The Lost Alliance (Rise of the Drakens Book 2)

flying straight ahead, crashing headfirst into the cliffs and rocks behind me. I stood firm, baring my fangs as bodies rained into the sea. The drakens gathered in the valley cheered, so I took another breath and sang again—a lower, sultry note that froze the next two lines, who were an arm’s grasp from me. They twitched and adjusted their course for me, willingly diving into the water to get to me faster. The waves made quick work of slamming them against the razor-sharp rocks, and I turned my attention to the remaining lines. They made it the entire way to the island, and I held my breath as the wards flashed to life.
Demons and vampyres fried, screaming in pain and burning alive as they crossed the lines of the wards. It wasn’t as quick as disintegrating into ash—the enemies of the drakens burned from the inside out, their charred bodies falling into the ocean. It was easy...too easy.
The legions were led by three shadow demons, who barely flinched as their soldiers died in droves. Two of them disappeared in a wisp of smoke, abandoning their soldiers to the mercy of Lyoness’s shore. Benedict dove towards the third, punching him out of the air and down into the ocean. They both disappeared under the waves and I gripped my rock in anxiety, leaning out to see.
Benedict broke the surface of the water first, a limp and unconscious demon in his claws. A moment later he vanished and reappeared on shore. I flew after them, landing inelegantly as my claws scraped against the hardened magma.
“Wake him up.”
Three drakens held the shadow demon down as a fourth sliced a gash over the creature's chest, black blood welling in the wound. White magick sparked, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I suppressed a shiver. The shadow demon gave a pained rattle, then shrieked as if he were being dissected. Benedict held up a hand and the draken controlling the white magick drew his hands back.
“What are the Overlord’s plans?
There was silence, except for the demon’s tortured breaths. Then he laughed—a terrible, sickly rasping sound.
“More. There will be more. And it will not matter what wards you have—you will all die.”
At a nod from Benedict the draken rose his hands again, and the demon twitched in agony. He writhed on the ground as if an invisible force assaulted him.
“More of what?”
The shadow demon laughed, and then black smoke billowed from his nose, his mouth, his eyes—Astrid began shouting, screaming at everyone to back away. As drakens and witches fled, Benedict snarled and threw himself on the demon, snapping his neck and nearly ripping the head off in the process. The pressure in the air released, as if sighing in relief. The smoke dissipated, and the witches looked like they had seen a ghost.
“That wasn’t a shadow demon—” the witch who had traveled with Astrid added.
“It was, but it was almost something else—” Astrid continued.
“Something...familiar.” a brown-haired witch finished. She must be an earth witch--she had ridden behind Astrid on her broom.
Benedict stood, covered in black blood that wasn’t his.
“We need to have a war council.”
I opened my mouth, but he already had me pinned in his gaze.
“I need you to ensure Ronan is cared for.”
I stopped, any argument dying before it began. I wanted to be involved, but Ronan’s safety was more important. I owed him that after what my absence put him through.
“Fine,” I allowed, stretching my wings towards the sun. I eyed Kieran and the witches. “I expect to be fully briefed.”
I stomped away with as much dignity as I could toward the one small tree the first earth witch had managed to raise. Ronan and a few of the other drakens had been carefully stretched under its shade, resting and allowing their bodies to heal.
“Is he awake yet?”
Yarin was a Healer; one of the few drakens who preferred using his hands for tasks other than fighting. He bowed lightly as I approached him, his beige scales flashing in the sun.
“Not yet, though he is much more stable. His body is trying to heal, so now would be a good time to try and get some blood into him. I recommend blood in a cup so that—”
He shut his mouth as I leaned into Ronan, the top of my forearm. At least if he went mad, I could heal my arm. My throat would be another story.
Even in the throes of unconsciousness he smelled my blood—his fangs uncurled from his lips, and his eyes shot open as he grabbed me. Two fangs pierced my arm and I inhaled deeply, embracing the quick, biting pain. His hands grabbed my waist and roughly pulled me against him, releasing my arm and sinking his teeth in my neck. I tensed. I could probably fight him off in his condition, but I didn’t want to. Yarin sighed and turned around to give us privacy.
His fangs hurt just dangling there in my throat, but I didn’t want Ronan moving. The pain reminded me of everything we had overcome so far, and everything we had yet to face. I felt my head grow dizzy as he pulled more and more blood from me.
“Ronan, stop.”
I tried to pull away, but he held me down, clamping my arms to my side in a vice grip. Yarin turned and raised an eyebrow, asking silently if I needed help. I shook my hand, then moved my hand down to his waist. I grabbed him hard through his breeches, breaking his blood frenzy. Ronan gasped and jerked, his fangs dislodging from my throat at the exact moment his eyes cleared.
“Wren.”
I sighed with relief at the golden orbs that gazed back at me, teeming with awareness and life.
“I thought you’d died. I thought I’d died.”
His arms closed around me again.
“Not yet,” I whispered, and he laughed.
“When the mountain exploded, I thought I’d lost everything. Kieran, my king, you. My entire life...my heart.”
I knew Ronan was much younger than