Floating inside her own skull, she kept her eyes closed and listened to the voice. A hint of an accent in the undertone, the timbre broke through the noise inside her head. She clung to each note. Listened to the pitch and swell. Let it hold her high. Away from the pain. Away from terror. Away from the unknown. Except that wasn’t right. She knew who—correction…make that what—held her. Remembered the beach as she’d come to, felt the swaying glide of flight and the hard scales against her cheek. Another dragon; white scales to the rat-bastard’s black. That had to be a good sign, right? Heroes and saviors always wore white. Or did that only happen in fairy tales? Angela frowned. She couldn’t remember. Her brain was stuck deep in fluff and mental feather down. Not much made sense. Not the flight. Not the warmth of the dragon’s scales. Nor the fact he held her gently in the cradle of his talons. Maybe that’s why she wasn’t screaming. Wasn’t struggling. Was just floating, lost inside her own mind while her white dragon in shining scales talked to her.
