I stood in indecision. Power pumped through me.
Jedrek lay at their feet, curled up, looking my way.
I need to be Jedrek, I thought, licking my lips. The minions watched, waiting for me to make the first move. I need to be out of sight when I’m in plain view. To do that, I need to appear weak.
Even if you appear weak, you don’t smell weak. You don’t feel weak. We are the mate of the golden dragon prince. Do him proud.
Fire ripped through me as the gangly minion’s arm rose. The tip of the whip slid across the ground and then went airborne.
The pain of the last strike was a fresh memory. My rage was a palpable thing.
My brain said, Take it.
My logic said, Play dead, be weak.
My body said, Fuck this shit.
I threw up my forearm without meaning to. The slap of the whip flayed my skin as it struck and then wrapped around, stinging my arm. It should’ve hurt more. This situation should’ve hurt a lot more.
On instinct or maybe impulse, I twisted my arm and grabbed the whip, yanking it away.
So much for seeming weak.
The first officer’s eyes gleamed, like maybe he’d expected me to do that. Like he’d desired it.
“Fuck,” I said to no one in particular.
“You’re in the stink now, lady,” one of the prisoners on my left said, humor in his voice.
“What happened?” a woman called.
“She took the whip,” another said.
“Who hasn’t?” a man at the end mumbled.
“Fuck,” I said again.
“Don’t bother trying to kill them all and run,” the first guy said. “Those fuckers pop out of thin air and make sure you don’t get far. It’s a real ball shriveler when they haul you back.”
“She has a sword, though,” someone said.
“Why isn’t she using the sword?” another asked.
A deep baritone voice echoed through the space. “Give the whip to me.” The man who’d spoken was behind me, but I didn’t dare tear my eyes away from the minions for long enough to look. The feel of his command whispered over my body. “Let me spare you,” he continued. “Let me take their wrath.”
His power and authority tugged at me. His proposal stopped me short for a moment, the idea of sparing myself a sweet one after the hard journey to get here. But I hadn’t come all this way to shirk my duties. Besides, he was obviously behind bars. How would he actually help me?
Fight, my dragon thought. Let the others see that you have no fear. They’ll respect you more for it. Show them your worth. The dragon is ready to supply us with all the power we need.
As if her words had summoned it, a delicious hum rose through my middle. Heat and love and a soft devotion crept through my tired limbs and aching joints. Pride and strength straightened my back.
My lungs tightened as my heart squeezed.
Nyfain. He was lending me his support through the bond. He was by my side even from all that distance.
I took a deep breath as my eyes filled with tears.
“Fuck it, let’s do this.” I ran-hobbled forward.
The minion with the club stepped around his buddy and lifted the instrument into the air. I punched forward, connecting with his throat and making him bend. I grabbed the club as the other raked my side with his claws.
“Sure would be fucking great if I could use this goddess-damned sword, huh?” I said in a series of grunts as I slapped the club against Mr. Claws’s head. I went back to the first and knocked him in the head too.
“Incoming,” one of the prisoners yelled.
The other two minions ran forward, and I grabbed one of them and ripped him closer. Mr. Claws raked forward, scoring the front of the demon I’d grabbed. I looped my arms around my demon shield, pulling the club against his neck. Mr. Claws tried to get at me around the one I held, and I turned, blocking the way again.
“He’s dead,” a prisoner called.
Helpful.
I dropped him, grabbed Mr. Claws, and pulled him close while spearing forward with my will, a physical manifestation of my power. It sliced right through his gut, opening a gash and making him scream.
Feet thudded against stone. A stream of red descended the stairs, whips and clubs in hand. They’d brought in reinforcements.
Fuck, my dragon thought.
I had to agree.
The demon horde reached me. A whip crack shot blinding pain through me as a club crashed down on my shoulder. More came with it, weapons and claws and fists. I could strike out with my will, but against all of this, I wouldn’t get far.
I took what they had to offer without a sound. I did not cry or call out. As blow after blow fell, I wrapped myself in the feeling of Nyfain through the bond—in his strength and power and comfort. In my love for him, which I’d never gotten to express. In my thankfulness for our time together. I ignored all that was happening around me and took solace in the memory of his muscled arms wrapped around me. With him for support, I was strong enough to endure anything.