Page 54 of Red Fire

Tank laughs. “You’re a coward. You’re all cowards.”

“I will fight you.” A man steps up who is shorter than Tank, but also more muscular. He has a bushy black beard and thick chest hair, unlike most of the shifters, who are relatively hair-free…at least on their chests.

The two men shift into their dragon forms. The newcomer dragon has sharp, curved spines along his back. He is a mustard color, which must be rare. He also has red speckles all over his torso. He roars, showing extra-long fangs.

Maybe he has a chance.

“What is Tank doing? I’m scared, Creed.” It doesn’t bother me that he is halfway to shifted. That he looks angry. That every muscle is bunched.

He makes a soft purring noise that is meant to soothe. It doesn’t. Creed puts an arm around me. It’s heavier than it felt previously. The heaviness subsides somewhat, and I realize that he is shifting back to more of a human form.

“Why is this happening?” I ask as the two dragons size each other up. Any second now, they will come to blows. “Why is he doing this?”

“Tank knows.” Creed says it so softly that I almost can’t make it out.

Knows.

Knows what?

My blood seizes in my veins when I realize. Tank must know that Creed is injured. He doesn’t want to give him time to heal. He wants to fight Creed now…today, as soon as possible, because that would give him the best chance of winning.

I shake my head. “No,” I whisper. From the dark look in Creed’s eyes, I know that he doesn’t hold much hope for himself. The only chance we have is if this unknown dragon somehow wins. That the bouts continue so that Creed can have a chance to recover. Otherwise…

A loud roar draws my attention back to the field.

The two dragons come together; their bodies collide with a thunderous crash. Fire, smoke, and sparks fill the air. Claws rake, teeth bite, and flames lick. For a short while, it seems like they might be evenly matched. Then Tank lets loose with a powerful blast of flames. The newcomer dragon tries to retaliate. Then, he tries harder to get out of the way. I don’t think he is prepared for the sheer force and heat of the fire.

I can feel it on my skin, and I’m quite far away. It’s hot, almost blistering. It makes me shrink away. I gag when I smell burning flesh.

The mustard dragon is quickly turning black as he burns. He roars in agony and in rage. He leaps at Tank, not giving up. Unfortunately, he is badly burned and weakened. Of course, Tank takes full advantage. He dodges the male’s claws and strikes with his own, avoiding the mustard dragon’s flames and counterattacking with his barbed tail. Tank has a sharp barb that pierces the mustard dragon’s blackened chest. Tank roars. It sounds like a victory cry to me. I hold my breath. Both dragons stand there. The newcomer looks shocked but fine.

What is going on?

I don’t get it.

Then Tank withdraws his barb, and blood sprays. Tank pierced his heart. Seconds later, the newcomer collapses. He tries to get up, flailing in his own blood, which is coming out like a river.

“His scaly armor was weakened by the flames,” Creed explains in a defeated tone. “That’s how Tank pierced his heart. A clever move.”

The dragon soon lies still and shifts back into a burned and bloodied man. A very dead man.

I grab my chest, trying to hold back a sob. I won’t give Tank the satisfaction.

The monstrous black dragon shifts. Tank holds his fists in the air and roars. He puts on a show all over again, parading around. “I am the strongest, quickest male here. I have the hottest flame. The sharpest claws. Bring me the female…unless the champion wishes to fight me.”

At least ten of the men shift and fly away. Tank roars with laughter, even patting his thigh with a meaty hand. “No! What about you?” he growls at a muscular guy with shaggy brown hair. The guy shakes his head, and Tank laughs harder. “No! What about you?” he asks another man who is covered in tattoos. He shifts and flies away. “No takers. It looks like it is you and me.” Tank looks at Creed, turning serious. “Do you still want to fight, or are you going to hand her over? I suggest the latter. I’m looking forward to tight human pussy.” He palms his erection, making more wet dribble out.

I’m disgusted and afraid. So incredibly afraid. I taste bile. I feel like throwing up, but I don’t. I pull myself together. “Leave,” I tell Creed. “You should go.”

“Listen to the human,” Tank growls; his grin is back.

“Can you butt out?” I shout at Tank. “I’m not talking to you.”

“I love a feisty female. I’m going to enjoy breaking you.”

I throw him a middle finger, and he laughs. I hate him. Tank had better hope that he doesn’t win because I’ll kill him. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but he will die.

“I’m not leaving you,” Creed says, his voice urgent.