“Do you see anything?” he asked.
“One of them went to help the one I stabbed,” she said, speaking as softly as she could with him able to hear her, the wind trying to tear the words from her mouth. Even after all that, she’d remained cognizant that at least one other dragon might still be after them.
Rune already had his senses scanning everything around them. The way that green had come out of nowhere, a black dragon had trained him, Rune had no doubt. Even so, if Deep or Finn had seen that rookie mistake, they’d be chewing his ass out right this second. He and Hadyn both sat in silence as he flew as fast as silence demanded. Higher and higher, so that he’d blend into the black of the night.
Nothing came for them. That didn’t mean they were in the clear, though.
…
Another shiver wracked Hadyn’s body and the muscles at her jaw clenched so hard the bones ached. Actually, all her bones ached at this point. At these speeds and this altitude, not to mention at night, even her very expensive coat designed for mountaineering wasn’t enough. They’d been flying for a solid two hours now, toward the Pacific coast if she was interpreting the position of the stars correctly.
The southern hemisphere’s sky wasn’t as familiar to her as the northern, so she could be wrong.
Another shiver hit, and she curled herself around Rune’s spike, trying to block the wind.
“Sorry,” Rune’s voice sounded in her head a second before warmth hit her ass.
He’d ignited the fire in his belly to help her even though she hadn’t said a word about it. No doubt her shivers had communicated through his scales. Despite acting as armor, a dragon’s scales were surprisingly supple and sensitive, as alive as the rest of his body. Cursing her human weakness—not for the first time—Hadyn patted his spike as a thank you of sorts.
“We’re almost there,” he said.
She desperately wanted to launch a list of questions at him but didn’t dare speak, not wanting to risk anyone who might have followed being able to zero in on their position because of her.
So she held her tongue.
Fifteen minutes later, he started a slow descent. The glitter of a small town on the horizon coming closer with each passing second. Thirty minutes later, he landed in a clearing near the hushed and sleeping town. As soon as she climbed down to the ground, more difficult with her hands so frozen, he shifted and waved at her to follow. Stepping where he stepped, trying her best to be as silent as Rune—not that she could ever hope to be—Hadyn followed him through dense trees and underbrush. A path he seemed to know well. Gradually, the foliage thinned and, out of nowhere, she found herself looking at the back side of a building.
Rune didn’t bother to check with her, moving with mute confidence to a door located in the back. He slapped his hand on the door jamb of what appeared to be crumbling wood. To her shock, a panel lit up, black with a deep red light that didn’t penetrate the darkness beyond where they stood. It ran the length of his palm—scanning it, she realized.
Then the rickety door clicked and opened to reveal another door of what appeared to be solid concrete. That, too, slid back in a whispered whoosh, exposing steel runners in the flooring. Dragonsteel if she had to guess. Rune pulled her inside, and both doors shut behind them. As soon as they did, lights turned on, illuminating a long hallway.
“This way,” Rune said, still speaking softly as though worried they’d been followed.
She’d never seen the other dragon after them once they’d gotten away, so she wasn’t convinced they hadn’t been tracked. No matter how superb Rune’s powers of stealth were.
Without a single noise, he took her down the hall, up a set of stairs, into…a cozy home.
What the what?
Older and built in what she assumed was traditional style for the region, it boasted a red terracotta tiled floor, white walls, dark wood trim around the windows and doors, and minimal decor and furniture. Despite that, she got the impression that this was truly a place of the heart.
Surprise stopped Hadyn’s feet, and Rune’s grip on her jerked him to a stop as she glanced around curiously. “What is this place?”
“My personal hideaway.” The admission was grudgingly given.
The place was immaculate, though. Not a speck of dust in sight. “Do you stay often?”
“No.”
“It’s so clean.”
His eyebrows shot up as if to say, “That’s what you want to talk about?” Then he hitched a shoulder. “I hire a woman from the nearby village to come daily to clean. She cooks as well when I’m in residence.
“I see.” She glanced away from eyes suddenly gone strangely intense, as though he was realizing for himself where they were. “I guess you don’t have guests often?”
“I’ve never brought anyone here.” Was it her imagination, or had his voice pitched lower? He crossed his arms, his gaze turning suddenly more intent. “What happened back there?” he asked.
Oh. That.
“I…got scared.” Gods, those words stuck in her throat.
Rune shook his head. “I’m not buying it. Something had you truly shaken. If it’s going to happen again, I need to know.”
Crap. He wasn’t wrong. Hadyn huffed anyway. “It’s a lot like a panic attack. They haven’t happened in a while, but certain…situations…can bring them on.”
“Like hiding?”
She shrugged, then, for some strange reason, found herself telling him more. “I get trapped in memories of the day my human parents were killed. I was hiding under my bed.”
She glanced away. “They took him away and killed him, too.”
The weight of those terrible images seemed to lift, and Hadyn frowned. Maybe, since she hadn’t been able to share the truth with the human counselors who’d tried to help her, that was why she still periodically struggled with this. Sure, she’d had her dragon parents, but talking through that night with them only hurt them, because of Kip, so she’d stopped.
But telling Rune even just this little bit…had made the clenching around her heart ease. Strange.
What if she told him everything? She glanced away, buying herself a hot minute. When she happened to return her gaze to him, the state of his shirt caught her attention, and she sucked in a sharp breath.
Forgetting that they weren’t the kind of friends who worried about each other, or friends at all for that matter, she hurried closer and reached out for the stain of red slashed across his shirt, lifting the edge to see the nasty gash underneath. Regardless of the fact that he’d been in dragon form, when that dragon’s tail spike struck, it had clearly sliced a decent hole inside Rune. The blood had dried at least, but the wound, a perfect round hole, was still far from healed, which meant the other dragon had injured him worse than she’d known.