EMMA

It’s no surprise to me that we open the doors and see the lean, creepy Salorian sitting at the lone dinner table set up in the dining room. He glances up at us as we enter, one hand near his bell. With the other hand, he flicks one of the pages of the magazine. It’s so quiet I can hear the clock tick.

“Where is my dinner, Emma?” His voice is mild, unconcerned.

I’m shocked. In fact, I’m so shocked I’m speechless. His dinner? He’s crazier than ever. I grip my gun tightly, resisting the urge to freak out and just spray the bastard with bullets. I know I should just run in, shoot the asshole, and get on with my life, but something in me wants to confront him. To get answers. To make him understand what he’s doing is so wrong. “I’m not here to make you dinner, you son of a bitch.”

Azar arches an eyebrow at me. “Then why are you here?” His gaze flicks to Zohr, my big golden protective shield. “Unless you’ve brought me a present.”

“No,” I manage. “We’re here to end you.”

He gives me a small, mocking smile. “Charming. I’m sure you think you are.” He flicks another magazine page with a bored hand. “If that is the case, then why am I still talking? Why am I not dead?”

“Because I want answers.”

“Strange, my goal is the same. I want answers. And yet you seem to think I am wrong and you are right.” His voice is calm and slightly condescending.

I sputter. “You’re killing people! You’re using them and discarding them.”

“And you came here to chide me on what a naughty boy I am and then leave?” He gives my gun a scornful look. “Because that does not seem to be the case.”

“Stop trying to make me sound like I’m you! I’m not the same!” I yell at him.

Zohr puts a calming hand on my shoulder. Emma. Do not. This is how he works. He worms under the skin and makes you doubt who you are.

I suck in several deep breaths, frustrated and a little bit frightened. What if he’s right, though? I didn’t come here just to talk. I came here to get rid of him. Am I just like him? Getting rid of those in my way?

You are nothing like him, my fires. You are letting him get to you. He says this to make you question.

I know Zohr is right…but I also know Azar is, too.

The clock continues to tick in the silence. I struggle to think of something to say. Something that will refute his words. Zohr’s big hand is calming on my shoulder, and I speak. “I wouldn’t send people to their death, over and over again.”

He tilts his head. “Is that what you think I’m doing? My. No wonder you are so very angry.”

Now I’m confused.

Shall I eat him and end this? Zohr asks, impatient.

I shake my head. I want to hear this. I want to…understand him. I want to know how his mind works so I can make sure I never, ever end up like him. “Why would you kill those that trust you? Why would you keep sending dragons to the Rift if they all die? They’re all going to fail and yet you keep killing them!”

“Ah, but are they failing because they will all fail? Or because that one particular drakoni lacks the strength?” He gives me a challenging look and flips another page in his magazine, as if we’re having a nice friendly conversation. “How do I know that this one is not the one to succeed? That this one has the strength the others do not? Should I not test them?”

I sputter again. “Not if it means their death!”

“But are they not the walking dead already? Their minds are gone. They are nothing but rage and scales. They murder hundreds and hundreds of your people with a simple breath. One might think I am actually doing them a favor.” He smiles, showing his filed-down teeth. “Isn’t that what you want, after all? To have your world free of drakoni and their kind? We both have that goal. I want us to go home, as well.”

My head hurts from trying to reason with him. From trying to make him see that he’s wrong, no matter how he justifies it. In my heart, I know he’s cruel and evil, but the more he talks, the more I doubt.

That is what his kind do, Zohr tells me. That is why it is poison to listen to them. Do not let him change you.

“They’re not the walking dead,” I tell him, my words slow and thoughtful. “If they were beyond saving, my Zohr would be gone. The others wouldn’t have their mates. Just because they’re not in their right minds right now doesn’t mean there’s nothing left. And you’re a monster to manipulate them as they are.” I raise my gun again. “Which is why we’re here. You’re destroying people that are helpless.”

“Are they helpless? They nearly wiped out your own kind.” His expression is cool, dismissive. “One would think you would see my side in this.”

I shake my head. “I’m nothing like you.”

“Pity. So you’ve come to destroy me, then, because you think I’m wrong.” His mouth curls in a sardonic smile that manages to look insulting and creepy at the same time. “Do I have the right of it?”

“I can’t let you keep doing what you’re doing to these dragons. They don’t deserve to die just because you won’t risk your own neck.”

“See, that is where you are wrong, little human. I am quite willing to put my own neck on the line.” His eyes gleam brightly, and for a moment I think they’re going to go gray, but they remain that strange, flat gold. He’s…smirking.

It’s like he knows something I don’t.

I go cold. What’s going on?

I do not know. I cannot tell what he is thinking.

I lift my gun and study Azar down the barrel. He doesn’t look scared. He looks…smug. All the while, that stupid clock keeps tick tick ticking away.

Clock. Clock. There’s something about it that bothers me, just like his smile. I’m not sure what…

Wait. Where the hell did he get a clock? Why does he need one? “Where’s your clock?” I ask.

He chuckles and flips another page in his magazine. “Oh, there’s no clock.”

“Then what’s ticking?”

He arches an eyebrow at me. “Can’t you guess? If you’ve come to say hello, the least I can do is bring a housewarming present.”

Oh my god. It’s not a clock. It’s a bomb. This crazy bastard’s going to blow us all up.

We leave, Zohr sends through my mind, his thoughts cutting like a hot knife. We leave now.

Azar starts to laugh, a weird, inhuman little giggle that makes my skin crawl.

I start to lower my gun…

Fuck that. I came here to do something and I’m going to do it. I raise it back up again and put my finger on the trigger, shooting. Red splashes across his chest, and his eyes widen in surprise. He clutches at his blood-spattered robes in shock, as if astonished that I dared to shoot him.

“Now we leave,” I whisper to my dragon, lowering my gun. I take one last look at Azar, who’s still clutching his bloody chest in shock. The ticking seems to grow louder and louder in my head.

Zohr grabs me around the waist and hauls me against him, racing back out of the doors of the dining room. I hear what sounds like a crash behind us—probably Azar falling to the floor—but we don’t stop. I can feel the urgency in Zohr’s mind as he races back outside. Through the lobby and out into the open air, and still he does not stop.

All the while, I keep thinking of that ticking. How much time do we have—

Something explodes.

I’m knocked forward to the ground, and the air leaves my lungs. My head bangs against the concrete of the pavement. A heavy form falls over me, and I realize dimly that it’s my dragon—Zohr’s changed back to battle-form, and his body shields me from the explosion. My ears ring and the world thunders all around us.

What—

Are you safe? His thoughts are a shout in my mind.

My face feels like it’s been flattened, and I’m coughing, trying desperately to pull air back into my lungs, but I’m alive. I’m okay, I tell him faintly, though I’m barely clinging to consciousness. My head’s thundering and I want nothing more than to fall asleep. What…about you?

It is fire. It cannot harm me. His thoughts are full of relief and affection. One big foreleg scoops me up gently, and he cradles me tight against his scales. Keep your head low. I will carry you away.

Azar? I ask.

He would not be able to survive such a blast in two-legged form.

Good. It’s the last thought I have before I fall unconscious.