The Dragon of Highwind by Sarah Hawke

Author:Sarah Hawke [Hawke, Sarah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Fantasy, Erotica
Publisher: Jade Fantasy
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

***

The fire isn’t even hot. How in the bloody hell can fire not be hot?

Lying flat on his back, Jorem stared up at his hands as the Aetheric flames burned all around him. He should have been dead—after the wyvern had knocked him from his feet, he had been completely unprepared to defend himself against the rider’s attack. The force of the blast had hurled his body to the edge of the supply camp, and the flames had seared his clothes to cinders. But somehow, his flesh wasn’t the least bit red. Even the tiny hairs on his arms remained unsinged.

Maybe this is what death feels like. Instead of wandering aimlessly through the Pale for all eternity, we’re doomed to strut around naked and confused.

Jorem might have believed his new theory if he hadn’t immediately started choking on ash. He could barely see a damn thing through the tears stinging his eyes, and his lungs were so desperate for air he swore they were filled with water. Rolling over, he clawed at the rocky dirt on the shoreline in a frantic, last-ditch effort to drag himself out of the smoke, at which point he belatedly realized the hand stretching out in front of him didn’t look like it belonged to him. It didn’t even look human.

The Aether surged through him, unbidden and unrelenting, and it ignited the very blood in his veins. Just like back in the Underworld the transformation hit him so suddenly, so absolutely, that he couldn’t have stopped it even if he’d known how. His limbs twisted, his bones expanded, and his pink flesh turned to crimson scales. This time, however, the metamorphosis didn’t seem like it was ever going to stop. The reptilian hand in front of him grew larger and larger by the second until it wasn’t even a hand at all—it was a massive red talon large enough to crush a wagon.

Marhaak kûl drakatharri!

The Avetharri words crashed through his mind…and for the first time ever, Jorem genuinely understood what they meant. Unleash the dragon. As the Aether seared through his veins, it burned away the last seals locking away his deepest ancestral memories. In one perfect moment of flame-forged clarity, he understood everything—his power, his purpose, and most importantly of all, his destiny.

Marhaak kûl drakatharri.

Unleash the dragon.

Marhaak vers di dout iejir.

Unleash the power of your blood.

Marhaak kûl wiivai di dout rakul!

Unleash the fury of your legacy!

Jorem reared back on his haunches and lifted himself to his full height. The ash and smoke no longer choked his lungs or burned his eyes, and his vision could now penetrate even the thickest cloud. He instinctively knew where everything and everyone was—including the wyvern. Turning his head to the right, Jorem unleashed a deep, thundering growl that shook through the camp like an earthquake. He lunged forward on his talons with a mighty, monstrous stride until he was looming over Selvhara in her werewolf form. She turned and looked up at him, and he could see his reflection in her yellow eyes—not of a man or even merely a dragon.

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