Prologue

Dorian

Frankie’s breaths come in shallow, desperate gasps, each one a fragile thread tethering her to this world. Her small hands clutch my shirt, her knuckles bleached white with the effort. The intricate black swirls of her tattoos—mysterious marks of power I’ve yet to decipher—stand in stark relief against her alabaster skin, emphasizing her mortality.

Her body trembles against mine, hot and slick with blood. The coppery stench invades my nostrils, sharp and accusatory. It mingles with the crisp night air and the acrid tang of fear, creating a nauseating cocktail that coats my tongue.

She’s lost too much blood.

Damn Amanda and Chloe to the darkest pits of the shadow realm for their vicious attack. If I’d been just a few minutes earlier at the academy…

The thought twists in my gut like a knife.

I should have known those shadow shifter bitches wouldn’t let go of their grudge so easily. They are ruthless when they see something they want—or hate.

I force the thought aside, focusing on the fragile life literally bleeding out in my arms. Her slight weight is alarming, a vicious reminder of how easily humans break. The night air bites at my skin as I rush toward the bridge, each step taking us farther from the twisted spires of Morrow Bay and closer to our last, desperate hope.

My footfalls echo in the empty street, the frantic rhythm matching the thundering of my heart. My entire being narrows to a single point of focus—keep Frankie alive. Her head lolls to the side, her silken hair brushing against my thighs. The urge to beg her to stay with me claws at my throat, but I swallow it down.

She will stay.

She must.

The moon… God, that fucking moon. It’s bloated and red as hell. Everything’s bathed in its sick light, twisting the familiar streets into…

Focus. Frankie. Have to save Frankie.

The Victorian buildings of Morrow Bay loom ominously above me, their ornate facades twisted into leering masks by the moon’s baleful light.

For a fleeting moment, that hellish glow catches on Frankie’s skin, illuminating her ethereal beauty, even as death’s shadow looms over her. It steals my breath, a reminder of all that I stand to lose.

This creature, this woman, has clawed her way into the depths of my being with her owlish eyes and silent strength. Since that first day as Blackwood’s TA, I’ve been caught in her orbit, drawn inexorably closer by some cosmic force I can’t begin to comprehend.

How did I not notice how fragile she is? She has barely any mass or muscle. The realization hits me like a blow, and shame and guilt twist in my gut. She needs to eat more.

I need to feed her more.

She gasps for breath, and her lungs rattle ominously—the sound sends ice through my veins.

Time is running out.

As I near the shore, I lay her gently on the pebbled road. The ground is cool and damp, each stone pressing into my knees like an accusation as I kneel beside her. Shadows stretch toward us, grasping and hungry. Droplets catch the light on Frankie’s skin, shining like rubies— no… blood. Everything’s bloody in this light.

The air is thick with the tang of salt and the metallic undertone of blood, underscored by the earthy scent of wet soil and vegetation. In the distance, waves crash against the shore, a rhythmic counterpoint to Frankie’s labored breathing.

I swallow hard, my throat tight with fear, and peer around, making sure we’re alone before I allow my body to contort and shift.

The change surges through me, a familiar yet overwhelming rush. My human form melts away, replaced by something ancient, powerful, and terrifying. Scales as black as midnight ripple across my skin, hardening into an impenetrable armor. My limbs elongate and my muscles bulge and reshape until I tower over Frankie’s broken form. Wings unfurl from my back, vast and leathery, blotting out the blood-red moon above.

The world around me sharpens, colors become more vivid, and scents grow more potent. The air crackles with energy, tasting of ozone and ancient magic. My eyes narrow, focusing on the woman lying in the street. I lift her with one claw, cradling her against my chest. Her warmth contrasts sharply with the cool night air, and I can feel the faint, erratic beat of her heart against my scales. With my other claw, I grab my tattered clothing, the fabric rough against my sensitive scales.

As a dragon, I could cross the distance in mere moments, a gift with its own burdens and sacrifices.

I take off over the ocean, roaring to all of the shadow realm. My intent is to call upon Bishop, Matteo, and Leo.

