Chapter 32
Chapter
Thirty-Two
D-Day minus one, Ash thought wryly, her fingers tingling as Race studied the trunk she’d just scorched.
Yesterday had been storm-summoning. Today, working her lightning.
The cozy night with her dragon felt like a distant memory. Race drove her harder in training, his jaw tight, movements precise. When her lightning struck true for the third time, splitting a massive trunk, he barely nodded before calling for another round.
“Again,” he called, his voice gravelly as he stepped back.
The space between them felt wrong, like an itch she couldn’t scratch. But before she could ask him, Skaldr arrived, wearing only trousers and carrying two massive sacks.
Attor joined them, clad like Skaldr. “Now to cart these off to Talonhold.”
Race nodded, his attention shifting to the mission.
“Attor, help Ash with her training,” he said and followed Skaldr into the cave.
Ash frowned, staring at the entrance. She mind-linked with him. What’s wrong?
Nothing’s wrong. A flood of warmth flowed through their bond, soothing and tender. There is a lot to prepare. Can’t leave anything to chance.
Yeah, she knew that. But her gut continued knotting with unease.
“Ready, lass?” Attor asked.
“In a minute.” Ash hurried into the cave as Skaldr walked out. She stalked straight to where Race was examining the crate of explosives.
“What’s going on, Race?” she demanded, and he straightened from the containers. “You are here, and yet I feel the distance. What’s wrong?”
“Ash…” He cupped her face, his thumbs caressing her cheeks. “You worry too much. We’re going into war.”
“I know that.” She grasped his wrists, searching his face, wishing she could pinpoint what it was. “And I understand, honestly, I do, but—”
He caught her mouth in a kiss that was pure hunger, desperate and wild, but then he broke away, all too fast, leaving her breathless and reeling. “Practice with your weapons. When I return, we’ll work on your storm powers.”
Inhaling a shaky breath, trying to calm down, Ash watched as Race picked up one of the crates and dematerialized to Talonhold House, since he was the only one who could move them unseen.
And he’d avoided answering her question.
An hour later, after choking down another serving of gamey roasted hare—courtesy of Attor—Ash continued her weapons training.
The older shifter leaned against the cave’s outer wall, arms folded, his encouraging grunt punctuated by the whistle of her flying dagger. More than anything, she needed to hear a voice, to talk to someone, and not let the silence overwhelm her.
“So, you’ve been with the Resistance since the beginning?” she asked Attor, squinting and aiming for the trunk again.
“Aye, lass. It’s been too long.”
She could understand that. “And your mate?”
At the flare of pain in his face, remorse twisted her gut. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s all right.” His shoulders sagged under his grief. “She passed during the coup. She was a gentle soul who didn’t deserve that violence.”
Ash winced, dagger clenched in her fist, wishing she could take it back. Her anxiety about Race was clearly taking a toll on her mind. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”
“Not your fault, lass.” His back straightened. “I won’t let her death be in vain. We can’t bring back our loved ones, but we will take back our world.”
She turned to him. “Do you not know who betrayed them?”
His brow furrowed. “We have tried to find who could have committed such an atrocity, but it’s been millennia. They would probably have been killed anyway. No traitor would be left alive to spill the truth.”
Ash nodded. “Then I’m glad Race is here, and we can help.”
By late afternoon, Race hadn’t returned as she worked with her weapon. While she understood he was busy, still, dejection took hold that she wasn’t even worth a quick mental, Good, you’re still breathing. Continue.
Nothing.
I feel you, my mate, he mind-linked with her, startling her for a second. Just hang in there, this will all be over soon. I’m on my way back.
Is everything okay at Talonhold? she asked.
Yes—
Voices sounded, and Ash spun around from examining her dagger that pierced the trunk. Race, wearing a long black cloak, spoke to Attor, but his eyes were on her, and relief washed over her.
“I’ll transfer everything to Gildershard later tonight,” he told Attor, then crossed to her. “Come, let’s work on your storm calling again while it’s still light…”
Her stomach tensed at how fast time moved.
Her concentration was shot, her summoning faltering as lightning struck wide of the targets. And her tension rose.
“Pay attention, Ash.” His fingers brushed hers as he corrected her stance, then he let go as if burned.
Frustrated to her skull, she spun to him. “I understand tonight is important, but why are you shutting me out?”
He raked back his unbound hair, then tied the top part into a ponytail with quick, irritable motions. “I’m not ignoring you, Ash. Time is of the essence.” He scanned the late noon sky, his nostrils flaring. “We need to focus on—” His hands clenched. “Try that sequence again.”
