Zayd hurled himself over the edge of the cliff head first. He dove through the air and, for a moment, considered not shifting and allowing his body to shatter on the rocks below until the scavenging animals pick him apart, leaving only bleached bones in the sun-kissed snow.

Self-preservation kicked in and his body contorted, shifting from man to beast. His giant wings unfurled from his back, stretching out to their full width. His arms and legs shifted and bent while his hands morphed into talons, claws extending. His wings caught an updraft, and he let the wind carry him through the cavern, far from the overhang where he’d left Niva.

The image of her naked beneath him flashed through his reptilian mind, seducing and enraging him. He hated himself for wanting to taste her skin again, for wanting to sink deep inside her body and feel the pure connection he had been certain existed there. But his heart was a liar. His time alone without a mate had stretched his sanity further than he’d realized, and now his thread of self-control had snapped. He’d always known he was barely hanging on, keeping his rage and fury at the forefront to stay in control, but he never imagined it would bleed over into his treatment of another person, especially not someone like Niva.

She was good and pure, calm and strong. But he couldn’t think of her that way anymore.

He couldn’t think of her at all.

He only got one chance at a mate, and he’d lost it with Sotu.

He flapped his wings once he was far enough away from the hive to rise into the clouds. He let the airstreams carry him and gave himself over to pure instinct. For a moment, he was free from all rational thought.

The mountain range below him separated in a Y. To the left was the trail that led to the small mountain the Vilkas took so much pride in, and the right led out to the uninhabited mountain terrain where even the Draqons hadn’t settled. He glided to the right, catching a blast of cold mountain air, but it didn’t faze him. His internal combustion kept him warm, and if it hadn’t, the rage simmering inside would have been more than enough.

Zayd flew for a long time as the night sky around him darkened. The darkest hour before dawn. Out here, the clouds hung low, blocking the moons’ light. The snow beneath him looked pristine and shiny, and the air smelled sharply of evergreens and sap.

In the distance, he spotted a herd of animals moving through the valley’s unsettled territory. It was a harsh landscape that even the Skax wouldn’t roost in. But Zayd was in the mood for fresh meat and warm blood. He swooped lower to examine the animals.

Only then did he realize they weren’t animals at all, but people.

Shifters.

It was an area no one should have been wandering around in, and if any members of his hive had gotten lost that far out, they may need help. Whatever else he may be, he was still a leader and he loved his people. Even if he couldn’t be the kind of man they deserved—the kind of man Niva deserved—he would always be someone who would rescue them from the fire.

He dropped down closer to get a better look, but as he did he realized the people weren’t dressed in leathers. They were wrapped in Katu hides and standing on two legs.

One looked up at the sound of his wings approaching. With his second form’s vision, he saw the sharp teeth and scaled skin of a Hyla. They screamed, running from the clearing and jumping behind the trees.

He should go back to the hive and get help. He shouldn’t take on a collection of Hylas out here by himself. But as he considered his options, one raised something into the air, pointed the gleaming end at him, and a blast of sound ricocheted off the mountains.

Guns.

He’d never seen Hylas with guns before. They were generally against technology, unless it served their purposes, but what purpose could guns possibly serve for them? They already controlled most of Kladuu.

He roared, the smell of gunpowder enraging his primal mind. Acid filled his mouth, and fire sparked deep in his lungs, just waiting for him to bring forth his fury. He dove toward the group of Hylas and realized too late that, in the sparse foliage, others had been hidden from view.

There were at least fifteen Hylas, with more pouring out of the trees. This wasn’t a small hunting group. This was a war party, and he’d interrupted their preparations.

He wasn’t prepared for a battle of this size. But rage coiled in his belly, eager to strike. It bared its fangs and hissed as he spat acid toward the group. The Hylas scattered, falling over each other to get away from his attack.

Behind cover, some of them lifted their guns and fired as he pulled up from the dive.

He rolled and tumbled, flying over and under the bullets whizzing past him. There was nowhere to hide up in the sky from their guns, no backup to distract the Hylas as Zayd turned back, exposing his vulnerable belly to their fire.

He’d have to take the fight to them.

He dove again. With a kamikaze screech, he reached out with his front talons and descended directly at them. He managed to land on two, ripping through the flesh of one Hyla’s neck with his talons before rolling and shifting into his primary form.

On two feet, he faced the remaining Hylas. All around them, fire and fallen bodies littered the snow, soaking it red. He used the fires he’d caused as cover and kept low, rushing through the smoke and ash.

As a Hyla came closer, gun pointed into the fire, Zayd dashed out from the side and shoved the shifter into the flames and pounced on another. He wrapped his arm around the enemy’s neck, gripping her by the chin and twisting until he heard the telltale snap of a broken neck.

Zayd held the limp body before him, a buffer between him and the bullets shot by the remaining Hylas.

He threw their clanswoman at them, using the body to drive them farther toward the stream. One Hyla dropped his gun and ran, but Zayd was faster. He grabbed him by the arm, wrenching him around until he could punch the Hyla in the face over and over.

The moment his fist landed on the moist skin of the Hyla, he felt a burn across his chest. No, not a burn. A throb. Then sleek, cool pain swelled until it burst, overriding his vision with black dots.

He looked down and saw blood dripping down his front. A roar ripped from his throat, and he slammed his fist into the man’s face again, making him drop the knife he’d used to slash Zayd.

He dropped the Hyla to the ground and began to shift. As his wings extended, he heard the blast of another gunshot and a soft hiss as the bullet flew through the air. White-hot pain lanced across his wing.

Half shifted out of his back, his left wing contracted against his body, shot through.

Not thinking of the pain or the damage he could do to his injured wing, Zayd completed his transformation into a massive Draqon evolved for battle and screamed with righteous fury before rushing toward the remaining Hylas.