Chapter 16

SIXTEEN

When he was a dragon, Ellion’s mind worked very differently than when he was in his more civilized form. Rational thoughts, contemplation, and consideration became secondary to the urge to fight. Dragon fire burned hot in his throat. He thirsted for blood and fire and death. Gone were the frightened, starved males who couldn’t understand why one of their females would choose him over their oppressive ways. All he could see were enemies in front of him. He’d told them to leave, hadn’t he? He’d warned them. They hadn’t listened, and now he had to fight for control over the dragon.

Turi was beside him. They had hurt her. Her . His female. His mate. He had smelled her blood and heard her cry and couldn’t stop the transformation from happening. Even now, as he stepped forward, wings spread, claws extended, snout long and full of sharp teeth, ready to rip and tear, it took that one last shred of civility to hold back from killing them all. She wouldn’t want him to, and she was all that mattered.

The males scrambled backward, their outrage reduced to whimpers. He bent his head and sent a stream of fire from his mouth. It blackened the ground between him and the Terians. The air smelled acrid, filled with smoke. He couldn’t speak in this form. His mouth and throat were not designed for it. He could only roar like the beast he was.

Turi was saying something to him, but he couldn’t hear it over the rage in his belly. He could still hear her cry of pain. He could still smell the fresh tang of her blood.

The Terians were moving quickly now, scrambling towards the steep stone steps that would lead them down the mountain, back to their settlement. He should just let them go, but with a deep hunch of his haunches, he launched himself into the air, flapping his wings. Ellion rarely assumed this form. It was painful to do. The transformation, and then returning to his other form, was exhausting. But while he was the dragon, he reveled in the freedom he only found in the sky. Although he could fly in either form, the dragon form was made for the air. His body streamlined and swift. He could turn effortlessly and reach speeds that were impossible otherwise.

The wound in his wing was still healing. Turi’s stitches held, but he wasn’t aware of pain. His only thoughts were of avenging Turi’s mistreatment. The noises the Terians made as they struggled down the steps only made his fire burn hotter. Despite the urge to set them all alight, he sent his lethal dragon breath in bursts behind them. It wasn’t as satisfying, but there was just enough rational thought left in him to know that massacring the Terians would have consequences. Protecting her was the only thing he cared about. Killing them wouldn’t help.

He followed the Terian males to the settlement, then landed in the middle of the settlement’s center and scorched a mark there that would take decades to fade. He needed them to remember that he was not to be provoked. That his mate, Turi, was not to be touched. He looked around, seeing the frightened faces. Males scrambling to their homes. Females peeking worriedly through barred windows. Children crying. He knew how fearsome he looked. How fearsome he was . Now, so did they.

With his rage spent, he lifted back up, flying back to his fortress. Back to Turi.

He landed heavily in the courtyard, the impact jarring even his massive frame. Smoke curled from his nostrils. The scent of burnt earth and ozone clung to his scales. Turi stood before him, a small, fragile figure against his immense form. Her face was pale, streaked with soot, but her eyes, wide and luminous, held a surprising lack of fear.

He lowered his head, his snout almost touching the ground before her, a silent offering of tenderness despite his ferocious appearance. He couldn’t explain, not in this form, the rage that had consumed him, the primal need to protect her that had driven him to this savage display.

Hesitantly, Turi reached out a hand, her fingers trembling slightly as they brushed against the rough scales of his snout. “Ellion,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I was so worried. I saw them running. I saw the fire… I thought… I thought you might have killed them all.”

He huffed out a puff of dragon smoke and let out a grunt. It was the only way he had to say, no, he wouldn’t have.

“Thank you for sparing them.” She rubbed a hand over his scales. “I hope you didn’t break my nice stitches.”

He closed his eyes. The simple touch of her hand was a balm against the lingering heat of his dragon fury. He wanted to tell her that he was fine, that nothing mattered except her safety, but the words were trapped in his draconian throat, replaced by a low rumble that vibrated through his chest and out into the cool air. She understood. He felt it in the way her hand moved, gently stroking his snout, the fear replaced by a strange, almost reverent awe. In that moment, the lines blurred further, not just between his two forms, but between protector and protected, captor and captive, overseer and…mate.

He shuddered. The tremors started deep within his massive frame and radiated outward. The dragon form was receding. His scales softened, wings shrinking, snout shortening. The transformation was never pleasant. It was always a tearing and reforming of flesh and bone, but this time, the exhaustion was overwhelming. He swayed, his legs threatening to buckle under the immense weight of his changing body. It had been a long time since he’d changed into the dragon. It always took a toll.

Turi gasped and rushed forward, her small hands gripping his shifting form. “Ellion?”

He managed a guttural groan, his voice returning in ragged gasps as the last vestiges of the dragon receded. Naked and vulnerable, he collapsed to his knees, his skin slick with sweat. His muscles trembling with fatigue.

“Easy.” Her voice was surprisingly strong despite the tremor in her hands. “I’ve got you.”

He leaned against her to keep from falling over, marveling at her strength. Terian females were stronger than anyone gave them credit for. He was naked, exposed, and utterly depleted, yet in her arms, he felt a strange sense of safety, a comfort he hadn’t known he craved. He let her wrap her arms around him. “Ara!” Turi called out, her voice echoing in the vast courtyard. “Are you here?”

A moment later, the familiar shadowy form of the Skrac slipped from the fortress doors and appeared beside them. Ara changed to her Terian form, and put her hands on her hips. “What happened here?” she asked, taking in Ellion’s state. “You nearly frightened everyone in Settlement 112-1 to death.”

He wanted to explain, to tell her about the Terian males, about Turi’s injury, but the words wouldn’t come. He could only offer a weak shrug and a pained grimace.

“Never mind,” Ara said, sensing his exhaustion. “Let’s get you inside. Turi, help me support him.” She caught sight of the gash on Turi’s arm and went still. “Ah. I think I know what happened.”

Together, they managed to get him through the massive doors and into the cool, dimly lit interior of the fortress. He stumbled, his legs giving way, and Turi’s small frame took the brunt of his weight. He could feel her struggling, but she didn’t falter. She held him steady, her strength an unusual counterpoint to his current weakness.

“The bath,” he rasped, his voice barely a whisper.

“Good idea,” Ara said. “The restorative salts will help. Turi, can you manage to get him to his bathing room? I’ll prepare everything.”