Chapter 39
Chapter Thirty-Nine
TORION
It was hard to focus on the dragon in my grasp when I knew that my mate was running loose and wild, with wings. Without me. Her excitement flavored the air, sharp as citrus but sweet to me, sweeter than the scent of the other alpha's blood as it dripped to the ground below.
It was an old legend that a dragon's blood would nourish the land it fell on, one that had led to too much bloodshed in our history before the alphas were established. I wondered if there were any truth in the story. At least it would mean Worthington was good for something.
It was my fault for being distracted.
I was turning to search the sky for Brigid when I felt the talons shearing through my right wing.
I let out a roar in unison with the numbing scream not far away, and my flight faltered.
I had one paw on Worthington's chest, and I dug my claws in, but it wasn't enough to keep me airborne.
The wound was bad, I could tell already, could see the bright rubies of my own blood in the air, falling. I would nourish the Hills too.
Damn.
Green as bright as a spring shoot, vivid as a creature that warned its predators poisonous!, shot through the sky toward myself and the other alpha. Brigid!
Mate! a silky voice called in my head as she neared.
I bared my fangs up at Worthington, keeping him distracted, doing my best to tighten my body, kick my back legs into his stomach and do what damage I could, even as we began to sink through the air.
I tucked my wings in before he could tear the other and let us fall.
Brigid barreled into Worthington from above, sleek and snarling, tail, talons, and claws all tearing at his wings.
We screamed as one, and I thought the sound could've brought a mountain down.
Maybe that was how the hills had formed, the old dragons bringing down the world around them in ancient battles.
Worthington gave up trying to down me, his claws retracting, trying and failing to free himself from Brigid's slashing onslaught.
She was too fast, and while by no means small, she moved in a more liquid fashion than most dragons, her body curving and twisting and snapping out of reach.
One of Worthington's wings was now as shredded as mine, and we were both struggling to fly.
With him distracted, I managed to gain air, my good wing burning with the effort, my flight turning in an awkward curve.
It was enough. Brigid's long tail dangled in Worthington's face, and he fell for the bait, trying to snap his jaws onto her.
She flicked it away again just as fast, grinning like a cat, and I took my moment.
I leapt onto his wing with my full body, jaws clamping onto his joint, talon piercing the inside of my mouth as I bit down hard enough to feel it snap in my grip.
Worthington's roar was ragged, breathless, his fire too thin to catch us as I released him.
He fell from the sky like dead weight, and figures on the ground scattered away.
I was barely keeping myself in flight, but he needed to hit first for the challenge to be considered won.
Brigid dipped in the air, her body coiling carefully around mine, taking some of the weight and holding us up with her massive wings.
There were stains of blood on her tail and talons, but I was fairly sure they belonged to other dragons.
Dragons who were now retreating, fleeing back to Skybern, their alpha grounded below.
Do we kill him? Brigid asked in my thoughts, and my own chuckle answered warmly between us.
Only if he refuses to yield.
The other one is still down there. Reeves.
I grunted and Brigid and I began to fly down, with her supporting me into a halfway decent descent. Stay a dragon, I thought to her. She was safer that way. For that matter, so was I.
Ronson had told us about this phenomenon, being able to communicate between mates, but it was so much more intimate than he'd been able to express.
I didn't just hear Brigid's thoughts. It was as if they were my own, tenored in her voice and the very flavor of her.
Her dragon was energetic, playful, and deadly.
Where Brigid was reserved, her dragon was impulsive and instinctive, sure of itself.
Brigid answered me in a silent agreement, her softer reassurance mingling with her dragon's alert watchfulness, ready to pounce on the next threat that dared turn our way.
I transformed as my claws touched the ground, and Damian was already on the ground as a man, his left wing that I'd broken trying to tuck in close but unable.
There was blood in my mouth from his talon, and my own right wing was torn, but the winner of the challenge was obvious.
Damian was bleeding from almost every limb, and he would need a doctor as soon as possible.
Standing over him, with undisguised derision now painting his face, was Bennett Reeves.
"By rights, you've lost Skybern," I said to the pair.
