Chapter 32

Itook to the sky the moment I saw the look on Tor's face. He'd been out here holding them at bay the best he could while we'd done what we could to pack and prepare for the worst. But as time passed and the sounds of the battle below only intensified, we knew it was time to join in.

Hook had never returned, and I could only assume he'd been successful in his mission, given the number of residents who were fending off attackers of their own.

But how many of us were there against how many of them? From the ground, it appeared as though we were winning. I knew better. There could be thousands just waiting for their turn. It all depended on just how much they hated us.

Learning the answer to that question could be the difference between winning or losing the day. That was why instead of focusing on the villagers already on Blackwood's grounds, I flew high, jetting over the gates and beyond. The hope was that the crowd would die off, that the majority of their numbers were already inside.

That was not the reality.

More than double the number of fighters were waiting their turn, weapons in hand.

This was no half-cocked, drunken brawl. This was a strategic battle. One they'd planned and prepared for, likely for months. The Ripper had just been the excuse they'd needed to strike.

"Intruders! Turn them to ash!"

Building my dragon fire in my chest, I dropped within range, dodging their arrows and bullets. I knew this was my chance to do some damage without my compatriots getting caught in the crossfire.

"Aim for his heart!" a man yelled from below. "That's where he's vulnerable."

Before they could even try, I released a column of flame, turning my head from left to right as though I were an enormous flamethrower. They burned, the entire line of ten men. And I didn't regret a single one of their deaths.

One thing that did pique my interest, however, was that my flame was blue. I instantly recognized it as the same blue as Hades's fire. This must be one of the effects of our bond. For some reason, my dragon liked that. He let out an approving roar, appreciating the sense of clan that came with the connection. He'd been alone for so long, kept separate even from me. Belonging to his mate and the rest of her men satisfied something inside him—inside us—we hadn't even realized was missing.

"He's bleeding. You got a hit in," another man said. "Ready the archers!"

Bleeding? I wasn't bleeding. I'd have felt it if they'd hit me.

Swooping low, I snatched the lying prick up, eating him in one clean bite. The shouts of protest from his comrades did nothing but encourage me to do it again.

So I did.

Dragons had to eat, too, you know. What better meal could there be than that of an enemy?

Landing in the midst of a small grouping, I roared loud enough that they had to cover their ears before swiping a few of them off their feet with my tail. I hit them so hard they flew into the trees, then I reared up on my hind legs and used my powerful wings to create a gust that knocked them all on their arses.

Ursa bellowed and charged them, his bloodied maw proving he'd already taken out at least a few of our foes. A bear as large as him could be brought down, but he'd destroy his attackers in the process.

I heard them gathering for another attack, the warning sounds of a commander rallying his troops. My fire still needed time to build, however, so I took off, flying higher into the sky, needing to put my eyes on Dahlia before my next attack.

She stood within the protective shadows of Hades, the god refusing to let her leave his sight. My heart ached for the fear in her eyes. It burned bright, along with a righteous fury.

"Kai! Watch out!"

Her warning came too late.

I dove to the left, anticipating some sort of missile, but their aim had been perfect. The bolt shot through the membranous part of my torso, where it connected to my right wing. Twisted as I was, I finally noticed the dozens of other arrows lodged into my side and wing.

How had I not felt them?

Tor, I realized. Just as I'd inherited Hades's fire, I'd taken on his Berserker's imperviousness to pain. Ideal in theory, but perhaps not as useful as one might initially think.

Unfortunately, just because I couldn't feel the pain, that didn't mean I was invincible. Another spray of bolts punched through my already battered wing, leaving gaping holes and shredding the thin membrane as easily as a hot knife through butter. Iron and the fae didn't play nicely together. We were all taught that from an early age, and the damage these arrows had done made that clear as day.

And that wasn't the only trick they'd used either.

A heavy weight clouded my mind, the sensation not unlike a net capturing its prey. Despite the adrenaline and fury pouring through my veins, I was inexplicably sleepy. Lethargic.

Tranquilizers.

The fuckers had drugged me. Of course. They knew Blackwood had a dragon.

Attention on Dahlia, I tried my hardest to aim my large body away from her, not that there was much I could do. I was already plummeting, my wings no longer working, thanks to the iron and sedatives in my system. I'd lose consciousness before hitting the ground if the way my vision was blurring was any indication. But I had no doubt when I crashed into the earth, those would be my final moments.

I hoped she survived.

I hoped she was proud of her dragon.

I hoped she could forgive me for leaving her.