It could have been any of them. It didn't matter. What did matter was the way the other dragon wheeled around him, lunging for his throat, groaning when Morgan sent another narrow spray of steam towards him. It was less showy than flame while being far easier to direct, and, in many situations, it was much deadlier.
His steam caught the dragon across the very edge of their wing, and abruptly the challenger decided they had had enough. With a deep growl that seemed to shake Morgan's very bones, the red dragon wheeled and winged off into the night sky. Morgan almost went after him, but two things hit him at once.
The first was Harper. He couldn't leave her to go off on a bloodthirsty rampage.
The second was pain.
During the exhilaration of battle, he had been able to ignore it, but now that his challenger had left the scene, he couldn't keep it up. His right wing faltered, and it was only through sheer force of will that he kept aloft. He spiraled down to the ground with desperate speed even as hot lava poured through his frame, all coming from his right shoulder. How the hell had he gotten so very high? The wind whipped past his face.
Harper. Get to Harper. That's all that matters. Get to Harper.
If he had any sense or wit left to him, he would have wondered how in the world a human woman who knew nothing of dragons could help him. On a deeper level, however, he knew that she was the only one who could.
He was already shifting as he dropped to the ground, braking as much as he could with his wings before he hit the pavement as a man. Dragon or not, the impact hurt, and the gravel dug into the bare skin of his arms as he groaned out loud.
Somehow, Morgan managed to get turned on to his back, and then he found himself looking up into Harper's lovely face, her features stark and frightened in the single parking lot light.
“Morgan! Morgan, look at me ...”
He wanted to tell her not to be afraid. He wanted to tell her that he would protect her, even with what was left of him. He would die for her. Then it occurred to him that as fucking damaged as he was, as useless as he had become, that maybe that was all he could do, and the old despair opened up inside him.
Morgan was almost grateful when the dark rose up to claim him, and he passed out at his true mate's feet.
Chapter Five
∞∞∞
Okay.
Dragons.
That was all Harper could think as she stared at Morgan, dropped at her feet after a flight and a fight that had left her breathless. If she thought about it too long, the arc of black scales, the gleam of fire, and the heat of steam, she was probably going to start hyperventilating.
And I can't do that. If I do that, what's going to happen to Morgan?
She couldn't stand to leave Morgan on the ground, one hand curled on his chest and one spread out on the asphalt, palm up as if he were asking for help. Harper knew that she needed to get him safe and to do something in case the other dragon came back, but for a moment, she couldn't resist the urge to reach down and stroke his dark hair back from his eyes.
“It's all right,” Harper found herself saying. “It's all right, I promise.”
The first indication she got that it would not be all right was when she tried to lift him. Remembering something that she had seen once in a movie, she levered him up, wrapping her arms around his chest and under his arms from behind. She managed to get him halfway up, but then her lower back spasmed, and her wrist gave a warning twinge of pain.
Harper groaned. She knew that twinge well. It meant that while she could force her arm into doing what she needed it to do, there would be a price later on. That price might just be a few hours with a heating pad and an ice pack trading off…or it might mean that her entire arm would lock up. Harper shook her head and gently put Morgan back down on the ground.
She was just wondering what in the world to do when help arrived in the form of a group of teenagers crossing the parking lot, skateboards underneath their arms. They looked justifiably nervous about the lady who was all but jumping up and down to get their attention, but they perked up when they saw Morgan collapsed on the ground.
“Did you kill a guy?”
“Did he attack you, and you knocked him out?”
“No, he's drunk, he's so drunk.”
In spite of herself, Harper laughed.
“That last one,” she said with a grin. “He had a few too many, and I want to get him home before the cops come. Can you help me, please? I'll give you some pizza money if you do.”
That cinched it. Three of the kids seized Morgan up, the fourth supervising, and while Harper bit her lip nervously, they managed to wrestle him to the car, where she opened the door for them and lowered the passenger seat. They deposited him in the seat with a thump, and though no one could say that they were gentle about it, Morgan looked no worse for the wear.
Harper handed over a twenty, and the oldest one gave her a wise and solemn look.
“Don't let him do this all the time,” she said. “He needs to respect himself and you.”
“I…will keep that in mind,” Harper said. It was good advice, and she managed to keep her giggles to herself until she was in the car.
“Oh my god…he's a dragon.”
It was beginning to set in. She was surprised that she was taking it so well. He was a dragon. It was a thing. Now she had
