Another flame jolted through the hallway, and Sawyer cowered, but not before the scene transformed terrifyingly before her eyes.

The brothers had transformed into the creatures she had fought so hard to destroy, their bodies enlarging into scaly, giants as she watched in horror.

She buried her face in her hands, the feral cries swimming around her head, and suddenly, she was lifted from her spot on the cold floor into the air.

Don’t scream, don’t scream, don’t scream, she chanted in her head as she slowly opened her eyes. Her shirt hung from the jaws of the monster with whom she had shared not only her bed, but her innermost thoughts and fears as he sped through the halls of the castle, dodging steady streams of fire that brought down the castle walls without effort.

Through her peripheral vision, she saw Max, now fully converted into a massive leathery creature, leap upward through a fresh hole in the roof and lunge, squealing toward another dragon circling the area.

As Anders continued to run, dangling her from his glistening silver teeth, she wondered where he was taking her for his kill.

It wasn’t until she was tossed onto a second-floor balcony that she realized he had brought her to safety, and a flood of confusion rushed her body.

He’s a dragon. They kill. Why didn’t he kill me?

Sawyer crouched along the stone wall and peered out to watch as Anders flew off to join his brother, disappearing from her limited view. She fell back, hearing another round of battle cries as more fire rained on the castle, but it was far enough away that she was unaffected by the smoke and debris.

I have to get out of here, she thought, petrified, but there was nowhere to go. If her car was still intact out by the drawbridge, she would certainly be seen by one of the dragons before she got anywhere. She couldn’t outdrive their superhuman speed. She was stuck there until one of them found her and ended her life.

Another high-pitched wail filled her ears, and Sawyer realized that she was not alone. Cautiously, she raised her head just as an iridescent snout appeared over the balcony wall, sneering perversely. It was neither Anders nor his brother, and Sawyer knew that this dragon was fully intent on killing her, just like the dragons she had tracked before.

Slowly, as if dealing with a rabid dog, she ambled to her feet, hands extended as if to ward him off. The beast sniffed the air around her, and suddenly, Sawyer got the feeling she was dealing with a female dragon rather than a male.

The creature tipped her head to the side, and Sawyer continued to back away, watching the blinking yellow eyes of the slightly smaller dragon before her.

“Hi,” Sawyer whispered. “I’m not your enemy. See?”

A long, forked tongue lashed out and licked the sweating snout as Sawyer struggled to maintain her calm.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” she continued in an almost singsong voice. “See? We’re friends.”

For a second, Sawyer thought the dragon was going to let her go, but a gush of wind swept over her face, and a huge, black shadow appeared. He was bigger than her, but still smaller than Anders and Max.

He looks like the one I killed, Sawyer realized, freezing in her spot as the two dragons seemed to communicate telepathically. They’re almost the same. They’re part of the same weyr.

She shoved the irrelevant thought from her mind and seized her chance to run, noting the long gaze between them. Whirling, she bolted across the balcony, but before she could take two steps, she was flying through the air, unfettered to anyone.

Airborne, she watched the female’s face whizz by. For a strange, impossible moment, Sawyer thought she saw remorse in her eyes. She landed with a thud, a thorny scale piercing into her leg, and it took her a moment to realize she was on the back of the black dragon.

A sick sense of déjà vu struck her, and in her mind’s eye, she was not in a castle in England. She was in a cave in France, clinging to the skin of an almost identical beast. On the floor was Jericho, unmoving, his lifeless eyes watching as she struggled for her life.

“Let her down!” The voice was unearthly, terrifying, and coming from Anders, who towered above, trying to find his opportunity to pounce among the flapping wings.

Sawyer held fast, her eyes widening with terror as Anders tried to swoop in, but the black dragon exhaled, the blast of fire sending her lover back against the sky. The black dragon shook violently, trying to unhinge Sawyer from where she had dug her nails into his crinkly skin, but she would not let go.

The garrotte. I have the garrotte in my back pocket.

