by Tessa Adams
The other dragon deflected it easily, sent one of his own hurtling back. Dashiell jumped out of the way and it crashed into the china cabinet, where her favorite antique Limoges china resided. The cabinet shattered and glass flew everywhere.
Desperate to end the fight so she could get to Dax, she reached for the electricity that always pulsed right below her skin. Grabbing on to it, she shaped it superfast, then sent it soaring across the room at Julian. He was so busy defending himself from an attack by Dashiell that he didn’t see it coming, and it struck him straight in the chest. He went down, hard.
She turned to the other three, realizing for the first time that Luc had a small syringe pressed to David’s neck—which explained everything she needed to know about why he’d let the four defectors into the house.
She had an instant to wonder what was in the syringe—something awful, judging from the uncharacteristic look of terror on David’s face—and then Dashiell went down, felled by a powerful energy blast from Etienne. A quick glance told her he was stunned, not hurt, and she let loose with another flash of lightning, aiming it at Etienne instead of Luc, as she was afraid she might jostle him and he would stab David. But Antoine was waiting for her and he deflected her blast, sending all of her power spinning back toward her.
She jumped out of the way, shifting in midair and landing less than a foot from Antoine. Bending forward, she did something she had never in a billion years imagined she would ever do: she wrapped her mouth around his head and picked him up, then shook him back and forth until she heard his neck crack. Then she dumped him on her dining room floor and ripped open his stomach with her long talons.
Whirling away from him, she saw Dashiell and Etienne rolling across the floor. She leaped at them, ripped Etienne off Dashiell with her mouth, then watched as Dashiell—whose gift was the ability to flow through matter—plunged his hand straight into Etienne’s chest cavity and ripped out his heart.
She dropped Etienne, then went after Luc, who had knocked David to the floor. But Dash beat her to him, sending a powerful fireball his way. It missed, and he fled. After a cursory look at the room to make sure the other three dragons really were finished, Dashiell took off after him.
Cecily shifted back to human form, and, unmindful of her naked form, ran to Dax and David. But they were both beyond help. Horrified at how easily their lives had been snuffed out, she sank onto the carpet between them. She couldn’t stop trembling, and for several long seconds, was convinced she was going to throw up.
Taking a few deep breaths, she somehow managed to keep her stomach from revolting, but it was close. She sat there, shocked and shaky, trying to focus on what she needed to do. Everything around her seemed fuzzy, and whatever it was that she should be doing had escaped her.
But there was a little voice inside her screaming that she needed to get up, needed to check on Dashiell, needed to make sure he and Wyatt were safe. She stumbled to her feet, headed for the patio door.
She never got there. She had almost made it to the patio when Julian’s hand wrapped around her ankle and jerked. She hit the ground hard, kicked out with her free foot and caught him straight in the face. But she was barefoot and at an awkward angle, and the blow didn’t have nearly as much impact as she had hoped it would.
And then he was on her, scrambling up her body to wrap his hands around her throat, cutting off her air. “You could have made this easy, Cecily. You could have come to me and this never would have happened,” he growled, his fingers tightening even more.
He was sitting on her chest now, and she felt something pop deep inside her as she bucked underneath him, clawed at his hands, pounded on his chest, all to no avail. Tried to conjure up an energy blast, but had nothing to feed it with. Her own energy was fading fast, the world around her turning gray, and she knew if she didn’t do something right then, he was going to be right. She was going to die, and he was going to be left in charge of her clan.
The thought gave her the extra burst of magic she’d been searching for, and as she felt her hands light up with electricity, she threw every ounce of strength she had left behind them. Then grabbed on to Julian for all she was worth, closing her eyes and praying as his body jerked and spasmed above her.
His hands loosened from around her throat, and she drew a huge gulp of air into her lungs, making sure to keep both of her hands in contact with him as she did. He was gasping now, his skin turning blue as she shot volt after volt of electricity into him. They were still pressed together, and she could feel his heart stutter against her chest, but it didn’t stop. She was almost out of power, her last-ditch effort to save herself not enough.
