Chapter 8
Chapter
Eight
Ash’s heart stuttered as Race kissed her. She could barely move even if the trees collapsed around them. It was warm, tender…and over far too soon.
He lifted his head, something flashing in those burgundy depths, gone too fast. His thumb stroked her jaw. “Okay?”
She nodded. That single brush of his mouth loosened something inside her for a moment—as if she mattered—and she had to force herself not to touch her tingling lips.
But she couldn’t afford to let the protective barrier around her heart fall.
He stepped back, his expression sliding into its usual mask of nonchalance. Just like that. Inhaling deeply, Ash forced herself to refocus. A faint, somewhat familiar sweetness wafted through the cool air, teasing her senses.
Frowning, she pivoted, searching for the fragrance. Her gaze settled on tiny purple flowers clinging to the scraggly underbrush. “What’s that?”
Race glanced to where she pointed and shrugged. “Purple flowers.”
“No, I don’t mean the color…” She hurried across, snapping one small floral pod from its stem. Her stomach lurched. “This is what Skaldr used to knock me out when he abducted me. He called it dream bane.”
Race’s expression darkened, his crimson eyes flaring. “Another reason to kill him.” His hand closed around hers. “Come. We’re done here.”
Ash shoved the pod into her coat pocket, then the world warped around them, colors bleeding together like wet paint. She bit back a groan as he dematerialized them.
A heartbeat later, they reappeared in a narrow, gloomy alley. Her legs shaky, Ash caught herself against a cold stone wall, but Race held her arm, his grip warm and steadying.
“All’s quiet, so we’re good.”
“And I will be, the second I find my head,” she grumbled, glancing around and finding they were hemmed in by blackened stone walls slick with dampness. Mist hovered, obscuring the tops of the surrounding buildings.
A ghost of a smile tugged at his mouth as he let her go, and she remembered the too-brief kiss while she stood there like a post.
With a sigh, she shut out thoughts of his kissable mouth, sucked in a breath, and grimaced as the chilly air, thick with soot and coal smoke, scoured her throat. “Where are we?”
“Nyxholt. Let’s go.” He was already striding toward the alley’s exit, and she had to run to keep up.
Near the junction, voices drifted to her as the village came alive.
The looming buildings hunkered together, built of pale stone veined with deep gray and patched with hammered metal plates. The roofs sloped unevenly, tiled in scaly material. Even the doors looked reinforced, as if to keep out whatever came for them.
Flaming dragon things?
Ridiculously tall dragonborn moved between market stalls and dim shops with quick, furtive movements, their shoulders hunched against more than just the cold. The children stayed close to their parents, their eyes downcast.
No one laughed or lingered.
Fear lay over the street like a low fog, clinging to her senses. Behind her, Race shifted, a subtle movement, yet it made her feel both safer and more afraid. If he was this alert, who exactly was he watching for?
“Be quick. In and out,” he said, scanning the narrow street with sharp focus. “Wait.”
His stance altered. He pulled his hood over his head and rounded his spine, slumping his shoulders as if he were one of the downtrodden villagers. The transformation unsettled her.
At the metal scrape against stone, her breath jammed in her throat. Two guards clad in brown and gold uniforms approached from the far end of the cobbled road, their presence warping the air around them. Every nerve in her knotted.
Uneasy, she glanced at Race. Beneath his lowered hood, she could clearly see his glacial stare, his jaw twitching as he waited for the guards to pass.
“The people here are non-shifters,” he murmured. “But dangerous, nonetheless. They work the mines, and that breeds a certain kind of hardness. They don’t trust easily. Don’t like outsiders, especially humans.”
“Awesome,” Ash breathed, her heart thundering so loudly she worried the guards would hear it. “Is this the same town whose overlord didn’t care for non-shifters?”
“It’s one of them. But it’s unlikely he’s still alive, since these people live here now.”
Her skin prickled with the weight of unseen stares, and she rubbed her tingling palms on her thighs.
“Calm down.” His head dipped, the hood brushing her cheek, his warm breath caressing her ear. “They will sense fear. Whatever happens, do not draw attention.”
There was a stillness to him, a coiled peril beneath his quiet disguise. If this was him blending in, she really didn’t want to see what he looked like when he stopped pretending.
His palm settled low on her spine. “Go. If anyone tries to talk to you, don’t indulge. Especially not the females. The clothing store’s there.” He nodded toward a black-scaled, low-roofed building with smoky windows that looked like eyes in a scarred face. “Get food from the street market.”
