Her body rediscovered how to move. She scrambled backward on hands and feet, scuttling like a crab.
He arched his long serpentine neck. He tilted down a horned triangular head that was the length of her body so that he could look at her with eyes that were great pools of molten lava. With a sound that sliced the air, he whipped his tail back and forth.
“That’s my long, scaly, reptilian tail. And it’s bigger than anyone else’s,” Dragos said in a voice that was deeper, larger, yet still recognizable as his. One huge eyelid dropped in an unmistakable wink.
She collapsed in hysterical laughter.
“Stay down,” the dragon told her. He lowered his head as he turned to the bluff, a sleek, sinuous behemoth. He bared his teeth in a vicious challenge. “BRING IT ON, YOU SON OF A BITCH.”
One by one the Dark Fae riders rose into the air on their dragonfly steeds. They turned and flew away.
It was impossible to see, but she sensed the predator in him vibrating with the instinct to give chase. He held himself back, though, and she knew why. He wouldn’t leave her unprotected with the Goblin/Fae army so near.
She pushed up on one elbow to stare in the direction of their pursuers. The Goblins and Fae riders had turned away. They were in full retreat.
The sound of ripping soil had her looking back at the dragon. He was digging his talons into the ground as he snarled at their retreat.
“Dragos,” she said. He looked at her. She jerked her head toward the retreating army. “Go.”
He needed no further encouragement. He crouched and sprang into the air. A roar split the sky like a thunderclap. The Goblins began to scream as the killing began. She was ferociously, vindictively glad.
It was not so much a battle as it was extermination. After Dragos’s first spectacular dive and roll when he winged low over their heads and spouted fire, she couldn’t watch anymore. She turned onto her stomach, put her arms over her head and waited for it to be over.
The stink of Goblin was overcome with the smell of oily smoke. It was not long before silence fell over the plain. There was no one left to do a body count. None of their enemies made it off the plain alive.
She nestled her nose deeper in the tall, sweet-smelling grass. The sun was high in the sky. It was warm on her back and shoulders. A quiet rustling in the grass grew closer. A shadow fell over her. Something very light tickled her forearms that covered the back of her head. It whuffled in her hair.
She scratched an arm. “Did you kill the Fae horses?”
The whuffling stopped. Dragos said in a cautious voice, “Was I not supposed to?”
She shrugged. “It just wasn’t their fault.”
“If it helps any, I was hungry and ate one.” Another whuffle.
She couldn’t help but chuckle. “I guess that does help some.”
She rolled over. He had stretched out alongside her, his great body between her and the remains of the Goblin/Fae army. His wings, a dramatic sweep of bronze darkening to black at the tips, were folded back. His hide glinted in the sun. She lifted her head and looked in the direction of a few plumes of smoke. His triangular head came down in front of her, golden eyes keen. “You don’t need to look over there,” he said in a gentle voice.
She sat up and leaned against his snout. She laid her cheek against him. Close up, she could see a faint pattern like scales in his hide. She stroked the wide curve of one nostril. It seemed somewhat softer than the rest of him. He held very still, breathing light and shallow.
“What does that feel like?” she asked him.
“It feels good.” He sighed, a great gust of wind, and he seemed to relax. “Thank you for saving my life again, Pia Alessandra Giovanni.” He made the syllables of her human name sound musical.
“Back atcha, big guy,” she whispered.
After a few more moments he withdrew, giving her plenty of time to straighten. She looked up, way up at his long triangular head silhouetted against the afternoon sun. “You have,” he said, “two choices.”
“Choices are good.” She pushed to her feet, all of a sudden feeling tired and achy again. “Choices are better than orders.”
“You can ride,” he told her. “Or I can carry you.”
“Ride? Hot damn.” She shaded her eyes and eyed his enormous bulk. “That might be more excitement than I can deal with right now. I’m not seeing any seat belts up there.”
“You got it.” Giving her plenty of time to adjust, he wrapped the long claws of one foot around her with such precision he didn’t cause so much as a scratch or pinch. When he tilted his foot, she found she had quite a comfortable hollow in which to sit. He lifted her up so that he could look at her. “All right?”
“I’m feeling a little Fay Wray here, but otherwise it’s great,” she told him. “You know, if you weren’t a multibillionaire, you could make a good living as an elevator.”