them
both.
Through gritted teeth, Stig gave his final instructions.
“Find your cell phone and call nine-one-one. After you
make the call, you can help me into those bushes over
there. I’ll hide until the ambulance leaves.”
Cora shook her head. “I’m not going to leave you here
to die.”
“You have to, Cora. I can’t go to a hospital looking like
this.”
“No.” She gripped his hand tightly and refused to let go.
“I’m not leaving you again.” Cora pressed her lips to his
in a passionate kiss. “I love you.”
Her words soothed the still-raw wound of her earlier
rejection. He’d seen the orientation of the vehicles. Cora
had been coming back to him. He couldn’t fault her for
being afraid of changing into a scaled beast. Had he been
in her shoes, he might have done the same thing.
“Cora, I love you.” He swallowed a painful lump. He
tasted blood and wondered how long it would take for the
internal bleeding to finish him. “I love you so much. I want
you to live.”
Her protest was interrupted by the unmistakable rumble
of approaching dragons. Stig’s core vibrated with
awareness of his kind, of his Brothers. Relief saturated his
weary muscles. He’d come to their aid in situations hairier
than this. Their shared senses of danger were much like
those of the mate bond. He should have known they’d
come for him.
The ground trembled as Madoc and Griff landed with
very little finesse. In such a stressful situation, Stig wasn’t
surprised they came in heavy and loud. The Welsh Reds
panted noisily as they appraised the scene, the crimson
scales on their chests expanding powerfully with each
breath. In dragon form, it was often difficult to gauge their
emotions, but when their gazes fell on Stig and Cora’s
entwined bodies, the shock was evident.
Stig could only imagine how bizarre they looked. Cora,
his mortal lover, held pressure on his orange and red
mottled abdomen—his decidedly not dragonlike abdomen.
Cora stiffened with fear. Stig used the last of his energy
to take her hand and give it a reassuring squeeze. “It’s all
right, Cora. They’re friends. They’ll take care of us.”
Certain Cora was in good hands, Stig finally relaxed.
His eyelids drooped and he slipped into unconsciousness.
He hoped he’d wake again to the sight of Cora’s sweet
face.
Chapter Seven
Cora woke with a start. Her strained neck immediately
protested the jerky movement. Wincing, she rubbed her
aching muscles and glanced toward the open bedroom
door for the source of the sound that woke her. There was
an ungodly ruckus down in the kitchen. Apparently Griff or
Madoc were trying to make lunch. Trying being the
operative word.
She stretched her sore back and sat up a bit straighter.
Falling asleep in the chair next to Stig’s bed had put her
back and neck in a weird position. She gingerly moved her
leg, the cast still heavy and unfamiliar. Her broken arm
rested in a sling.
It had been four days since that nightmare of a night but
she seemed to be healing surprisingly fast. The perks of
becoming a dragon, she supposed. There was little pain,
only infrequent bouts of throbbing when she moved too
quickly or bumped into something.
Madoc and Griff, the shockingly red dragons who had
come to their rescue, had taken very good care of them.
They’d been whisked away to the closest Brotherhood
safe house where a very scary, very intimidating dragon
named Ignatius, their leader, saw to their medical care.
She’d been so weak and in so much pain those first few
hours were mostly a blur. She remembered snippets.
Madoc starting an IV in her good arm. Griff steadying her
as Ignatius worked to straighten her leg. The prickling heat
of their dragon magic enhancing the human-made
pharmaceuticals.
Cora had slipped into a deep sleep at some point and
had woken up late the next afternoon. Stig still remained in
an almost comatose state. All that regeneration to
both.
Through gritted teeth, Stig gave his final instructions.
“Find your cell phone and call nine-one-one. After you
make the call, you can help me into those bushes over
there. I’ll hide until the ambulance leaves.”
Cora shook her head. “I’m not going to leave you here
to die.”
“You have to, Cora. I can’t go to a hospital looking like
this.”
“No.” She gripped his hand tightly and refused to let go.
“I’m not leaving you again.” Cora pressed her lips to his
in a passionate kiss. “I love you.”
Her words soothed the still-raw wound of her earlier
rejection. He’d seen the orientation of the vehicles. Cora
had been coming back to him. He couldn’t fault her for
being afraid of changing into a scaled beast. Had he been
in her shoes, he might have done the same thing.
“Cora, I love you.” He swallowed a painful lump. He
tasted blood and wondered how long it would take for the
internal bleeding to finish him. “I love you so much. I want
you to live.”
Her protest was interrupted by the unmistakable rumble
of approaching dragons. Stig’s core vibrated with
awareness of his kind, of his Brothers. Relief saturated his
weary muscles. He’d come to their aid in situations hairier
than this. Their shared senses of danger were much like
those of the mate bond. He should have known they’d
come for him.
The ground trembled as Madoc and Griff landed with
very little finesse. In such a stressful situation, Stig wasn’t
surprised they came in heavy and loud. The Welsh Reds
panted noisily as they appraised the scene, the crimson
scales on their chests expanding powerfully with each
breath. In dragon form, it was often difficult to gauge their
emotions, but when their gazes fell on Stig and Cora’s
entwined bodies, the shock was evident.
Stig could only imagine how bizarre they looked. Cora,
his mortal lover, held pressure on his orange and red
mottled abdomen—his decidedly not dragonlike abdomen.
Cora stiffened with fear. Stig used the last of his energy
to take her hand and give it a reassuring squeeze. “It’s all
right, Cora. They’re friends. They’ll take care of us.”
Certain Cora was in good hands, Stig finally relaxed.
His eyelids drooped and he slipped into unconsciousness.
He hoped he’d wake again to the sight of Cora’s sweet
face.
Chapter Seven
Cora woke with a start. Her strained neck immediately
protested the jerky movement. Wincing, she rubbed her
aching muscles and glanced toward the open bedroom
door for the source of the sound that woke her. There was
an ungodly ruckus down in the kitchen. Apparently Griff or
Madoc were trying to make lunch. Trying being the
operative word.
She stretched her sore back and sat up a bit straighter.
Falling asleep in the chair next to Stig’s bed had put her
back and neck in a weird position. She gingerly moved her
leg, the cast still heavy and unfamiliar. Her broken arm
rested in a sling.
It had been four days since that nightmare of a night but
she seemed to be healing surprisingly fast. The perks of
becoming a dragon, she supposed. There was little pain,
only infrequent bouts of throbbing when she moved too
quickly or bumped into something.
Madoc and Griff, the shockingly red dragons who had
come to their rescue, had taken very good care of them.
They’d been whisked away to the closest Brotherhood
safe house where a very scary, very intimidating dragon
named Ignatius, their leader, saw to their medical care.
She’d been so weak and in so much pain those first few
hours were mostly a blur. She remembered snippets.
Madoc starting an IV in her good arm. Griff steadying her
as Ignatius worked to straighten her leg. The prickling heat
of their dragon magic enhancing the human-made
pharmaceuticals.
Cora had slipped into a deep sleep at some point and
had woken up late the next afternoon. Stig still remained in
an almost comatose state. All that regeneration to
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