Even worse, she could see Julian rallying. See him pushing off the effects of the electricity even as she gave him the last few weak volts that she had left. His fist came up, plowed into her face, and she felt the sickening crunch of bone as it connected with her nose.
“Now you die, bitch.” His hands tangled in her hair and he lifted her head up, then hit it against the wood floor. Lifted it up, hit it again. She could feel the world fading around her, knew she was blacking out. She fought it, knew that if she gave in, she would never wake up again. As he lifted her head a third time, a picture of Logan’s face rose in her mind. Scarred, tired, and so beautiful she was nearly overwhelmed. I’m sorry, she told him telepathically, sending the thought out into the universe and trusting that it would somehow find him. I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough to understand. Sorry I wasn’t strong enough to forgive you.
Then she closed her eyes, knowing there was nothing else she needed to do. She felt bad for her clan, prayed that somehow Dashiell and Wyatt would be strong enough to stand against Julian. But she couldn’t do anything else and she knew it. She’d given it her best shot, but she was fading fast . . .
Suddenly, Julian was ripped away from her, along with a few sizable chunks of her hair. There was a loud thump, followed by a low, feral growl that chilled her blood. That little voice in her head had started screaming at her, telling her to get away, but she couldn’t move. Couldn’t scramble away as her twitching legs wanted so desperately to do. Couldn’t even bring her hands up to shield her face. It was all just too much effort. She was cold, so cold . . .
Another loud growl and a wet, sucking sound convinced her to open her eyes. But what she saw convinced her that she was hallucinating. Logan was there, right in front of her, half-man, half-dragon, caught in midshift. His face was twisted with more rage than she had ever imagined possible. And he was ripping Julian apart with his bare hands even as he continued to shift back to human.
Seeing him made her heart hurt, even if he was a figment of her concussion-addled imagination. Tears slowly leaked down her face. She closed her eyes just as Logan became fully human. A second later, an unholy scream rent the air, along with the sound of blood spattering and two loud thumps, one right after the other.
And then Logan was there, holding her hand, his hand smoothing over her forehead. “It’s okay, Cecily. Hold on, A Ghra. Hold on.”
He felt so real, sounded so real, that she somehow found the strength to lift her hand and touch his cheek. The scar felt rough and bumpy under her fingers. As his own hand came up to cover hers, she wondered if maybe it wasn’t a dream after all.
“Logan?” she whispered through lips so dry she felt like she’d been wandering through his New Mexican desert. Her eyes fluttered open.
“I’m here, A Ghra. I’m here. I’ll get you help.”
“Are you . . . real?” she asked.
His face twisted in pain, even as he leaned down to brush his lips over her forehead. “I’m as real as they get, sweetheart. Now, just hold on for me a little longer.”
But it was getting harder and harder to breathe, the blackness that had loomed for so long taking over, though she longed to stay with him. I love you, she told him just before she let go. If these were her last minutes to live, she was going to make them count. I’ll always love you.
As Cec
ily’s mind slipped from his, Logan lost his tenuous grip on sanity. He dug in, held on to her with every ounce of strength he possessed. She wasn’t leaving him, not now. Not when she should still have a long, long life stretching in front of her.
Shawn, he screamed. Hurry up! I need Quinn. I need—
I’m on my way to get him, Shawn answered, and Logan got the impression he was rushing through town toward the clinic. We’ll be there in five minutes.
She’ll be dead in five minutes.
Fuck. Hold on to her. I’m coming.
What the hell do you think I’m trying to do? Logan demanded, but Shawn was gone, his attention solely focused on getting to Quinn. Logan tried to help him out, to tap into Quinn’s mind, as well, so that he knew to be ready for Shawn, but holding on to Cecily was getting more and more difficult.
