Michael
would not be there if she arrived bright and early.
She had just locked the door when she heard the whirring of leathery wings. A
bright light nearly blinded her. She felt the dragon‟s hot breath even before she turned around.
It was sitting on the street, its spiked tail with the spear tip wrapped around its
front claws, showing no sign of aggression. It blinked its cobalt eyes slowly, then tilted its head as if to study her.
It reminded her of an over-sized dog. Avatar -sized. Maybe she really was losing it. How did someone know if she were having a nervous breakdown anyhow? Still—
She took a step closer. The dragon didn‟t move. She closed her eyes, then slowly
re-opened them. It was still there. Hesitantly, she ventured another step. The dragon tipped its head, almost as if it were nodding. A small puff of smoke escaped from its
nostrils, but no flame of fire.
“What do you want?” she asked in a voice slightly above a whisper. She probably
really was losing it, standing on her lawn talking to a metal-scaled dragon as though she were trying to calm a nervous cat. But it was an animal, living and breathing. Why had it come again? Was it hurt in some way she could not see? If it needed her… “Can I
help you?”
SWORD OF FIRE Cynthia Breeding 28
The dragon pulled back its lips, exposing rows of razor-sharp teeth. Sophie drew
back. Obviously, it didn‟t need her help . But it stayed where it was and for a fleeting moment, she wondered if it was smiling, like some dogs do. A hysterical bubble of
laughter rose in her throat. Next, she‟d be imagining it would roll over and want its belly rubbed. Did dragons have soft underbellies?
Porch lights were snapping on down the street and she could hear doors slamming
as her neighbors started shouting. One of them was running toward her with a raised
shotgun.
“Go!” she said to the dragon. “Get away before they kill you!”
The dragon blinked once, then turned its massive head, releasing a stream of fire
that snaked along the tarred street, before it rose gracefully in the air, its wings beating rhythmically. The shotgun fired and the dragon roared, sending another ball of flame
rolling down the street. One of her neighbors shrieked and Sophie could hear the sound
of sirens coming closer.
She covered her face with her hands. Not again! Just when she thought the
nightmare was over….
A gently firm hand touched her shoulder. She separated her fingers and peered
out.
“I‟m here,” Michael said.
Instinctively, she leaned into his warm, solid body. He put a comforting arm
around her and led her back toward the clinic, taking the key from her s haking fingers
and getting them inside, away from the prying eyes of the gathering crowd.
“The police will be here any minute,” she said, her voice quivery. “I don‟t know
that I can go through this again.”
Michael turned her in his arms so she was fac ing him. He held her close enough
that his body heat enveloped her, along with the strangely comforting woodsy scent
tinged with a hint of heather. His hands soothed her back in long, slow strokes. His
voice rumbled low in a language she did not understand, but the cadence was rhythmic
and slow, relaxing her. She should step back…but it felt so good. No one had made the
effort to console her since her parents were killed several years ago. If she could just linger a bit .....
The blare of police siren cut off abruptly and she knew she‟d have to face them.
With a sigh, she began to pull away, but Michael‟s hands slid upward over her shoulders
and cupped her head. He bent down, brushing her lips with his in a light, gentle gesture that was leisurely, yet promising. Sophie felt herself softening, melting against him,
wanting him…
With a start, she broke away, her hand to her mouth, staring at him. What
affected her thinking whenever she was near him? There were police pounding on the
door, for
would not be there if she arrived bright and early.
She had just locked the door when she heard the whirring of leathery wings. A
bright light nearly blinded her. She felt the dragon‟s hot breath even before she turned around.
It was sitting on the street, its spiked tail with the spear tip wrapped around its
front claws, showing no sign of aggression. It blinked its cobalt eyes slowly, then tilted its head as if to study her.
It reminded her of an over-sized dog. Avatar -sized. Maybe she really was losing it. How did someone know if she were having a nervous breakdown anyhow? Still—
She took a step closer. The dragon didn‟t move. She closed her eyes, then slowly
re-opened them. It was still there. Hesitantly, she ventured another step. The dragon tipped its head, almost as if it were nodding. A small puff of smoke escaped from its
nostrils, but no flame of fire.
“What do you want?” she asked in a voice slightly above a whisper. She probably
really was losing it, standing on her lawn talking to a metal-scaled dragon as though she were trying to calm a nervous cat. But it was an animal, living and breathing. Why had it come again? Was it hurt in some way she could not see? If it needed her… “Can I
help you?”
SWORD OF FIRE Cynthia Breeding 28
The dragon pulled back its lips, exposing rows of razor-sharp teeth. Sophie drew
back. Obviously, it didn‟t need her help . But it stayed where it was and for a fleeting moment, she wondered if it was smiling, like some dogs do. A hysterical bubble of
laughter rose in her throat. Next, she‟d be imagining it would roll over and want its belly rubbed. Did dragons have soft underbellies?
Porch lights were snapping on down the street and she could hear doors slamming
as her neighbors started shouting. One of them was running toward her with a raised
shotgun.
“Go!” she said to the dragon. “Get away before they kill you!”
The dragon blinked once, then turned its massive head, releasing a stream of fire
that snaked along the tarred street, before it rose gracefully in the air, its wings beating rhythmically. The shotgun fired and the dragon roared, sending another ball of flame
rolling down the street. One of her neighbors shrieked and Sophie could hear the sound
of sirens coming closer.
She covered her face with her hands. Not again! Just when she thought the
nightmare was over….
A gently firm hand touched her shoulder. She separated her fingers and peered
out.
“I‟m here,” Michael said.
Instinctively, she leaned into his warm, solid body. He put a comforting arm
around her and led her back toward the clinic, taking the key from her s haking fingers
and getting them inside, away from the prying eyes of the gathering crowd.
“The police will be here any minute,” she said, her voice quivery. “I don‟t know
that I can go through this again.”
Michael turned her in his arms so she was fac ing him. He held her close enough
that his body heat enveloped her, along with the strangely comforting woodsy scent
tinged with a hint of heather. His hands soothed her back in long, slow strokes. His
voice rumbled low in a language she did not understand, but the cadence was rhythmic
and slow, relaxing her. She should step back…but it felt so good. No one had made the
effort to console her since her parents were killed several years ago. If she could just linger a bit .....
The blare of police siren cut off abruptly and she knew she‟d have to face them.
With a sigh, she began to pull away, but Michael‟s hands slid upward over her shoulders
and cupped her head. He bent down, brushing her lips with his in a light, gentle gesture that was leisurely, yet promising. Sophie felt herself softening, melting against him,
wanting him…
With a start, she broke away, her hand to her mouth, staring at him. What
affected her thinking whenever she was near him? There were police pounding on the
door, for
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