Crouched next to the front door, Wallaig slid Amantha off his back and conjured a cloaking spell. Magic snapped like a whip. Heat billowed up, blowing across the lobby as he and Amantha disappeared from view. A necessary illusion, one he knew wouldn’t last long when he exited the building.

Leaning to one side, he glanced out the glass doors, then shook his head. Outnumbered and surrounded…not the greatest odds with a female to protect. Not that it mattered. All he needed was thirty seconds of cover. Enough time to get the lay of the land. Count the number of parked cars. Gauge the width of the intersections bookending the block. Find the best place to shift into dragon form and get airborne.

Simple enough plan. Huge consequences if he failed.

Every second counted.

The instant he transformed, the enemy would pinpoint him and mobilize. Launch a full-scale attack. Attempt to kill him before he gained the necessary altitude to defend himself. So aye, reaching open skies needed to happen in a hurry.

Dragging his gaze from the view of the street, he turned to look at Amantha. Aura ablaze, her features defined by bright light, her gaze met his. He held out his hand. Without hesitation, she slid her much smaller one into his.

“It’s going to get bad, isn’t it?”

“We’ll be fine,” he said, bending the truth, not wanting to frighten her. “But…”

“What?”

“You’re going to see things you never have before.” With a gentle tug, he drew her alongside him. She nestled in, holding his hand, pressing her cheek against his upper arm, trusting him to keep her safe. Dipping his head, he kissed her temple. Warm skin beneath his lips. Her scent all around him. His female in all her glory—the best off all reasons to protect, fight and annihilate. “Whatever happens…no matter how strange it seems to you…stay calm, lass.”

“I’ll try.”

“’Tis all I can ask.”

Gathering magical threads, Wallaig tightened the invisibility spell and nudged the door open. He stayed low, shielding Amantha as he slipped over the threshold and broke cover. Rain-soaked concrete met the soles of his boots. Puddles splashed underfoot. Well-oiled hinges creaked behind him. Wallaig didn’t bother to look back. The soft sound wasn’t a concern. None of the rogues would bother to investigate. Not for something so minor—a regular noise in a human neighborhood. What concerned him was the layout. Small cars parked along narrow avenues. Nothing tall enough to use as a launch pad. Crappy news given the terrain and bad odds.

Deep in the shadows, he crept along the building foundation. The wind shifted, bringing the scent of multiple dragons north of his position. He veered left, ran between parked cars and crossed the street. Amanda scurried along behind him, her fingers clutching him tight. Reaching an intersection, he gave her a reassuring squeeze and back pressed against a building, peered around the corner. Energy shifted and rolled, allowing him to see in the dark and…ah. Right there. Two bogies at one o’clock. Perched on the rooftop at the end of the block, the rogues sat on opposite ends of the building, attention locked on intersecting alleys below.

Wallaig glanced in the other direction.

His gaze landed on a moving truck parked curbside. Tall, white box. Sturdy construction. Less than thirty yards away. A quick calculation and…aye, the truck would do. Provide enough height he needed to get airborne…but only if he reached it in time.

He looked over his shoulder and checked on the rogues. Neither had moved. Good. The longer the pair remained oblivious, the better for him. Swiveling in his crouch, he drew Amantha from behind him. She settled between the spread of his thighs and pressed close, using him for balance. Wallaig wrapped his arms around her and scanned the area over the top of her head. He needed to be certain, know exactly where he was going the moment he moved. With so many rogues in the area, precise execution of the plan mattered.

He swept the street again, just to be sure.

A small car parked behind the target vehicle. No humans walking down the street. Pretty good set up, the best he would get tonight. Eyes locked on the truck, he loosened Amantha’s grip on his jacket. She drew a shaky breath but complied, letting him go, allowing him to grip both of her wrists.

“Hold on, Amantha.”