He could feel her slipping away, could feel the light inside of her dimming. If Quinn didn’t get here soon—
No! He couldn’t think like that. He couldn’t, not if he wanted to remain sane. And he had to keep it together. For the first time since they’d met, Cecily truly needed him. He wouldn’t fail her, no matter how much it hurt to see her like this.
But her breathing was becoming more and more labored, her pulse weaker and weaker. Logan felt the mating bands on his arm begin to burn, and he knew. He knew he was going to lose her.
Letting out a roar that shook the very foundations of the house, he placed his hand over her heart and willed every ounce of strength and energy he had straight into her. He couldn’t heal her, couldn’t fix what was broken inside her like Quinn could, but he could damn well give her as much of his life force as her body could take. He wasn’t psychic for nothing.
She didn’t respond, though, and he was scared to death it was too late. That he hadn’t given her enough, that he wasn’t strong enough to hold on to her. But he wouldn’t give up—he couldn’t. Shawn and Quinn would be here soon. He just had to hold on to her for a little while longer.
He lowered every barrier he had, every shield that kept the outside world from pressing in on him, and concentrated on connecting with her faded, foggy mind. As he did, the world around him threatened to close in, to take him under with her, but Logan ignored it the same way he ignored the blood dripping down his face from the nosebleed the psychic overload caused. Nothing mattered but Cecily, and he would gladly give his life to hold her to this earth. He poured every ounce of energy he could into her mind until he had nothing left. Until he was lying on the floor next to her, his own heart stuttering in his chest.
And still it wasn’t enough. Still she was disappearing right in front of him. The knowledge shook him, shook the formidable will that had been a part of him for as long as he could remember.
Don’t you dare die on me, Cecily! You stay with me. Use some of that crazy strength of yours to hang on to me just a little longer.
There was no response, no answering glow that came when her mind reached for his. He rolled over, rested his forehead against hers, told himself—and her—that no matter what happened, he was going to be with her. He’d never leave her again, even if it meant following her from this life to the next. Especially if it meant that. No way could he live without her. No way would he even want to try.
It had nearly killed him when he’d heard Dashiell’s cry of alarm. To know that Cecily was in danger and that he was too far away to help her had been torture of the worst kind. During the entire flight from the mountain, where he’d been staying in a futile effort to feel close to her, he had cursed himself for not being closer. For not sticking by her side no matter what she said.
He’d known Julian was going to attack, had felt it in every bone in his body, and still he had left her alone and unprotected. That she had asked him to made little difference—he had failed his mate, failed Cecily, and now she was paying unthinkable consequences.
Rolling over so that his arm was draped over her waist and his forehead nuzzled against her temple, he tried to fight the encroaching lethargy. If he gave in, he knew he’d lose his grip on Cecily, and she would float away from him forever.
Live, Cecily, he pleaded with her. For me. For us. Please don’t give up. Please don’t leave me here—
Quinn and Shawn flashed in, and the Dragonstar healer took in the situation at a glance. Moving to the other side of Cecily, the side Logan wasn’t pressed full length against, he ran his hands over Cecily’s heart.
Save her, Quinn! He didn’t have the strength to speak, so he sent the thought from his brain to Quinn’s.
“I’m trying, damn it. Don’t let go of her.”
I won’t.
Already he could feel Quinn’s healing presence, could feel the heat and peace that emanated from within Cecily just from the superficial contact. Quinn pressed down on her chest, and Logan felt him discover the shattered ribs, the punctured lung, the internal bleeding. Felt, as he started to heal her from the inside out, his energy slowly, painfully mending what was broken inside her.
It went on for what felt like hours, what probably was hours, as Quinn sought out every injury. The healer cursed silently when he got to Cecily’s head, and Logan felt a moment of intense panic. What kind of shape was she in if Quinn—
“Don’t speculate!” The order was sharp, bitten out. “I’ll take care of her.”
