Page 3 of Dragon Kissed

Demetri dug his talons deeper into the blue dragon's neck and beat his wings once—not to rise, but to drive them deeper.

Darkness swallowed the fading daylight above as the weight of two massive dragons carried them into the cold depths.

Benedikte bucked violently, claws raking across Demetri's scales. His tail lashed hard enough to shake Demetri's bones. Still, he held on.

Justice is patient,Demetri thought.Today, it comes for you.

Submerged, there was no fire, no air to breathe, no leverage, no weight to throw, only teeth and claws and the old, brutal,close-range work of dragons who knew this battle could have only one survivor.

Listen to me, hunter. You must?—

Accept your fate as I have accepted mine,Demetri interjected. He was done listening.

The blue dragon twisted, clawed and snapped, every movement costing him more air. More blood. Suddenly, he froze.You are a reckless fool, Demetri. Honorable. But still a fool.

They continued to sink, now locked in a battle of stillness. Conservation.

Benedikte’s unblinking stare held the certain knowledge that he understood exactly what Demetri was doing. Understood the sacrifice he was making.

Demetri cut off all emotion, slammed the gate shut with finality. He had done it so many times the act no longer required conscious thought. Fear. Rage. Pain. Shock. He locked each behind walls built over centuries of battle, stripping himself down until only this moment remained. Battle strategy. Calculation. He mercilessly clamped down on his dragon’s instinct to fight for air, to release his captive and claw for the surface.If the sea demands my life to claim yours, then so be it.

He ignored the fire building in his own chest. His lungs screamed. Black crept into the edges of his vision, and still they continued to sink, the water staining crimson with blood.

Into the dark.

Into the cold.

Into the deep recesses of his mind where regret lived.

He’d never found her.

For a single stuttering heartbeat, he fought for air.

For her.

And then the darkness swallowed him.

His grip loosened?—

CHAPTER 2

The first thing to penetrate Demetri’s consciousness was the swaying motion. He didn’t want to open his eyes. Everything hurt. He was broken. Still bleeding—although the worst of the gashes had somehow slowed enough that he was still alive. Odd. He didn’t remember closing the wounds.

He smelled smoke. Something was on fire.

Confused, he dragged in a lungful of air through his nose.

Smoke. Burning oil. Death.

Demetri bolted upright, instantly alert. He was on the yacht. Naked. Something—someone— had pulled him out of the sea.

Benedikte.

But why?

Demetri had spent thirty years apprenticed to a healer. He knew his own form, dragon and man. Every broken bone, every torn muscle and tendon. Knew the taste of his own blood. He pressed both palms flat to his wounds and focused on healing his internal injuries first. Broken bones he couldn't fully mend, so he wrapped them in heat and bound them with magic to hold the line. Flesh knit under his hands — not all of it, but enough. Then,for the first time since he opened his eyes, he drew a breath that didn't whistle.

He stood, drawing on his magic to clothe himself. If Benedikte had pulled him from the ocean just to toy with him before a second attack, he needed to be ready. He manifested traditional hunter attire. There was no need to blend with the humans here. Black leather boots formed first, soft enough to move without a sound. Charcoal trousers followed, reinforced at the knees, then a fitted black coat cut to allow complete freedom through the shoulders. A high-collared shirt buttoned itself beneath it, disappearing beneath a leather harness that settled across his chest and back. Twin short swords appeared beneath the harness, balanced for close quarters and razor sharp. A vampire-forgedhunting knife settledinto its sheathat the smallof his back. It couldn’t kill a dragon, but it was bloodthirsty and could do a lot of damage.Next, half a dozen throwing knives hidden so naturally within his coat that only another hunter would know where to look. Last came his signet ring—the only ornament he ever wore.Originally an enchanted chain worn around the neck, he’d asked a highly skilled elf to remake it into a silver signet ring with a ruby at the center. It was always present, if not always visible. He flexed hisfingers, settling intothe familiar weight.