Ash nodded, rubbing her sweaty palms on her coat while every instinct screamed to stay close to Race, the only familiar thing in this scary world. “And you?”
“I’ll be here, keeping an eye.” His gaze softened, and for a heartbeat, she glimpsed something beneath his cold mask, making her breath catch. As if she mattered, beyond saving her backside.
“Don’t worry, I’ll sense danger before you do. Here.” He pressed several pieces of dull silver and two gold coins into her palm. “Don’t give more than they ask. It will get you noticed. No one here has coin to spare.”
“Did you steal these, too?” she stalled.
“My draconic senses can pick up things that matter to me, like riches,” he drawled. “Now go.”
With a deep inhale, Ash pulled her coat’s hood lower over her face and forced herself to walk—not run—toward the shop.
A woman selling rough-spun cloaks gave Ash a quick once-over, her nostrils flaring slightly as if catching her human scent before looking away. Not openly hostile, but the message was clear. Outsiders weren’t welcome here.
As she passed the intersection, her gaze caught on the waist-high iron post, its hexagonal sides scored with narrow, patterned slits that glowed blue. They seemed to be at every crossroads.
Hardly a crosswalk signal, since people seemed to avoid it.
How odd.
Shrugging off the thought, she slowed at the edge of the busy roundabout.
Smoke drifted from several market stalls.
Faded crimson banners on the buildings hung slack in the still air, branded with a jagged crown and a long fang.
The symbol had also been scorched into every building’s face like a warning.
Lovely. Not.
Just past the traffic circle, three guards in dull brown armor and helms shaped like dragon skulls stood watching…for one wrong move?
Before she caught their attention, Ash opened the warped door to the clothing shop and slipped inside, the bell above it echoing in a dull, metallic clang.
Race remained in the shadows of the alley as Ash disappeared into the crowd, her small form easily lost, but the tug inside him tracked her as she moved farther and farther away.
Not safe, his dragon rumbled, pacing restlessly within him. Go to her.
She needs clothes. I’ll be killed on sight.
His beast’s agitation rippled through Race’s muscles, but he hung back in the alley’s mouth, leaning a shoulder against the wall and scanning the village for any immediate threats. The usurper’s guards remained past the roundabout, their metallic odor carried on the wind.
And to his left, all appeared quiet as well. His gaze snagged on a poster plastered over older ones on the alley wall—the paper damp and stained, dark the ink bleeding into the grime.
CAPTURE: Jade Dragon.
Bounty doubled.
100 gold coins.
No reason given.
The jewel-scaled dragons were all females.
Someone wanted a jade. For what?
He frowned, his gaze scanning to the scaled roof of the flame-charred buildings opposite him, when a faint whisper of summer rains drifted to him.
Ash?
Immediately, he searched for her, only to realize her scent clung to his clothes, stirring memories of their fleeting kiss in the forest. He’d only meant to ground her, to pull her out of the pain she’d hidden too long—then the feel of her mouth, soft and trembling against his, had wrecked him.
It should’ve ended there.
But it didn’t. Hell, every time he closed his eyes, he saw her again in the glow of the underground spring—her skin like burnished gold, water trailing down her tempting curves… He’d seen too much and wanted more. And that made him dangerous.
His beast chuffed. She tastesss like stormlight.
No idea. The kiss was just to calm her down, he lied. She’s under my protection.
The satisfaction in his mind grew. You felt more than protectiveness.
Means nothing. He rubbed his chest, trying to scrub out the hollow there.
It means everything! She’s ssstrong. Look what she did with a beat of pain—a storm.
She’s human. Not meant for us, he snapped back at his annoying dragon.
But the words sounded empty. She was something more, something that called to both man and beast.
Oursss, his dragon insisted.
No. Race dug his fingers into his scalp until pain sharpened his focus. Arguing with his dragon was like butting heads with a mountain goat.
Then why do I smell her on you? His beast’s smugness rolled through him in gloating waves.
Because I held her when we dematerialized!
But he knew the action wasn’t strong enough for her scent to linger. He’d licked her bloodied wrist back at the abbey… Maybe that was what his dragon sensed?
Hell, Race scrubbed his jaw. Tasting her blood was the only way I could tell if she’s psionic. It means nothing more.
His dragon rumbled, displeased by his reasoning. Oursss.
By the dark stars, let it go! Race clenched his teeth. My seed would incinerate her mortal flesh—shatter her soul. Is that what you want?
His feral side quieted, unappeased and brooding.