Heat. Humid, deep heat rises from her flesh. It is not the heat of her arousal. I sniff her skin and a sickly sweetness fills my nose. The strange scent is coming from her. She moans again, and I lean away to study her.
Is she sick? My chest constricts. I find the plate she ate from and bring it to my nose. It is nothing like the smell from her.
If someone has poisoned her, I will obliterate this village and everyone in it. I will tear this jungle apart and all in my path. Terror would return to these lands, and Venys would fear the dark dragon who lost his mate.
I take a taste. I do not taste poison.
Regardless, something is wrong. I take her hand and squeeze it, finding it limp in my grasp. “Milaye?”
No response.
“Milaye?” I say her name louder. Still, no reaction. My stomach churns. “Milaye!” I tangle my hands into her hair and lean over her. “Wake up! Wake up, female!” I gather her in my arms. “Milaye?”
A banging raps on the door, but I do not respond. I press my cheek to my female’s instead.
“What’s wrong?” someone shouts.
Milaye’s breath breezes over my skin, whisperingly light. Moving one of my hands to her chest, I find the beating of her heart. She is alive, but she does not wake. I bring my hand back up to her face. “Milaye? Can you hear me?” I am overcome with dread. “Answer me, human!”
What if? What if she is suffering what I suffered?
My nostrils flare. It cannot be. The poison dragon has long been dead. My human was never bitten. And though we are bonded, it would be impossible for something like poison transferring between us.
Unless…
I jerk away from her.
The banging and yelling from the door grows louder.
My eyes widen in horror. Unless it was in my saliva and my seed.
A crash sounds behind me. I twist to see Zaeyr and Aida with several other females of the tribe stand at the door. I growl in warning for them to stay back, but I am thrown away. Zaeyr leaps on top of me, baring his teeth, and I do not fight him. Stunned, I lie there, as limp as my human.
“Kill me,” I rasp. “Please.”
Zaeyr’s brow furrows.
Milaye’s tribe mates rush to her side, trying to rouse her as I had.
“What did you do to her?” one of them cries.
My lips part, but nothing comes out.
I poisoned her.
Zaeyr rises and I clench my hands. But before I can taunt him back to me, to end my horrid life, he goes to Milaye’s side. I surge up, shoving him away from her.
“Stay away from my female,” I roar.
He growls but remains where he is. A female rushes into the hut—his mate, I recognize—and goes to his side. I turn back to Milaye and the others around her. I growl again in warning and, to my surprise, one of them growls back.
The rest are undressing Milaye and splashing her with water. “What’s wrong with her?” the one who growled demands. “She’s unresponsive.”
“Tell us! Was she bitten by something? Could it be vine drought?” another asks.
“No, she’s not turning green,” one of them responds.
“Jungle serpent venom?”
“There’s no puncture wounds.”
“There’s bruises.” The female who said it narrows her eyes at me.
I push the women away and grab Milaye’s form to my chest. “It is none of those things,” I hiss.
“Then what is it?”
“Me… It is me.”
19
Fighting Fire
“Milaye, fight it!”
I hear Drazak’s voice.
Fight what?
My skin is tight, as if it’s been stretched like an animal hide across curing poles. But it’s the sensation of being uncomfortably full that stirs my mind. And I am full. It’s this fullness that’s made my skin taut, I’m sure of it.
Every second that passes, my body grows even fuller, my skin tighter. I want to scream, but my mouth won’t open.
Make it stop! Please make it stop!
But I make no noise.
Though something does answer me, I realize it after a moment of anxiety. The lazy, relaxing heat I felt earlier roars to life, spreading through my limbs. The warmth takes away the pressure, easing my flesh to loosen up.
Though I still remain excruciatingly full, and that same heat has only worsened it.
The fire tells me to let it in, to surrender into it, to let it consume me. To let it keep filling me and filling me until I burst. I want to do as it asks… but something in me fights it. Fear. I think I’m afraid.
I don’t want to burst open. There will be nothing left of me if I do. I have a mate to live for, a baby to live for… I can’t burst. I can’t.
Someone takes my hand and raises it to their mouth.
Drazak. My heart thrums. He’s my fire. It’s because of him that I’m feeling better.
I fall back under and sweet, restful oblivion takes me again.
I wake to screams. Wrenching, ear-splitting screams, unlike any I have ever known. There’s screaming all around me, on every side. It’s coming from within me as well, but so many others.
Why are people screaming?
Pain rips through me, and I lose consciousness.
The third time I wake, I’m being carried. Someone is running and I’m in their arms. Each step sends blazing jolts of lavafire through me.
Drazak. I’m in Drazak’s arms. I want to smile, but my mouth falls open instead. Several of my teeth fall out. The pain returns, hot and fast.
“Milaye! Hang on!” Drazak roars.
And then I hear the screams again. This time they’re all mine.
20
To Wake A Dragon
I rush away from the humans, down the lift, and out onto the beach. Dragon fire rages behind me, but I do not stop. Zaeyr follows, helping me with my precious burden.
Milaye is in my arms, but she is not the Milaye I know.
She was not poisoned. After several days of caring for her with her tribemates, it became clear that what Milaye suffered was not what I
