Page 166 of Red Marked

I run, and I throw myself into the shift. Silver breaks out along Star’s arms. My claws hit the stone.

We’re both too late.

He slams into her, and she goes over backward. I wait for the crunch.

It doesn’t come. He plants a forefoot on either side of her and stands over her with his wings spread, the way he stood over that carcass on the gravel. His head comes around to me. His lips draw all the way back.

I take one stride.

He drops his jaws over her throat.

“Flint, stop!” Star begs me. Her eyes stay on him. “Stand back. Stay where you are.”

I lock all four legs.

Fuuuuuck!

She’s flat on her back between his feet. The silver is fading from her arms. She’s pulling her dragon back in with his teeth inches from her neck, and his spit is dripping onto her collarbone.

Shit! Fuck!

Everything in me screams to attack, but she’s dead if I so much as move an inch.

A growl builds in my chest, but I lock it down.

“Quiet, please, Flint,” she says, still not looking at me. Then her voice changes. It goes soft and slow. “It’s all right, Holt. It’s me. It’s Star. Nobody is going to hurt you.”

His rumbling doesn’t let up.

“We were talking about how you took your coffee. Something else I remember about you is how you loved my chocolate cake. I wouldn’t tell you my secret ingredient. Do you remember that?”

He sniffs at her.

“That’s right. It’s me…it’s Star. You know me from your life before. I’ll tell you the secret ingredient to that cake once we’re back home. I’m going to get you home, Holt.”

He cocks his head. It looks like he’s thinking. Please let him be thinking. Please let him be the right fucking Holt.

“Do you remember those stupid syringes I ordered? It was my second month. You told me to order four hundred, and I ordered four thousand. They delivered them on a Friday afternoon, and the only place with room for the boxes was your office. You had to climb over them to get to your desk.” She giggles. “You said you were going to take the cost of them out of my salary, one box at a time.” Her laugh shakes. “You never did.”

One of his ears turns toward her.

The rumble stutters. He lowers his snout into the curve of her neck and breathes her in. Her eyes close. Her hands are lying open on the stone on either side of her head, and she keeps them there.

He sniffs again. A shudder runs through him from his horns to the tip of his tail. Then the growl comes back, deeper than before, and his teeth touch her skin.

He’s going to kill her. Fuck!

It would take me three seconds to reach him. He needs less than one. My claws cut grooves into the stone. I want his throat between my teeth. I want to pull him off her in pieces.

What the fuck was she thinking?

“Please, Holt,” she whispers. “Don’t you want to go home?”

He quiets.

The copper drains out of him. His wings fold and shrink, his neck shortens, and then there’s a male on his hands and knees over her. His hair hangs down around him in ropes. His beard is matted and reaches his chest. He’s covered in scars, and on his left shoulder is the white mark.

He scrambles backward off her and crouches on his heels, panting.