There was a low growl behind me, raising the hairs on the back of my neck. I leaped over the railing, dropped the eight or so feet to the ground and sprinted behind a stack of crates as the door burst open and the roar of a pissed-off dragon echoed through the room. Ducking into the nearest aisle, I pressed back into a corner and tried to Shift, hoping that the tranquilizer had worn off.

Nope. Couldn’t do it. My body stayed locked in human form, the dragon barely responding. Cursing, I looked around frantically, searching for anything that would help me even out this fight. Crates, containers, random boxes. Unless I found a hidden stash of guns, or maybe a couple grenades, this was going to go poorly for me.

My hand throbbed, and I clenched my fist, gritting my teeth. Thank God Mist hadn’t removed my jacket before the interrogation; she might’ve discovered a few other precautions hidden within the lining, as well. A lifetime of close calls had taught me to be ready for anything: capture, imprisonment, being abandoned behind enemy lines. I’d learned to rely on myself and to always have a backup plan. Case in point: having to cut myself free with the razor blade hidden in my jacket cuff. The thin lacerations across my wrists were shallow and would heal quickly, but they still stung like the world’s most obnoxious paper cut.

A large, ghostly shadow soared overhead, landing atop a nearby crate, and I froze. In her true form, Mist was as slender and poised as her human counterpart, her scales a glittering blue-white, her ivory horns curling back from her skull. Sinking to her haunches, the pale dragon folded her wings, curled a long, diamond-tipped tail around herself and peered into the darkness with slitted blue eyes.

I didn’t move, holding my breath as that piercing gaze swept the warehouse. This was bad. The white hatchling was graceful, elegant and probably one of the prettier dragons I’d seen in my long existence, but I was still human, and she could turn me inside out with one claw.

Abruptly, Mist raised her hair, nostrils flaring, to sniff the air. And I winced, realizing my mistake.

She can smell your blood, idiot. Move!

I bolted from the corner just as Mist turned her head sharply, blue eyes narrowed in my direction. With a hiss, she leaped gracefully atop another aisle, then another, following me as I sprinted through the labyrinth of crates. I could hear her talons scraping over metal and wood, and didn’t dare look back as I fled through the aisles, searching for anything that would save my hide.