To Tame a Dragon - Tiffany Roberts Page 0,66

normal. A pang struck Falthyris’s heart, reinforcing his guilt and desperation. Every bit of him rebelled against seeing her like this.

With all the haste and care he could muster, he gathered her belongings, stuffing the little tools, scraps of cloth, and bits of food she’d left around the lair into her bag. He kept one of her robes and a sun-faded rag out. He knelt beside her and used the rag to mop the sweat from her skin. She moaned and curled up tighter, pressing one of her flushed cheeks down on the blanket.

Dressing her in the robe required a bit of forcefulness, and it pained him to feel her brief resistance when he lifted her into a sitting position and gently tugged her arms apart. His cock strained toward her as though sensing her bared chest even though he did not allow himself to look upon her directly.

Her limbs were limp, and her head lolled as he pulled on her robe and guided her arms through its billowing sleeves; apparently, that fleeting struggle had sapped what little strength she had retained. Only her shallow, rasping breaths and barely audible whimpers signaled that she was alive—those and the heat still radiating from her body.

The way she moved in his hold was too reminiscent of a dead thing.

Falthyris’s heartfire railed against that thought. The reaction was so strong, so sudden, that it was almost physically debilitating—his muscles convulsed, his breath hitched in his throat, and a terrible pressure clamped over his temples, squeezing hard enough to make his vision waver. Worst of all was the mating bond around his heart. That pain was great enough that he wondered if it would be his demise.

She is not dead. Nor am I.

Falthyris forced himself back into motion, setting her down on the grass mats to gather the blanket. The fabric was damp with her sweat, but it would have to do—she needed whatever protection he could provide from the nighttime air currents to which she would soon be subjected, which often bore a chill no matter the weather.

Elliya didn’t resist at all as he wrapped her in the blanket. Her eyelids fluttered open briefly, and her dark eyes, now unsettlingly distant and glassy, sought him out. “Falthyris?”

“Shh. Rest.” Holding the strap of her bag in one hand, he scooped her into his arms. “I have you.”

“Wha…what are…”

“Conserve your strength, Elliya. I am bringing you home.”

She curled against him, fingers brushing over his chest scales before her hands fell away.

Heart pounding, Falthyris carried her into the tunnel and hurried toward the mouth of the cave. The night sky was visible through the opening, with countless stars glittering against deep blues and purples—and Dragonsbane, faint but unmistakable, amidst it all.

One more day and the comet would be gone, and Falthyris would never see it again. One more day, and that accursed Red Heat would finally dissipate. One more day, and Falthyris and Elliya would be free to define their relationship on their own terms, free of the comet’s influence.

Falthyris paused at the opening as the Red Heat washed over him anew, as it attempted to assert control over his body and bend him to the comet’s will. Dragonsbane glared down at him spitefully, and he could almost hear its voice in his head.

You are weak, dragon. Your resistance is meaningless. I am your master now and always. Give in and take the female. Rut her, release your seed.

“I will not give in. I will not harm my mate,” Falthyris growled. He turned away from the comet and laid Elliya on the cave floor, placing her bag beside her. The Heat crackled across his back.

What difference did it make if she was sick? She still had a slit, and he needed release, needed to vent some of this Heat, this pressure. She wouldn’t care.

Baring his clenched teeth, Falthyris shook his head sharply. He spun toward the comet again, spread his wings, and leapt into the open air. He unleashed all his fury at the comet in a roar that created a landslide in the scree below him and echoed off the surrounding hills and canyons, cleaving the heavens like ten thousand peals of thunder booming all at once.

And he poured all that rage, all that defiant fury, all that fear, into his heartfire, willing it to swell into an inferno, willing it to consume him—willing it to change him.

The explosion of pain he’d expected came and went in an instant, as brief and intense as a