Page 84

“Your pathetic morality shackles your soul,” Dracoth’s voice grinds through the air, a cold, relentless truth.

“The sun cannot cease to shine. It cannot cease to burn. Embrace your inner-self.” He halts like a living mountain, placing a hand on my chest, his crimson eyes burning with intensity.

“As Arawnoth wills,” he adds, igniting the scorched runes on my chest.

The heat of the marks pulse—once, twice—then flares, spreading through my veins like molten iron. The cold, the fear, the voice in my head telling me to retreat... all of it fades, burned away by a newfound certainty, a truth I’ve tried to ignore.

Dracoth is right.

I straighten, squaring my shoulders as my gaze locks onto his misty red eyes.

Through the bond, I sense not just his pride but something deeper—a fierce, unspoken acceptance.

Then it finally clicks like a puzzle piece sliding into place.

Dracoth accepts me for who I really am. He doesn’t want to change me.

I don’t have to pretend to be something I’m not.

It feels like a massive weight lifting from my shoulders, one I’ve always carried but long forgotten was there.

“Let’s go,” I say, my voice steady, the fire of Arawnoth searing through my chest and igniting my soul.

“Good,” Dracoth nods slowly, satisfaction rippling through our bond. His pleasure is subtle, but I can feel it, a flicker of approval in the storm of his fury. Without another word, he kneels, the frost beneath him crunching as he gestures for me to climb on his back.

I grin, a surge of adrenaline mixing with the growing heat inside me.

“Yes! I get to be the big spoon,” I tease, scrambling onto his massive back. But he’s so ridiculously large that I barely get my arms halfway around him. “More like a very tiny backpack,” I mutter with a grimace.

“Hold here.” His massive hand, calloused and warm, guides mine to the metal latches of his armor. Despite the warmth radiating from his body, the cold bite of the sleek metal burns against my fingertips like ice.

He stands up abruptly, jarring my head and making me grunt as I feel like a desperate groupie clinging to a runaway tour bus.

I hear him thudding towards the cliff edge, the howling wind blowing against me, trying to dislodge me. But I hold firm with my numb fingers, unable to see anything other than Dracoth’s back armor. Probably a good thing, because my bravery is fading quicker than my exes in bed.

“Don’t drop me,” I mutter, more a prayer than a command, my pulse pounding in my ears, heart threatening to escape from my chest.

“Hold tight. I will descend quickly,” Dracoth replies, sounding distracted. His feet scuff the snow, the howling wind like a warning siren I should’ve listened to.

Still my fingers and legs tighten around him, careful not to squish poor Todd, who, remarkably, is curled up and snoring through all this.

I’m actually jealous of my pet bug.

I pry open an eye and see I’m dangling over the terrifying edge—nothing but swirling mist and trees awaiting below.

“Ahhh!” The scream tears through my lungs.

Dracoth must take my scream as his signal to drop. Without hesitation, he steps backward off the edge like a suicidal maniac—and I’m the idiot attached to him.

We plunge like the dumbest stones in history, the wind tearing through my clothes and roaring in my ears as my stomach twists violently, threatening to hurl itself out of my mouth.

This is it—I’m going to die!

With a deep, guttural grunt, Dracoth thrusts his huge claws into the sleek, icy rock face.

The sudden, brutal stop jerks me like a crash test dummy.

My face slams painfully into the cold metal of his back armor, and my grip falters, heart skipping wildly.

Only the desperate cling of my legs, wrapped around his belted waist, keeps me from tumbling into the abyss.

A deafening screech fills the air as sparks fly from the point of impact, raining down from above, and for the briefest moment, we hang there—suspended, claws embedded in the cliffside.

My throat is raw from unwittingly screaming a stream of dark obscenities, and I gulp down lungfuls of freezing air.

I glance downward, my breath hitching—there’s still so much further to fall.

I don’t know if I can take any more of this. My eyes dart over the cliff, searching desperately for something, anything, to get me out of this mess, but there’s nothing. I’m trapped, clinging to Dracoth, with nowhere to go but down.

“Dracoth...” I squeak, my frightened voice almost lost in the roaring wind. “How about we go slow—”

Before I can finish, a scream rips from my throat as Dracoth retracts his claws and we plunge again.

“You asshole!” I shriek, my words lost to the storm around us as the frozen obsidian rock blurs past in a dizzying rush. My arms and legs squeeze tighter around my falling tormentor like I’m riding a mechanical bull from hell, fighting not to be thrown off.

