3. Lianna

I jolted awake to the sensation of falling—because I was falling.

Nosediving, in fact.

My scream was soundless this time as we plunged toward a small green splotch in a chain of pine-covered isles dotted across calm water. It all got closer and closer, so fast it made my head spin. I death-gripped one of Vidar's fingers and braced for the end.

His wings flared out at the last second, blunting our descent so we didn't splat into the water, but rather slam into it like a comet making its mark on Earth. Vidar took the brunt of the impact, but I was still sloshed head to toe with chilly water. He lilted left, then right, then finally crashed onto his side in a narrow cove. We were still for a moment, then, groaning, he pushed us to the shoreline with his back feet, one jerky movement at a time. Heaving a breath that sounded like a death rattle, he flung his arm to the side and slammed my cage onto the rocky beach.

I was gone the second his fist loosened, scrambling over his palm and out the other side. My knees buckled when I hit dry land, but, leaning into the adrenaline rush, I just yanked off my heels, tossed them aside, and bolted clumsily over stones and sand until I hit the tree line. Engulfed in thick, fluffy pines, I pushed until my lungs burned and my bare feet couldn't take the terrain anymore. Only then did I stop and take stock of where we were.

Definitely not Cedar Cove.

In fact, this barely resonated as California at all. The air was cooler, thinner almost, triggering a rush of goosebumps all over as I soaked it in. Pine green and dark brown bark. Slate-gray rocks and so much underbrush that it didn't make sense to go any farther in an evening gown. The island had already ripped into the material, and if I wasn't careful, I'd split something open that would take me out of the game for good.

Okay. Okay. Think, girl. Focus.

I patted myself down to confirm that nothing was broken or actively bleeding. Bruised was a given. But I had no phone, no wallet, no nothing. It was just me at my most useless, perfume pluming away. Glaring down at my stomach, I pointed to the biggest troublemaker.

"You," I muttered breathlessly, "keep your shit together. No more cramps."

Like she was sentient, my uterus clenched just sharp enough for the pain to briefly knock the wind out of me. Awesome. Today was just… awesome.

Dress hitched high, I trudged back toward the beach. A long exhale of cypress and amber gusted over me along the way, and I slowed, breathing it in. Invisible fingers swept the stray hairs from my face, brushing them aside in the breeze. While I could do without a monster's pheromones wreaking havoc on my omega side, it did some good, tenderly soothing my frayed nervous system. I stopped hearing my pulse pound in my skull. I stopped shaking, sweating. It cleared the static. It called me home.

All that went out the window, however, when I spotted him between two pines that had seen better days. With half their needles missing, a few of their branches broken, they gave me a perfect blind spot to sit in and study this dragon, this golden alpha who…

I licked my lips and rubbed my aching core, resisting the urge to drift lower and take care of the issue at its source.

This alpha had triggered a flash heat. It had nothing to do with Dewey, Chad, and Thad. It was him—or I wouldn't still feel like this.

Omega heats hit three to four times a year. They were cyclical. You could track them like betas tracked their monthly menses. Our heats usually had a week of preheat cold and flu symptoms, followed by shitty uterine cramps before the heat itself took over, which then lasted three to five days.

A flash heat came out of the blue. They were said to be short, less than a day, and faded fast if you distanced yourself from the trigger, but the symptoms were supposedly… intense. It took major extenuating circumstances to trigger this sexual flash-bang—like finding your scent match. Some called those special people fated mates, because it was so rare to connect with them that it had to be fate's doing.

And he…

This…

My next cramp made me double over and keen softly. Vidar answered with a growl that made my heart skip a beat, but he didn't move. No, when the pain eased, I found him just where I'd left him, slumped on his side in the island's cove, his head just at the beach, most of his body in the water, his arm outstretched and his palm empty. He was out of place here, not just because he was a fucking dragon, but because he was gold as ichor in a Renaissance painting, his scales faintly twinkling beneath a clear starry night sky, his silhouette bathed in moonlight. The island itself was dark and earthy; Vidar was ethereal and untouchable.

