She had to get it together. She gripped the hilt again, then changed to the other hand, thinking her dexterity might surprise him. Incredibly, she dropped the dagger at exactly the wrong time.
The weapon clattered to the floor, sliding out of reach.
Rania stared at it. If she went after it, he’d not only have a clear sight of her but her back would be turned to him. Without it, she had no way to take him down. Should she manifest elsewhere and try again later? She was paralyzed in indecision for a precious moment.
Her prey took advantage of that. Hadrian snatched at her without coming around the corner, that claw seizing her in a merciless grip and holding her against the wall. His reach was longer than she might have expected. He moved so quickly that she couldn’t have evaded him. She saw the flash of steel talons attached to his nails and her heart skipped because they looked so sharp.
Rania instantly shifted shape herself, becoming a much smaller swan, and slipped from his grasp. She took flight, leaving him with a handful of white feathers, and sensed his surprise.
It wouldn’t last long.
This was her chance.
Rania launched herself through the doorway and aimed for his eyes with her claws. The white light was blinding in its intensity and the surge of raw desire through her body was staggeringly real. The emerald and silver dragon roared, spewing dragonfire that singed her wingtips. He was magnificent and powerful, his torrent of flame hot and bright. She dodged it in the last minute, but still felt the wave of heat.
Something dissolved inside her, leaving her trembling, but Rania fought on.
Unlike Hadrian, she had room to move in the great room with its high ceiling. She dove for his eyes again but he batted her aside. She knocked over a floor lamp, which shattered, and the other two Pyr in the kitchen swore. They didn’t engage, though she wasn’t sure why.
She spun to attack once more, and this time, Hadrian was less gentle. She almost got his eyes before he seized her again and flung her toward the wall of windows. Rania shifted and turned so that her back broke the glass and she tumbled out the gap in human form. Before the shards had touched the earth, she shifted shape again and soared upward in her swan form, beating her wings hard.
She flew with all her strength, but it wasn’t enough. Hadrian was immediately behind her, so much larger and more powerful in his dragon form that he was gaining on her steadily. The brilliant white glow revealed his proximity. She couldn’t out-run him and her heart was already pounding.
Rania spared a glance back, unable to keep from admiring his majestic power, then pivoted and spiraled down toward him again. He spun with remarkable agility, avoiding her strike, and snatched her out of the air, trapping her between his claws.
Rania was surrounded by a cage of steel talons, each one deadly sharp. She squirmed and was nicked, her blood staining one blade red and then her own white feathers. She wasn’t hurt but was definitely surprised. Meanshile, Hadrian was ascending, flying her to greater heights than she routinely flew in her swan form. In her plane, it was another issue, but this was exhilirating. The wind alternatively ruffled her hair and her feathers as she rotated between forms, trying to escape.
“Beautiful,” he whispered in awe.
No, she wouldn’t be swayed by a compliment.
“And deadly,” she insisted, digging a claw beneath his talon hard enough to draw blood. He roared and tightened his grip upon her, those sharp metal claws alarmingly close.
She was going to disappear, but he froze and she hesitated again. Rania glanced up to see that he was staring at the red cord on her wrist. It followed her between forms, a sign of her bargain with Maeve.
“I thought I remembered that,” he mused. He lifted her closer to his eyes and peered at her, even as he flew onward. “What does she have against you?”
It was obvious that he understood the meaning of the red string.
“Nothing. We have a deal, one I made voluntarily.”
“I doubt that,” he said with skepticism.
Rania shifted and flung herself at the talons, hoping that he’d release her instead of cutting her.
She was only half right. He twisted her around and expertly cut the tips from her longest feathers on one wing. Rania gasped in outrage as the ends of the white feathers spiraled down to the earth, glistening in the sunlight.
In a way, she had to admire his choice. He hadn’t technically hurt her, but she wouldn’t be able to fly. He definitely wasn’t a stupid dragon.
“Now, tell me who you are and why you’re hunting me,” he commanded.
“Or what?” Rania challenged.
“Or I’ll let you go.” His eyes gleamed, as if he was certain he’d cornered her. If she’d only been a shifter, like him, his conclusion would be deserved. They were high above the ground, soaring through the sky, and her inability to fly was definitely a liability. He hadn’t wondered yet how she’d gotten into his lair, but Rania doubted that oversight would last long.
She looked down, as if assessing the distance to the ground, but really she was choosing how much to reveal. How much could she learn before she left? He was sure he had her at a disadvantage and might confess some detail she could use against him later.
Far down below, his dark-haired Pyr friend with the man-bun was standing outside the lair, looking up. There was a shimmer of blue light around him but he didn’t shift yet.
She heard a rumble, like a freight train or thunder but close by, and saw the other Pyr nod, as if agreeing with something. He went back into the lair, presumably returning to the other one.
That rumble must be the old-speak she’d read about in her research. She’d momentarily forgotten about that.
“Deciding that you need me after all?” Hadrian asked with confidence.
“How dare you cut my feathers?” Rania demanded. “I won’t be able to fly.”
He fixed her with a bright glare. “You gave me a kiss of death. You invaded my lair. You intend to kill me and are using a firestorm that’s possibly fake to distract me. I don’t think I’m the one who’s daring too much.” He soared high above the clouds and it was just as thrilling to fly in a dragon’s grasp as any other way.
One word caught Rania’s attention.
Possibly.
“If the firestorm’s fake, it’s not my doing,” she argued, just to see what he would say.
“If it’s real, then we’re destined mates and you shouldn’t be trying to kill me.”
The white light shimmered and shone, its blinding brightness making it hard to think of anything other than getting naked with Hadrian. What kind of lover would he be? Quick and to the point? No, he’d take his time. Rania knew it. Were his thoughts turning in the same direction?
The firestorm was about a Pyr meeting his destined mate. If so, he might be more susceptible to her human form.
Rania shifted shape within his grasp and was rewarded by his start of surprise. He gave her a slow and appreciative survey, making her conclude that she was right. Unfortunately, she was distracted, too. That look made her warm. In fact, it made her tingle. It made her think of the big bed in his bedroom and what they could do there...
“I don’t believe that story about the firestorm,” she said. “I think it’s a ruse and a lie, a trick to get sex whenever you want it.”
He was obviously insulted. “I don’t need a trick to get sex,” he retorted and she could believe it. “The firestorm is the sign of a Pyr meeting his destined mate, the one woman who can bear his son.” He said this with complete conviction.