and living room. Whatever was broken could be replaced or fixed. He didn’t even bother with the front door. He turned his face and slammed into it. Wood and glass splintered in all directions.
He ran down the front steps and sprinted across the driveway. With a flex of his shoulders, Stig’s wings burst forth. They immediately caught the wind. As he ran, Stig flapped his wings and in no time at all lifted from the ground. The cool night air whistled against his ears as he gained height and speed.
Zeroing in on the pulse of Cora’s fear, Stig altered his course. The longer he was in the air, the fainter Cora’s radiating emotions felt. It stirred a primal fear in him. Was she dying?
The thought made him sick. He flapped faster, pulling his body tight and aerodynamic. Shaving off a few seconds of flight time could mean the difference between Cora’s life or her death. The glow of headlights came into view. He dropped altitude and swerved toward what looked to be a parked SUV. His hawklike gaze zeroed in on another set of beams pointing at an awkward angle.
Cora’s car was upside down in a ditch.
There were two men standing outside the car. One of them had something thrown over his shoulder—a body, Cora’s body.
Enraged, Stig rocketed toward the ground. The sound of his incoming landing ripped through the stillness of the night. There would be no stealth in his attack. Head down, he embraced his primal side and unleashed his inner beast with a terrible shriek.
Down below, the bastards trying to kill Cora snapped to attention. Their faces contorted in pure horror. Stig got a twisted sense of pleasure from that sight. The goon holding Cora got smart and tried to bolt. He threw her on the ground like a sack of trash and took off toward the embankment. Stig careened to the right and swiped the fleeing man with his taloned feet. A scream erupted from his throat and he tumbled back down the embankment.
With one goon rolling on the ground in pain and bleeding profusely, Stig switched his attention to the other man. To his surprise, the man pulled a gleaming
Stig’s stomach clenched. A Knight. How the hell had Cora gotten mixed up with the Knights? Or was it something else? Was she just a pawn? And Hector too?
He’d sort out the specifics later. Right now, he had to save Cora.
Stig hovered at a distance. If he hit the ground, he’d lose that edge on his opponent. His gaze swept over the sword-wielding man. This Knight clearly knew what he was doing.
The slayer made a break for Cora, who was still slumped unconscious on the grass. Stig didn’t waste a second. He snorted a violent burst of fire. The slayer skidded to a halt mere inches from the roiling flames. The wall of fire pushed him away from Cora. Stig considered rushing down and snatching her up but couldn’t be sure how her touch might affect his ability to defend them. He’d lost his dragon hide last night, which would come in handy facing off with a well-armed Knight.
The sound of gunshots snapped in the darkness. Stig had been so wrapped up in making sure Cora was safe that he’d taken his eyes off the dragon slayer long enough for the man to pull his weapon. A silver harpoon sliced through Stig’s left wing. Metal teeth exploded from the head of the lance, ripping through the thin membranes and hooking onto one of the bony veins supporting his wings.
Stig tried to grasp the offending projectile but the slayer yanked hard on the trailing line and tore through the length of Stig’s wing. The burning pain ripped a hideous scream from his throat. Try as he might, Stig couldn’t stay airborne. His good wing flapped futilely. He turned his focus to making the best landing possible.
With a thunderous boom, Stig slammed into the unyielding ground. The air rushed from his lungs and left him dizzy. But he couldn’t nurse his wounds. He had to get up. He had to fight to protect Cora.
Stig clambered to his feet. The slayer struck just as he rose on shaky limbs. The tip of his blade slashed through Stig’s chest and punctured the gas sac that allowed his breed to breathe fire. Stig choked as the noxious fumes bubbled into his throat and out his nose and mouth. He fought the instinctive urge to ignite them with a click of his throat but that much gas in such a small space would cause a fatal explosion in his mouth and one that would easily engulf Cora.
He threw out his arm and struck the slayer hard enough to knock him flat on his ass. Stig sucked in short, painful breaths to try to clear his nasal passages and throat of the gas. His broken and mutilated wing hung limp at his side. The other snapped angrily. He flexed his talons and prepared to engage his enemy with the only weapon he had left: brute force.
Stig and the Knight rushed one another. In a flash of talons and sword, they crashed. Both drew blood and both refused to give even an inch. Stig knew this would be a fight to the death. For Cora’s sake, he hoped he was the one limping away from the battle.
The Knight struck another victorious blow with the sword. Stig hissed as the blade sliced through his forearm. Blood splattered the slayer’s face. With every beat of his heart, the nicked artery spurted blood. Stig didn’t have to be a doctor to know that was probably a fatal wound. He didn’t have much time.
Gathering all his strength, Stig lashed out at the Knight. He raked his razor-sharp talons across the slayer’s chest and followed with a quick swipe of the man’s throat. The Knight’s sword hit the ground. He stumbled forward, a look of shock etched on his face. Clutching his bloody throat, the slayer gurgled and collapsed to his knees. A few moments later, he fell on his face and expired.
Stig clamped a hand over his wounded arm and panted from exertion. Taking another being’s life still affected him. He’d done it more times than he cared to think about over the centuries but it never got any easier. Perhaps that was a good thing. He liked to think it was the best of his humanity that allowed him to feel sadness at the loss of life, even if that life belonged to an enemy.
“AARRGH!” Stig cried out in surprise and pain. Something sharp pierced his back and belly. He glanced down and spotted the tip of a similar
Stig fell to his knees. His insides burned. Blood poured from the wound. He didn’t have to look over his shoulder. He knew what had happened. The goon he’d thought he’d finished clearly had a little life left in him, enough to strike a final, deadly blow.
“Cora.” His whispered words would likely never reach her ears. Somewhere behind him she lay unconscious and possibly close to death herself from blood loss. There was no way she’d escaped that rollover without sustaining major injury. In a last desperate attempt to protect her, Stig hoped her passing was quick and painless, so the Knights wouldn’t be able to take her as a prisoner.
His, on the other hand, was sure to be gruesome.
Stig’s ears perked to the sound of the sword cutting through the air as it lifted for one last swing. He braced for the bite of the blade against his neck but it never came.
There was a loud snap and then a wet gurgle. Seconds later, the goon fell onto Stig’s back. Stig rolled his shoulders, sending the man’s body to the ground next to him. A harpoon impaled his chest and throat. The upward angle affirmed Stig’s suspicion—the speargun had been fired from the ground.
“Stig?” Cora’s weak voice filled him with hope and a renewed strength.
“Cora?” He turned slowly, his arm pressed to his oozing gut, and found her half crawling, half dragging herself toward him. She held a broken arm to her chest and dragged her misshapen and bloody leg. A speargun rested not far from her.
Stig was struck by the irony of the moment. He’d come to save Cora’s life and she’d saved his.
“Oh, God, Stig.” Cora wept at the sight of his mangled wing and bleeding stomach. Cringing in pain, she removed her shirt and pressed the cloth to the deep wound. She caressed his bloody face with her free hand. The change took place more slowly this time. The pain was nearly unbearable. “We have to get you to the hospital. I think their SUV is still running. I can probably drive.”
He knew she couldn’t drive in her state. She’d kill them both.
Through gritted teeth, Stig gave his final instructions. “Find your cell phone and call nine-one-one. After you make the call, you can help me into those bushes over there. I’ll hide until the ambulance leaves.”
Cora shook her head. “I’m not going to leave you here to die.”
“You have to, Cora. I can’t go to a hospital looking like this.”