“Fine.” Anger burned through her as she spun to face her target, her hands prickling. With everything in her, she flung out her arms. Lightning rushed from her fingertips, splitting the distant tree clean down the middle, and it burst into flames.
Ash stumbled back, staring in absolute horror. “What did I do?”
“In a life or death situation, it’s you first, always,” he growled. “Remember that.”
After hours of his detachment, that outburst genuinely startled her. She frowned at him. “Okay, okay, don’t get your knickers in a knot.”
A faint gleam of amusement flickered through their bond and died. “Come, get your things, we must go.”
Ash flung him a dark look before she ducked into the cave and grabbed her backpack.
She turned to find him standing in the entrance.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Yeah.” She buckled her pack and joined him.
He took it from her, then slipped an arm around her. Ash pressed her face against his chest, breathing in his scent as he dematerialized them, the world blurring.
And her stomach churned. The first day of battle was mere breaths away.
Race reformed with Ash in the overgrown backyard of Talonhold House. Night had settled thickly over this quarter of Lemuria, lights dim behind fogged glass. The icy wind did nothing to temper the fever under his skin.
Jaw clenched, he ushered Ash through the kitchen door. She stumbled, and he caught her arm. The brief contact sent heat pulsing through his blood. Even inhaling the sharp, stringent scents of herbs and woodsmoke couldn’t blunt the strains of his spiking rut.
But Ash’s exhaustion wrapped around him like barbs. He wanted to scoop her up and take her upstairs—he resisted, his muscles rigid with the effort.
Being alone with her was dangerous.
Already she suspected something was wrong, and he refused to subject her to the brutal frenzy of rutting.
That fever was a godsdamn bitch.
Voices drifted from the common room down the passage. Ash paused, her gaze sharpening. “Is everyone here?”
He nodded. “Not everyone, just Attor and Skaldr. Bregga’s in his room.”
As they entered, Race’s fingers skimmed her back before clenching into a fist, the need within him clawing like a living thing.
Ash smiled at the males, and Race scowled. Why the hell was she smiling at them?
“Everything’s in place?” she asked Attor.
“Why? You plan on helping us set up the charges?” Skaldr taunted, straightening from the map spread on the table.
Race started forward. She beat him to it. “If you can’t do it, then I will. Just like I’ll summon the storm to keep your arse safe.”
The power in her voice hit him square in the chest. His mate, so fierce, so capable. His dragon rumbled in approval as desire clawed at his control.
Despite himself, a slow smile tugged at his mouth.
Skaldr blinked, then a wry grin broke free. “Nah, I’ll handle the explosives, female. You just keep my—our—asses safe.”
Attor chuckled. “Well done, lass—”
“Ash,” she corrected. “Or Ashaya.”
Skaldr lifted both hands. “Right then, Ashaya. I’m out. Need to check guard rotations at the mountain.”
He left, and Race exhaled. “Skaldr can be a dick or a damn keg about to explode.”
But his mate was a total fucking badass.
“His chest-banging antics don’t intimidate me,” she muttered.
Pleased as fuck she sent the ass scurrying, Race set their backpack on the bottom stair and retreated to the window.
She removed her puffy jacket and leaned over the map on the table, studying the underground tunnels.
Her scent intensified in the warmth of the room, dragging at his control. Jaw tight, he watched her.
Attor pointed out the locations where they planned to set up the explosives.
She nodded, then murmured, “I need to freshen up.”
Why the hell was she telling Attor that?
A growl caught in his throat, his voice more a rasp, “You should rest.”
Those cool champagne eyes lifted to his, unreadable. The tension between them tightened another notch. The urge to close the distance and tear down the wall twisted his gut.
Then what?
A single touch, and the rut would consume him—and lives would be lost because that shit taking hold of him would last three fucking days. And Ash? No, he could hurt her with the raw, brutal need. Or worse, impregnate her.
He dragged in a rough breath, his muscles locking tight, and just about managed a cool, “The coming hours will be…hard.”
Ash watched him for a second, as if she could see into his skull. Then she gave a small shrug. “I think it will be so for everyone.”
She turned away, grabbed her backpack from the step, and ran up the rest. The door shut with a soft click, yet the sound exploded in his head like a finality.
Every muscle in his body strained to follow.
He locked his knees and stayed put.
Need mate, his dragon snarled, pacing restlessly beneath his skin. Hell, he wanted to pace too. To fucking put his fist through the wall.
No, he snapped. You know damn well why!
