. The mating bond pulled taut and took on a chill deep enough to seep into his bones. His legs itched with the impulse to turn around, to go back, to find his mate. The Red Heat trailed its blazing fingers up his spine, demanding he rut her again.

And his body, his heartfire, agreed.

“No,” he growled.

Curling his fists tighter still, Falthyris turned the fullness of his willpower toward his body, toward his heartfire—toward returning them to his natural form. His muscles tensed with strain, and his head soon throbbed with concentration. This was not his shape. He did not accept it, would not settle for it. Whatever she had done, he would undo.

He envisioned himself in his natural form, reached for it in his mind’s eye, willed himself to feel it again. Soon, his limbs were trembling, and his heartfire was locked in a pitched battle with the currently icy mating bond, sending alternating waves of hot and cold throughout his body.

He was Falthyris the Golden, mightiest dragon in the region. None remained who could oppose him. And he would reclaim his natural body!

His lips curled, and a low, pained growl escaped him. He kept his struggle up as long as he could, but the change did not come. Fire did not consume him and reshape him.

Finally, he released his focus. His body sagged, and he bent to brace his