Damian was pale and sweating, and I was surprised by his own open shock. He looked up at his half-brother, staring wildly, as if it were the younger man who had landed him in this position. Which was interesting. Perhaps it had been. Could Bennett Reeves have goaded Damian the same way I had?
"Do you plan to take it?" Reeves asked me, eyes narrowed.
I ground my jaw. If I did declare myself the Alpha of Skybern, I had no doubt I would be facing another challenge. Possibly in a matter of seconds.
"I don't want it. I want you lot out of my hills," I said firmly. "I am the Alpha of Grave Hills."
Reeves relaxed infinitesimally and bowed low. "So you are, Alpha Feargus. Will you put down your challenger?"
Brigid snarled behind me and her tail swung forward, over my head, landing like a barrier in front of me, her spread spikes already red with fresh blood, warning others from crossing me.
"Get him out of here, Reeves," I said, glaring at the beta, who I was now certain had orchestrated this mess. "Clean up your own house. I'll not do the work for you."
Reeves's lips twitched and he stepped back, transforming into that thundercloud black dragon and mercilessly scooping up the former Alpha of Skybern in his claws. Damian howled in pain, crying out his brother's name, but his voice was snatched away on the wind as Reeves took flight.
He's dangerous, Brigid thought.
"He is if he hasn't gotten what he wants yet," I agreed. I hoped he had. Bennett Reeves could ascend as alpha for all I cared, as long as he didn't move toward my territory again.
Then I looked over my shoulder and smiled. No…he wouldn't. Any dragon would think twice before crossing Grave Hills, crossing me, while I had Brigid at my side, gloriously vibrant and sharp and wild.
You need healing, Brigid prodded, and it sounded more like herself and less like the dragon now.
"You'll be sure I get it, but first, let's make sure our house is in order," I said, wincing as I turned and marched up over the crest of a low hill.
I did need healing. Mostly, my wing needed to be plastered so it had time to scar over and hopefully seam itself back together.
I thought one of my ribs was at least bruised if not broken, and I was sure Brigid would find more in her accounting and give me a lecture for every scratch.
She was pristine, I noticed. Far too fast and sly to catch.
Go on, she purred in my head.
"I knew you'd make the finest dragon Grave Hills had ever seen," I said, grinning as we paused to look down below us to where a small crowd waited, only a few men still remaining as dragons.
They transformed back quickly once they saw Brigid—smart of them.
Better not to tempt her into battle by appearing as a threat to me.
Amongst the crowd was Malcolm Barr.
He said he came to protect Grave Hills from Skybern, Brigid informed me. You should ride me.
I would take her up on the offer but not just yet.
"Better they see me able to move on my own," I said to her under my breath.
She huffed, and the hot air ruffled my hair.
Her dragon was impatient, the slow, plodding steps to match my pace boring her.
Her tail thumped the ground behind us, like that of a cat that had spotted a colony of mice but was being told to remain put.
I found Malcolm's wary gaze and held it as we neared, until he visibly sighed and marched forward to meet us.
"Are you here to challenge me?" I asked, and behind me, Brigid snorted fire.
The answer was obvious before he even opened his mouth. He took one deeply horrified glance at Brigid and then bowed low. "No, Alpha Feargus." He stood straight, then seemed to consider something and bowed once more. "Omega Feargus."
Brigid's derisive disinterest was so profound in our bond, it thrilled me into a surprised smile. "That's enough, Barr."
He stood straight, but he kept his eyes on me, as if he ignored the huge and ferocious dragon—the woman he'd misused and discarded—at my side, she might vanish…or at the very least continue ignoring him.
"There is something I need to discuss with you," Malcolm said, clearing his throat nervously.
I was surprised he'd even mentioned it, but I decided he deserved to squirm, and we were far enough from the others not to be overheard. "The cottage," I guessed.
His eyes widened and his face went white, eyes bouncing up unavoidably to Brigid's dragon. "Y-you know?"
I did now. I nodded and watched him with narrowed eyes. Brigid had not known, and I was curious to see her reaction. If she decided to exact punishment, I wouldn't stop her.
"I was dead drunk. An idiot. Didn't mean for it all to go up like th-that," he gasped out. "It wasn't meant as a threat. I was just…mad. I swear, Alpha. O-omega."