Dragon Mystics (Supernatural Prison #2)

Weird. Major weirdness.

Normally a forest started to thin before reaching the end, but this had just cut off. The outer tree line was just as dense as the rest of the jungle had been. In front of us I could see a long expanse of thick-grained sand, a dark watermelon color. The briny quality Braxton had been scenting was very strong now, and I could hear the crashing of water in the distance. We were still moving, the warmth of the shifting sand soothing on my ravaged feet. I wished I had time to truly admire the beauty. This world thrummed with magic, the colors unparalleled with anything I’d seen on Earth, serene and beautiful, but it had a sense of being off, and it was hard to pinpoint exactly what the problem was.

The bear-monkey-people things burst from the forest. I didn’t so much see as hear their massive bulk hit the ground. They didn’t sound as if they were as agile on the sand, there were many thumps and noises of collisions echoing toward us. Braxton was practically flying along the beach, his strength lifting me to keep pace.

“I’m going to shift,” he said. I could hear him clearly, despite our rapid trajectory. No wind, the land was eerily calm.

And that was why Braxton was running and not fighting, he was trying to gain enough space between us and our pursuers to shift. Normally my dragon quad never ran from a fight, it wasn’t in his nature, but his priority was protecting me. He flung me forward before grinding to a halt, covering my flank. I just barely stayed on my feet, and spun away from the water line, turning to find Braxton had shed his jeans and was about to shift into his dragon.

I forced myself not to stare at the double perfection of Braxton ass. His perfect, sun kissed, tightly muscled … shit.

The horror coming at us from the trees helped to cool the raging torrent of my hormones. Twenty of the beasts – did they call for a freaking family reunion or something? – were galloping across the sand. I couldn’t see any wings on their mishmash of features, so we might have flight as an advantage. I felt the pull as Braxton gathered his energy – strong, almost visible in waves around him.

He never even had to bend forward or drop to all fours. His shift was so fast that one moment he stood six and half feet of muscled male and the next he was fifteen feet tall of powerful dragon. His black and blue scales glistened under the sunless green sky.

The creatures must have had at least half a brain. As Braxton tilted back his snout filled with razor sharp teeth and roared to the sky, they skidded to a halt. About fifty yards separated us from them, just enough distance that they were safe from Braxton’s flames which would strip the flesh from their bodies in seconds.

I edged myself closer to the dragon’s tail; somehow I knew he wanted me as close as possible. A thump sounded behind us. I spun around and my heart dropped, pretty much ending up at my feet.

Crap, shit, ass.

“Brax!” I shouted, already sprinting, and in about five agile steps I was moving along the thickly scaled tail and up onto his broad back.

The dragon snorted but didn’t eat me, so he wasn’t taken by surprise. Maybe he’d also seen the creatures which were dragging themselves from the water. Not only were we facing mutant bear-monkeys, but behind us came the serpents – shaped like water dragons, but on a dinosaur scale, and there were literally hundreds of them.

I settled into the groove just behind the dragon’s wing joints. Those powerful appendages thrust outwards and within a few swift beats we were airborne. It wasn’t the first time I had flown with Braxton, but generally he lined his hide with a saddle so the scales wouldn’t rip my skin to pieces. The armor plating of his skin was smooth, but the impenetrable strength and immoveable nature of them made them hell on my skin.

As we ascended, the view from below became startling clear. The fey might have left Faerie land, along with many of the demi-fey, but those which had stayed behind were giant and scary, bad ass mothers.

“What’s the plan, Brax?”

He couldn’t answer me, but I was hoping he’d be able to mime or play friggin’ charades or something, because I had no idea what we should be doing.

Where should we go? How did one escape from this land? No one ever spoke of it. I wasn’t sure if Jacob even knew. Sometimes he went off and had clandestine garden parties with other fey, but wasn’t allowed to share too many of their “ancient secrets” and we didn’t push him. I could only hope he had spoken to his brothers a little more, giving Braxton some insight.