Thornhill Academy (By Sheridan Hartin) novel Chapter 28

Mine.

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I forced my hands to let her go, though every instinct screamed to keep her cradled against my chest. Carefully, so carefully, I eased her back onto the grass, smoothing mud–matted hair from her face.

“I need to get her to medical,” I said, voice rough, more command than statement. My dragon surged in agreement, hot and restless under my skin. “Fast.”

Kael rumbled low, the sound vibrating from his chest, protective even in his hound form. His amber eyes followed every movement I made. But he didn’t try to stop me. Not this time. I stepped back, breath sharp, and let the shift tear through me. Bones cracked, flesh split, and in heartbeats, I was no longer human. The world sharpened, the scent of blood, the ragged sound of her breathing, the rush of the river below, all of it flooding my senses. My wings snapped open, blotting out the dying light, and my talons sank into the earth. Slowly, so fucking carefully, I curled one clawed hand beneath her body, the other bracing at her side. She looked breakable, impossibly small against the spread of my talons, like one wrong move would shatter her completely. I tucked her close to my chest, angled just right so the wind wouldn’t whip against her wounds. My dragon’s heart thundered, every beat too loud, too fast. With a roar that rattled the trees, I leapt skyward. The ground dropped away, the forest spread beneath us, and I drove my wings hard, carrying her higher,

faster, toward the Academy lights glowing faintly in the distance.

Hold on, little pet, I thought, chest burning as the night air rushed past. Just hold on.

The clearing came into view as I banked low, wings cutting the air. The coach stood on the field, whistle clutched in one hand, students clustered behind him. When my talons hit the dirt, the ground shook. And all of them saw what I carried. Her. The girl was limp in my claws, mud–streaked, hair plastered to her face, blood staining her back. Fragile. Breakable. My chest tightened at the sight of her. I pulled her closer, curling my claws around her small frame as if

the very air might tear her apart.

The coach’s voice boomed across the silence. “Good job finding her, Drayke. Now put her down so we can get her to medical!”

I tried. Gods, I tried. But my dragon wouldn’t move. A snarl tore through my throat, smoke curling from my teeth as I hunched protectively over her. Every

instinct in me screamed mine–mine to shield, mine to guard, mine to never let go. My talons flexed, holding her closer, careful even in possession.

“Evander.” The coach’s voice was harder now, wary. “Put her down.”

My dragon roared at him, a sound that rattled the grass and sent a few first–years stumbling back.

What the fuck is wrong with you? I snapped inside my head, clawing for control. Let her down, they need to help her!

The dragon’s answer was blunt, stubborn. No.

Why?

The answer came like fire in my blood, a certainty that made no sense. She’s mine.

The words stunned me still. I faltered, caught between fury and confusion. Mine? That wasn’t possible. That wasn’t how this worked. Bonds weren’t revealed

until the Moonlight Festival, under the council’s wards. Not here. Not now. And yet, my dragon curled tighter around her, his growls vibrating through both

of us, warning anyone who dared to step close. Kael emerged from the treeline then, shifting back mid–stride, mud streaked across his chest. He froze when

he saw her cradled in my claws. For a moment, his fire–bright eyes softened, then sharpened again as he stepped forward. My dragon growled, louder this

time, a wall of sound that sent Kael halting in place. Stay back. She’s not yours.

I clung to the passenger seat of my own body, teeth gritted, fighting to wrestle him down. You don’t even know what this means, I snapped. You can’t just

claim her.

But the dragon didn’t waver. His voice was quiet now, resolute, like an oath burned into my bones. She’s mine.

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Mine.

Kael moved like he’d been carved out of water, slow, deliberate, and impossible to startle. He stepped from the treeline and, for a moment, the world narrowed to the three of us: me, my dragon, the girl in my claws, and him.

He put his hands up, palms facing my talons as if offering appeasement. “Easy,” he said, voice low and steady. “It’s just me.”

051

Even the dragon’s rumble softened an edge at the sound of his voice. Kael had always been able to get under me in ways no one else could. He didn’t hurry. He inched forward, ignoring the low, possessive growl that rolled out from my chest. Around us, students shifted back slowly, giving us space the way animals give one another room to settle an argument. When he stopped a safe arm’s length away, he crouched so he wasn’t towering over the girl and met my eyes. There was nothing theatrical in the motion, no snarl, no bravado, only a quiet, dangerous steadiness. “You know I’d never hurt her, Evander,” he

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