Page 17

We start walking deeper into the forest. After a few moments, she says, “Do you worship the demon gods?”

I grunt. “My mother raised us to believe in them. Secretly, of course, since my father would not have approved of heathen practices from the Underworld. He taught us to worship one god, the human one.”

She’s quiet for a moment, her gaze downcast. Her boots pad over the moss. “Whenever you talk about your father, you sound…”

“Angry?”

“No. Sad.”

“You weren’t supposed to notice.” It sounds joking enough when I say it, but I can’t deny the ache lodged deep in my ribs like an old wound. “I bury my emotions deep for good reason.”

“What reason?”

“Survival.”

She lets out her breath in a sigh. “I understand.”

I believe her in the marrow of my bones. Life isn’t easy for a dragon shifter, especially not one hunted by the crown. She lost her mother to dragonslayers when she was only sixteen.

“Wait,” she says. “Look.”

She drops into a crouch and traces her fingers over the ground where the cloven hoof of a deer has pocked the dirt.

I rub the dirt, noting how it’s still wet, and my fingertips glance against hers. It’s nothing more than a slight touch, but it’s enough to bring my skin to life. When she meets my gaze, I’m lost in the blue of her eyes.

I’m obsessed with her.

“Who wants to take down this prey?” she asks.

I want to indulge myself by watching her. “Show me how you hunt.”

Her eyes flicker from blue to gold. She walks away from me, putting some distance between us, before she transforms into a dragon. Her shift takes my breath away. It does every damn time.

Stretching, she arches her spine like a cat, then lunges into the air and flies over the forest. Dragons hunt by sight. I follow on the ground, slipping between the shadows, careful not to spook her prey.

There.

A buck stands between the trees. He still hasn’t shed his antlers this spring. He nibbles at the new growth of leaves, unaware that he’s being hunted.

I drop to my knees and keep my breathing quiet. I have a crossbow on my back, part of my regular gear, but I’m not going to steal Pyrah’s kill. She’s nowhere to be seen, not even as a hint of crimson in the sky.

Where did she go? Maybe she’s hiding behind the clouds.

Wind rushes through the forest. The buck lifts his head, his ears alert, but the noise of rustling leaves disguises any other sounds.

Death plummets from above.

The red dragon dives from the heavens. Like a bird of prey, she leads with her talons. Startled, the buck bursts into motion. He springs high into the air and twists away from the dragon.

Too late.

Her talons strike his back and knock him to the ground. Biting his neck, she severs his spine with brutal efficiency. A successful hunt. She flares her wings and shadows her kill from the sky. Perhaps she has an instinct to hide it from other dragons.

The last of the dying sunlight glows behind her outstretched wings. Magnificent.

Pyrah licks the blood from her teeth. “Are you hungry?”

“I am.”

That’s not the whole truth. Food is never enough to sustain me. The demon in me battles with my humanity, urging me to devour her lust again.

“Time to cook the venison,” I say to distract myself from my primitive urges.

"I'm not much of a cook."

"Allow me."

We work together in companionable silence, needing no words to communicate. Pyrah brings me wood while I build the campfire. I place a flat stone near the edge. I take out my fire steel on habit, then smile to myself when I remember dragonfire is faster.

“Pyrah, I want you to light the fire."

She brings her mouth close to the stacked wood and breathes out a jet of flame. The wood ignites at once. It will burn down to coals while I prepare the meat for cooking.

Pyrah relinquishes her kill to me, then watches with fascination as I harvest the best cuts of venison. I’m no butcher, but I have hunted enough over the years. Once the meat is ready, I sprinkle water onto the flat stone. It hisses into steam. That’s the right temperature.

“Cooking on a rock?” she asks.

“Yes.”

“I’m impressed.”

I arch an eyebrow. “Don’t be impressed until you eat it.”

I sear the venison on the stone, flipping it with my knife, until it’s tender. The smell makes my mouth water. I nudge it away from the heat with my blade. I want to give it enough time to rest in its juices.

“Let me feed you,” I tell her.

She shifts back into a woman. Kneeling, she glances at me through her tumbling red hair. Firelight flickers over her naked skin. She could be down on her knees for a much better reason.

Her mouth could be tasting my cock.

I drag my mind out of the gutter. She needs to eat. I can’t devour her while she’s starving. That would be dangerous. But fuck, I wish my cock could understand that. It’s already getting hard. She licks her pretty lips, which makes this so much worse.

I slice the venison with my blade and offer it to her. She takes it from me with her teeth. My thumb lingers against her bottom lip. Fuck, her mouth is soft. It’s impossible not to imagine it sucking me. When she lets out a moan of satisfaction, my cock strains against the leather of my trousers.

Her eyes close as she savors the taste of the venison. “This is delicious. I want you to cook for me every night.”

Devouring her once today wasn’t enough.

I’m nowhere near satisfied.