A thump sounded overhead. The lights flickered as the whine of metal under sharp claws drifted down the corridor. Cursing under his breath, Wallaig stopped halfway down the hallway. Time to backtrack. Taking the stairs up to the roof was no longer an option. Neither was going back to Amantha’s apartment. Nothing but death lay in that direction now.

He needed a new plan.

Preferably one that didn’t involve getting cornered by a rogue pack inside the building.

Tightening his hold on Amantha, he unleashed his magic. Energy coated the walls, rushing in all directions, washing over the neighborhood. Pushing the boundaries, he cast his net wide. Like a brilliant patchwork comprised of light, a grid expanded inside his mind giving him a map of the area. His sonar pinged and…shite. The enemy couldn’t be accused of being stupid. Eight strong, the bastards arrived in force. His eyes narrowed as individual energy signatures popped up on his mental screen—six warriors in full flight, two others had just landed on the roof, cutting off his preferred avenue of escape.

Wallaig growled.

Amantha quivered against him.

“Shh.” Palming the back of her head, he tucked her head beneath his chin. Unable to help himself, he stroked her hair, sifting through the soft strands, wanting nothing more than to comfort her. “It’s all right, kazlita.”

“Please don’t lie to me. I feel your tension. You’re worried. Don’t ask me how I know, but I do.” Small hands fisted in his jacket, she pressed closer. “Something is really wrong, isn’t it? Who’s after you?”

“No one.” Not really. He’d covered his tracks too well, left no trace when he flew into Edinburgh, which meant…the rogues weren’t after him. Hell, the idiots didn’t yet know he stood in the building, so…cross that possibility off the list. Eliminate it as a matter of course. Which left only one other conclusion to draw.

The bastards had gotten a hold of Elise’s address.

He bared his teeth. Fucking Grizgunn. The male never quit. He’d been at it for weeks. Attack after attack on the Scottish pack, his mission clear—hurt Cyprus anyway he could. Now, it appeared the rogue leader was backtracking, searching for the female Cyprus had rescued and now claimed as his own. Not good news for Amantha. The rogue’s plan put a bull’s eye on her back. Grizgunn wouldn’t hesitate. The male lacked honor and enjoyed hurting humans. He wouldn’t care that the high-energy female living in apartment seventeen wasn’t Elise.

He would take Amantha instead.

The idea of her being hurt made his blood run hot. His temper stirred. He wanted to kill the bastard for flying into her neighborhood. For daring to land on her roof. For threatening the female he couldn’t bring himself to let go.

“Wallaig?”

“Donnae be afraid,” he said, hating the scent of her fear. “I’ll get us out safely, but you must be strong and follow my lead. I need you to trust me, lass. Do you think you can do that?”

“Yes,” she said without hesitation.

“Good girl.” Her quick answer squeezed his heart, making his respect for her grow. “Let’s move.”

She nodded.

Taking her hand, he pivoted and headed for the central staircase. Not his first choice. Neither was going out the front door. Exiting via the street—like a fucking human—never amounted to a good idea. He needed to shift and get airborne, the quicker the better. Not an easy prospect from the sidewalk. Height equaled leverage and speed. He needed both to out-fly the rogues already in dragon form. Precious seconds would be wasted leaping up from between cars and tall buildings. His wings wouldn’t catch as much air, but…Wallaig clenched his teeth. Beggars couldn’t be choosers. With the bastards already on the roof, his second option had just become his best one if he held any hope of protecting Amantha from the arseholes invading her home.

His boots banged down the first set of steps.

Amantha lost her footing. Her hand jerked in his a second before she careened into him from behind. Without breaking stride, he grabbed the back of her coat and swung her off her feet. She squeaked in alarm. He refused to stop. Feet doing double time, he swung her up and around, throwing her onto his back. She landed with a muffled “ooh”, but caught on fast, wrapping her arms and legs around him, riding piggyback style as he ran down the stairs.

He rounded the last landing.

The lobby came into view.

Headlights flashed against double glass doors as a car drove past the building.

Heart hammering, he slid to a stop beside the entrance. His back to the wall, Amantha still hanging on tight, he glanced outside. Nothing moved on the street. No humans out for a midnight stroll. No taxis waiting curbside. No dragons sitting on street corners. A clear path to the end of the avenue.

“All right.” Reaching around, he cupped her cheek. She turned into his touch, receiving comfort, soothing him in return, then she pressed her mouth against his palm. A shiver of awareness rumbled through him. An odd prickle ghosted across the top of his shoulders. Suppressing a shiver, he gave her a gentle squeeze. “Hold on tight, lass. Donnae let go…no matter what happens.”

“Got it.”

Unable to help himself, he smoothed his thumb over her bottom lip. “Kiss me before we go.”

A stupid request given the circumstances. Wallaig almost took it back, but…God. With her pressed against him, he couldn’t resist her allure. He needed a taste. Just a wee one before he risked both of their lives and flew into danger.

“Please,” he murmured, feeling foolish as the plea rose in the silence.

Her breath hitched, and he waited, hope beating as loudly as his heart.

Shifting her grip, Amantha held onto him with one hand, then lifted her chin and leaned in. Her mouth met his, the brush of her lips soft as butterfly wings. He groaned. She grew braver and pressed closer, demanding entrance. He opened for her, kissing her back, tangling his tongue with hers, giving her what she wanted, getting what he needed.

Bliss spun into the desire.

His hunger for her, banked but still burning, surged to the forefront. His dragon half rose, asking for more. Unable to resist, he took the kiss deeper. She hummed, tightening her hold on him as he gripped her wrist with one hand and cupped her throat with the other. Her bio-energy blazed into a torrent of current. His fingertips tingled. The Meridian crackled, plugging him into the powerful stream, allowing him his first real taste.

Greedy for her, he drank deep, drawing the nourishment he required to stay healthy and strong from her into his own veins. His beast hummed in approval. Amantha moaned and, with a wiggle, tried to get closer.

Wallaig didn’t argue. No need to dissuade her. He kissed her back instead. Gave her all she asked, reveling in her response, thankful for what she so generously provided. And as she revived him, feeding him from the source, flooding him with pleasure, he knew he would never let her go. She belonged to him and, in that moment, he became hers. His dragon had decided. Energy-fuse was already taking hold. He sensed the bond growing, felt the connection, recognized his mate the second his skin touched hers.

No need to ask questions or deny the truth.

Nipping her bottom lip, he lifted his mouth from hers. “Hmm…you taste good, lass.”

“So do you.” Following his retreat, she kissed him softly.

He returned the caress. “Time to go.”

“Okay, but we’ll continue this later.”

Goddess willing. He wanted her more than anyone else in a long time. Needed her in ways he didn’t yet understand, but instinct told him existed all the same.

Turning his attention back to the street, he shook his head. A mate. His mate. A female to call his own. The idea shocked him. He’d never considered he might find her—that she might want him in return. But as Amantha shifted on his back, hugging him tighter, and he got ready to move, his priorities reshuffled. She was here. He would claim her. But first, he had a gauntlet of enemy dragons to run…without much needed backup from his brothers-in-arms.