Like he had fallen to Earth from Mount Olympus itself, a god among mortals.

Given everything I'd learned tonight, maybe that wasn't a story anymore either. Maybe the gods were real too. Maybe all of it was real. Every legend. Every myth. Every story passed down from mother to daughter.

Bonfire smoke teased my senses, its nuances richer, more seductive. Those invisible hands returned, caressing me, coaxing out a moan as I tipped my head and surrendered to the pressure on my throat. My breath stuttered as the sensation dipped lower, lower, lower?—

Fuck. My eyes snapped open and I teetered off-balance, lilting into the scraggly arms of a small pine. This was… something. No alpha had ever hit so hard before. They all triggered an omega's base instincts, and all of us had experienced the innate dominance, authority, and might of a competent, confident alpha before, but no one felt like this. Not random alphas on the street. Not guest lecturers at the omega academy. Definitely not those Synn idiots.

Squaring my shoulders, I tried my damnedest to sideline the chaos inside as I tiptoed out of the trees. The second my feet hit the beach, Vidar's golden gaze swiveled my way, and he inhaled sharply like he was sampling my perfume. Warmth kissed my cheeks, but I ignored the compliment of his aching groan, like my scent hit just as hard as his, and moved directly into his eyeline.

Shit, this guy was massive. Some of his head spikes could go toe to toe with a city bus. Keeping that in mind, I stopped about ten feet from his eyes, but it wasn't enough. Need poundedmy veins. Sweat erupted on my brow.

And a very unwelcome gush of slick drenched my panties and doused my inner thighs—again.

He inhaled as I fussed over my dress, as if the fabric might blunt the hot, sticky mess, and when I squared off with him, his pupils had gone from thin slits to what omegas informally dubbed ‘rut round'.

"Uh, hi." My stupid little wave was mortifying, totally cringey, but I held strong and waited for a response. Could dragons speak? Pretty sure they did in some stories?—

Vidar gave me a slow, meaningful blink, his gaze locked on me.

"Did you, uh…" I pinched the bridge of my nose and took a deep breath. When I woke up this morning, I did not expect to have a mostly one-sided conversation with a dragon.

I expected another brain-dead date night with the Synn alphas, which, from experience, was its own brand of torture. This was preferable.

"Did you just kidnap me?" His blank stare spoke volumes of incredulity. "Or did you… see what they were doing, a-and…" My face went up in flames, nipples suddenly too sensitive beneath the bodice's built-in bra. The material was thick enough that they wouldn't show, but I felt them pebble with interest the longer he watched me. "Did you rescue me? Is that what this is?"

Another long, slow blink met a gusting exhale—yes. Affirmative. He…

"Oh."

My knees knocked and wibble-wobbled, on the verge of a swoon. Unless I was in heat, I wasn't very overtly omega in my mannerisms, but for the first time, I wasn't embarrassed about my desire to sink to the ground and bathe in warm, fuzzy feelings.

He was obviously in pain. Underfed. Probably depressed as hell, living in that sad excuse for a den.

But he saw what those alphas were trying to do, and he acted. If he hadn't, I'd probably still be on my knees in the gravel. I would have been raped, plain and simple.

Staunch traditionalists believed omegas couldn't be raped, that we were built for knotting and breeding and rutting. In their minds, our bodies were primed for sex all the time, and as soon as our heat clicked in, it was brain off, lust on—like animals.

Opinions like that influenced proposed state and federal laws, the belief that omegas shouldn't have voting rights, that we shouldn't work or pursue higher education shaping political rhetoric to this day.

We weren't broodmares. We weren't precious little lambs. We were not damsels who needed an alpha or a pack to survive. I didn't deserve a knot I didn't want just because my biology was triggered. It was my choice, my body.

"Well, you know, thank you—really. Thank you for what you did."

I sniffled through the raw emotion pricking my eyes, scenting my perfume in the process. It was in free flow now, not just spritzing or misting at random. No, this was a rolling fog of vanilla and cardamom, undercut by sandalwood.

