not yet.
Fiery torches outlined landing zones Alpha, Beta, and Gamma. Each pad was marked with a Greek letter, and the Ankh, an ancient symbol for life. It resembled a cross with a loop at the top.
That same Ankh was emblazoned in gold on my scrubs, and on the roofs of our medical tents. It was our version of the red cross.
Beyond the landing pads, I caught a glimpse of movement in the shadows. My breath caught. It could be a guard, or a creature of the night. Or my ride.
Hell and damnation.
I closed a hand over the gun in my pocket, praying I didn’t need to use it.
Wait. I yanked my hand back. Of course I couldn’t use it—not on my own people. My head pounded. I was too keyed up.
Relax. Breathe.
Easier said than done.
There was no way to make it across the helipad unseen. Heart hammering, I inched along the side, making my way for the hulking machine on Gamma pad. If I could keep it between me and whatever was out there, I’d at least have some protection.
I stayed to the shadows, moving in silence.
My hand touched the cool metal of Gamma pad’s chopper.
“Hurry,” a familiar voice ground out.
Recognition whooshed through me. Marc. “Where are you?”
He stepped from the shadows. He’d stayed. I wasn’t alone. “Thank God. I could kiss you.”
His smooth facade faltered. “You don’t mean that.”
“No,” I said automatically.
Of course I didn’t.
He stood with his flak jacket open, and nothing underneath. Firelight flickered over the wide expanse of his chest. For a moment, all I did was stare. I remembered this, him.
A heaviness hung between us.
“The patrol should be back in five minutes or less,” he said, breaking the spell.
He tore his gaze from mine as he worked the rest of the buttons, shrugging off the jacket completely. He had a strong, swimmer’s build.
Wait. “What are you doing here?” He should have been back at his own camp by now. He’d be missed. Discovered.
“You need a ride,” he said, matter-of-fact.
“Right.” Of course he’d stayed for me. It was Marc.
Yes, I was still mad as hell at him, but the clenched fist inside me loosened. There was some justice in the world. One good man survived, when so often many did not.
His hands went to his waist, unhitching his belt. Firelight illuminated the curve of muscle at his hip.
Yow. Was it getting hot up here? I was starting to sweat.
A jeep was bad enough, but if he thought I was going to ride over the Great Divide on dragon back …
He dropped his pants.
“Do you mind?” I asked, glancing behind us as he shucked his boots. Yes, I’d seen it all before, but not for the last decade. And besides, I was still angry with him. And I kind of hated him and here he was stripping and Jesus on a pogo stick I’d forgotten how good he looked naked.
“No out-of-uniform jokes, okay?” he said, his voice betraying a smile.
Yeah, yeah. He could still get to me. I was glad one of us was amused.
“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, soldier,” I said, trying to keep it light, trying not to stare—and failing miserably.
He was lithe, with the build of an athlete. My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth as I stared at the dip of muscle just below his left hip. There he wore the mark of the silver dragons. It was circular, with the head of a dragon swallowing its tail. It was supposed to symbolize never-ending loyalty to the clan. I used to play with it while we lounged in bed on our days off.
“Keep an eye out,” he said, lowering his head to shift.
He was at his most vulnerable during the change. I scanned the area in front and behind us as he bent, the muscles in his back expanding, his bones re-forming. His neck grew long, and scales sprouted along his back. The air around him glittered as his hands and feet morphed into talons and he grew to the size of a large horse. I’d seen it a hundred times and I’d still never seen anything like it.
Spikes framed his long face, curving downward toward the
Fiery torches outlined landing zones Alpha, Beta, and Gamma. Each pad was marked with a Greek letter, and the Ankh, an ancient symbol for life. It resembled a cross with a loop at the top.
That same Ankh was emblazoned in gold on my scrubs, and on the roofs of our medical tents. It was our version of the red cross.
Beyond the landing pads, I caught a glimpse of movement in the shadows. My breath caught. It could be a guard, or a creature of the night. Or my ride.
Hell and damnation.
I closed a hand over the gun in my pocket, praying I didn’t need to use it.
Wait. I yanked my hand back. Of course I couldn’t use it—not on my own people. My head pounded. I was too keyed up.
Relax. Breathe.
Easier said than done.
There was no way to make it across the helipad unseen. Heart hammering, I inched along the side, making my way for the hulking machine on Gamma pad. If I could keep it between me and whatever was out there, I’d at least have some protection.
I stayed to the shadows, moving in silence.
My hand touched the cool metal of Gamma pad’s chopper.
“Hurry,” a familiar voice ground out.
Recognition whooshed through me. Marc. “Where are you?”
He stepped from the shadows. He’d stayed. I wasn’t alone. “Thank God. I could kiss you.”
His smooth facade faltered. “You don’t mean that.”
“No,” I said automatically.
Of course I didn’t.
He stood with his flak jacket open, and nothing underneath. Firelight flickered over the wide expanse of his chest. For a moment, all I did was stare. I remembered this, him.
A heaviness hung between us.
“The patrol should be back in five minutes or less,” he said, breaking the spell.
He tore his gaze from mine as he worked the rest of the buttons, shrugging off the jacket completely. He had a strong, swimmer’s build.
Wait. “What are you doing here?” He should have been back at his own camp by now. He’d be missed. Discovered.
“You need a ride,” he said, matter-of-fact.
“Right.” Of course he’d stayed for me. It was Marc.
Yes, I was still mad as hell at him, but the clenched fist inside me loosened. There was some justice in the world. One good man survived, when so often many did not.
His hands went to his waist, unhitching his belt. Firelight illuminated the curve of muscle at his hip.
Yow. Was it getting hot up here? I was starting to sweat.
A jeep was bad enough, but if he thought I was going to ride over the Great Divide on dragon back …
He dropped his pants.
“Do you mind?” I asked, glancing behind us as he shucked his boots. Yes, I’d seen it all before, but not for the last decade. And besides, I was still angry with him. And I kind of hated him and here he was stripping and Jesus on a pogo stick I’d forgotten how good he looked naked.
“No out-of-uniform jokes, okay?” he said, his voice betraying a smile.
Yeah, yeah. He could still get to me. I was glad one of us was amused.
“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, soldier,” I said, trying to keep it light, trying not to stare—and failing miserably.
He was lithe, with the build of an athlete. My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth as I stared at the dip of muscle just below his left hip. There he wore the mark of the silver dragons. It was circular, with the head of a dragon swallowing its tail. It was supposed to symbolize never-ending loyalty to the clan. I used to play with it while we lounged in bed on our days off.
“Keep an eye out,” he said, lowering his head to shift.
He was at his most vulnerable during the change. I scanned the area in front and behind us as he bent, the muscles in his back expanding, his bones re-forming. His neck grew long, and scales sprouted along his back. The air around him glittered as his hands and feet morphed into talons and he grew to the size of a large horse. I’d seen it a hundred times and I’d still never seen anything like it.
Spikes framed his long face, curving downward toward the
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