Free Dark Storm by Christine Feehan Page A

sharing any part of itself with Dax at all.
    And share it did. The dragon’s long life, each moment of thought or feeling, instinct and craving before this one became part of Dax’s memories, part of him. The two became one. Not two beings merged together, but two souls connected by a single body. They could feel each other, move with one another.
    The magma pool rose to fill the chamber, and the crystallized remains of the dragon melted back into the liquid earth’s blood that had spawned him.
    Centuries of living deep in the labyrinth of caves meant Dax had explored every inch possible. He knew the river of lava flowing beneath the earth, a long ribbon of bright orange and red magma and the long tubes that formed the underground subway. He knew every chamber, some with walls of crystalline beauty and others under steaming water. Mud pools bubbled and spat while pools of hot mineral water sent steam rising like fog through caverns.
    The problem was that Mitro had had the same time to explore his environment as well. Dax could no longer separate the evil scent from the living abomination; the stench of the undead was everywhere, making it impossible to track him—unless you were a dragon.
    Dax felt the Old One stretch, testing senses. Suddenly, like a stick puppet, Dax’s body whipped around awkwardly and began moving toward the lava tube on his left. He staggered, his body impossible to control, falling sideways into the wall. The sharp edges of rock scraped at his skin, peeling off the top layer. In the glare of the magma pool, his burnished arm appeared covered in overlapping ovals of red gold. He blinked down at the strange patterning and then touched them. The ovals felt hard, like armor. With his strange diamond-hard nails he tapped them tentatively.
    Scales? Like a lizard?
    At least it kept him from bleeding. That could come in handy in battle. He’d evolved there in the volcano, and clearly now there would be more changes. The enticing whispers of the earth hadn’t disclosed that his body would be altered on an elemental level if he allowed the Old One’s soul to share his physical form.
    Before he could make a move, his body jerked again toward the lava tube, a large round tunnel he knew went for miles beneath the peaks. He felt like a marionette being jerked around by a drunken puppet master. He sensed the dragon’s impatience and realized that being without emotions was a double-edged sword. Carpathian males lived for so long that not feeling was a terrible burden, yet with that came an advantage when hunting.
    The dragon was eager for the chase, believing Mitro to be no more than an irritation. He wanted to slumber, didn’t want to remain awakened, and once Mitro was disposed of, he planned on doing just that. Dax’s body jerked again, his foot lifting awkwardly and then setting down a large stride away, nearly throwing him off balance.
    Exasperated, he scowled. Just give me direction. Don’t try to control the movements of my body.
    How was he going to fight Mitro when he could barely take a step without falling? The dragon hadn’t had a body in centuries and Dax’s body was far too small for him to comprehend how to move it around.
    The dragon gave a snort of derision. It is no wonder this great evil has prevailed. You are a puny one, Carpathian.
    Perhaps that is so, Dax soothed. After all, in relation to size, it was true. But I can maneuver this body much more easily than you. If we fight one another how will we succeed in our mission? If pandering to the dragon’s ego would result in destroying Mitro, Dax could manage it with no problem.
    Power pulsed deep inside, pushing against the restraints of his physical frame. His entire body vibrated, his brain crashing hard against his skull. His body hit the side of the tube hard, this time flinging him to the floor. He couldn’t imagine how frustrating it had to be for a massive dragon to find himself confined in a human frame, but Dax was finished