Something terrible had happened to this man. She didn’t know how she knew, or why, but her heart ached. He was...blank, seemed the best way to describe it.
“You’re the one who volunteered,” she said, coming to a halt in front of him. She could see now he had a thick nose and hair that was cropped short, just long enough not to be considered a buzz cut. Stubble lined his jaw, stopping a few inches below his jawline.
“I am,” he said, glancing at her up and down.
“Why?” she asked, suddenly wondering what his motive was behind everything. “That was a very brave thing to do.”
Now where did these words come from? Why did you say them? Christine’s mouth was moving faster than her mind could keep up.
“It was the right thing to do,” he said quietly, his eyes growing distant for a split second, before he got control of himself.
“You didn’t have to do it,” she pointed out. “We weren’t asking for dragon volunteers. The task force would have been all witches.”
His eyebrows narrowed. “Am I not wanted? Is that your purpose in seeking me out then? To tell me that I’m not allowed to join the team?”
Christine leaned back. “Not at all. I just wanted to know what kind of man you are to volunteer for the team, that’s all.”
“What is your name?” the dragon shifter asked abruptly.
“Christine,” she said, confused at the sudden topic change. “Why?”
“Are you involved in this response team in some manner?” he asked. “Or are you just a random witch inquiring into my reasoning?”
There was no malice in his question, no anger or suspicion. Simple curiosity was all that she could detect. Someone trying to better understand who she was, and why she’d chased him down to ask him these questions.
If only I knew the answer myself. It would feel silly to say that I just felt the need to seek him out. To ask him why he’d do this.
“I expect to be assigned to the team,” she said confidently. “I am an upper-year Apprentice specializing in combat magic. I am...I believe, if I can speak of myself for a moment, well suited to join this team.”
Christine stopped short of voicing her true desires, the one she she’d had since Circe had announced she was forming the team. It would sound silly to the dragon, who likely wouldn’t understand it. So for now, she kept it to herself. Until she could see Circe. Then she would let the head of Winterspell know what Christine was after.
Right now though, the dragon shifter in front of her didn’t need to know any of that. He seemed caught up in his own thoughts already, and they barely knew each other.
“So we’ll be working together, then?” he asked, sizing her up anew.
“Something like that, I hope,” she said, nodding. “What is your name? I’ve not had the pleasure of doing much interacting with any of your kind yet.”
“I am, Altair.” The dragon shifter stuck out his hand.
She’d heard him speak his name earlier but hadn’t been quite sure she’d gotten it right.
Christine took the offered hand and shook it, feeling the restrained power in his grip. She was used to men naturally being stronger than her, though her interactions with them were limited, but this...this was different.
Men were strong—though often weak-willed—but Altair was powerful. She’d seen his muscles, his frame, but that was just a cover up. He felt like nothing short of corded steel, tougher than she’d been expecting. Yet his skin was soft, and warm, and—What are you doing?
Christine abruptly dropped his hand, not having realized she was still holding it.
“Uh,” she said awkwardly.
Good job. Way to make things even worse.
“Altair,” she said, repeating his name, trying to recover. “Thank you for volunteering to join us. It was unnecessary.”
“On the contrary,” he said softly. “It was most required of me. Nobody else will die because I’m not there.” His eyes blazed with fervent belief as he spoke. “I look forward to working with you, Christine.”
She opened her mouth to reply, to address his first comment, but before she could speak any of the dozens of words and questions that sprang into her mind, Altair leaned to the side slightly, his gaze focusing on something behind her.
Christine turned to see a small contingent of dragons approaching. They didn’t look happy. One in particular, whom she knew to be some sort of leader of the dragons, looked downright pissed.
“Ah, I think I should probably go now,” Altair said uncomfortably. “This isn’t likely to be much fun.”
He stepped around her, visibly bracing himself. Christine looked at him, then at the other dragons, then back to Altair. Suddenly, she wondered if his volunteering wasn’t exactly approved.
“All the best,” she said quietly. “But you had better be at the first training session once it’s announced.”
Altair nodded, his eyes remaining focused on the other dragons. “I will be,” he said quietly.
“No matter what.”
Then he left her behind.
Christine watched him go, seeing him visibly flinch as the first dragon laid into him, his tone clearly visible from the snarl on his face even if she couldn’t make out the words.
She thought for a moment about staying to watch, to be of help, but this wasn’t her fight. It wasn’t her place to interfere in dragon affairs after all.
Besides, she had something else that needed her attention.
Chapter Four
Altair
ROKH WAS SPEAKING, the volatile fire dragon laying into him, though Altair wasn’t truly listening to the words. He caught the gist of it based on the tone of the other shifter’s words. After an initial flinch at the vehemence, he tuned him out.
His focus was on the woman. Christine, the witch who had seen fit to seek him out, to chase after him. All to ask why he was volunteering to go fight a demon lord.
Pausing in his steps,
