Hunter’s face contorted. He heaved onto his hands and knees and the back of his coat split. His gurgled cries turned to growls. His face stretched and turned red. Smoke billowed from his mouth and nose. Flesh peeled away, revealing scales bathed in blood.
His aura surged, surrounding him in a red nimbus, and with a great roar he spread enormous, leathery wings.
You have something I want, Jester.
Hunter’s voice rang through her. He spit a blast of fire into the air and peered at her with enormous,
slitted
eyes.
“You can’t have her.”
More sticky tendrils wrapped around her. She seized the magic in her, burning at the blackness, but it was too strong.
Xanthic’s
manic desperation made him wild.
A calm
sparked within her. She could feel Hunter’s fear and love.
And could still feel the ridges of the medallion digging into her clasped hands.
She stared at Hunter. Here, in his true form, he was majestic. His scales shimmered red and gold. Powerful wings curled along his back and the tip of his tail flicked, revealing his rage.
She met his gaze. It was still him. She’d always been able to see his spirit, regardless of what body he was in, and he was filled with absolute love for her. She drew her magic around herself.
Xanthic
struggled to rebuild her cage. His sticky tendrils wrapped around her and his fury swept through her.
But it couldn’t touch the love in her heart.
She squeezed the medallion between her palms and activated it with a thought.
Xanthic
screamed. His cages around the dragons in the feast hall burst apart and the drakes swarmed
Zenobia’s
men.
Light swept through her, tearing away the darkness, scouring her clean of everything that was
Xanthic
, sucking his essence into the medallion. Flames danced over her hands, searing her flesh. But it didn’t matter. She was a phoenix reborn, rising from the ashes of her empty life into a new one.
The life of a true human sorcerer, something that hadn’t been seen in over two thousand years.
She healed like a dragon, had the lifespan of a dragon, but was so much more than a dragon. She was the reason for all the dragon laws. But they didn’t have to fear her, not like the originators of the Great Scourge.
Unless, of course, they hurt a member of her coterie.
Hunter spread his wings, roared and spat fire, and all knew he belonged to her.
Then he trembled, his form shrinking, his scales melting away, until he stood once again before her in his human form.
She slid her gaze down his naked body, desire heating her. It was still Mark’s body, but it also wasn’t. It was the soul inside that counted.
Hunter followed her gaze and coughed, the only indication he was even the slightest bit uncomfortable.
“Looks like there are some downfalls to transmutation.”
Anaea
bit back a grin. “It’s only a downfall if we’re in public.”
“True.”
And even though they were still surrounded by the elite of dragon society, she didn’t care. All that really mattered was Hunter.
A drake at the back of the room stood and shouted Hunter’s name. Others took up the call and it grew into a frenzied chant.
Regis screamed for silence but the crowd kept chanting, over and over again, filling the hall with sound, until Hunter raised his hand and the room went quiet.
“Just because you can transmute doesn’t mean you can have the throne,” Regis said. He glanced over his shoulder, his expression nervous. Behind him were Nero and Tobias, both covered in blood, holding
Zenobia
. She crouched between them with Tobias’s blade at her neck, rocking and moaning.
Anaea
didn’t want to imagine what Regis would do to her, knowing she’d tried to take his throne and failed. It seemed she’d already received a terrible punishment.
Beyond them, Grey clutched at his gut. Blood trickled down his cheek but his eyes were bright with approval and determination.
Capri
and Gig stood beside him, also covered in blood, alive and whole. Grey raised his fist in salute and roared Hunter’s name, as if daring Hunter to stop him.
A hint of a smile pulled at Hunter’s lips, then he turned his attention back to Nero and his expression darkened. Nero gave a slight nod and something unspoken passed between them, an understanding of some kind but
Anaea
couldn’t tell what it was.
“I don’t want the throne,” Hunter said. “But I do quit.”
“You what?”
“I quit. Find yourself another assassin.”
Regis huffed and held out his hand. “Then give back the medallion.”
Anaea
glanced at Hunter. He grinned, his warmth simmering through her. “I don’t think so.”
“You what—?”
Hunter turned his back on Regis and took
Anaea’s
hands in his.
“So, my inamorata.
Will you keep me?”
“Only if you’ll share your sky.”
“Done.”
A gate formed on the dais below them. The world twisted and she was surrounded by night sky. Hunter held her in his arms. His leathery dragon wings grew from his human back, stretched out, and he caught the air current. Stars spun around her and wind caressed her face.
Just like the dream.
Their dream.
And this time, the only falling they’d do would be into bed and into each other’s arms.
If you enjoyed
Immortal Coil
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Thank you
C.I. Black has always lived in a world of imagination. When she’s not daydreaming, she puts her flights of fancy down on paper writing urban fantasy and paranormal romance books.