Brothers - Dexter's Pack - George (Book Five)(16)
“That’s wonderful… but, if it stays in the air, I’m not entirely sure what we can…” Connor’s eyes snapped to a group of witches heading down the hallway behind them…
It was either good news or bad news, and if it was bad news then he’d rather not be there to hear it.
“We might be able to clip its wings…” Vicky announced – with Chelsea and Agatha hard on her heels – Eden was following on behind…
“You … four?” Connor asked.
“Well, der, genius. We’ll be pulling on the power of most of the other witches – we won’t divert any magic from the pups, but, yeah – us four…” Vicky shot back as she sidestepped the alphas and placed her hands on her hips, challenging him.
Connor wanted anything but that. His mate, up front and in the firing line again – and oh, what a firing line it was.
He wanted to wrap her in stone walls and keep her safe in the dungeon if he had too, but she’d only kick his backside three ways from Sunday if he even mentioned it, let alone tried it…
“Honey, we’ve had this conversation, and you know that I’m smarter than the average bear…” The sound of Landon’s deep, warning growl should have warmed his sense of humour button, but he didn’t feel much like laughing just then… “Present company excluded.”
“You bet your ass…” Landon growled.
“Let’s do this…” Vicky said, sidestepping her mate and trying to get ahead of him, but Connor shot by her…
“Age before beauty…” he offered back over his shoulder.
“Shit before the shovel…” she grinned.
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Zana spotted the flames in the sky and her heart lurch right up into her throat.
It was all well and good being a kickass witch who knew so many different ways to kill someone with her magic – her sword – her knives – her fists – her feet, and even her damn hands, but what the hell was she supposed to do against a flying barbecue?
“Get back inside…” George growled.
His wolf was front and centre within him. Protecting his mate was the fever that ran through his blood, and yet, as he eyed the flames and waited for sight of the beast through the clouds – he couldn’t help but wonder how he was supposed to match it in battle…
“You want me to go for marshmallows … now?” She offered back, bolstering her stance and raising her sword arm…
“This isn’t up for debate…” George growled.
He was trying to keep a rein on his beast for her benefit. If he shifted he couldn’t speak, and if he couldn’t speak then she certainly couldn’t understand him…
“I think it might be…” Connor announced as he stepped out onto the battlements – the witches and alphas hard on his heels… “Do your thing…” he said over his shoulder, and Vicky wasted no time in moving forward …
“Get into the circle…” she ordered them as she started to draw a line around the roof with the rowan ash – salt – and sage.
Three witches stood with their hands raised to the sky – the mutterings on their lips that was repeated by Vicky as she completed the protection circle around them.
Then she took her place and the muttering turned into chanting…
There was a blast of wind as the dragon circled overhead. The roar of air that came from the flapping of its giant wings felt unusually chilled…
“Crispy critter time…” Connor offered towards his mate…
“Not … necessarily…” Zana said, one side of her mouth lifting in a half smile. “Smart…”
“Care to share?” Connor rushed out, eager to hear how they weren’t about to become toast under the dragon’s flaming breath…
“You’ll see…” Zana grinned.
And he did.
He saw and felt it as the witches turned the rain inside the clouds to ice crystals – pounding the dragon with a white wall of snow and ice that was relentless against his wings and his body…
The ice storm was upon them.
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Fire and ice.
Clever witches.
Roloko was more than impressed, even if he was damned annoyed by the Fae’s attempts to hold off the true alpha’s destiny.
The man had to die. It was his mission to make that happen, and he’d do it if it killed him.
The ice storm raged all around him. The harder that he flapped his wings he felt the more that they weighed heavy on him.
Ice clung to every inch of him, and no matter how hot his body had become … even he was finding it damn hard to stay in the air…
Roloko fought harder to fly.
He would be at a disadvantage if he landed near the castle, or on it, but the harder that he fought to get away, the more the winds picked up and made him hover in place…
He felt the weight of the storm dragging his body down.
Down.
Further and further he went and spent so much energy trying to fight against it…
In the end it was just too much…
His body hit the ground at speed and every inch of him felt as if it had taken the hit.