The Warrior King (Inferno Rising) by Owen, Abigail (reading a book txt) 📕

“They’re behind us.”

The gruff warning tumbled her out of the beautiful space where she was safe and free, and Meira instinctively grabbed onto him tighter and turned as much as she dared to glance behind them, but his tail, with the flat, mace-like barbs at the end pointing in the direction of the wind, blocked her view.

Behind them where? Too close? Not close enough?

This entire gambit depended on how they timed this. They needed to be followed, not so close that they didn’t have time to get away. But close enough, drawing their attackers away so that Rune and all the others could get out through the main entrance to their mountain. According to Rune, their attackers had blown it wide-open.

“Here we go.”

The wind tearing against her increased in violence as he put on a spurt of speed that made the mountainside blur beneath them. Or perhaps just made her eyes blur as tears naturally welled up to keep them from drying to dust or freezing to ice cubes in her head.

How much farther? Gods, she wanted to call out. Were they close?

“Almost there,” Samael said, no strain to his voice, utter confidence. This was where he came alive. It was obvious in the almost casual way he used his body. He was meant to fly.

A roar split the night air. Way too close. Practically on top of them.

“Are we going to make it?” she dared to ask softly.

He said nothing, his quietness an answer all by itself.

Suddenly, an answering roar blasted, but from far away, almost like a faint echo of the first one.

“Rune,” Samael said, voice grim.

The black dragon shifter—now in direct violation of her orders—seemed determined to make himself into a martyr. Not if she had anything to say about it.

She opened her mouth to scream or call out to alert those following that they were on the phoenix’s track, but Samael gave her a warning squeeze, cutting off her sound. “They’re far enough away, and we could use a few extra seconds.”

Meira clutched him harder.

“There.” A flash of silver ahead. A pond Samael had spotted during his earlier patrol, a plan that had come about after her use of the pond in the cave earlier.

Their way out. Bait and escape.

The next few minutes happened in a rush as he dropped suddenly, arrowing at the ground. Boulders and jagged edges of the sheer mountains rushed up at her so fast she closed her eyes. He stopped hard, slamming his wings wide, and Meira grunted as her body was forced against the cage of his talons. Rocks tumbled away under the force of the wind his wings generated and Samael landed, careful to keep her upright in his one talon.

Then he released her. In an equally silent glide of movement, as he shrank and realigned, Samael returned to his human form. Then ignited, allowing his black fire to dance on his palm, reflecting in the water of the mountain lake he’d brought them to.

“Quickly,” he said. “They’re coming.”

Without hesitation, Meira took his hand, letting his fire flow over her, seeping into her skin, igniting new flames inside her, which rushed over her in a torrent of red and gold quickly eaten up by the black of his own.

She couldn’t take them back to the clans, certainly not all the way to the gargoyles, but they’d already discussed where to go. She pictured it now, the way Kasia had described it to her. Maul had once shown her a mental image of the place, and Meira held that in her mind as she willed the thankfully still pond to display it. A breathtaking image appeared in the reflection, oddly angled, like they lay on the ground and gazed up at the sky.

“It’s going to be cold,” she warned. “It may be spring, but Alaska is too far north to realize that yet, and we’re starting in freezing temperatures here. Dive head—”

A shadow passed overhead, and, without warning, Samael grabbed her around the waist and jumped into the pond feetfirst.

Plunged into icy darkness, water went up her nose, and she struggled to reorient. Because up was down on the back side of the water. The grip around her waist tightened, and suddenly she felt as though she were being dragged down deeper.

Was he going the wrong way?

Darkness crushed in on her, and panic ignited in her chest. What if they didn’t make it to the surface? Without her fire, she’d never get them out of here.

Oh my gods, I’ve drowned us.

That same panic took over her muscles as flight instinct kicked in and she struggled against Samael’s grip. He clamped down, grip bruising, and, in a vague corner of her fraught mind, she felt him kicking hard through the water.

They burst through the surface, and Meira spluttered even as her lungs tried to replace water she’d sucked in with much-needed oxygen.

“Cold…fuck,” Samael spat as he released her. “If we don’t get out of here quick, we’ll turn hypothermic.”

A dragon, with his own heat source, saying that—and his voice told her he wasn’t joking—meant they needed to move. Now.

Muscles already turning heavy, her blood sluggish in her veins and making it difficult to force her limbs to function, Meira struck out for the shore, swimming as hard as she could make her limbs plow, skin already numb, aware that Samael matched her stroke for stroke. The shore seemed to hover out of reach, not coming any closer, for the longest time. The freezing air in her heaving lungs turned to razor blades with each inhalation. She kept pushing. Suddenly, her fingertips touched a slimy rock bottom, and she knew they’d made it. Meira swam a few feet more before she tottered to her feet on shaking legs that didn’t want to work and stumbled the rest of the way out.

Onto snow-covered ground.

Her teeth set to chattering so hard, she was worried her brain might dislodge.

“Dammit, woman.” Samael scooped her up in his arms, but even his warmth was obscured by the