Gian barely resisted the urge to crush the cell phone in his fist. Biagio. Had to be. The man was once again threatening his mate.

He roared in anger, causing two of his men to rush into the room, guns drawn.

“Get everyone to Don Todaro’s. Biagio is threatening Domenica,” he ordered. “Call the men onsite.”

The men nodded and scurried out.

Fire raged through his blood, and it took every bit of his self-control to resist changing into a dragon until he exited the house. Then, in a rush of rage and heat and fear, he shifted.

His dragon roared to life as scales pushed from his skin. Long teeth forced their way out of his jaw. And finally, wings punched out of his back.

Flying as a dragon was supposed to take awhile to learn. He’d been cautioned against trying until someone could be spared to train him. But he didn’t have the time.

Gian flung himself into the air with every bit of strength he could muster—and as a dragon, he could muster a hell of a lot of strength. Just the leap took him well above the nearby houses. And then he spread his wings.

The flight wasn’t pretty. In fact, Gian would bet it was as ugly a flight as anyone had ever taken. But with pure force of will and the occasional leap from a rooftop, he got to Don Todaro’s in record time.

At least ten stories up, his dragon vision—much better than his human vision—took in the scene below him. Several of Don Todaro’s men fought each other. No doubt those loyal to the Don versus those loyal to Biagio. But he didn’t give a fuck about them. His eyes scanned for her. For Domenica. For his mate.

And then he saw her.

On the ground, she huddled against an attacker. Curled into a ball, she wasn’t moving.

Shock and fear arced through him, and he screamed with rage. His mate was hurt. Could be dead.

It was his worst nightmare.

What the hell would he do if she died? He couldn’t live without her—not now, not after experiencing the sweet bliss of having her in his arms, by his side. She was his life, his home, his love. His very soul.

No matter what, Biagio wasn’t living through the hour.

With little regard to how he would pull off the landing, he dove. Biagio saw him coming and tried to run.

The bastard didn’t get far.

Gian grabbed him and his claws held on tightly as he crashed into the ground, dragging Biagio along with him. Even through the toughness of his dragon scales, he could feel every inch of the asphalt scraping against him. But it would be worse for Biagio.

He tore into the man, even as Biagio desperately emptied his magazine into Gian’s flesh. From the corner of his eye, Gian could see that Domenica wasn’t moving. She was still curled into a tight little ball.

The small part of his mind that wanted to extend this, wanted to make sure that Biagio suffered, was overrun by the fear and rage of what Biagio had done to his mate.

He had to end it. Had to make sure she was safe. Make sure she was okay.

He clawed at Biagio, biting at the man. Biagio continued to shoot. Then, he got a good grip. Beneath his claws and teeth, bones crunched.

Biagio stopped fighting.

* * *

Domenica peeled her eyes open. She was groggy, as if she’d been knocked unconscious, but her body was still tensely wrapped around her unborn child. Had she been knocked out? She didn’t think so. Stunned, certainly.

Another loud roar and she opened her eyes fully, coming up to her knees carefully. She didn’t want to risk passing out. Not here. Not surrounded by her enemies.

She looked up and met serpentine eyes.

“Gian,” she breathed.

God, the man was majestic as a dragon. His bronze scales glittered in the sunlight. While his dark eyes absorbed all the light around them. Blood dripped from his fangs and coated his claws.

And Biagio was nowhere to be seen.

Upon seeing her move, Gian let out a triumphant call. Then he turned, going after Biagio’s men who remained. There weren’t many that she could see, and those remaining fled at the sight of the angry dragon.

Moments later, the air around Gian shimmered, and his human body re-formed. Then the man—the very naked, sexy man—stood where the dragon had been. Without hesitating, Gian strode to her side.

“Are you all right?” He stroked her cheek, softly, as if he were afraid she might disappear. For once, his emotion was plain to see in his expression. And if she wasn’t mistaken, she would have sworn his cheeks had been streaked with tears.

Moving of its own accord, her hand slid to touch her belly. Her face hurt, and she was certain that the rest of her body would be covered soon by mottled bruises. But she’d guarded her unborn child well.

“I’m okay,” she murmured. “Is Biagio…”

He nodded grimly. “He left me no choice. And I don’t give a fuck what the political fallout might be.”

Relief washed over her and she nodded. “We’ll deal with it. Whatever it is. Together.”

He took her hand in his and pressed a soft kiss against her palm. “Always.”