Memories of long ago battles, images, and powerful scents filled Pax’s mind. If dragons were capable of creating endless fire, they could not be defeated. So many others of his kind would not have been destroyed by humans and their weapons.

In past battles, the dragons had been stronger, faster, more lethal than their opponents, and yet they had been all but eliminated. Now, as in the past, there were too many humans, and they kept coming. On and on, without end, they came. Kill one, and ten more arrived to take his place.

Pax’s fire died, and he knew from experience that it would not reignite before nightfall. Soon he fought with his talons and his tail, but every piercing arrow, every slash of a sword, weakened him. He could fly away and save himself; there was time. But he did not. Linara fought her own battle, with a man in a dark robe. She was demon. She would survive. She did not need him.

He watched as she sucked the life from the man she fought. No, she did not need him, she never had and she never would. He did not see the knife in her heart, not until she fell.

A blade alone would not kill her. She should pluck that dagger from her chest and heal quickly, but she did not. She was defeated, fading.

And then she slipped into his head, in that way she had. She spoke to him as only she could. Why did she tell him of her love now? It sounded, to his mind, like a dying confession. She could not die. He would not allow it.

He tried to make his way to her, but there were too many soldiers around him, and he was growing weaker with each breath. He lifted his head and howled.

When the others came — so many, so many humans — he knew the battle was done for. They were outnumbered, and without his fire they were at a great disadvantage. Linara, the child Val, they would not last much longer. In a way he had not expected, he grieved for them. They should have enjoyed long lives, filled with love and laughter.

He did not mourn his own death or regret any of the choices he had made. He’d had a long life, and there had been moments of love and laughter. At this moment it did not matter that he’d never found the mate he’d been promised.

The prophecy about one hatched had obviously been wrong. So was his mother’s promise.

Pax heard a familiar scream and turned his gaze to the skies. The Firebird — one like him and yet not — flew overhead. Her fire had not been extinguished.

To his surprise, the newcomers fought not with the demons and their swordsmen, but against them. As soldiers were drawn away from him, Pax found a burst of strength. He used the weapons that remained; his talons and his tail. When Val was threatened from behind by a sword-bearing half-demon who attacked while screaming at the top of her lungs, Pax grabbed the vile woman, piercing her heart in the process.

Some of the demons were hard to kill. This one was not.

Val smiled at him and nodded, and their thoughts melded for a moment.

Thanks.

We have help.

I noticed.

Pax spared a glance for Linara, who should be recovered and standing by now. She was not.

And then the battle, which was quickly turning in their favor, resumed. A seasoned soldier broke from their ranks and ran to Linara. Would he know she was not like the others? Would he try to finish her off? Pax sent a warning to Linara, but they did not connect. She was too weak.

The soldier dipped down and took her hand in his. She spoke to him. Of course, these were her people. This was her army.

The man Linara had spoken with left her and stepped into the building she leaned against. How could he leave her? How could he abandon her when she was in such pain? He saw the pain on her and in her. He saw it all around her, in an aura he had come to know too well.

That aura was fading.

He roared again, and though he was not sure he could survive the shift to his human form with all the wounds he sported, he called upon that gift and began to shrink in upon himself.

A dragon could not hold a dying woman in his arms.

* * *

Linara closed her eyes and began to drift. Body and soul, she felt light. Untethered. Free.

A voice pulled her down to earth. “No, no, no.”

She opened one eye and Pax was there. Pax the man, not Pax the dragon. He was naked and wounded and covered with blood. And as always, she loved simply looking at him. He was extraordinary.

He sat beside her and pulled her onto his lap. There was so much blood. His and hers, but mostly hers. That blood flowed freely from her heart. Her good heart; the heart Pax loved, whether he would admit to it or not.

“We will fix you,” he said.

She rested her head against his chest. “And how will we do that? My heart was shredded by a magical dagger. There’s not much I can’t come back from, but…”

“If magic injured you, then magic will heal you.”

“I don’t think…”

“We will find a way.”

She knew him well. He was sure that if he insisted, if he believed hard enough, she would survive.

Linara pulled her knees in, curled up in his lap. She liked it here, no matter the circumstance. “I love you,” she said.

“Stop saying that!” he growled.

“You’re supposed to say, ‘I love you, too.’ It’s the expected human response. Even if you don’t love me, I’m dying. You could pretend.”

“We’re not human.”

“We’re kind of human.” She looked at him and smiled. “I’m glad I didn’t kill you.”

“I’m glad I didn’t kill you, too.”

Her eyes fluttered closed. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”

“Open your eyes,” he commanded.

“It’s too hard,” she whispered.

“Try, for me.”

She did. He opened his mouth to say something, maybe to tell her that he did love her, but he was interrupted by a voice from above.

“Kane, who is this large, naked man, and why is he holding our daughter so tightly?”

Pax looked up, blinked, held his breath.

Linara’s parents stood there, side by side. They were both of an age, which showed in a few wrinkles and their gray hair, but they were fit and healthy. They’d had a long life, but they were not yet done.

Pax’s voice was a growl as he whispered, “Save her, please.”

* * *

The bed beneath her was soft; the blanket over her body warm. Pax no longer held her, and she did not feel the seep of her life force running from her body, from her heart. Linara opened one eye, then the other.

Of course. There was no other explanation for her survival.

She had never thought to see the Fyne sisters reunited. They lived a good distance apart, and they were all aging. Well, but aging.

Her mother looked worried. Aunt Juliet smiled kindly, while Isadora glared. She looked royally pissed. As always.

“Thank goodness,” Sophie said, as she placed a hand on Linara’s forehead. “It’s been three days! I thought you’d never wake.”

Three days? Three days? “Where’s Pax?” The words croaked from her, harsh and far softer than she had planned.

“Your dragon is fine,” Juliet said in a calm voice. “He needed a bit of work himself, but he took to it well. He’s with the men.” There was a softening to her words, and to her eyes.

“What of the war?”

Sophie tsked, “We’ll have no talk of war, not until you’re completely healed.”

Linara’s still-mending heart sank. If the news had been good, her mother would’ve told her more.

Isadora tsked herself. “There’s no reason not to tell.”

“She doesn’t need the worry, not yet,” Sophie whispered, as if Linara might not be able to hear.

“Good news is not a worry, it’s a relief.”

Sophie pursed her lips, before saying, “I don’t like talk of war, not ever.”

Isadora caught Linara’s eye. “The battle here turned the tide. Stasio’s death was no small part of that.” She nodded, perhaps in respect or thanks. “There have been smaller battles across the country, but it seems that the demon daughters have…lost heart.” She smiled. “The sight of your dragon with the little girl warrior and her special sword swooping in is enough to make even the most dedicated soldier turn tail and run.”

Linara tried to sit up, and didn’t quite make it. “You let him go back into battle?” When last she’d seen Pax he’d been bloody, wounded, not at all as strong as he should be to fly and fight.

“We healed him,” Juliet said. “Trust me; he is capable.” She looked at her sisters, one and then the other. “How would one stop a dragon, if he was of a mind to fly away?”

Linara’s eyes drifted shut. She was so tired!

“I thought I was dying,” she whispered. “The dagger…”

“Stasio’s dagger was fashioned to destroy a demon heart. You, my daughter, are much more than that.”

“But…”

“Sleep, love,” her mother’s voice whispered. “You will be well, and your dragon-man will be well. Together you will…”

Isadora interrupted. “Don’t tell everything! Good heavens, Sophie, leave the girl some secrets to discover for herself.”

Secrets? There were still secrets? With that thought in her mind, Linara drifted off to sleep again. She dreamed of dragons.