long.
All he could do was hope everyone would chalk it up to him not being familiar with his new body. It was a big difference from what he’d come from. His over-six-foot-tall, well-muscled Crusader had been perfect for the job of Prince’s Assassin. Tiny Anaea , at five and a half feet and just over a hundred pounds, wasn’t your standard warrior type.
Close the distance.
She inched closer, still matching Welkin’s wary circling.
Lightning danced along Welkin’s blade. He needed a physical focus to maintain his magic. He wasn’t as strong as Hunter had first thought, which meant the lightning was new. Some dragons didn’t develop earth magic until an extended period in their human body... and while this was all interesting, it could still kill them.
You’ve got to move in faster.
I am.
But he could feel her hesitation. It took a lot of courage to ignore one’s natural desire for self-preservation and throw one’s self into the path of danger.
No, rush him. Don’t give him time—
Lightning arced down the sword.
Anaea threw herself to the side, curling herself into a ball at the last minute. She rolled to her feet, sword up, and rushed at Welkin without missing a step.
Perhaps his transfusion of memories was more effective than he’d thought.
She brought her sword down in a fierce overhead swing. It was obvious. Too obvious.
Welkin blocked and rammed his hilt into Anaea’s blade, knocking it aside. Anaea clung to her sword and twisted, dodging Welkin’s thrust.
She stumbled away and renewed her guard, but had missed an opportunity to gut her opponent. Not that it would finish the fight. The only surefire way to kill a dragon was to take his head.
I’ve got to what? When were you going to tell me this?
If I had told you before you started the fight would you have stepped into the arena?
Probably not. But don’t you think there was a more appropriate time?
We can argue about it later. This is a duel to the death. It’s his or ours. And I’ll be damned if it’s ours.
Welkin jabbed at her. She parried, and lightning danced from his sword to hers, zapping her hands.
She gasped, but held onto the weapon. Welkin swung again. She parried again and he countered, more lightning crackling over her. It charred her T-shirt and seared her skin, leaving painful black welts that Hunter could feel, even disconnected from her body.
Welkin forced her back toward the arena wall. Her breath was already labored and her mostly-healed body wouldn’t last much longer with the stress and physical exertion. Hunter had to figure out how to end this, and fast.
He’s going to jab when you back into the wall. Your next two steps.
I know.
Take the thrust.
Do what?
He could sense her panic and tried to keep his voice calm. He hated taking an unnecessary injury in a fight, but in this case the end justified the means.
He’s going to play with us. He’ll jab for the gut or chest before he takes our head. Take the thrust, it won’t kill us. I heal too fast for that. And while you’ve got his blade trapped in your body, take his head.
Welkin swung again. She stumbled back. Hunter saw the gleam in the other man’s eyes.
Here it comes.
Welkin lunged. Lightning danced up his blade as it slid between her ribs. She gasped. Pain exploded through her.
Now. Do it now. He felt her struggle, the pain threatening her consciousness. Control of the body flickered between them, but she kept hold. Her force of will squeezed him back until he watched everything from the end of a long tunnel.
The fire of earth magic washed over him and ignited in Anaea’s mind. She lifted her sword and swung. It imbedded in Welkin’s neck; she didn’t have the strength to sever his spine.
Welkin howled and pulled his sword from her body. She sliced her blade down and across, severing both arteries.
Blood spewed from his neck, bathing Anaea , and he dropped to his knees. As serious as the wound was, he’d still heal. An arterial
All he could do was hope everyone would chalk it up to him not being familiar with his new body. It was a big difference from what he’d come from. His over-six-foot-tall, well-muscled Crusader had been perfect for the job of Prince’s Assassin. Tiny Anaea , at five and a half feet and just over a hundred pounds, wasn’t your standard warrior type.
Close the distance.
She inched closer, still matching Welkin’s wary circling.
Lightning danced along Welkin’s blade. He needed a physical focus to maintain his magic. He wasn’t as strong as Hunter had first thought, which meant the lightning was new. Some dragons didn’t develop earth magic until an extended period in their human body... and while this was all interesting, it could still kill them.
You’ve got to move in faster.
I am.
But he could feel her hesitation. It took a lot of courage to ignore one’s natural desire for self-preservation and throw one’s self into the path of danger.
No, rush him. Don’t give him time—
Lightning arced down the sword.
Anaea threw herself to the side, curling herself into a ball at the last minute. She rolled to her feet, sword up, and rushed at Welkin without missing a step.
Perhaps his transfusion of memories was more effective than he’d thought.
She brought her sword down in a fierce overhead swing. It was obvious. Too obvious.
Welkin blocked and rammed his hilt into Anaea’s blade, knocking it aside. Anaea clung to her sword and twisted, dodging Welkin’s thrust.
She stumbled away and renewed her guard, but had missed an opportunity to gut her opponent. Not that it would finish the fight. The only surefire way to kill a dragon was to take his head.
I’ve got to what? When were you going to tell me this?
If I had told you before you started the fight would you have stepped into the arena?
Probably not. But don’t you think there was a more appropriate time?
We can argue about it later. This is a duel to the death. It’s his or ours. And I’ll be damned if it’s ours.
Welkin jabbed at her. She parried, and lightning danced from his sword to hers, zapping her hands.
She gasped, but held onto the weapon. Welkin swung again. She parried again and he countered, more lightning crackling over her. It charred her T-shirt and seared her skin, leaving painful black welts that Hunter could feel, even disconnected from her body.
Welkin forced her back toward the arena wall. Her breath was already labored and her mostly-healed body wouldn’t last much longer with the stress and physical exertion. Hunter had to figure out how to end this, and fast.
He’s going to jab when you back into the wall. Your next two steps.
I know.
Take the thrust.
Do what?
He could sense her panic and tried to keep his voice calm. He hated taking an unnecessary injury in a fight, but in this case the end justified the means.
He’s going to play with us. He’ll jab for the gut or chest before he takes our head. Take the thrust, it won’t kill us. I heal too fast for that. And while you’ve got his blade trapped in your body, take his head.
Welkin swung again. She stumbled back. Hunter saw the gleam in the other man’s eyes.
Here it comes.
Welkin lunged. Lightning danced up his blade as it slid between her ribs. She gasped. Pain exploded through her.
Now. Do it now. He felt her struggle, the pain threatening her consciousness. Control of the body flickered between them, but she kept hold. Her force of will squeezed him back until he watched everything from the end of a long tunnel.
The fire of earth magic washed over him and ignited in Anaea’s mind. She lifted her sword and swung. It imbedded in Welkin’s neck; she didn’t have the strength to sever his spine.
Welkin howled and pulled his sword from her body. She sliced her blade down and across, severing both arteries.
Blood spewed from his neck, bathing Anaea , and he dropped to his knees. As serious as the wound was, he’d still heal. An arterial
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