****
Mads had perfect control over himself. The dragon never emerged unless he willed it—a requirement to live in the world of men, especially after mankind developed the technology to blow his head off—but a sudden scream of pain brought the beast right to the surface. He even felt the bones in his face begin to shift before he could force the fire back down to his belly. He pushed the intercom button with a trembling finger.
“April? Are you here yet?”
No response.
His feeling of disquiet intensified and another wave of pain washed through him. It definitely was not his; something was wrong with April. She was hurt somewhere, and she needed him. He abandoned his desk and considered divesting himself of all distractions—permanently. Nothing he’d acquired, developed, or grew mattered to him at all anymore; they only served to keep him from the one thing that did matter in his life, and now she was gone. Hurt somewhere. Crying out for him.
His instincts shouted at him to take the stairs to the roof and use that as a launching pad. What did he care if the whole world saw him winging over the city? That was such a small concern when faced with April’s great fear and even greater agony. But he forced himself to take the elevator to the parking garage, walking with contained purpose, remaining calm as he turned the key and drove the car into the blinding sunlight.
Mads wanted to speed to the outskirts of the city, where he could abandon the car and shed his human skin, but there were cops everywhere. The speeding ticket would mean nothing to him but a delay, and he knew there wasn’t a second to spare. He concentrated on the task at hand, even when spikes of red-hot pain shot through his arms and behind on his eyes. He would do anything to make it stop, but he welcomed it at the same time. As long as he felt that, he knew April was alive. And every second of torture only fed the flames of fury already roaring through him.
He followed the highway blindly, driving until all the buildings and crowds were behind him. He pulled off at an empty rest stop and was barely out of the car before his wings emerged. He took off with a giant flap of his great wings, pushing the air beneath him and rising higher and higher, until he was no more than tiny red spot against the blue sky. In his true form, it was easier to sense April’s distress, and he used it as a homing signal, winging through the clouds to find her. Distance meant nothing to him and miles might as well have been inches.
In the back of his mind, he understood what was happening: he knew he was rushing towards a trap, and he knew who set it for him. April had tried to tell him. She’d been trying since Florence, but he’d been arrogant, certain that Savannah’s own sense of self-preservation would stop her from lashing out. But maybe her life didn’t matter to her at all anymore. Maybe grief had robbed her existence of meaning, and now she was determined to take the meaning from his life as well.
He wouldn’t allow that to happen. She no doubt expected him to be blind with rage, too furious to think clearly or to be any danger to her. But he always had his wits, even when his heart beat a tattoo of terror against his ribcage. He would save April and he would take down Savannah, once and for all. By the time the sun set, the world would be rid of one dragon, and April would know that she could always count on him to find her, to save her.
When Mads finally reached the ranch house that acted as April’s prison, he bellowed his invitation to Savannah. The sound echoed for miles, the vibrations of the roar strong enough to trigger equipment meant to detect earthquakes. He bellowed again and fire erupted from his throat, singeing the air.
“I’m here,” he roared in his ancient tongue. “Come and greet me if you are not a coward.”
Savannah’s answering roar told him the message had been received. April’s distress instantly abated, but she was still in pain. He pulled his lips back over long teeth and braced himself for the fight. He was going to take great pleasure in stealing the fire from Savannah’s throat and the life from her chest. He roared his sacred vow to the sky: After this day, the great Dazenth will fly no more.
“You are the coward,” Dazenth hissed as she rose to the sky. “How long did you think you could run from me?”
“You never should have involved her.”
“You should not have killed your own kind for her!”
They moved at the same time, their roars lost in the wind from their furious wings. They clashed midair, their long talons and tails entwining, tearing at any flesh they could reach while Dazenth spewed fire so hot, the flames were blue. Rugarth withstood the heat easily, his talons grappling for greater purchase. He landed a hard blow in the soft part of her stomach and she wheeled away, flying in a great circle around him, gathering momentum and speed. He flapped his wings, hovering in place until the last second of her plunge, when he deftly angled away. Unable to stop, she plummeted into the hard Wyoming dirt.
He descended immediately, driving his talons into her back. He was aiming for the cords of muscle that controlled her wings, but she dodged away just in time, her head whipping around to catch his side with her teeth. The sharp incisors ripped through his scales, reaching flesh, and though he managed to wound her, she was the one who spilled first blood. He quickly flapped his wings, pulling himself into the air and out of her reach. From high above, he blew a wall of fire down, pinning her in place. She danced away from the flames as deftly as she could, spinning around to battle fire with fire.
The dry grass around them caught like tinder and fire spread like a living thing, racing towards the house and surrounding them in an ever-growing wall. Dazenth caught an updraft and returned to the air, charging towards Mads once again with a terrible scream. He matched her roar and prepared to meet her once again.