My heart thunders in my chest, each beat echoing through my body as my wings beat the air, propelling us toward the cove.

The night air rushes past, carrying the scent of brine and magic. The ocean churns below, a dark mirror reflecting the crimson sky. Spray from the waves reaches us, cool and salty on my scales. I can feel Frankie’s life force flickering like a candle flame in danger of being snuffed out.

My roar reverberates through the air, a desperate plea to the shadows that lurk in every corner of this realm.

Come , I call silently. Come and bear witness. Come and lend your strength.

Using the elevation, I tuck my wings in and dive toward the cave, slicing through the air and plunging into the darkness. The transition from air to land is seamless, my form shifting just as my feet touch the cavern floor. The cave air is cool and damp, heavy with the scent of earth and ancient stone.

I cradle Frankie tighter against me, her shallow breaths and weak pulse a fragile lifeline I cling to. A small spring sits ahead, its waters shimmering with a faint, ethereal light that casts dancing shadows on the cave walls. The rough, uneven surface of the cavern is adorned with strange, glowing symbols that seem to pulse in time with the spring’s magic.

Without a moment to spare, I move to the edge and gently lower Frankie into the healing pool. The water glows softly around her, and I watch, holding my breath, as the magic begins its work, knitting her wounds and mending her broken body.

I stay by the water’s edge, my eyes never leaving her. The cavern is silent except for the sound of the water lapping gently at the shore and the distant echo of my own thundering heartbeat. As the minutes stretch into an eternity, I allow myself to feel a glimmer of hope.

She will survive this.

She must.

We all need her to.

The healing waters pulsate with an otherworldly light as tendrils of magic weave around Frankie’s motionless form. Her skin, once pale and lifeless, gradually regains its warmth, and the black swirls of her tattoos seem to dance in the shimmering water, pulsing with a life of their own.

My fingers dig into the rocky edge of the spring, the sharp pain grounding me in this moment of uncertainty. I’ve seen many things in my long life, but nothing has ever filled me with such a potent mixture of fear and hope as this fragile human woman fighting for her life.

“Come on, Frankie,” I growl, my voice raw with emotion. “Fight. You’re stronger than this. You have to be.”

As if in response to my desperate plea, her eyelids flutter. My breath catches in my throat, and I lean closer, hardly daring to believe what I’m seeing. Her eyes open slowly, revealing those familiar owlish orbs that have haunted my dreams for so long.

“Dorian?” Her voice is barely a whisper, but it cuts through the silence of the cave like a blade, sharp with hope and fear.

Relief floods through me so intense, it’s almost painful. “I’ve got you,” I say, reaching out to brush a wet strand of hair from her face. Her skin is cool and damp under my fingers, but it’s warming by the second. “You’re safe now, little owl.”

She tries to sit up, but I gently push her back down. “Rest,” I command softly. “The healing isn’t complete yet.”

Frankie nods weakly, her eyelids already drooping closed again, but this time, I’m not afraid. I know she’ll wake up again.

She’s chosen to stay, fight, and live.

“By scale and sky, Frankie,” I whisper, my voice thick with emotion, “I’ll keep you safe.”

As I watch over her, I make a silent vow. I will protect her no matter the cost. I will unravel the mysteries that surround her, and I will keep her safe from those who wish her harm. In saving her, she has somehow saved a part of me as well.

The night wears on, and I remain vigilant by the spring’s edge. The others will come soon, drawn by my call, but for now, in this moment suspended between danger and safety, it’s just Frankie and me, and for the first time in centuries, I feel something long dormant stirring within my chest—hope, and perhaps something even more dangerous, like love.

The cave around us seems to vibrate with possibility, the air thick with magic and promise. As Frankie sleeps, healing in the mystical waters, I allow myself to dream of a future I never thought possible—a future with her.

“Stay in the light, little owl,” I murmur once more, a prayer and a promise intertwined. “By scale and sky, I’ll be here when you wake.”

May the shadows have mercy on anyone who tries to take you from me.