Last Immortal Dragon(23)

Damon sighed and draped his arm over her shoulders, then pulled her tight against his side. Turning his head, he rested his chin on top of her hair. “I would’ve done the same thing.”

Clara’s shoulders sagged, and a sob worked its way up her throat. “It feels good to say all that out loud and not carry it alone anymore.”

“Dangerous Clara,” he said softly.

He’d called her that several times now, and she winced against the moniker. She wanted to tell him he was wrong, and that she wasn’t dangerous to him at all. She wanted to tell him to stop calling her that and go back to calling her love as he had earlier. She wanted to tell him he was wrong about her, and that she would never hurt him, but when she opened her mouth to explain all of this, the words stuck in her throat. Why? Because she suddenly understood him.

I would’ve done the same thing, he’d said.

He had done the same thing.

Something in his past had brought him to his knees and made it easy for him to shut down his emotions. To turn his face into a lineless, emotionless mask.

He didn’t want her talking about his past or breaking down his walls, and she understood his hesitation. She was terrified of him for the same reasons.

The life of a fearful grizzly had clashed with that of a stone-cold dragon, and somehow along the way, they’d become one in the same.

He could call her “Dangerous Clara” all he wanted to. Because now, she’d opened up her heart to him and given him the ability to hurt her.

Now, he was Dangerous Damon.





Chapter Eight




Pain, jagged like broken glass, sliced through her head.

Clara buckled into herself with a whimper as a screaming sound pounded against her ears. She convulsed, then opened her eyes as the ache behind them lessened. That steady current of sound wasn’t screaming at all. It was the wind.

Looking down, she had to be a mile above the ground. She wanted to gasp, wanted to panic. Wanted to scream, but she couldn’t do anything other than observe.

This was a dream. One of those nightmares that felt so real, like the ones Grandma used to have. A wave of sorrow washed over her as she thought about how fast the insanity was happening. She’d wanted to experience motherhood before she went. She wanted to raise a child before the end of her life. Before the end of her clarity. Selfish.

She couldn’t speak and couldn’t move, but beside her, something enormous beat the air currents. Wings the color of fire flapped on either side of her, and when she looked down, four giant red claws were tucked close to her cream-colored belly scales.

She was a dragon.

Below, rocky crags and wilderness stretched as far as she could see. There weren’t homes or farmland or landing strips. The world was just…empty.

A deafening roar sounded from her throat as she tucked her wings and dove for the trees. Faster and faster she fell, and just as she thought she would hit the ground, a clicking sounded in her throat and she opened her mouth, releasing hellfire onto a clearing. She scooped up the burning ash, swallowed it down, and immediately she felt energized. Flapping her wings, she angled herself toward the setting sun and pushed her body harder, faster. The sense of urgency never left until she stretched her claws out and lowered herself to the ledge of a cliff face.

He was there waiting, her Damon, but his face was haggard. His eyes were dull and the color of pitch, tired and worried, and he looked as though he hadn’t slept in days.

“What are you doing here?” he asked in that strange language.

Her claws hit the rock, and she shattered inward, shrinking until she was on two bare feet again. Agony ripped at her heart because she was about to break his.

“I had to see you one last time.”

“One last time? What are you talking about?”

“Damon, he knows. Marcus knows about us, and he’s threatened to never rest until you and all of your clan are charred and dead.”

“Feyadine, how did he find out about us?” His voice cracked with power as he glared at her.

“Because I uttered your name,” she admitted, cheeks burning with shame.

He’d told her once, “I’ll love you always.”

She’d told him then, and she meant it, “You won’t. You can’t. You love me now only because you haven’t seen the monster I am yet.” Now he would see her for how weak she really was.

“You uttered my name?” he said low, suspicion filling his eyes and sparking them to the bright silver color she was used to. “When, Feyadine?”

“When I was with him.”

Damon shook his head and backed away a step, and then another, the betrayal in his eyes like a lash against her soul.

“I’ve been his all along. It wasn’t my choice—”