Just when I’m certain my numb fingers will give out, Dracoth slams his long claws screeching and flashing against the frozen obsidian stone.

The violent whiplash shakes my entire body, bones jarring painfully as we come to another brutal halt.

We dangle there, like leaves clinging to a branch in a storm, swaying precariously against the icy wall.

For a moment, all I can hear is the pounding of my heart and the deafening wind. Meanwhile, Dracoth looks as fresh as a daisy—or more like freshly squeezed cranberry juice—calm, no sweat, no heavy breathing, not even a flicker of concern through our bond.

I gasp, noticing the frozen enormous leaves and branches now at eye level. Feeling brave, I dare to look down, spotting patches of crimson-orange grass dusted in frost far below. One more drop, just one more, and I’m free. Relief washes over me like a warm shower. I might actually survive this.

Dracoth casts glances to either side, his gaze drawn upward to the skies.

I make the mistake of following his eyes—something dark flutters there, disappearing into the purple-tinted clouds.

A chill runs down my spine, and suddenly I feel very exposed, dangling off this cliff with my backside sticking out like sexy monster chow.

“Uh, what the hell was that?” I ask, looking at the back of Dracoth’s head, hoping for answers.

“Arrohawk,” Thankfully, in typical Dracoth fashion, he doesn’t seem concerned, giving me a sense of relief. “Perhaps,” he adds, sounding oddly uncertain.

Wonderful, the very monsters that farmer Celutok warned us about.

“Right,” I say, urgency threading through my voice. “Let’s hurry this up.” My arms tighten around him, bracing myself for what’s sure to be the final plunge into madness.

With a grating screech, Dracoth’s claws retract from the cliff, and we fall again—like a red boulder hurtling through a vortex of icy wind and jagged rock.

The world spins in a stomach-twisting blur of purple clouds and frosted trees.

It’s all I can do to press myself as close to Dracoth as possible, while the fierce fall tries to pry us apart.

Just before my grip loosens and giant mutant turtle meat threatens to spew forth, Dracoth digs his claws into the icy, jagged obsidian rock face, once again. The shower of sparks rains down upon me as I’m snapped like a cracked whip with such force my arms are almost wrenched from my shoulders.

I grunt, smacking against his back like a forgotten banana stuffed into the bottom of a backpack.

Before I can catch my breath, he kicks off from the cliff again, my heart leaping in sheer panic. But this time, in an instant, his feet touch solid ground—real, actual ground!

“You can let go,” he growls, his tone gruff as he turns away from the cliff.

“Just a bit longer,” I whisper, my limbs shaking, still struggling to regain any composure. He doesn’t wait, stomping off into the frosty woods like the not-so-jolly-red-giant with me clinging to him as if I’m a beautiful kindergarten backpack.

It’s his own fault, really—being so toasty and warm.

As we move deeper into the forest, the crystalline trees tower over us like the skyscrapers back in New York, their immense trunks coated in thick layers of shimmering frost. The entire woods feels like an ethereal, frozen wonderland, the purple light filtering through the branches casting an almost otherworldly glow.

The wind whistles through the frozen boughs, filling the air with crackling sounds like glass breaking, while tiny flecks of ice rain down in glittering showers.

Even the ground beneath us crunches like brittle bones underfoot.

It’s beautiful. Well, it would be if not for the distant baying of hungry animals echoing across the frozen reddish landscape, filled with a familiar yet alien primal desperation stirring some ancient fear buried deep within the recesses of my mind.

I squeeze Dracoth tighter, needing his warmth, his strength.

The flap of wings cuts through the crisp air, accompanied by low, guttural croaks that reverberate through the icy forest. It’s as though the whole place is alive with hidden predators, lurking within the frozen underbrush, watching, waiting.

“This entire planet is far too dangerous for someone like me,” I admit, casting nervous glances around, half expecting a Tyrannosaurus rex to come crashing through the trees at any moment.

“ Krogoth’s female survived alone,” Dracoth says, spitting the first word with disdain. “She won much honor by completing the Proving.” His massive clown feet crunch through frozen leaves that are as wide as cars underfoot.

“Is she a human?” I ask, incredulous, glancing skyward. Above us, the huge purple sun and moon glare down, giving me the stink eye.

Great. Even celestial objects don’t want me here.

“Yes,” he nods, a trace of reluctant respect in his voice. “The first and only.”

Ugh , she’s probably some butch commando type—Carmen on steroids, with an ugly face, a short buzz cut, wearing jack boots, and manly muscles bulging from her square frame.