“You okay?”
Race looked up to find Attor watching him as he moved another map into place.
“Yeah.” He shrugged off his cloak and draped it over the back of a chair, then faced the window again, the dark sky a mirror of his mood. Heat rippled through him again, coiling under his skin like wildfire. He ignored it.
“You know…” Attor began quietly. “The rut can get dangerous if ignored.”
Pointless denying it. “I’ll be fine. I’ve lived through it before.”
He pulled a crystal vial from his pocket, the little remaining elixir inside gleaming amber in the firelight, unscrewed the cap, and swallowed the potion. The bitter liquid burned a trail down his throat. Hell, that was the last bit. It wouldn’t hold off the rut for long.
Bregga’s shuffling footsteps echoed from the hallway, each drag against stone grating on Race’s nerves.
“Be a note for ye.” His gnarled fingers produced a folded piece of worn parchment, which he handed to Race.
He flipped it open.
Dragon’s Tooth.
K.
“From Koal.” He handed Attor the missive then picked up his cloak. “Keep her safe. I’ll be back soon.”
He dematerialized into a narrow, shadow-dense alley. The wind clawed at his cloak and whipped through his hair, carrying the reek of decaying garbage and stale ale that made his sensitive nose twitch. Hood on, he walked up the silent street.
Another wave of heat rolled through him, and he clenched his jaw, forcing down his dragon’s restless rumbles.
The Dragon’s Tooth Inn crouched at the edge of Duskscale like a waiting predator, its weathered sign creaking in the bitter wind.
Unlike the brighter establishments near the town square, this place drew a rougher breed—guards between shifts, miners with coal-grimed hands, and wanderers who preferred shadows to lamplight.
Race slipped inside, the heavy door groaning shut behind him. The press of males and smoke made his head pound, his rut-heightened senses overwhelmed by the stench of sweat and spilled spirits.
He kept his hood low and crossed to the back where Koal sat.
Through their bond, he knew Ash had finally drifted into sleep. Relief eased the tightness in his chest. The last thing he needed was her presence in his mind while fighting both his dragon’s territorial instincts and his brutal need.
Koal pushed the other tin mug to him, white foam frothing over its rim. He nursed his ale, head lowered as he listened to the conversations around him.
“They’ve been coming in during the last few days,” Koal murmured as he sipped his draft. “Something’s stirring.”
“Another round,” a ranked soldier—a lieutenant—called from the corner. The males lounged around him, their armor clattering as they raised their tankards. “To the king’s health and prosperous days ahead!”
“And his newest prizes,” one added with a laugh that made Race’s jaw clench until his teeth ached.
“Heard they found something special in the eastern peaks,” the lieutenant continued, his voice thick with drink. “Some halfling brat with true power. Made the forge stones sing, they say.”
Forge stones? What the fuck was that?
“When’s the transfer?” another asked.
“Before dawn,” the soldier said. “Captain’s got his tail in a twist over it.”
“Why the rush?” another guard asked, scratching his jaw.
“Marshal’s orders. Wants them deeper in Gildershard. Safer from—” He lowered his voice. “Heard an old blood’s been spotted.”
“That’s why the patrols increased,” Koal murmured. “They’re consolidating their prisoners.”
Race went very still, every muscle locking down against the surge of dragon-rage. The rut-fever burned hotter, making the room swim.
“Old blood?” a younger guard scoffed, ale spilling as he slammed his mug down. “They’re all dead.”
“Tell that to the Resistance scout we captured yesterday.” The lieutenant’s mouth curved in a cruel smile as he drained his mug. “Torn apart by dragon claws after. Blood everywhere. Worth it for what we learned.”
The metal mug dented under Race’s fingers, ale splashing across his knuckles. Koal’s warning touch on his arm barely pierced the red haze of fury and animal need.
He sent his thoughts into Koal’s head. I thought Attor kept my return quiet.
“He has,” Koal murmured. “Someone must have seen you.”
My fucking hair—
Then it hit. Flaeron saw him at the portal basin.
Race dragged his fury deep within him, pushed back from the table with slow, careful movements, every muscle coiled. He rose.
The wind had picked up, rattling the loose shutters. Ash’s storm was gathering strength even as she slept. Perfect. Let them think the weather was their only enemy tonight.
He caught Koal’s eye, nodded once, and slipped out into the bitter winds. His dragon’s savage anticipation merged with his own as thunder rolled overhead, answering some feral chord within him.
In the hours to come, you’ll remember why the old blood was feared. I’ll paint these mountains with yours.