the Red away, rolling in a flurry of wings and scales, roaring in fury. Jalan, my Black. The Red was already dying, but Jalan tore at his throat savagely until he completely beheaded the opposing male.
Dripping blood, black eyes blazing with fury, the Black turned malicious eyes on me.
Did he recognize me at all? As the White, I knew him. I knew his scent, the taste of his skin in my mouth. My skin was already torn from the Red and my blood flavored the air. That could be a good thing—or a very bad thing. A dragon driven insane by blood hunger wouldn’t recognize his mate let alone in human form.
:Jalan.:
He shook his head hard, snarling at my human intrusion. Instead of sending him words, I concentrated on emotions. On images. Things we shared. I remembered flying with him this afternoon, the wind rushing beneath my wings, our devastated homeland spread out beneath us. His joy. His love. My regret.
His response stole my breath. All black wings, night sky, wind in our faces, soaring higher and higher until we nearly touched the moon, and then spinning toward the sands, clutched together, mating a death spiral until the last possible second.
“I can’t fly, Jalan. Not now.”
Did he even understand? The killing rage was gone from his glittering eyes. He came to me, towering over me like a fierce black mountain of flesh and claw. Stretching down his sinuous neck, he ran his rasping tongue over my flesh, cleaning the wounds and licking the blood from my skin.
He rumbled with pleasure. He knew my scent, the taste of my blood. The image he put into my mind was too complex and yet too simple to describe. Mine. He knew I was his, and he planned to keep me until the sands blew away and the moon fell from the sky and the last Keldari died in a punishing blast of Fire.
“Mine, yes, forever.” I whispered, running my hands over his triangular head, down his sleek neck. His neck and his forehead, too, were smooth, but his jaw was lined with gorgeous feather plumes, a dark purplish ruff. The feathers relaxed under my tender strokes to lie smooth against his neck.
Tears trickled down my cheeks. “You did well, my fierce warrior. You killed many Mambas. Look, they retreat, and your people are spared. You saved them.”
Sorrow flooded our bond. He remembered the last Well, the spreading poison. His people weren’t spared—they merely had longer to suffer before dying. Rage filled him, sparking in his black eyes. Pain and fury blazed together higher and higher. He raised his head and roared at the moon, blasting flames and thick smoke as if he could cloud Somma’s curse and bring me back to him.
I couldn’t bear to see him doomed as I. He loved his people, he loved his Gods, he lived to save as many as possible. My Riven heart welled with tears; my chest squeezed with grief. How could I save him from his beast? How could I bring him back?
Magic rippled inside me, rainbows I ignored for centuries with blind eyes, sweet melody I tuned out with deliberately deaf ears. Listening, now, to that music dancing in my blood, I knew only one hope. One way I might bring him back.
I called more power, blazing like the full moon above. I filled my heart with all the emotion he fought so hard to make me feel. The tenderness of his rough hands. His calm, strong acceptance. I felt his Fire respond to mine, braiding together down that blood bond we formed, the memory of sweat and blood, wild love and tender, oil and tears and no promise of the morrow. Not for us. Not for any of us.
“You took my blood. You took my Fire. You took my body. Now take my Riven heart and make me whole once more.”
Magic pulsed inside me, burning my skin, liquefying my bones. I felt his heart pounding in answer and I called him as hard as I could. I tugged on his bond, wrapping him in moonlight and hope where I’d only known hatred before.
“I am Given to you, Jalan tal’Krait. My heart beats for you.”
Our hearts thundered
Dripping blood, black eyes blazing with fury, the Black turned malicious eyes on me.
Did he recognize me at all? As the White, I knew him. I knew his scent, the taste of his skin in my mouth. My skin was already torn from the Red and my blood flavored the air. That could be a good thing—or a very bad thing. A dragon driven insane by blood hunger wouldn’t recognize his mate let alone in human form.
:Jalan.:
He shook his head hard, snarling at my human intrusion. Instead of sending him words, I concentrated on emotions. On images. Things we shared. I remembered flying with him this afternoon, the wind rushing beneath my wings, our devastated homeland spread out beneath us. His joy. His love. My regret.
His response stole my breath. All black wings, night sky, wind in our faces, soaring higher and higher until we nearly touched the moon, and then spinning toward the sands, clutched together, mating a death spiral until the last possible second.
“I can’t fly, Jalan. Not now.”
Did he even understand? The killing rage was gone from his glittering eyes. He came to me, towering over me like a fierce black mountain of flesh and claw. Stretching down his sinuous neck, he ran his rasping tongue over my flesh, cleaning the wounds and licking the blood from my skin.
He rumbled with pleasure. He knew my scent, the taste of my blood. The image he put into my mind was too complex and yet too simple to describe. Mine. He knew I was his, and he planned to keep me until the sands blew away and the moon fell from the sky and the last Keldari died in a punishing blast of Fire.
“Mine, yes, forever.” I whispered, running my hands over his triangular head, down his sleek neck. His neck and his forehead, too, were smooth, but his jaw was lined with gorgeous feather plumes, a dark purplish ruff. The feathers relaxed under my tender strokes to lie smooth against his neck.
Tears trickled down my cheeks. “You did well, my fierce warrior. You killed many Mambas. Look, they retreat, and your people are spared. You saved them.”
Sorrow flooded our bond. He remembered the last Well, the spreading poison. His people weren’t spared—they merely had longer to suffer before dying. Rage filled him, sparking in his black eyes. Pain and fury blazed together higher and higher. He raised his head and roared at the moon, blasting flames and thick smoke as if he could cloud Somma’s curse and bring me back to him.
I couldn’t bear to see him doomed as I. He loved his people, he loved his Gods, he lived to save as many as possible. My Riven heart welled with tears; my chest squeezed with grief. How could I save him from his beast? How could I bring him back?
Magic rippled inside me, rainbows I ignored for centuries with blind eyes, sweet melody I tuned out with deliberately deaf ears. Listening, now, to that music dancing in my blood, I knew only one hope. One way I might bring him back.
I called more power, blazing like the full moon above. I filled my heart with all the emotion he fought so hard to make me feel. The tenderness of his rough hands. His calm, strong acceptance. I felt his Fire respond to mine, braiding together down that blood bond we formed, the memory of sweat and blood, wild love and tender, oil and tears and no promise of the morrow. Not for us. Not for any of us.
“You took my blood. You took my Fire. You took my body. Now take my Riven heart and make me whole once more.”
Magic pulsed inside me, burning my skin, liquefying my bones. I felt his heart pounding in answer and I called him as hard as I could. I tugged on his bond, wrapping him in moonlight and hope where I’d only known hatred before.
“I am Given to you, Jalan tal’Krait. My heart beats for you.”
Our hearts thundered
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