He didn’t give her any other warning. Wallaig stood instead and, jerking her forward, threw her over his shoulder. Head down, arse up in the air, she hissed in surprise. Her legs kicked. He locked her down with an arm over her thighs and, legs pumping, sprinted toward the truck. His boots hammered the sidewalk. Sound detonated, echoing off concrete and metal, rolling down the block, giving away his position.

The cry of alarm went up.

Dragons took flight. The sound of flapping wings joined the thump of his footfalls.

Adrenaline burned through his veins. Heart hammering, muscles coiled, Wallaig ran faster. Almost there. Less than ten feet away. He took three more strides and, with a snarl, leapt from the sidewalk and—

Bang!

He landed on top of the car.

Steel dented beneath his feet. He didn’t stop. Baring his teeth, he launched himself onto the top of the truck. His boots slid across the slick surface. Momentum hurled him toward the edge of the box. Not bothering to slow down, Wallaig transformed. Magic exploded in the air around him. Hands and feet turning into huge paws, his body lengthened under blood red scales. His spiked tail whiplashed. Amantha squeaked in alarm. Careful not to clip her with his claws, he cradled her in his palm and unfurled his wings. Needing more height, he flipped sideways in mid-air. His talons caught on a building façade. Chunks of stone crumbled, tumbling toward the sidewalk as he launched himself into the sky.

Wind-rush rattled his scales.

Building tops came into view.

A glint of green flashed in his periphery.

Baring his fangs, Wallaig roared in challenge. With a quick twist, he spun toward the threat. The rogue’s eyes widened, and Wallaig struck, lashing out with his tail. Razor-sharp spikes slammed into the male. The rogue’s head whiplashed. Dragon teeth flew as blood arched through the air. Shielding Amantha, he hammered the rogue again. And again. One more time, and…green scales cracked wide open. The enemy screamed in agony.

Showing no mercy, Wallaig slashed through the rogue’s wing. He plummeted out of the sky, falling fast as his buddy flew to the rescue.

Wings spread wide, he banked hard. The blue dragon lashed out. Sharp claws raked his scales. Pain burst across his rib cage. Gritting his teeth, he twisted into a backflip. The rogue tried to counter, but…too late. In prime position, Wallaig boxed him in and unleashed a roundhouse. His elbow slammed into the side of the male’s skull. The crack resonated as he somersaulted up and over. Halfway through the rotation, he grabbed the rogue by a horn. He yanked, dragging the pup sideways in mid-air. As the idiot yelped, he whirled into a mind-splitting spin.

One. Two. On three, he let go.

Unable to control the velocity, the male slammed snout-first into a concrete wall. Bone snapped. The crack ricocheted as more blood splashed up and out.

Ignoring his artwork splattered across building facades, Wallaig scanned the sky.

Four more dragons took flight.

Wallaig cursed. Time to retreat. He couldn’t get caught out in the open. Not again. Fighting rogues one and two had been necessary. Something he hadn’t been able to avoid. But no longer. He was airborne, in full flight with a wide-open sky behind him. No need to push his luck.

Whipping around, he ignored the roar of enemy dragons and rocketed it in the opposite direction. He needed to kill time until daybreak. A place to hide and settle Amantha would be best. Somewhere the rogues wouldn’t think to look. Daylight—and deadly UV rays—would do what he couldn’t right now: turn the bastards around. So…new strategy. Keep ahead of Grizgunn, lose the bastards in the city, find somewhere to hold up until the sun chased the enemy pack inside for the day.

Speed supersonic, Wallaig shot across the night sky. Bright light burned across his senses as he searched for a safe place to set down. Where? Where could he go? What area held the most promise? He frowned. The warehouse district might work. Located next to the Port of Edinburgh, the area was more labyrinth than business hub. The fact that section of the city was surrounded by water and…

His eyes narrowed. Aye. It just might work.