“So... this Proving,” I say, curious now. “Do you think I could do it?”

“No.” Dracoth’s answer is immediate, flat, stinging like a slap across the face.

“There’s no need to sugarcoat it,” I reply, my tone dripping with sarcasm. Still, his shitty opinion of me smarts like shampoo in the eye. “Why not? I mean, if she could do it, there must be a way, right?”

Dracoth falls silent, stomping through the lighter foliaged areas, avoiding the denser frozen shrubs and bushes, his gaze constantly surveying the surrounding area.

“To survive the wilds from Draxru village to Sunaisor challenges even the trained youth of my kind. And she achieved this while hunted by Magaxus Prospects.”

“No way!” I blurt out, grimacing. “With guys like you chasing her through this?” I gesture around his back to the glittering frost-covered trees, and the distant howling predators. “There’s no way—she must have cheated.”

“There is none like me,” Dracoth rumbles, the sound vibrating through me. “I am Arawnoth’s chosen, the greatest of my kind.” His head lifts with pride, his massive form warming with self-assurance.

Touchy!

Still, a ripple of admiration floods through me as I clutch him tighter. I do enjoy a man with ambition, and he’s right—we are special. Arawnoth blesses us. His mark pulses on my chest, fueling my heart with life.

“You are special, Dracoth.” I strain to whisper close to his long-pointed ear. “Together, we’ll rise to the top.” I smirk, joy blossoming within me.

Dracoth peers over his shoulder, a fierce gleam in his flashing crimson eyes. “Good, Princesa, you embrace your nature,” he says, with a super rare, almost imperceptible smile curling his lip.

“My name’s Lexie,” I remind him absently for the hundredth time, feeling the joy of our shared ambition swell inside me. Yeah, we’ll be like Bonnie and Clyde... well, without the whole tragedy part.

Then it hits me. “I know !” I exclaim, excitement bubbling over. “She must have used her bond power to beat the Proving! Like the ones we have?” I slap my hand against his armored back. “Yeah, it makes sense. How else could she have survived?”

Dracoth grunts. “Possible,” though he doesn’t sound entirely convinced.

Undeterred, I press on. “If I can learn to use my power, then I could do the Proving—or anything else.” Not to mention I wouldn’t be just a useless, albeit sexy, fashion accessory for him anymore.

Easier said than done, though .

When my powers worked, I almost froze to death, or the other time I was screaming obscenities at Dracoth.

Maybe…

“Ahem,” I clear my throat. “I hate you, Dracoth... you... bastard!” My voice echoes, but it sounds hollow, the mild winds carrying it away, scattering it among the glittering ice crystals falling from the towering trees.

“More human female madness?” Dracoth asks sternly, his claws cutting through thick, frozen brush barring our path.

“No,” I frown, choosing to ignore his rude prick-ness, feeling through our bond the fires somehow dimmed, lacking the raw intensity from the last time I managed to channel my powers.

I let out a frustrated sigh. “I was trying to awaken our powers.”

Dracoth doesn’t answer immediately, his focus on the trail ahead. “Wait,” I ask, curiosity creeping in, “what were you doing the first time? Just before you found me?”

His gaze sweeps the skyline, no rush to answer, as if savoring the memory. “Sneachir—we battled deep beneath the permafrost,” he says, a hint of pride lacing his voice.

Sneachir? What the hell is that?

Knowing him, it’s probably Godzilla’s big brother. Although his answer makes sense, maybe confirming my suspicions.

“And when you fought this... Sneachir, did you almost die?” I ask, excitement bubbling up.

“No,” Dracoth grunts, the vibrations traveling through me. “None can match me,” he snarls, his voice full of unshakable certainty.

“Really?” I shoot back, unable to resist. “I remember you looking like a bruised red apple not too long ago.” He doesn’t respond, and a pang of disappointment flickers inside me. So much for my theory.

What could it be, then?

The second time my powers worked, I was just fuming with rage—some kind of need is the key?

Suddenly, Dracoth halts, jerking me from my thoughts. My eyes snap to attention with annoyance, scanning the frozen trees swaying, the twinkling fluttering ice crystals dancing like glass ballerinas.

“Draxxus hunter,” he mutters, nodding toward the trees ahead. I squint through the icy branches, seeing nothing out of the ordinary. Still, there’s something in his voice—a cold edge that tightens my chest with unease.

“Get off and stay close,” he orders, his massive form already sinking down, kneeling onto the frost-covered red grass.

Draxxus? Great! They’re the bad guys, right?