ZOHR

She is frightened of me. Through the haze, I can feel her terror. I cannot stop, though. My wings are useless, so I push through the narrow crevices and debris-filled streets of the abandoned human hive. There is metal everywhere, the stink of it in my nose, and the more familiar scent of char. There is blood, too, and that scent makes me lose what little control I have. It does not matter that it is my own.

It only matters that I destroy whoever gets in my path, whoever thinks to take her from me.

My Emma. They will never, ever touch her again.

So even though my body is screaming with pain and I cannot think straight, I push on. Through the darkness. Through the maze of strange square structures. Through the pain. Through everything. If I stop, they will take Emma from me. They will hurt her.

Just the thought makes me start to growl with anger, makes my mind blister with rage.

No one will harm my mate.

No. One.

On I go, pushing through the agony. I do not care that the scents of the known enemies are fading; there are new, unfamiliar scents. I do not care that the night gives way to the dawn. I do not care that Emma shivers and reeks of fear. I am saving her. I am protecting.

This is what I am made to do. I am her mate. It is my duty to protect her above all others. Protect the lifebearers. Protect the mother of my young. 

Protect. 

Protect. 

Protect.

Protect Emma.

Protect Zohr.

No, that is not correct. I do not need protecting. I am the one who must protect. Confused, I pause in my relentless steps, and as I do, I realize that I am exhausted. The rage stirs in the back of my mind, pushing me onward, and I move forward again. Must get Emma away from the others. Must protect.

Protect.

Protect Zohr. The confusing thought sinks in again.

Zohr.

Zohr. Zohr. Zohr.

My name. It is my name. 

Why is it my name?

A hand touches my scales, squeezing. Zohr.

My name again. But not my hand. In the swirling madness, I look down.

It is my mate. My Emma. My human female. I carry her in my claws, pressed against my blood-spattered scales. She gazes up at me, reeking of fear, her face stark and colorless. “Zohr. Come back to me. Zohr.”

It is my name in her thoughts I am hearing. 

“You have to change,” she tells me.

Her words make no sense. I have to change? Change what? I grow angry that she makes no sense, and snarl at the world around me. Does she not realize I am protecting her? That I want nothing more than her safety? That I am saving her?

Why is she making strange demands?

I ignore her. I will soothe her frustrations later, when we are safe. For now, I must continue to get us away from those humans with fire-spitters. They cannot hurt me, but her…she is vulnerable. I think of the Salorian and the way his thoughts pressed on my mind. I do not remember much about them, but I remember…they are bad. He is bad. Touching my thoughts to his is a mistake. It feels…familiar. Almost forbidden. Like I am supposed to do it even if I do not remember such things. He pushes at me, trying to worm his way into my thoughts, but I cannot let him.

Emma needs me.

Eventually the pushing fades, but I still keep dragging myself forward. My limbs ache from stumbling over metal carcasses—cars, I think—and what is left of my wings is white-hot agony. I feel weak with exhaustion, but I cannot stop.

Must protect Emma.

Must keep going.

Zohr.

Again, her voice pushes through, and I raise her to my eye, sniffing her hair and whuffing her gently to make sure she is well. That the blood I smell is not hers.

She touches her hands to my snout, and there is water on her face. I am baffled by such a thing and I pause in my steps.

“You have to stop and change.” She pats one small hand on the side of my snout. “Are you listening to me? Stop and change. Please listen. Please. Please. Tell me you’re hearing me.”

She sounds so desperate and afraid that even though I promised her I wouldn’t touch my mind to hers—not right now, not with the Salorian trying to worm in—I give her a mental caress. My mate.

“Zohr,” she exclaims, her voice turning urgent. “Yes! Focus on me. Can you?” Her hand strokes my snout again, along my scales. It tickles, makes me aroused. I should turn to my two-legged form and claim her, brand her with my scent…but I am hazy with pain.

I want to say her name, but I cannot speak in this form. Emma, I send to her, and am surprised at the weakness of my own thoughts.

I’m right here, she sends back, her mind fierce and determined. Her fear is slipping away and her gaze is intent as she stares at me, her small face looking me in the eye. Focus on me. Are you focused on me? I’ve been trying to get your attention for hours.

Must…protect.

I’m safe. I promise you I’m safe right now. Her soft hands stroke my muzzle. But you’re bleeding everywhere, Zohr. Your wings…

Had to keep you safe, I tell her. I have lost them—and the ability to fly. My freedom, gone. But I cannot be sad. I have my mate and she is safe in my arms. Nothing else matters.

You need to change, she emphasizes to me again. This time, I catch a flicker in her mind of what she means. She wants me to change forms. 

To my two-legged form?

Yes. What happens to your wings if you do? she asks.

They disappear, I tell her. They hide away. I am so tired, Emma. Why am I so tired?

You’re losing blood. There’s worry in her thoughts, along with such beautiful calm. Her smooth, quiet words ease me, make me feel better. They chase away the wild, thunderous madness that has been eating away at my mind. I can help you, but right now you’re too big for me, Zohr. Please change. I need to stop the bleeding.

But I worry that she will not be safe if I change. I am in battle-form now, where I can defend and protect her. I clutch her close to my chest again, protectively cradling her against my scales.

You want to protect me? she asks, seizing on my thoughts. You’re leaving a trail of blood for anyone to follow. If you want to protect me, change so you can stop bleeding everywhere. They’ll be able to find us wherever we go with this trail. Please, Zohr. Focus on me. Listen to me.

A trail? She is not wrong. Blood fills my nostrils, overwhelming even her perfume. Her worry is correct—the scent is powerful enough to bring any predator—or any dragon seeking a female. Her scent has changed to match mine, so she is considered claimed, but it still bothers me. I do not like the thought of making her unsafe. What if it had yet to change? Another male would come through, rip my throat out, and claim her for himself.

Just the thought threatens to make my fury bubble over again.

“Zohr,” Emma says aloud in that sweet, patient voice of hers. “Talk to me. Or if you can’t talk, change. Let me help you.”

I gaze at her. My mate’s eyes are deep and wise and beautiful. I lose myself in her lovely face for what seems like forever, only to realize that my mind is fuzzing. I am so tired.

“I’ve got this,” she murmurs, stroking my nose again with her soft, soft hands. “Trust me, all right?”

I do trust her. You are the only one I trust.

I know. Now trust me a bit more and change to human form so I can help you and we can hide. Her eyes are deep pools of the warmest, most caring shade of brown I have ever seen. I lose myself in them once more, and it is only the gentle tap of her fingers that reminds me of what she wants.

Trust her. Change to my more vulnerable form. Yes, I will. I set her down carefully onto the ground and make sure she is comfortable before I give in. The shift to two-legged form—human form—is instantaneous, but this time, with it comes an intense wave of pain that moves up my back and shoots through my limbs.

I groan and collapse.