Chapter 30
Drake
The three dragons circle, screeching, urging me to land.
“Slowly,” Harlow commands as we descend, and my dragon instantly obeys. He’s like a damned puppy when it comes to her.
Then again, he also wants me to put her back on all fours as soon as I shift back, so perhaps a puppy is not the right description.
Not happening! I tell him.
I land on the gravel in the parking lot at flight school and put Harlow down, trying to be careful.
The dragons who found us circle overhead, their great forms blocking out the sun. Their riders look down at us.
Harlow waves, and they wave back. After a few more passes, they bank away, wings beating in synchronized rhythm as they head back to their patrol routes.
I shift.
The transformation always burns, scales receding into skin, wings folding into my back, claws becoming fingers. I’m used to it, so it’s all good.
“Drake!”
I look up to see Scar jogging toward us, a pair of jeans in his hand.
“Here.” He tosses them to me, and I catch them one-handed, muttering my thanks.
Then his attention shifts to Harlow.
“Are you alright?” His voice is softer than usual, concerned.
Before she can answer, my dragon surges inside me. The urge to put myself between Harlow and Scar hits hard. It’s irrational. Every instinct screams at me to snarl at him for even approaching her, for daring to speak to her, for—
I grit my teeth and force the impulse down. I need to get a grip.
It’s Scar, our head trainer and not a threat. I try to convey this to my dragon, but the asshole doesn’t seem to care. He’s still too close to the surface after shifting, still wired and protective after the fight with the Red. After what followed…
I yank on the jeans, using the movement to center myself. To remind my dragon that we’re back at flight school. That we’re safe. That Harlow is safe.
“I’m okay,” Harlow says. “Shaken, but fine.”
Scar’s eyes narrow as he studies her, probably looking for injuries.
“You’re sure? No wounds? Did—”
“She said she’s fine,” I snap, then immediately regret the harsh tone.
Scar’s gaze swings to me, one eyebrow raised.
“How are you doing, Drake?” he asks.
I zip up the jeans. “You should go to your bungalow now,” I tell Harlow.
“Drake—” she starts to say. I look at the shifters, Tributes, and human employees spilling from the nearby buildings. Doors banging open, eyes wide.
“Now, Harlow.”
For once, she doesn’t argue. Doesn’t question me or push back. She just turns and jogs away, her dark ponytail swinging between her shoulders.
Thank claw!
I watch her go, praying she listened to me. That she does exactly what I told her back in the jungle.
I’m such a fucking idiot. That should never have happened.
Groups are starting to form, their voices carrying to us. They must have heard about the Reds’ attack.
“Were there casualties?” I bark at Scar, forcing my attention back to what matters.
“All the Reds are dead,” Scar says, his voice low.
“Two of our own were badly wounded in the initial attack. One human, and one shifter. A riding pair. They should both make a full recovery. Otherwise, nothing too serious.” He glances over his shoulder at the growing crowd heading our way.
“A few minor injuries, but everyone is accounted for.”
Relief floods through me.
“You need to go,” Scar says suddenly, his nostrils flaring.
Shit.
“I can scent the female on you. Could scent you on her, too.” His voice drops to a whisper. “It’s barely there. I only just caught a hint of it. My sense of smell in human form is more developed than most, but someone else might catch wind of it if they get close enough.”
Dammit! What if one of the others picked it up? Doubtful! I stayed ahead of them. I was careful.
I start backing away from the approaching group. “Are you going to tell anyone?”
Scar’s eyes track the others, calculating how much time we have before they reach us. “Is it serious? You and her?”
I shake my head. “No. It’s something that happened in the moment. It didn’t mean anything.”
Scar holds my gaze for a long moment, and I see the conflict in his expression. The understanding mixed with concern.
“For the record, it was a stupid thing to do, but I won’t say anything,” he says. Then more urgently, “Go. Now.”
I start to jog away, but turn back. “Organize a debriefing. Anyone too badly injured is excused, but I want everyone else in the conference room in an hour.” I pause. “Not the Tributes.”
“Got it.”
“Thank you, Scar,” I tell him, eyes locked on his. I’m not talking about him organizing the meeting, and we both know it.
Then I start jogging away from the approaching crowd, ignoring the questions being called out. Ignoring the concerned faces. Ignoring everything except the need to get away.
I need to get her scent off me before anyone else notices.
My bungalow is at the far end of the compound, away from the others. It’s private and secluded. I sprint the last hundred yards.
It happened.
It’s done.
There’s no going back. No undoing what we did. I meant what I said; it didn’t mean anything. It was the adrenaline. My dragon. All of it. It happened. Now it’s done. We can now move on.
I slam through the door and head straight for the bathroom, already pulling off the jeans. I turn the shower on hot. I grab the soap and start washing her off me.
It doesn’t help that I can’t get the feel of her out of my head, the taste too. The noises she made when I was buried inside her tight heat. My balls pull tight.
It can never happen again.
Never.
Ever.
It doesn’t matter how good she felt. Or how fucking amazing she looked afterward, all flushed and trembling and perfect. My seed spilling from her pink, glistening pussy. It cannot happen again.
I can’t believe how out of control I was.
According to her file, she is on birth control. It is something I need to confirm. In that moment, I didn’t care. All I needed was to be inside her. I’ve never had that happen before. I’ve never been so mindless either.
It was a mistake.
I need to make sure she understands that. I need to pray that no one ever finds out about this. I need to put a lid on it and glue the damned thing shut.