Samael, adrenaline leaving his body in a whoosh, swayed and fell to the ground, his injuries enough to leave him stunned.
Gorgon was dead.
He knew that, and yet he still managed to lumber to his feet, nosing at his friend, his mentor, his ultimate supporter. Gorgon lay in a limp, unmoving pile, his spirit gone to the underworld, where his deeds and decisions would be weighed.
“Dragons of the Black Clan…” He paused to swallow down a grief so stark he slowly turned numb from the inside out. “Our king is dead.” He sent the thought to the entire clan.
Tipping his face to the heavens, shrouded by the rock of the mountain above him, Samael roared his grief, a stream of fire blasting from his maw. All around him, inside and outside the mountain, a terrible thunder of roars and wails from his people shook the very stone foundations of Ararat to the core.
Samael didn’t stop, not until his belly emptied of the flame, leaving him vulnerable to the remaining forces of white and green dragons in retreat.
The king was dead. The man who’d given him everything had been killed by Brock.
Killed protecting me.
Heavy guilt weighed down the grief, but, in the same instant, the severity of Samael’s own wounds penetrated. His legs trembled hard, rattling his entire body. Spots consumed his vision as Samael collapsed beside the man who’d been a father to him. The man he’d repaid with betrayal.
Meira.
On the heels of the guilt and grief came a terror the like he’d never before experienced. Terror for his mate.
Fuck. Was she still embedded in rock? Sounds of continued fighting of those closest to the mountain while their comrades escaped, muffled by his location so deep into the hangar, cracked and roared outside. The storm still thundered away. More danger.
Only he couldn’t force his body to move. Not like before, when the lightning paralyzed him. This time, his dragon refused to leave the body of his slain king. That acrid coating of fear washed over his tongue, and the human side of him beat against the dragon from the inside.
Mate.
The dragon side of him, fully in control for the moment, didn’t budge.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Meira left her sisters where they stood at the edge of the cliff and sprinted for Samael. Checking as she went, the cavern appeared wide open. Beyond, from what she could see through the storm, only a dwindling remnant of white and green dragons remained, though not for long. In one glance, she witnessed a green dragon screaming as a gold dragon gutted it. Midscream, it disappeared.
She didn’t care.
All she cared about was getting to the black dragon on the other side of the chamber. Her legs burned with the effort, lungs heaving, as she sprinted across the room. A flicker of movement caught the corner of her eye, and she yanked up sharply only to have a white dragon land in front of her.
Meira held up both hands. “As a daughter of Zilant Amon, I have no wish to harm you.”
As if she could.
“I’m coming.” A dark voice filled her mind. Behind him, Samael suddenly rose from where he’d been lying on the ground. “Hold on.”
“You are a false phoenix,” the white dragon sneered, though its mouth didn’t move. “An abomination, created by these traitorous kings with dark magic to cause confusion.”
Samael was still too far away. Trying to distract the creature before her, Meira drew herself up to her full height. “I am the daughter of Serefina Hanyu and Zilant Amon. A phoenix. And rightful heir to the—”
The white dragon snapped its head around, got one look at Samael bearing down, and, in an instant that didn’t slow but seemed more to speed up, slashed its tail at her.
Wicked spikes that appeared more like icicles came at her so fast, Meira didn’t even have time to lift up her hands in defense.
Except Maul suddenly appeared at her side and, in an instant, they blinked away, but not before he yelped in pain.
The sound cut off in the silence of the in-between. Usually Maul moved so quickly through that plane, you didn’t feel the nothingness with him. But that beat of silence told Meira all she needed to know. Before she’d processed everything, they reappeared in Samael’s room. A pathetic whine coming from his throat, Maul swayed and dropped to his side. Sticking out from his broad chest, the spike from the white dragon’s tail jutted into the air.
“No,” Meira whimpered.
She shuffled around to the big dog’s head and dropped to her knees. Already his labored breathing sounded squishy, gurgling rushes of air in his lungs.
“No, no, no. Not for me. Not like this.”
Glowing red eyes met hers, and a picture flickered in her mind, not steady, but jerking in and out of her consciousness. A picture of her as a child laughing as she threw a ball for a puppy the size of a doghouse. And…happiness that she could feel from him, even in this moment.
“Maul.” His name tumbled from her lips.
Working his head up, she managed to lay part of it in her lap, uncaring of the drool and the blood and the stench. “You can’t go. You’re too strong.”
Another image flashed, for less time even than the first. Samael watching her, the longing in his gaze, even in that jerky image, so acute it made her ache. “What are you telling me? That Samael will watch over me now?”
An image of stone men, and a growing sense of cold.
“The gargoyles?” She shook her head. “But you’re supposed to take care of us.” She could hardly get the words out now.
He’d always watched out for them. Even when she didn’t want him to. Even when he’d scared her,
