Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 54811 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54811 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
It takes every ounce of self-discipline I have not to retreat.
Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. Is this happening? Or am I about to die because my instincts aren’t as stellar as I think they are and this isn’t my dragon? Kind of wish I had General Melgren’s signet—the ability to see the outcome of any battle—but I’m going to have to go on instinct here.
His low rumble rattles my sword in its scabbard, and I remind myself to breathe. Dying of hypoxia would be ridiculously embarrassing given all the other respectable forms of demise going around out here today.
Wait. I’m not supposed to look him in the eyes, right?
No. That’s reds. No…greens, too. I drop my gaze to his claws. Shit. It’s something about supplication and waiting for approval.
Godsdamn it. Violet would know the answer. No amount of stress would ever diminish the billions of facts that girl keeps in her head. She has an endearingly weird habit of spouting off information to keep herself calm in situations where she’d be better off backing down for her own safety.
Backing down. I inhale sharply. That’s it.
Never back down from a green. That’s what Kaori lectured.
I have to stand my ground, no matter what. It sounded infinitely easier while sitting in a classroom, pondering the more reasonable nature of greens. Nothing about the sharp teeth of the creature in front of me feels reasonable because he’s still a fucking dragon. Maybe he considers it reasonable to snack on me for calories instead of simply setting me on fire and wandering away. What exactly defines “reasonable” anyway?
My hands curl into fists at my sides to keep from flinching as the green huffs a sulfur-scented breath, surrounding me with steam. At least it isn’t fire. That has to be a good sign. Was Brennan this scared when he found Marbh? Did Mom’s knees tremble when Aimsir appeared?
I highly doubt it.
Teine opens his jaws wider than I am tall, and my breath stutters. Then he lets out an ear-piercing roar that blows back my hair and shakes my very bones.
Don’t move. Don’t you dare fucking move. My nails dig into my palms, but I keep my feet planted, even as my heart tries its best to beat out of my chest like it can escape.
His head lunges forward and teeth snap shut a few feet away, as if I need the reminder that he could decapitate me for fun, but I hold my ground.
He withdraws his head just far enough to tilt it downward. Golden eyes narrow on me in flagrant assessment. I raise my gaze to his, which is either the best or worst decision I could make. Guess time will tell. If he’s going to kill me, then at least I’ll see it coming.
“You hide your fear well.” His voice is deep, commanding, and my heart stutters.
Oh gods. Dragons only speak to the riders they choose.
“If that were true, you wouldn’t know I’m afraid,” I counter, letting my mouth overrun my common sense. Kaori would definitely mark me down a few points if he could see me directly disobeying the most fundamental rule that riders should never speak to dragons they aren’t bonded to.
“Don’t be absurd. I know everything about you, Mira Sorrengail.” His body sways, and he swings his massive clubtail to the left. His tail collides with the trunk of a thick tree, and wood splinters, then cracks, the sound splitting the thick air.
Snap. The tree groans as it plummets through the foliage, stripping branches along the way as it crashes toward the ground. I spare a single glance to be sure the tree’s trajectory is clear of my current position, but the rest of me keeps completely still. If my heart beats any faster, it’s going to take flight long before I do.
“Everything except the point at which you fracture,” Teine says a breath before the tree smashes into the ground, the nearest branch making impact close enough that I feel a breeze along my cheek.
“There is no such point.” I fight to regulate my breathing. Dad would scoff at me if I praise Hedeon for granting me the wisdom not to move, so I send a quick prayer of thanks up to Zihnal that the tree didn’t bury me where I stand.
“We shall see about that.” Teine reaches forward with a claw, one of his talons scraping away the top layer of dead leaves inches from my boot without disturbing the soil beneath. The precision is far more frightening than his teeth. “I have not bonded previously because I refuse to bear a rider who breaks under pressure.”
He reaches forward with a single talon, then lowers it to the center of my left thigh. Leather gives way, and I cease breathing and hold his narrowed gaze as the first rush of pain floods my bloodstream. Fire charges up my leg, and I feel my skin split, but I refuse to look away from Teine’s eyes.