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Keeping His Dragon (Dragon Blood Book 6) by Élianne Adams (18)

Chapter 19

Mateo circled the clearing, keeping himself just out of range of flying arrows. None had come sailing at him yet, but he wasn’t stupid—the hunters were down there. He could smell them: their sweat, their excitement…their fear. The van had come to a stop in a secluded area in the Devil’s Den Nature Preserve. Trees all around the clearing provided plenty of places for cowards to hide in their camo garb with their weapons pointed in the air.

He roared again, fire spewing from his lips as he waited just out of reach. Rory and the other two dragons circled wider, each one with their attention riveted on that one lone vehicle. The assholes inside had yet to emerge. They were probably quaking in their boots and pissing their pants. Or they were hurting his mate. His roar ripped across the sky once more. In a haze of fury, his dragon tucked a wing, angling him down. Sure enough, as soon as he dropped a dozen or so feet, an arrow whined past him.

A few seconds more and the trailing dragons would be in place. As they flew in, Brycen took his left and Mason, his right. Then, without even so much as a battle cry, they dove. The agony they’d endure if pierced by the poisoned arrowheads was legendary, yet his clan brothers came together to fight—to secure his and Rory’s mates.

Horrified screams broke the unnerving silence as fire licked the trees like torches, making them burn fast and hard. Moments later, hunters scurried, some running away from them, others toward them. All of them had panicked looks in their eyes. One man burst from his perch, his body engulfed in flames. He threw himself on the ground, but the power of the dragon’s fire wasn’t like regular flames. It wouldn’t be denied. The man’s agony echoed through the clearing, then finally died as the smell of burnt flesh fouled the air.

The van’s side door glided open with a loud clang. A tall man with dark hair slid from the vehicle, using Sloane as a shield, holding a gun to her temple. Dried blood coated the side of her face. She didn’t struggle. She took one look at him, then glanced around them—at least, as far as her position allowed—and started laughing, catching both him and her captor off guard. Behind her, a mop of bright pink hair lay on the van floor, unmoving.

“That big black one. Right there. The one with the taste of your death already coating his tongue? He’s my mate,” she taunted before slamming her elbow into the man’s gut.

The man stumbled, losing his grip on Sloane just enough that she could crack her head into his nose. The man cried out and released her. She ducked, then the gun went off, missing her by inches. Mateo didn’t need a second invitation. With Sloane out of the enemy’s grip, he plummeted forward. His red-hazed vision zeroed in on his target. It wouldn’t get away. But before he could reach the enemy, one of the pale green dragons who had accompanied him from the city was there. He scooped the man up with sharp talons and brought him high into the sky. For a second, Mateo thought the dragon had betrayed him and would let the enemy live, but then, with a triumphant roar, the beast released its prey.

The man’s scream didn’t stop until he hit the ground.

With his focus on the display and on Sloane, Mateo didn’t notice the hunters taking aim. The first arrow pierced his hind quarter, and the second, his side. The fiery burn shot through him like hot lava, sending jolts of pain through his entire body. His wings lost their coordination, and he stretched them out as well as he could, catching the wind in an attempt at slowing his descent.

***

Sloane watched, helpless as two arrows struck her mate. The paralytic agents worked fast, stealing his ability to control his movements. As heavy as he was, the impact shook the ground as he crashed, knocking into a tree, splintering the trunk when he hit.

Her shift overcame her fast, tearing through her clothing as her dragon took over. She gladly ceded the power to the beast, confident the dragon would do whatever it needed to do to keep her mate safe.

Blistering heat churned in her gut as she charged forward. Two hunters approached from the treeline, each carrying long knives, both intent on getting to Mateo.

Unadulterated rage exploded inside her. Her roar reverberated in the air, surprising even her with its ferocity. Fire spewed from her even before she’d gotten all the way around Mateo, swallowing the hunters coming in for the kill. The dragon didn’t wait for the fire to extinguish before she was on them. Catching one of them in her strong jaws, she flung him high into the air, removing him from her mate. The second man writhed on the ground. His deafening screams pleased the beast, but he, too, needed to die.

She chomped into his burning body and shook him back and forth, the razor-sharp edges of her teeth ripping through him. In moments, his screams died along with him. She roared once more, daring any other to come near. She’d end them all if need be.

Wisps of smoke curled in the air around them, but the fires—hotter than a typical blaze—snuffed themselves out. Dragons she didn’t recognize flew overhead. A couple of others were on the ground, just as Mateo was. A golden dragon rose high above the clearing, in his claws, Wendy’s body lay limp. Some of the tension inside her unfurled. Rory would get her friend to safety. When the sweet-smelling anesthetic they’d given her wore off, Sloane wanted her to be as far away from the carnage as possible. The girl had seen too much violence in her life. She didn’t need to see this.

Most of the hunters lay in ashes, but two remained alive. Unacceptable. Her growl rumbled in her throat, but before she could get to them, a male stepped forward, his hand stretched out to stop her. She didn’t know this male, but he smelled of dragon.

“We’re holding them for questioning. You can’t kill them. Go to your mate,” he commanded, his voice decisive and sure.

Part of her wanted to toss him out of her way to get to the enemy. The pointy-nosed man from the café was among the living. He needed to die. Not for what he’d put her and Wendy through, but for hurting her mate. She roared again, but the male didn’t stand down.

“Go to Mateo, sister. We’ll take care of this. They will not go unpunished,” the man said loudly enough to get through her rage-filled mind.

The movement of black scales drew her attention back to her mate, who, rather than rest and recuperate, was struggling to get to his feet. He shouldn’t have been able to move at all, but there he was, fighting against the poison that was sure to be coursing through him still.

Her need to care for her mate doused her need for vengeance. With a final roar, she went back to Mateo, nudging him gently with her snout until he settled again, then lay with him, her smaller body between him and the enemy, ready to protect him if the need arose.

Mateo curled his body around hers like he had up on Wendy’s roof, his tail cocooning her in.

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