While I'd never said it, I had always been insecure about my scent. The sandalwood made what was warm and cozy read so masculine compared to my omega friends. I used to feel embarrassed when that side of me came out, even if it meant I was happy, but I had always liked it better than the violets.

Here, now, I was grateful for all of it. I had literally nothing out here but me, and my perfume was the deepest part of my omega being.

Clearing my throat, I drifted around Vidar's massive snout to take in the big picture. Slumped on his side, his chest and belly were exposed—but hardly vulnerable. The scales here were smoother, just as thick as the ones on his back but more streamlined.

Except for one.

No, one smack-dab in the middle of his chest stuck out at an odd angle, like a wonky tooth that didn't fit with the rest.

"They told me you were hurt." I nibbled my lower lip, frowning at that scale—at the memory of his tale with the hunters. Vidar, like he could feel my scrutiny, tried to roll over, but he barely moved before he whined and snarled, those four massive claws curling in on themselves.

"Okay, okay." Patting the air, I adopted a tone that was soothing but not patronizing. Alpha-omega influence wasn't a one-way street. We omegas had a few subtle, seemingly innocent advantages when it came to making alphas do what we wanted, and it was in nobody's best interest for this one to bolt right now. Vidar needed to feel safe. He needed to know I wasn't judging him, nor did I think less of him for his injury. "Listen," I pressed, my words soft and sweet. "I want to thank you for what you did back there. I'm sure it took a lot out of you, so, uh, maybe I can… try to take… that out of you?"

Frowning, I made my way to the shoreline, only stopping when the chilly water nipped at my toes. That had to be where he was hit. The scale, a golden teardrop, was warped and discolored compared to those around it. It went against the grain with every breath, jutting out. What did it feel like to him? A chipped nail? A hangnail? A fracture? A break? Worse?

"Maybe I can—" I staggered backward when Vidar lifted his giant head and squinted down at me. While huge, it was lean too, the small, sharp barbs along his lower mandible built like thorns. The ones on top of his nostrils were arched, almost more artistic than practical. Those sticking out of his cheekbones were sleek, angled back and up, threading into the largest spikes that gave him his golden crown. He was an impressive creature, to put it lightly.

I suddenly wanted to paint. Every facet. Every detail. Fill my whole studio with him.

For now, however, I owed him big time, and no matter how long it took, this omega paid her debts.

"Maybe I can pull out whatever's in there?" I glanced pointedly at the dodgy scale. "If you'll let me?"

Vidar didn't move, but his grunt felt like a begrudging acquiescence. Dress hitched, I headed into the water, determined to take the pain away, only to freeze again when he lurched up, sitting taller, and bared his teeth. My perfume misted harder in response, but not the fearful, soothing violet side. No, this was full cozy calm, and I countered his push of pheromones with a determined expression, hands planted on my hips.

"Don't let alpha pride keep you trapped like this. No one likes a martyr." Sucking in my cheeks, I made a show of surveying him from top to bottom. "You're hurt, and I bet breaking out of a concrete prison and flying for who knows how long exacerbated it."

Flicking what were once light, beachy waves—now flat and damp—over my shoulder, my brass bobby pins lost forever, I trudged into the water. Frost sloshed up my legs one step at a time, but I pushed onward, not stopping until it reached my hips. "And… And, you know what, it hurts me to think about you hurting, so…" An embarrassed flush warmed my cheeks, the weight of his gaze heavier than the sun as it tracked me. "Stop fussing."

We hit a stalemate for a minute or two, me scowling at that scale, him glowering at me, until finally, finally, Vidar angled his chest closer. It rose and fell in slow, stuttering breaths, the tip of the busted scale just close enough to grab.

"Uh, okay." I blew on my chilly hands and rubbed them together. "I'm going to grab onto the scale that's sticking out." I pointed to it when I realized he had shifted somewhat so he could fully stare down at me from the beach. "And I think it'll be best if you just, uh…" My vague circling fingers made him rumble. "Roll onto your back, maybe?"

