Page 6 of Claim the Light
It doesn’t hurt the beast, but it stops him from gaining air because of the rapidly forming holes in his wing—unlike his other wing, which catches air and throws him off-balance.
The black dragon lets go of my arm and drops to the rooftop.
I tumble backward, free of his hold.
Micah’s defense of me only seems to have made the dragon angrier.
With a roar, he swings back to Micah, standing taller even than Micah’s towering build.
Micah’s teeth are gritted, his feet planted, and in his eyes, I see even more of the wolf that lives in his soul.
“Who the fuck are you?” Micah demands to know, squaring his shoulders, watching the beast approach once more.
“I’m your death,” the beast replies.
Once again, the dragon swings his claws toward Micah’s throat, but Micah aims for the beast’s wrist, blocking the blow and punching at the dragon’s face. It’s a quick jab that smacks into the beast’s jaw, a solid hit before dust flies around his face, seeming to cushion the blow.
Even though the dragon is only knocked back a single step, it gives me hope that he isn’t as fully in control of his power as he wants to be. If he’s a dragon shifter with new powers that only emerged today, then his control will be as new to him as mine is to me.
If his face remained solid for a beat too long, then maybe other parts of him will too.
The beast shakes his head, recovering before Micah can land another blow.
He dives back at Micah.
The two men exchange hits, but nearly every time, it doesn’t seem to matter how fast or skillfully Micah moves—his fists merely churn through the dragon’s shadowy form. It’s also clear that Micah can’t put the full force of his strength into each blow since he has to be able to retract his arm quickly so he doesn’t lose his balance.
What’s more, his ragged inhalations tell me he’s struggling to draw a proper breath, just as I am. He won’t be able to keep this up.
Knowing I can’t recklessly throw myself into the fight—to do so could make things worse for Micah if I get in his way—I take a moment to study the way the beast moves, watching the shadows and mist that cling to his form and then casting my gaze up to the thin, dark cloud that continues to cover the moon above us.
How can I fight a shadow?
I focus on his back and the way he keeps his wings ready, using them to gain height to give more strength to each blow. The best I can do is to impede his ability to use his wings and I need to do so fast.
Darting toward the dragon’s back as he moves to once again lift off the rooftop and gain height, I aim for the spot between his wings and grab hold of his wing bones where they meet his shoulders. My hands pull right through his bones, and I tumble back through the air, but I achieved my intention.
I upset the dragon’s balance.
Even so, it came at a cost. The dragon may be like a cloud of ash, but the icy feeling that flows through my palms is too real and so is the fine dust that remains on my skin. Flecks of it suddenly fill my heart with ice when they don’t rub off. They’re tiny, but I sense them draining my strength as sure as a blow to my heart would.
How many flecks now rest on Micah’s skin?
His labored breathing tells me too many.
With a cry of fear, I throw myself back at the dragon, abandoning caution. Wrenching at his left wing with one hand, I punch through his back with the other, driving my arm right through his torso.
It’s like pushing through gritty ashes. Every particle bites my skin, scratching and grinding and cutting through my scales, and when I retract my arm with a hoarse scream, my limb comes away covered in cuts and blood.
My fear for Micah grows even worse. He’s punched his arms through the dragon’s body over and over again and it must only be the toughness of his scales that’s prevented his arms from being ripped up.
Unless I simply can’t see the blood through the layer of dust that’s now clinging to him.
The dragon gives a frustrated roar and spins to me, his fist flying wildly at my face.
I’m already darting backward. I narrowly evade the blow but manage to rasp a taunt. “Come forme, you fucking coward.”
The dragon’s growl is low and cold as he plows after me, his footfalls soundless. “Silly Sophia. You never learned respect.”
