Almost immediately, I see a flash of red and another angry cry as the second dragon dive-bombs him.

I choke, stumbling backward. The need to hide, to protect myself, grows with every moment. After seven years of dragon attacks in the After, I don’t feel safe out in the open with a dragon nearby. I have to hide. I’m not safe here.

I look around the big, empty floor, but there’s no place for me to take cover. No concrete rooms or reinforced doors, no metal shelters to protect me from dragon fire. There’s nothing but empty, open floor.

I’m screwed.

I don’t know what to do.

A flash of wing tumbles past, and I gaze out into the open sky, shocked. The red and gold are intertwined, fighting nearby. Another horrible thought crosses my mind: What do I do if the gold dragon—my dragon—loses? Even if the other dragon flies away again, I’m going to starve to death up here, abandoned.

I’ve got to get out of here.

I rush to the ledge and grip the edge of the wall, gazing out. There’s no walkway, of course. No fire escape, not even a concrete lip that would allow me to drop down to another level, provided I had two good arms and a healthy amount of daring. But I don’t have either. Nor do I see the dragons—the sky in front of me is clear.

A terrible roar comes from overhead, and I feel a rush of flame sear at my curls. I scream and duck inside, backing away, my hand on my hair. It’s not on fire, but the stink of singed hair permeates my senses. I move away from the ledge, standing next to the bathtub full of water, when a dragon thumps down onto the floor, landing.

It’s the red.

My eyes widen in shock. It’s smaller than the other dragon, its muzzle slathered with white scars. Blood pours down its neck, dotting the scales with more pulsing red. Smoke curls from its nostrils, and as I watch, those great, black eyes focus in on me.

The dragon inhales.

Gold slams into it from behind, sending them both tumbling. Fire flies through the air, and I duck against the side of the bathtub, trying desperately to stay clear. The two dragons thrash, and there’s more fire, smoke filling the enormous chamber as they wrestle, claws and wings and tails everywhere.

The red spouts flame again, and it comes awfully close once more. My heart hammering, I realize that they could torch me even as I sit here, trying to stay out of the way. Even if I avoid their crashing bodies, I could end up a charred heap regardless.

I huddle against the tub and then realize what I’ve got.

Of course.

I climb into the bathtub, even though every inch of me is screaming to duck down near the floor again. I ignore the protesting throb of my broken arm and sink down into the water, and when the thrashing dragons spin closer, I suck in a breath and duck under the surface.

A brief moment after I do, heat crackles over the water, and I can feel the temperature rise in response.

Shit. That was too close.

I open my eyes underwater, letting up bubbles. I can’t see much, except the occasional lick of flame. I want to stick my head up and take another breath, but I worry I’ll pop up just in time to take a faceful of fire.

So I push my hands against the sides of the tub…and wait.

I hope I can hold my breath long enough.

DAKH

Tearing out the throat of the female interloper does not fill me with satisfaction. There is no joy in destroying another of my kind, especially a female. Not when I know she is as crazed as I am. The ravens shout in her mind as well as my own, making it impossible to think clearly. Her madness was overwhelming, and every attempt I made at communicating was drowned out by her own wild thoughts. She sensed an unmated female and wanted to destroy her, seeing her as a rival.

I could not let her harm my human. Never.

As her blood washes over me, I wait for the calm my human brings to my thoughts. I wait for my female to chase away the choke of birds fluttering through my head, for her presence to silence the litany of voices in my mind until I hear just one—hers. But there is only silence, and the fury in my mind continues.

I cannot calm.

The urge to destroy things—to destroy others—rocks through me. I cannot shake it—or the obsessive need to use my claws to rend and tear. Kill, the ravens caw. Hurt. Destroy like you have been destroyed.

But I cannot. Not without a mate to care for—

My mate? Where is she?

I send a bugling call into the air, but there is no answer. Panic makes the ravens attack, pecking at my eyes, my scales. They swarm over me, and I fight to push through the bad thoughts they loose in their wake.

My mate. I must focus on her. She is everything.

I scan the room, but there is nothing, no small human figure cowering in a corner. There is only the round container full of water with a shadow floating atop it…

With an angry bellow, I bound across the room and snatch my human from the water. She is limp in my claws, and I give her a little shake, nosing her as delicately as I can to try to rouse her. She hid in the water to avoid the fire of the female attacker? My clever, clever little human.

The female is still for a long moment, then begins to spit water, gurgling and coughing. She clings to my claws, and I pull her tight against my breast, protective.

She is not leaving my grip. Not now. Not ever. I inhale deep lungfuls of the foul air of this place, but I cannot clear my thoughts. All I can see is rage. Rage that the female dragon dared to attack my mate in her nest. Rage that the ravens continue to mutter their dark thoughts in my head. Rage that I am trapped here, in this terrible place. Rage that I almost lost my female.

Rage. So much rage.

My female says something, interspersed between coughs, and the sound of her raw voice just fuels my anger. She should not be hurting. She should be safe with me. She should be my mate at this point, and yet she will not give me a mating challenge. All of this fuels the fire burning in my belly, until smoke is pouring from my nostrils. I am a mere breath away from losing control.

She touches my claw and says something, but it is drowned out by the angry maelstrom of my thoughts. Her hand moves on my scales, but I am barely aware of it. All I can see is fury. All I can hear is anger.

Then, something soft and sweet pierces through the darkness. The dark clouds in my mind rise, and in their place, she is there.

My human.

Her voice is gentle, and she is making a strange little sound that is not quite speaking, not quite humming. It is calming and pleasant, and I feel the ravens ebb away as she continues to stroke my claw, making those soothing noises.