He made his feelings clear with a huff that felt like the worst of Cali heat in the dead of summer. When our gazes clashed, his narrowed, and I threw my arms out.

"What? There's no one here but us. No one'll see your little tummy."

His scent pressed me from all sides, a multi-pronged attack of bonfire smoke, cypress, and amber. Dominance. Alpha strength. The invisible hands were back, caressing my throat, the valley between my breasts, over my ticklish stomach and down to?—

"Stop being distracting," I snapped, trying and failing to go for an alpha bark of my own. Whatever came out only seemed to make this dragon chuckle, but the pressure eased. "Look, if I hurt you, I don't mean to. I just want to help. So, I'm sorry in advance?"

Unlike most of the eligible Cedar Cove alphas I met in the last six months, Vidar didn't seem to mind a petulant omega who pushed back against his bullshit. Still, this was a dragon. There was alpha, and then, apparently, there was him.

I probably shouldn't push my luck too hard, right?

Another long beat passed under his fiery scrutiny, until finally he eased forward so that I didn't have to jump to grab the scale. No, I reached it on my tiptoes, salty ocean water lapping up my sides. As soon as I had both hands locked tight, Vidar rolled. Squealing, I clung on for dear life, lifted out of the water and flattened across his chest in no time. He moved carefully, slowly, but it still took a minute for me to find my shaky sea legs on a dragon's chest.

Once I was up and more or less balanced, I pinched myself. Hard. Then I did it again, harder. The third time made me wince, but I was a stickler for checking my work in sets of three. It only felt right to test my reality with three pinches, just to confirm I wasn't, in fact, dreaming—or, more horribly, passed out back at the warehouse in the wake of all that Synn attention.

Nope. Not dreaming. Not disassociated. Here.

This is real.

Hewas real, even if my heart struggled to accept what my body already knew.

Vidar was real—and he… was mine?

No, no, not the time. Focus on the task at hand.

Clearing my throat, I hiked up my dress and squatted, then elbowed the weird scale aside as far as it would go. Beneath, in the meat of his chest, I squinted when I spotted something like a blackhead, and my frown only deepened upon reaching in and discovering it was solid metal. Vidar growled the second I made contact, the vibration humming under my bare feet and reverberating up my shins.

"I see it," I told him, half shouting so I didn't take him by surprise. "I'm going to pull it…" I reached in again, ignoring the fact that my arm was bumping muscle all the way down. His body was an inferno, like diving into a hot oven. "On three!" I curled my fist around the blunt end of whatever was in there, surprised that I could almost touch fingers. It wasn't big. More like a thorn in a lion's paw, actually. "One, two?—"

I yanked on three, and Vidar bellowed. The force of his exhale, the violent shudder of his pain, sent me tumbling over his side, but he caught me in one massive claw before I hit the water back-first and lobbed me back up.

"I know, I know! I'm sorry!" I slid down his chest until I caught myself on two of his good scales, then clambered back into place like this was just another beginner rock wall at the gym. "I'm sorry it's painful, Vidar. I'm trying to be careful, I promise."

Sweat beaded my brow. Heat dribbled down my back and joined the slick on my thighs. My perfume pumped like a force field, but I stayed the course. When I tried again, he held still, but he could only swallow his agonized groans for so long. Every single one was a dagger to my heart, and I blinked back the sting of fresh tears as I worked. This stupid thing was coming out. I refused to make him suffer for nothing.

But whatever it was, was in there good, and by the time I had wrenched it up a foot or so, my back, shoulders, and arms ached. My core shivered from the exertion, and I glared inside for another look, determined to find a better way to?—

"Oh." My eyes narrowed. "What the fuck?"

I wasn't exactly a master on the subject, but I had added enough bows, arrows, and quivers to cover art and graphic design to recognize fletching feathers when I saw them. They stuck out from all sides, spiked and metal, angled for maximum pain if you pulled them against the grain.

Sadistic assholes.

