To Tame a Dragon - Tiffany Roberts Page 0,56

There was no time for pain now.

A dunehound leapt at her. Elliya leaned back and thrust her knife, jabbing it into the beast’s throat. Hot blood gushed onto her hand. The momentum of the creature’s leap forced her to take a single step backward. Small but powerful jaws clamped down on her calf from behind, punching through skin and muscle with numerous pointed teeth. The creature growled and yanked, sinking its teeth deeper and tearing her flesh without breaking its hold.

Elliya cried out, and her leg buckled, dropping her onto one knee. Pain battered her mind from all sides, demanding entry, demanding control. Keeping hold of her blood slickened knife, she heaved the dead dunehound away and twisted toward the very much alive beast attached to her leg. She screamed as she hammered the rock against its head repeatedly, each blow intensifying her own pain as it forced those teeth deeper still, further shredding her flesh. Blood poured from the open wound. Finally, after a wet cracking sound, those jaws slackened.

She swung her arms wildly, sensing more of the beasts closing in on her. The dunehounds scrambled just out of reach. There were at least five immediately surrounding her, with twice that many a little farther away—and more still up on the ridges, howling and yipping as though they were eager spectators to some bloody game.

“I am a huntress,” Elliya growled, “and you will not be my end!”

One of the creatures charged, its jaws opened wide. Elliya slammed the rock down on its snout. There was a crunch, and the beast whined, shaking its head furiously as it scurried away.

Another beast clamped its jaws down on her extended forearm. The blood slickened stone slipped from her grasp. Elliya cried out in pain even as she attacked with her knife, stabbing the dunehound on her arm straight through the eye. The beast released its hold on her and dropped away, crashing to the ground in a heap, leaving her arm dripping with crimson. She could only hope that more of the blood belonged to the dead dunehound than belonged to her.

Shifting her wounded leg, she gritted her teeth and attempted to get her foot beneath her again, to stand, but her calf cried out in protest, making her body tremble. She growled through the pain and pushed up onto her feet, leaning her weight onto her uninjured leg.

Several of the beasts advanced on her, their stances low and eyes intense. The beasts recognized her weakness.

But Elliya was a huntress still. She was the heart of her people, steady, brave, and unwavering. Her heart was fierce. And she was the bride of Falthyris the Golden, the desert’s mightiest dragon. The mating bond curled protectively around her heart, bolstering her.

She drew in a deep breath and released it in a wordless, defiant roar that rose from the very core of her being.

The dunehounds paused, eyeing her warily.

Suddenly, her roar became thunderous, blasting across the heavens and shaking the ground beneath her, rattling the loose stones along the base of the ravine. She felt it within her mating bond, and knew it was not her power—that had been her dragon’s roar.

The dunehounds whined, shrinking back and looking skyward.

Elliya looked up, too. A fiery shape was speeding toward her, its flames more brilliant than anything the Red Star could produce, more vibrant than the sun.

Another chorus of howls rose around her, more frenzied than before—and in even greater numbers. More heads popped up along the edges of the ravine, and more dunehounds scrambled down to the bottom. There had to be dozens of them now, and their initial fear was fast fading.

Apparently, the aggressiveness dunehounds often exhibited in defending their food didn’t make exceptions for dragons. These creatures thought they had claimed her.

If only they had known how wrong they were.

“Time to come for your female, dragon,” she whispered.

15

A maelstrom of fire and fury blazed within Falthyris. His heartfire had become an inferno so hot and powerful that it was consuming his body. Flames roiled over his scales and engulfed his wings, roaring as they battled the air flowing around him. This agonizing release of fire was only making that internal pressure greater, was only pushing him closer and closer to an inevitable explosion, was only making it clear that his heartfire was too much for his body to contain.

His mate was down there, his Elliya, and she was wounded. Her pain was his. It pulsed through their mating bond, even more pronounced than the