The water would muffle his energy signal. A definite plus given the horde now hunting him. The fact most dragons feared water wouldn’t hurt either. The rogue pack wouldn’t search hard near the shoreline. The bastards would assume what all of Dragonkind knew—no dragon worth his salt would use water as a means of escape. Under normal circumstances, Wallaig would’ve agreed, but the port presented a real advantage. One he refused to ignore…no matter how much he disliked the ocean.

Wallaig grimaced. Goddess give him strength. Was he really thinking about it? He wasn’t a strong swimmer. Cringed at the very idea of being under water but with Amantha curled into the fetal position, he’d brave anything. Wet scales included to ensure she stayed hale and whole.

Flying low, playing hide and seek with the rogues on his tail, Wallaig skimmed rooftops and picked his way toward the harbour. Lit up like Christmas, bright lights glowed above concrete piers and squat buildings. Tall cranes towered over ocean freighters piled high with steel containers. Exhaust spilled into the air, making his nose twitch as he spotted humans on the ground.

He spread his wings. His speed slowed to a glide. A dangerous move, one that allowed the rogues to gain ground. His sonar pinged as the enemy closed within a mile of him. Wallaig clenched his teeth. He couldn’t stay here. Too many human wearing hardhats milling around. He must move on before Grizgunn caught up and he ended up cornered again.

Hugging Amantha tighter, he assessed his options. Not the new warehouses next to the pier. Forget about the ship in dry dock. The fishing boats moored to the docks further down might work, but…nay. None of the locations would work as places to hide. He needed to move away from the shoreline, otherwise Grizgunn would ferret him out before the sun rose and—

A rumble broke through the clang of heavy cranes moving containers.

Wallaig’s attention snapped toward the outer harbour.

Lines trailing in the water, a tugboat pulled away from a dock.

As he watched, the captain manoeuvred through water traffic and, nose breaking through waves, chugged toward a large freighter exiting the port.

His sonar pinged again. Information streamed into his head, giving him the rogue pack’s location. Half a mile away now. Goddamn it. He was out of time. The bastards were almost on top of him.

Wallaig hesitated a second, then folded his wings and drove toward the water. He entered without making a splash and plunged deep. Cold water closed around him. He flinched, but held the line, more concerned about Amantha than himself. She jerked against him. He heard her yell underwater. Cupping both paws around her, he created an air pocket, feeding her oxygen as he struggled swim.

He needed to reach the tugboat motoring above him. A rope attached to the gunnel lay in the water, streaming alongside the boat. A literal lifeline, the only means of escape as he sensed the enemy fly over the harbor.

Holding his breath, he swished his tail like an alligator and swam toward the boat. A moment before he broke the surface, he shifted to human form. Amantha sputtered. Cradling her in one arm, he reached for the line with the other. His fingers caught hold. Rope burned across his palm. Wallaig tightened his grip, keeping his female’s head above the surf as the tugboat began to tow him alongside it.

He coughed up water. “Fucking hell.”

“No kidding.” Clinging to him, Amantha wheezed against his throat. “What the hell was that?”

She sounded pissed off. Wallaig didn’t blame her. He hadn’t shown her a very good time tonight. “Sorry.”

Wet eyelashes blinking furiously, she scowled. “You…you…you…”

“Lass, if you’ll just—”

“You’re a maniac!” she yelled, following the insult up with a string of French words he didn’t understand.

Wallaig jerked his head back as she pointed her finger at him. Wow. The lass owned a temper…and an impressive vocabulary. He didn’t understand much French, but…he blinked. Had she just called him a bug-eyed toad? Amusement boiled over, threatening to make an appearance on his face. Not smart given her outburst, but…Christ. He couldn’t help himself. She was adorable. A true treat to watch as her bio-energy flared, and she yelled some more, going head mistress on his arse. A hotter than hell head mistress with narrowed eyes and pink cheeks, shooting sparks and fire.

She called him another name.

His lips twitched.

