A dragon shifter novel Chapter 28

The Rule Book

Evander

Kael lunges for the satchel and pants the coach tosses him, as if it’s second nature, and holds it in one hand while the other reaches for the med–tools. I watch him work with a kind of stupid, furious focus that has nothing to do with my dragon and everything to do with the fact that those hands are on her. My talons twitch with a phantom itch under my skin, but force myself to stay still. Every inch of me wants to close them and keep her safe; every inch of me hates the idea of anyone touching what feels like mine. Kael pulls out bandages, vials, a roll of gauze, and a small corked bottle glowing a faint

turquoise. The smell of herbs hits me, from the enchantment in the bottle, and it makes my jaw shift. Kaeh takes a breath and glances up at me with half-

apology, half–command in his eyes. “I’m going to clean her, Ev. Calm yourself.” His tone isn’t asking. He rips at my shirt on her small frame. The motion is

almost violent, one hand on the collar, the other tearing the fabric with claws that have never been gentle in combat but now move like surgeons. The white shreds fall away, exposing the pale expanse of her back and the ragged, angry dark lines of the wounds–mud clings to them, dark as old bruises. The sight of her raw flesh hits me harder than it should. I feel unreasonably possessive and fiercely protective, like a beast with hot coals behind its ribs. My dragon’s instincts flare, and my wings expand, then slowly they curl around the three of us. Privacy. She needs privacy. Kael pours water over a cloth and gently presses it to the worst of the grime. He murmurs as he works, soft, steady sounds that aren’t exactly words of comfort bat have the same effect. The cloth

comes away darker, the mud lifting and leaving angry, raw skin behind. The smell of rot and river and ash clings to her. Remnants of whatever terror happened in those trees. I swallow, and the dragon in me seethes. “Hold on, Ally,” Kael says under his breath. The way he says it to her is small and

personal. He works with the steady, quiet patience of someone who’s saved more friends than he’d like to count. With one hand, he props her up, and with

the other, he uncorks the little glowing vial. When he touches the salve to the open flesh, it steams with bright blue mist curling up and licking the air. Tiny runes unfurl across her skin as the flesh that looked shredded and raw begins to knit at the edges, the potion closing tiny capillaries. Kael hums in approval

as it works slowly. My dragon doesn’t like it. He rumbles a low, dissatisfied sound that vibrates through my sternum. Something else happens when Kael

slides a bandage under my talons and looks up at me. His face is calm, hard with the kind of concentration I’ve come to respect, but he doesn’t preen for

praise or gloat like he usually would. He wraps and binds her as if this is the most crucial task in the world, and his hands never once falter. He tacks the

bandage down with clean, careful folds, tying knots with fingers that are steady as the world swims. When he finishes, he lowers his voice and says

something to her that I can’t quite hear. I want to listen. I want to know the small, private thing he’s said into her ear, but he says it so softly that I can’t.

The dragon’s grip around me loosens a fraction, as if Kael’s steadiness tells him something in a language older than speech. She will not be taken from me.

That is what he understands now, and my dragon settles into watchfulness instead of belligerence. Kael scoops up the remaining kit and rises, wiping his

hands on a strip of my shredded shirt. He meets my eyes for a long second. “She needs to get warm and stitched properly inside. Help me carry her?”

There’s no question there, only the expectation that I’ll do the right thing. My dragon’s rumble softens into a careful, almost wary sound. I feel the shift

under my skin before I understand it. My talons that hold her tighten once more, then, with the strangest, most humiliating gentleness, I nudge her toward

Kael. My dragon hands her over. Kael slides into position without hesitation/quickly grabbing for his own shirt that he took off before all of this. He places

it over her and then carefully eases her into a cradle. He takes her like a man taking something precious and fragile, and I realise I’ve been holding my

breath the whole time. My body takes over, doing the rest on autopilot. The shift releases me like a leash snapping. Scales give way to skin, claws to fists,

muscles folding back into place. When I hit the grass on two feet, I feel absurdly small. I swallow past the dry, hollow place in my throat and force my

posture into something hard and watchful, because my dragon has left a mark that doesn’t wash off with form. Kael meets my eyes like he’s anchoring me

There are no words for what just happened, but his look says, “Go with me.” I fall into step at his shoulder, keeping close enough that my shadow touches her wrapped form. We move as one, slow and deliberate unit. The medics clear a path, and Coach falls mute behind us, with students scattering like startled

birds. I want to ask my dragon what mine means. I try to press my claws into my ribs and drag the animal out, show him the rule–book. Bonds form at the

Moonlight Festival, under the council’s wards. Not in a muddy riverbed, but the words stick in my throat. There’s no language for the thing that blurted itself out of my beast and laid a claim I don’t understand. So I do what I can. I put on some pants, I keep my stance tight, ches forward, shoulders squared,

and raise an obvious, dramatic wall for anyone who wonders whether they can step too close. The protective pose is almost theatrical. I realise later it reads

as something much simpler to everyone watching: He’s scared. He’s furious. He’s not fucking around.

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