I race toward my room as fast as I possibly can. The only thing stopping me from shifting outright is the fact that I’m indoors, and that doing so would almost certainly knock half the walls down. Ordinarily, that wouldn’t stop me. Structural integrity is a minor concern when something threatens what’s mine. But Lexi is still in here. Somewhere behind me. And no matter how furious I am, I won’t risk her getting hurt. That’s when it clicks. The Academy wasn’t pranking us. It wasn’t harassing Lexi. It was warning me. Telling me to move. To stop arguing. To stop wasting time and get back to my room now. My hoard. Someone is touching my hoard. I can feel it with terrifying clarity. It’s a natural instinct for dragons, older than thought, older than reason. A deep, visceral awareness that has nothing to do with logic and everything to do with survival. When someone interferes with a dragon’s hoard, it registers as a wrongness, a pressure at the back of the skull. Right now, it’s burning. It’s not subtle. It’s not vague. It’s sharp and insistent, like an itch that can’t be ignored, like claws scraping across the inside of my mind. My jaw clenches as I push myself harder, breath steady but furious. It won’t be my primary hoard. I don’t keep that here. That’s near my home, in a place that is very safe. No one is breaking into that. No one even knows where it is. And if they were… The Academy wouldn’t know about it. No. This has to be the smaller hoard. The one I keep here. The things I brought with me for comfort. The things I’ve collected. Items I chose. Items that matter. They may not be as valuable in the grand scheme of things, but they are mine, and that distinction is everything. Who the hell would do that? Who would touch my things? Who would dare? My vision narrows, heat coiling tight in my chest, fury pressing against my ribs like it wants out. Whoever it is has made a catastrophic miscalculation. They are going to regret it. Deeply.
I reach the dorms at a dead run. I would have slammed the front doors open, but they swing wide for me before I can touch them, wood and metal yielding instantly. For once, the Academy has decided to cooperate. Smart. It can probably feel what’s coming off me right now and knows better than to get in my way. I charge down the hallway. Every step pounds through me like a drumbeat, my pulse roaring in my cars, heat flooding my veins. The burning pressure at the back of my skull sharpens with every metre I cover, screaming closer, closer. My breath is steady but violent, dragged in through clenched teeth. I see my door. It’s open. Not ajar. Not nudged. Open in a way it should never be open, hanging crooked on broken hinges, the wood around the lock splintered and warped. Someone didn’t knock. They didn’t ask. They forced their way in. Something inside me snaps. The world narrows to red. I don’t slow down. I don’t think. I shove past a couple of people in the hallway, sending them stumbling out of my way as I barrel through. I barely register their startled shouts. They’re irrelevant. Everything is irrelevant except that room. I burst inside. There are three of them. Three people standing where they have no right to be, hands on things that do not belong to them. My hoard is scattered. Drawers wrenched open and broken. Shelves torn apart. The Academy must have tried to resist, wood is splintered in a way that tells me it didn’t open willingly. And then I see what they’re holding. The fire diamonds. The ones I brought here for Lexi. The gold I wore at the dance. They’ve taken everything that gleams. Everything that matters. They’re digging through the rest like vultures, greedy and careless, as if these are just objects and not extensions of me. I don’t pause. I don’t look at their faces. I don’t care who they are or why they’re here. I launch myself at them. The first one I reach, I grab by the collar and hurl across the room with strength I don’t bother restraining. They slam into the far wall and crumple, gasping, scrambling to get away. The second turns just in time to see me coming. I don’t give them time to scream. My claws snap free, scales racing up my arms as the dragon surges closer to the surface. I rake across them, driving them back, forcing them to retreat in blind panic. They stagger, trying to escape, clutching what they stole like it might save them. The third lunges at me from the side, trying to grab me, trying to pull me off balance. I shove them away hard enough that they crash into the furniture, breath knocked from their lungs. They try to run. All three of them. They still have my things. That’s unacceptable. I move faster than they expect, leaping forward and planting myself squarely between them and the door. The exit they were counting on vanishes behind my bulk. The room feels smaller suddenly, tighter, the air heavy with heat and tear. They freeze. I let out a growl in warning. It rips out of my chest, low and furious, vibrating the walls, I can feel my eyes burning, magic flaring hot and bright. My claws are fully out now, blood dripping from them, scales spreading further up my arms as restraint slips away piece by piece. One of them tries to edge around me. I lash out instantly. They recoil, stumbling back, terror finally breaking through whatever arrogance brought them here in the first place. They aren’t leaving. Not now. Not ever. Not after touching what’s mine.
Two of the thieves shift. I feel it instantly, the ripple of magic, the snap of bones rearranging, fur tearing through skin. Wolves. Of course they are. Pack creatures. Bold in numbers. Cowards alone. I’m not surprised. The third one tries to follow, panic finally overtaking greed. I see the moment he reaches for the shift, feel the magic spike. I grab him by the throat. My hand closes like a vice, fingers locking tight around his neck as I lift him clean off the ground. His feet kick uselessly in the air, claws scrabbling for purchase that isn’t there. I squeeze just enough to cut off breath, just enough to crush the magic trying to rise in him. No air. No shift. He claws at my wrist, eyes wide, terror flooding his face as his body betrays him. The magic dies where it starts, smothered by my grip. He makes a wet, choking sound, and I lean in close enough that he can see my eyes burning. The wolves take a step toward me. t tighten my hold. The sound he makes changes, sharper, more desperate, and both wolves freeze instantly. Their ears flatten. Tails tuck. Predators they might be, but they know what they’re looking at now. From behind me in the hallway, someone screams. Good. Let them hear it. Let the whole floor hear it. Let the Academy echo with it. They should be afraid. They should all be afraid. I bare my teeth and let a low, dangerous sound roll out of my chest, the kind that promises consequences without needing to spell them out. My claws flex. My grip never loosens. No one touches what’s mine. The wolves don’t move again. Neither does the thief in my hand. And for one perfect, terrible moment, the only thing in the world that exists is the certainty that I am in control, and that they know it.
1/2
Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
