His muscles twitched, jerking as the warm connection continued knitting the two halves of him into a whole. A slow process. A gentle weave. Little by little, he sank back into his own body. Though…
Rannock frowned.
He couldn’t feel anything. Not really. He knew all his limbs were attached, could sense the truth of his fingertips, but nothing else registered. He was numb, inside and out, on overload or something. Fighting to regain his senses, he clung to the heat, drifting in the stream. Wave after wave rolled in. Advance and retreat. Over and over. Again and again.
A sense of something came to him. Enthralling heat settled along his left side. Comfort in the press of soft skin. Powerful bio-energy encircled him, creating a protective cocoon, insulating him from the outside world.
Swallowing past his sore throat, he tucked in, getting closer, needing more. More of the heat warming him. More of the stream feeding him. More of the delicious taste in his mouth.
Words came and went.
He drifted in the current, bathing in a river of sensation as it dragged him upstream. So good. The place he inhabited was phenomenal. Warm. Soft. Beautiful. Unlike anything he knew. Better than everything he’d experienced.
The realization moved him closer to comprehension.
Fighting through the murk, Rannock battled to catch hold of a thought. Airy and uncooperative, each one swirled past. The current increased, feeding him more, helping him break the surface. The mental blur began to clear. Bit by bit, the pace increased. He groaned. Delicious taste on his tongue. Gorgeous energy in his veins. Dead to the world, lost for hours, his dragon half stirred deep inside him.
Emotion swelled.
His throat tightened.
“There you are,” he thought at his beast, feeling the two halves of his whole reconnect.
Thank the goddess. He was still alive.
He remembered the tear—the slicing agony as his dragon half turned away, ripping him in two. A brutal sensation; a terrifying occurrence. He’d never been separated from his better half before. The beast was always just there, lurking deep inside him, faithful, lethal, ready to be called upon at a moment’s notice. Not once in almost two hundred years had he doubted his ability to shift and become what he was meant to be—a Dragonkind warrior few, if any, ever challenged.
Turning inward, Rannock embraced the claw and hiss. His dragon half woke a little more. He drew it closer. Tears pricked the backs of his eyes. “There you are, you ornery bastard.”
In a pissy mood, his beast bared his fangs.
Gladness filled him as he dove deeper, reveling in the powerful energy infusing his muscles, sinking into his bones, feeding his soul. Mental acuity sparked, becoming clearer. Imperfect perception. Nowhere close to normal, but tracking better, his situational awareness sharpened.
He was inside, out of the wind. Lying on something soft. Blankets, maybe. A bed, perhaps.
Unable to open his eyes yet, he hunted for more information. Quiet drifted as he sank back into full sensation. The pain moved from harsh to lingering. Tingling fingers and toes. Bare skin against his. Soft hair in his face. A small hand pressed to the center of his chest. The scent of strawberries and lime combined with the smell of motor oil. Or maybe it was grease combined with scent of exhaust fumes.
Still groggy, he swallowed, working moisture back into his mouth. What he was feeling didn’t make sense. He couldn’t puzzle out what—
Indistinct whispers solidified into words.
“He’s coming around,” someone said.
“Thank fuck. How’s Cate?”
Covers rustled. The surface he lay on shifted.
Eyes closed, unable to find his voice, he bared his teeth in warning.
“Not gonna touch her, lad,” a male said. “Just assessing.”
His brow furrowed. He tried to shake his head. Nothing moved.
“How is she?” a third voice asked, entering his mental sphere.
“Sleeping now, but holding it together.”
“Good. Strong female.” Muffled footfalls shuffled as males shifted around him. Rannock narrowed his focus. Soft surface with short fibers. An area rug, maybe. “And his dragon?”
Arctic chill spilled over him. A second later, a cool hand cupped the side of his neck. “Back from the brink.”
“Jesus.” Someone exhaled, sounding relieved. “That was close.”
“Too close. I’m going tae take a chunk out of Rathbone.”
A low growl sounded in agreement. “Burn his fucking house to the ground.”
The threat rode on an American accent.
“Me first,” Rannock rasped, finding his voice.
Someone chuckled.
Body beginning to cooperate, he cracked his eyes open.
An ice-blue gaze met his. Levin smiled. “There you are. Welcome back, Ran.”
“Cate.”
“She’s good, brother. Tucked up tight against you,” Levin said, releasing his hold on him. “Feel her?”
Rannock’s fingers flexed as he forced his arm to move. An insignificant twitch, hardly any movement at all, but enough for him to feel his female against his side. His chest went tight. He breathed out in relief. “You sure?”
“Aye, lad. She’s okay. Feeding you well… lots of powerful energy.” Bumping Levin with his shoulder, Kruger came into view. “She’s a champ, Ran.”
“Lucky bastard,” Tempel said, setting up shop at the foot of the bed.
Battling to stay awake, Rannock swallowed past his sore throat. “Update.”
“We’re at Habersham House until you’re fit tae travel,” Levin said.
“Emerald Room?” he asked, unable to focus on anything but his brothers-in-arm’s faces. Though at least now the mattress beneath his back registered. The warm weight of Cate along his side, beneath the covers with him, too. He relaxed into the sensation, loving her softness, absorbing the perfection of her bio-energy as it brought him back to life. “Her sire?”
“Caged until Rathbone figures out what tae do with him, but…”
As Levin trailed off, Rannock exhaled. “He isnae going tae make it. Too far gone.”
Kruger nodded. “He’s in a bad way, brother.”
“Fuck,” he murmured, concern for his mate rising. Henry Biscayne—total fucking screw-up. Not that the truth would help his mate. Cate loved her sire. Losing him would wound her. Given a chance, Rannock would’ve shielded her, stepped between her and the pain. Gathered her up, wrapped her in cotton batting, and kept the woes of the world from her doorstep. Some things, however, couldn’t be hidden… or avoided. He clenched his teeth. His female needed to know the truth, would want to say goodbye before the end came. “That’s gonna hurt.”
A round of “ayes” bounced around the room.
Silence spilled in the wake of resounding agreement.
The sound of a fire crackled, breaking up the quiet, lulling him toward relaxation.
“I’m just gonna…”
“Sleep, Ran. Nothing needs doing now.” Stepping away from the bed, Levin flipped the covers back up.
Eyes drifting closed, Rannock shifted beneath the sheets and, turning on his side, curled into Cate. Her warmth welcomed him. Her energy nourished him. The beauty of her soothed him in ways he didn’t comprehend. Then again, he no longer needed to—not with the bond between him and his female in full effect.