She found love in the ocean. He’ll find his redemption in fire.
Long ago, a wyvern king cast his bride out, leaving her broken and dying.
Now, after forty years, Wren has found love in the arms of some of the most unlikely men she’s ever met. Though a few of those arms may be tentacles.
When Wren is stolen from her new mates, and the only rescuer at hand is her wyvern ex-husband, will she be able to trust him with her life…or her heart?
The Wyvern’s Redemption is the exciting conclusion to Wren’s journey, begun in The Leviathan’s Debt.
There, in the distance, were two forms, a larger dark man, and a smaller figure with flaming red hair that whipped in the wind. She was running from him, and I flew faster, my exhaustion vanishing in the need to save her.
As I approached, the man pulled her head back, exposing her neck, and angled his head as if to claim her.
Or to kill her. I wasn’t certain.
“I don’t fucking think so,” I growled and folded my wings into a sharp dive, racing toward the man’s face. I hit him with one fist, knocking him away from Wren.
“Fuck!” I yelled as my fist exploded into pain and tumbled onto the ground, going head over heels in a full forward roll. What the hell was this creature’s face made of, granite?
“Talon!” Wren yelled as I stood and swung back around to see if my blow had taken care of the brute. It had not. The man was fine.
Except that he wasn’t a man, or at least not entirely. As I watched, dumbfounded, the man began to expand, and glitter with pewter-hued scales, becoming – “That’s the dragon?” I shouted.
“One of them,” Wren yelled, grabbing my arm. “What are you doing here?”
There was no time to talk. The man had almost completely transformed, and Wren and I were tripping over vegetables and bushes as we tried not to get crushed beneath its silver-gray claws.
“My love, run!” I yelled as the creature pulled back its head, inhaling deeply. I knew what was coming; I’d seen this very distinct posture in more than one illustration in my family’s libraries.
It was going to flame us, both of us.
My thoughts flickered as fast as lightning in the split second before the fire erupted.
I knew I could survive the flames, or I thought I might. At least wyvern flame was no danger to me. My wings, especially, could withstand immense heat. But dragon fire? It would be far more potent. Damaging, or even lethal at such close range. I might not live, and Wren was tied to me.
Even if I could survive the flames, Wren could not. She was fragile, with skin easily scarred. I had to protect her. It was my duty. No. It was my joy.
And possibly, my redemption.
I hated that she might feel the pain, through our mating bond, of what was about to occur. But at least I could protect her.
I extended my wings, and pulled her beneath me, crouching over her, covering her entirely, and pressing her down to the soft earth below. She blinked up at me, uncomprehending. “Close your eyes,” I commanded, and she did.
Her lungs were still vulnerable, I realized at the last second as the fire started to pour over my back. She might inhale the fire, or the too-hot air.
So I covered her mouth with mine, and wrapped her even more tightly in my wings, forming a seal from over our heads to the ground, leaving only my own legs and back unprotected.
The burning began.
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