“Don’t laugh, Wallaig. Don’t you dare.” Hitching herself higher on his chest, she went nose to nose with him. “You should have warned me.”

“I did. I warned you it might get—”

“Not well enough,” she snapped, looking like a thundercloud. “You should have told me.”

“About dragons?”

Hat askew, she slapped wet hair out of her eyes with a soggy mitten. “Yes!”

“How the hell was I supposed to do that?” he asked, his tone more defensive than he liked. “Would you have believed me?”

The question stopped her mid-tirade. She pursed her lips. “No, probably not. You may have a point.”

“Thank God. About time I got one on my side of the board.” Wrapping the rope around his wrist, he turned onto his back, putting them breast to chest. Seaweed streamed along his arm, then swirled past Amantha. She shivered. With a murmur, Wallaig called on his magic. Heat bubbled up, warming the water, ensuring she didn’t catch a chill. “Give me a break, would you, Amantha? It’s not as though I’ve done this before.”

“What—rescue a girl?” she asked, aura settling into normal levels as her temper faded. Kicking out with her legs, she paddled her feet, re-establishing her hold on his jacket. “I should probably thank you for that.”

“You’re welcome, kazlita. I know I threw you into the thick of it, but I…” The tugboat throttled down. He paused, listening to the engines whine, struggling to find the right words. “I couldn’t leave you behind.”

Her brow furrowed. “But you thought about it.”

“For a split second,” he murmured. “And only before the rogues showed up.”

“Those other dragons?”

“Aye.”

Confusion bloomed in her eyes. “How is any of this possible? It’s just not…I mean…how can you be…God, Wallaig. You’re a dragon.”

Her whisper lashed at his heart. Of course, she was shocked. Stood to reason. She should be after learning Dragonkind existed in her tidy little world. “I’m no different than you, Amantha.”

She treated him to a please-pull-your-head-out-of-your-arse look. “You can’t be serious. Not after what I just witnessed.”

His mouth curved. “All right, maybe a little different.”

Amantha huffed.

“I am Dragonkind, lass,” he said, keeping it simple. No need to go into detail yet. He didn’t want her running scared. Her questions would come…eventually. Until then, he planned to provide the basics, and not a nanobite more. “We’re a different species—half human, half dragon. No less, naught more.”

“But no one knows you exist.”

“We like it that way.”

“I can imagine. Less dragon slayers to worry about.”

“Exactly,” he said, plucking a piece of seaweed from her hair.

The tugboat bumped into something. Wallaig swayed into the hull. As his shoulder rubbed against steel, rubber squeaked along the side of the ocean freighter. Throttle clicking, the captain put his boat in neutral. Big engines rumbled, kicking up water at the stern. A firm hold on the rope, he pulled his female closer and glanced up at the gunnel above his head. “Ready to get out of the water?”

“God, yes, but…” Frowning, she gripped his shoulders, then twisted to look behind her. “Are the bad guys gone?”

Fine-tuning his sonar, Wallaig scanned the sky over warehouses and granite piers. No pings on his mental radar. No bursts of light. Not an enemy energy signal in sight over the harbour. “For now.”

Concern dimmed her aura. “But not for good?”

“We’ll worry about that later. Let’s get you warm and dry first, lass.”

“Okay,” she said, sounding unsure.

The need to comfort her jabbed at him. Taking a chance, he dipped his head. His lips brushed the corner of hers. She murmured against his mouth. He kissed her again, enjoying her taste, keeping it light…and Amantha let him. Amazing news considering nothing was set in stone. Energy-fuse might be a wondrous thing, but it didn’t mean she wouldn’t run scared and reject him out of hand.

A bad outcome. A distinct possibility the second her feet touched down on solid ground.

Not everyone could handle the truth. Or turn away from the world they knew to begin again in a new one. But as he climbed the rope with Amantha on his back, her welcoming response gave him hope. Maybe—if he got really, really lucky—she would be brave, embrace the unknown and claim him for her own.