But there was no way for her to grab it—not without pummeling to the floor. All she could do was hope he would tire himself out and be still long enough to allow her to grab it.

“Esme, stop him!” The words were strange, made odder by the surreal voice, but the female dragon raised her majestic head and stared up at Anders, who had reclaimed his spot above them. “Esme!”

With a primal scream, the female dragon jutted upward, flailing her wings in a flurry of motion, and the black dragon froze.

Now! Sawyer thought. She snatched the garrotte from her back pocket, the device teetering dangerously close to falling, and by the time she had extended it, encircling the black dragon’s neck, it was too late for him to fend her off. Using her feet as leverage, she yanked the wooden handles back and pulled with every ounce of power she could muster, feeling the rip of his leathery flesh as she tore it away.

The terrible sound of blood gurgling filled her ears, and Sawyer shut her eyes closed, not wanting to see the gruesome mess of the decapitated dragon as he thrashed. Her grip turned her knuckles to white knobs, but she did not release him until the head came clean from his body.

There was no time to react, to absorb the fact that she had stolen yet another life; her body was again being raised into the air, this time on the back of her lover, who darted into the graying sky above. There were half a dozen dragons still in the throes of a fiery battle, but somehow, Sawyer could sense that the worst was over.

She fell forward, tears streaking her face as Anders whisked her over the treetops, landing her in a clearing away from the fighting and chaos. Gently placing her on the ground, he turned his head toward her, saffron eyes glittering as he bowed before shooting off into the rain.

“Wait!” she screamed after him, but he was already gone, leaving her in a pile of pine needles, scared and scarred.

“He’ll be back for you.” Sawyer jumped, falling backward as an elderly woman walked toward her, her kind eyes glowing as she nodded reassuringly.

“Wh-who are you?”

“My name is Ruby. My cottage is this way. Come, I’ll make you some tea.”

“I—I can’t!” Sawyer choked. “Th-there’s—I can’t!”

“You can’t help them,” the older woman told her patiently. “This is a fight that only they can resolve amongst themselves. It started a long, long time ago. Nothing can be buried forever.”

Sawyer shook her head, still wary of the woman. “Are you one of them?” she whispered.

Ruby laughed. “Goodness, no, but in a way, I am responsible for them.”

“You made them this way?”

“Not me,” Ruby explained. “An ancestor of mine. Seven centuries ago.”

Sawyer thought of the story Vander had told her, and she gaped at the witch.

“How can this be?” she demanded. “With spells and magic and…” She trailed off, unsure of how to even finish such an insane idea.

“It was a different world then,” Ruby replied quietly. “There were truer believers, and the earth itself was not as corrupted. Things were possible then that simply are not now.”

Sawyer stared at her for a long moment. “You couldn’t change them back?”

“They wouldn’t want it if I could,” Ruby answered with confidence. “They are immortal and powerful. At least, the princes are. The others… well, they were an abomination, a mistake. Their poor breeding made them all unstable and reckless.”

“Why? How? I don’t understand.”

“Come with me, child, and I will explain it all to you,” Ruby said, turning away. “It’s about to rain.”

No sooner had she spoken than fat drops hit her face and head. Sawyer looked back into the sky, slowly trailing after the witch, and Ruby laughed without turning around.

“Don’t worry, love. He will come back for you. You are his mate, after all.”

Sawyer stopped walking. “What did you say?”

Ruby turned to smile at her. “Why are you surprised? You’ve known it all along, haven’t you? You are fated to be with Anders Williams. He is your protector, your saviour. Not to mention he’s easy on the eyes and richer than all the gods combined.”

“He’s a dragon,” Sawyer whispered. “I can’t be fated to a dragon.”

“And yet you are,” Ruby tittered, pivoting to lead the way across the field.

And Sawyer realized that the witch was right.

No matter who Anders was, she was in love with him.

She was just going to have to find a way to not hunt him or his weyr in the future.