It was the reassurance Logan needed, ragged though it was, and he felt himself relax just a little, especially when he could feel the way Cecily’s breathing eased and her heart beat a little stronger.
But when Quinn finally pulled away from Cecily, she was still unconscious, her spirit still flickering. “Don’t stop!” he croaked, pushing himself to a sitting position to stare angrily at Quinn. “She’s still too weak.”
Quinn shook his head, his mouth grim when he stared at Logan. “I’m good, but I’m not a miracle worker. That’s all I can do today. If she hangs on, if she makes it through tonight, I’ll go back in tomorrow and try again. Her injuries are intense—especially the brain injuries—and I can only force so much healing at any one time.”
“But what if she dies before you can heal her more?” Logan demanded as he felt his own heart stutter, nearly stop. “What if—”
“No what ifs.” Quinn squeezed his shoulder tightly. “Let Shawn take her back to New Mexico and into my clinic. We’ll get her hooked up, and I’ll stay with her. I promise Jasmine and I will do everything we can to make sure she’s all right.”
It wasn’t the full assurance Logan had been looking for, but he knew it was the best he was going to get. Standing up with help from Shawn, he lifted Cecily in his arms. Then he nodded to Quinn as Shawn put a hand on both of their backs, pulling the four of them into a close-knit triangle.
“Thanks for coming,” he told Quinn. “I know it couldn’t have been easy—”
Quinn shook his head, waved off the thanks. “This is what I do, man. Besides, she’s yours, and that trumps Wyvernmoon any day.”
Logan nodded, because the lump in his throat had grown so large it was impossible to talk over it. And then Shawn flashed them home.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Cecily woke up slowly in an unfamiliar bed. Machines were beeping all around her, and some of the most intense sunlight she’d ever seen was streaming through the window in the corner of her room.
Where am I? she wondered as she struggled to get her bearings. There was an IV in her hand, and it seemed that the machines—and their beeping—were all correlated to her.
Hospital. She was in the hospital. But why? And where—
A sharp stab of pain shot through her head as she remembered Julian on top of her, remembered not being able to breathe as he sat on her chest. Remembered thinking, for certain, that she was going to die . . .
So why hadn’t she? Who had saved her? And where had they brought her? The rusts and golds and purples that decorated the room weren’t the colors of the hospital on the Wyvernmoon compound. In fact, the way they all blended together reminded her of pict
ures she’d seen of desert sunsets—
Logan. He’d rescued her. Had swooped in and killed Julian before the bastard could finish her off completely. Which meant she was probably in New Mexico with the Dragonstars. As a prisoner? she wondered. Or as a patient? Or both?
She looked around the room, desperately hoping that Logan would suddenly just be there. But the chair near her bed was empty, as was the small cot lining the wall across from her. She was on her own.
Not that she’d expected things to be any different. Just because he’d saved her life, just because she’d apologized to him, didn’t mean Logan had forgiven her. Her clan had done some terrible things, and she had let them. Things that she didn’t blame Logan for holding against her, especially after she’d been unable to forgive him for his duplicity.
Understanding didn’t mean she was just going to wait around here like a sitting duck, however. If Dylan was anything like her father, she had no doubt that whatever punishment he came up with for her would be utterly and completely diabolical. She couldn’t afford to stay here and be tortured, no matter how much she, as head of the Wyvernmoons, might deserve it. Her clan was in chaos, her people leaderless, and she needed to get back to them. Needed to assure them that she was alive, that they weren’t alone. That they could get through this together.
Sitting up, she swung her legs shakily off the side of the bed. The room spun around her and she took a minute to get her bearings before she attempted the next step. If she was a prisoner—and she had to believe that she was—then she was going to have to be fast. Once she started stripping off the sensors and whatever else was attached to her, she was going to have to get it all done in a few seconds. That would give her time to shift, and, if she was lucky, get out the door before anyone wised up. Before Logan or his king came looking for her.