People talked about omega wrath, that under the right circumstances, it was more lethal than alpha rage. I thought I'd felt it before, first when Mom died, then when Dad chose the bottle in his grief over me and Louis, and then after my younger brother's accident, hit by a drunk driver on the way to fetch Dad from a bar he should not have been drinking at. Every time, every tragedy, I thought, this is it, this is the wrath we learned about at the academy, that was hotly debated between traditionalists and modernists on podcasts—that, at our core, we omegas could be furious harpies if pushed hard enough.

I had big feelings about the nightmares that obliterated our family these last eight years, and the emotion now didn't take away from that.

But it hit different. The idea that a bunch of hunters attacked Vidar because they wanted his goddamn treasure, then stuck him in the heart with this awful arrow, designed to inflict max damage on the way out…

Well, I didn't feel like the nurturer anymore.

No, as I pushed at the bloody insides of the wound, not caring how hot it got, how much it burned, I swore I tasted blood.

Alphas were supposed to be the violent ones, but suddenly I craved violence. As I wiggled and tugged, I yearned to inflict it.

For Vidar.

On his behalf. Brutality in its highest form—for what they did to him.

For once, anger helped me focus, kept me in the moment. I stopped feeling Vidar's fiery blood every time I reached inside him. No more shaking, no more submitting to the cramps. In my frustration, my rage, it was me and him and this fucking arrow that was coming out, one way or another.

Foot by agonizing foot, the shaft got easier to move, and eventually, wrath gave way to excitement—because there was, for once, a light at the end of the tunnel.

"It's almost there," I called, crouched over his wound, using both hands to carefully pull and guide and maneuver this awful thing. It was black metal, something strong enough to withstand the heat of his body. Bar trivia nights with Louis had gifted me a lot of useless knowledge, and, as I eased the arrow along, I vaguely recalled tungsten having the highest melting point of any metal. Maybe that was how it survived in the heart of a dragon.

"Hang on." My voice cracked. "Almost—there!"

I jerked the arrow free at long last. The momentum knocked me backward, and I went gracelessly, squealing all the way down flat on my ass. This—thing. It looked like a bolt, like something fired from a long-range weapon, a massive crossbow that belonged in a fantasy—fictional—world. All things considered, it really was a thorn compared to the size of its victim; a few inches shorter than me at five-seven, it was thin, fletched with spikes, and crowned with a thin, sharp arrowhead.

If it had gone through his heart, it could have killed him.

Under the moonlight, we had one thing in common: we were covered in Vidar's blood.

And tonight I learned dragons bled gold. Bright, shiny, glittering gold. My thoughts on ichor and mythological deities—not all that far off. It was said Greek gods bled gold, and as I shoved the arrow aside, exhausted, I wondered if their essence shimmered under the stars too.

Vidar hadn't moved, hadn't made a sound, in almost a full minute. Then, out of nowhere, he groaned and sucked in a long, deep breath. His lungs expanded so much that the bolt went rolling—followed quickly by me. Yelping, I tried to snag a scale on the way down, but this time when I tumbled over the side, he didn't catch me. No, as I plummeted toward the water, I caught him… stretching.

Curling his claws. Arching his back. Rumbling with such depth that I felt his gruff baritone in my teeth. I fell in slow motion, lost in him—until ice water slapped me with the rudest awakening ever.

Under for only a few seconds, I flailed to my feet. After my first gasping breath came a shitty combination of fatigue and a still very present, very insistent flash heat. Whining, the inferno brewing deep within, I massaged my chest and washed off most of the blood, then trudged to the shore again. My torn dress weighed a ton, heavier by the step, and once I reached the pebbly beach, I sank to my knees. Overwhelmed, highly aware of both my body and his, I folded onto my hands.

His pheromones hit like a freight train, the most intense blast of alpha yet. I bowed my head, keening, and rode out another cramp.

When I lifted my heavy head again, Vidar's silhouette loomed for two quick blinks—and then he vanished. Trembling, I gulped and glanced to my right, expecting to find him gone.

Sure enough, there was no dragon in sight.

What I found instead… was a man.