Oh, thank God, she told him. I’ve been so scared….
The bronze dragon’s immense, triangular head swept from side to side as glaring gold eyes took in the surrounding scene.
As he did so, hot, wet droplets of moisture splattered her in the face and chest.
It was blood. Her gaze focused on a jagged gash that ran along the dragon’s brow. Bright liquid crimson streamed down the long arch of his neck.
It’s okay, she said to him. While virtually everyone else scrambled to get out of his way, she climbed over the rocks toward him, hand outstretched. I’m here. You’re going to be okay….
The dragon mantled gigantic wings, strewing more debris and throwing a shadow over the clearing. Snapping his head back around to her, he bared wicked, razor-sharp teeth as long as her torso.
Face upturned, she stood motionless as his massive, monstrous head snaked toward her.
The dragon’s jaws opened wide, and he snapped at her.
Hot breath blasted her hair back from her face. The edge of the dragon’s teeth tore through the front of her dress, and Eva slammed into her from the side, tackling her to the ground.
It knocked the breath out of her. Even as she coughed and struggled to take a wheezing breath, her gaze never left Dragos as all her emotions and beliefs vaporized. Like the collapsing bedrock, they crumbled to dust.
All the terror and dread of the last several minutes, and all the joy and relief.
The unshakeable foundation of her faith that he would never, could never, hurt her.
Tail lashing from side to side, the dragon roared. The gigantic sound shook the earth, and fire boiled out of his massive, parted jaws. Spraying fire in a circle, he sent people screaming as they ran away.
His wings hammered down, and he launched.
As she watched the dragon climb in the air, wheel and wing away, she didn’t know she could exist in such a cold, barren place.
She watched him until he had shrunk to a small speck in the sky and disappeared.
Come back, she whispered. Come back.
But her whisper was small and uncertain.
A million miles away, Eva rolled off her body and yanked her up by the shoulders. The other woman seemed to be shouting at her. She focused on Eva’s lips as they shaped words. Are you hurt? Did you get burned anywhere?
One side of Eva’s face was blistered, her dark eyes wide.
Pia looked around the clearing. Other people were burned and stumbling to help each other, some standing still as they stared up at the empty sky. Glancing down at herself, she fingered her dress. The bright material was torn, sheared by the edge of the dragon’s teeth.
The immense distance between her and the rest of the world started to dissipate, and pain intruded. Her chest hurt, and her legs and back felt scraped and bruised from landing in a sprawl on the rocky, uneven ground.
Her ability to think returned as well, but thankfully all her emotions stayed away. Glancing down at her scraped, raw fingers, she laid her hand gently against Eva’s burned cheek and watched as the other woman’s burns faded away.
She said, “I need a phone. Now.”
Eva nodded and whirled away. When she returned a few moments later, she held out a cell phone wordlessly.
Taking it, Pia dialed a number she knew by heart and listened to ringing.
A moment later, the call was answered.
Graydon said, “I don’t know this number. Who are you?”
“Gray,” she said. “I need you.”
“Pia? Is that you, cupcake?”
In her mind’s eye, she saw again the dragon’s teeth approaching.
Snapping at her.
“I need all the sentinels,” she told him. Her shoulders shuddered, as if her body wanted to sob again. She shut that down hard. She didn’t have time to cry. “You’d better bring the demesne lawyers with you.”
His voice sharpened, all the mild good humor falling away. “What happened? Where’s Dragos?”
She lifted her head and stared at the empty sky. “We’re not talking about it over the phone,” she said softly. “But I think you should bring some treasure too. Lots and lots of treasure.”
One small blessing had occurred.
Everyone had already been scrambling to get away from Dragos, so the dragon’s fire had caused only light burns. There was only one casualty from the construction site accident—Ned Brandling, the shift foreman.
Back at the house, Eva told her about Brandling’s death while she took another quick shower to wash away the dust and grime. The scrapes on her fingers had already healed, and the bruises along her back and legs were fading.
Neither of them had mentioned Dragos’s name since he had disappeared. Pia could tell by the quick, nervous way Eva spoke that the other woman was scared, but she had nothing to offer as reassurance or comfort.
After her shower, she dressed in sturdy clothes, knee-length jean shorts and a T-shirt, and tennis shoes. She moved fast, because she could hear Liam crying over the baby monitor, along with Hugh’s gentle attempts to comfort him.
As soon as she had yanked on her shoes, Eva straightened. “What now?”
Pia said, “I’m going to take care of Liam. Go clean up.”
Scowling, Eva flexed her hands. “I’m not leaving you.”
The other woman was still covered in dust from the site. Pia glanced at her and shook her head. “You’re not going into Liam’s nursery like that. God only knows what he can sense of what’s happened, and he already sounds frightened enough as it is. I don’t want you upsetting him any further.”
Looking abashed, Eva ducked her head. “Sorry,” she muttered. “I didn’t think. I’ll get cleaned up and be right back.”
Without further delay, Pia went into Liam’s nursery. Hugh was cradling and walking him. As soon as Liam saw her, he wailed louder and tried to throw his body forward, reaching for her.
A sharp sliver of feeling wormed its way into her frozen heart. Gathering Liam close, she walked over to the rocking chair and pulled his favorite blanket around him.
Looking up into Hugh’s worried expression, she said, “See that we’re not disturbed until the sentinels arrive.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, his voice soft and careful. “I’ll keep watch outside the door.”
“Thank you.”
As he eased the door shut behind him, she turned her attention to Liam. The toddler had clenched both fists into the front of her T-shirt. As soon as her eyes met his, his small face crumpled. The sliver of feeling in her heart grew larger until it was a hot, agonized pain, and she fought back tears of her own.
“Shh, my sweetest darling,” she whispered, stroking Liam’s silken head.
He put his cheek against hers in a gesture at once so mature and loving, it broke the tension in her spine, and she wrapped around him tightly. He clung to her, and neither of them moved until the door opened some time later, and Graydon strode in.
Graydon was the biggest of the sentinels, a burly, mild mannered giant almost as large as Dragos in his human form.
Just like Dragos, as always when Graydon entered the room, the available space seemed to shrink, due as much to the potent force of his personality as to his size. He wore the sentinel’s usual outfit of black T-shirt, jeans and boots—clothing that was sturdy enough for a rough, often violent lifestyle and easy to discard when damaged—along with a Glock in a holster clipped to the waist of his jeans.
As soon as he saw her and Liam in the rocking chair, he strode toward them, went down on one knee and would have taken them into his arms if she hadn’t stopped him with one hand pressed against his chest.
She couldn’t bear to be hugged at the moment, or she might break down. And she didn’t have time to break down. She had too much to do.