Another fit of shaking overtook her and Sasha’s stomach lurched, threatening to climb up her throat. She moaned softly, hoping against hope that her mother might change her mind and take her to a hospital.
Except, when Jenna looked up and saw her daughter’s drawn, anguished face, she smiled. “Let me get a good shot of that. You look even sicker now than you did before!”
Chapter Eight
Whelon had barely touched down for five seconds, not even long enough to settle on two legs, before the dragon within roared free once more. The others did not have time to react as his wings grew and his talons sank into sun-warmed sand. Fire billowed around him as he took off, and the others had to focus on getting out of his way rather than stopping his progress.
The surging of the Knowing sickness and the weakness had driven his dragon straight into a panic. Irrational. Furious. Desperate. In many ways his mind was not his own, his body pushed beyond its endurance as he now ran on pure emotion.
Find her. Find her. Find her.
Sickness welled in his belly and he lurched into the sky, belching flame. He cruised low over roads and rooftops, ignoring those humans who stopped and pointed at him as others ran for cover. As if he bombed them with fire. He snorted, a puff of smoke escaping his dragon’s nose.
His keen eyes picked out every human he spied, searching for his mate. No matter how fast he traveled or how distant the street, he could pick his Sasha out of ten billion lookalikes if necessary.
Which meant that within minutes, he had swept the city for his mate and discovered she was not walking on the street or sitting outside at a restaurant. He could not detect her scent as he traveled. The Knowing bound them together, which meant he could sense her, but he could not locate her.
The illness that seeped through him—and her—enraged him. Adrenaline and fury ran through him so fiercely he could not feel his own sickness at the moment. This was his dragon’s final attempt at locating his mate before exhaustion finally claimed him. It was a last rage against the inevitable.
He examined the vehicles that moved along the roads far below, but soon his eyesight blurred. His wings faltered in their rhythmic beating and he tumbled toward the ground before he could rectify his error. He twisted and turned, aiming his body at a dilapidated warehouse, and prayed none would come to harm as he crashed into its roof. But even though he’d fallen, he did not cease. He took to the skies once more.
Above him, he spied other dragons hovering and tracking his progress. If any dared drop toward him, he shot a gout of flame in their direction, howling in agony.
I don’t know myself, he thought in panic. I would never normally attack my fellow warriors and yet…
He almost passed out again as he followed I-4 East. He tipped to the side to slip between two buildings and clipped one with the edge of his wing. Bricks and mortar shattered while below, people screamed and dove for cover. With incredible effort, he flapped his wings and gained a bit of height to get himself above the buildings.
He caught a thermal wind and drifted for a moment before the air shifted around him. It was born of very powerful wing beats that descended around him with the calculated sweep of a master of the skies.
War Master.
“Whelon,” Esteemed Warrior Jarek’s voice growled out of his dragon’s throat, more dragon than man. His large reptilian eyes moved, sliding a glance across the skies between them. Jarek cruised, barely flapping his wings as he rode the same thermal winds.
Whelon shook his head and angled to dive again. Jarek tipped and caught Whelon’s wing with his own, nudging him off balance. Whelon groaned as his body went into a spin and he twisted in the air. Then he noticed that the city lights were falling away beneath him and ahead was the beach.
The bay!
Jarek nudged him again. Whelon struggled desperately to turn and fly back toward the city, but Jarek slapped him again, much harder this time.
“I know your feelings, Whelon, but if you do not land, I will put you in the bay.”
The bay. Certain death for a Preor. The water was a sure method of killing a male.
Whelon groaned again, smoke and flames escaping his snout. He knew the ex-war master did not make empty threats. If Whelon did not listen… He would die without ever feeling the touch of his mate’s skin.
Whelon didn’t so much land as collapse onto the sand, just short of the dangerous waters. His wings folded into his body as he crashed into the pliable surface, tossing up waves of sand as he collided with the beach.
Several tons of dragon plowed through the soft, loose dunes, sending up huge sprays of crystal white sand. It was a spectacular crash, the weight and speed of Whelon’s landing carving a long trench along the beach as he hit the ground.
When Jarek arrived in the large crater where the dragon had finally stopped, he found Whelon’s two-legged form curled up and shivering amid the glittering grains of sand. Other Preor ran from the nearby tower and descended from the sky. One thoughtfully brough a blanket from the tower and Jarek grabbed it from the male, using it to wrap up Whelon.
He clapped Whelon on the shoulder, trying to comfort him with touch. But Whelon did not crave Jarek’s touch.
“We will find her,” Jarek whispered.
Whelon could only moan in reply, his dragon so heartsick he wondered if the beast would ever surface again.
Anger bloomed in his chest as he attempted to rise, yet his limbs would not obey. He fell face first into the sand and flipped to his back as he struggled to rise once more.
“Stay down, Whelon.” Jarek stood over him, fury etched into his features.
“I can’t… I can’t. Where is she? Where? Why can’t I track her? What did they do with her?” Frantic energy ran through his body like an electrical charge, sweat pouring from his skin.
“I don’t know,” Jarek murmured, “but we will find the answers. First, you must calm, or I will not let you out of this pit.”
Pit? Whelon supposed he had dug a sort of pit when he finally stopped his slide across the beach.
He struggled for a calm that seemed out of reach, but it must have been enough for Jarek. With a few others to assist, Jarek helped Whelon to his feet. Yet he could barely walk and needed others to support him under his arms. His eyes were hot and tired, his head heavy, and all he could think about was Sasha. Now that his last scrap of adrenaline had fled, nothing was left but exhaustion for company.
I’m not strong enough to find her! he thought in panic. The longer we are apart, the worse it will get!
“Calm, Whelon,” Jarek ordered him. “I told you, we will find your mate.”
Whelon shook his head, dizzy and weak. He had never felt like this before. His entire life was one of order and patience. He had always wanted to be a healer, to protect and care for others. Listening to his patients and treating them with gentle care had been natural to him as he aged.
This stress was something new and foreign. It was not like a physical fight, where he could rely on weapons and skill. Nor was it like fighting a typical fever that could be cured with medicines from his arsenal. It was as if every particle in his body was on the precipice of dissolving because it missed a vital component.
Sasha. Sasha is the missing piece. I can’t be whole without her!
His heart ached so fiercely he had to stop and press his hands to his chest, leaning forward and clutching himself in case it decided to jump from between his ribs. The others supported him, dragging him quickly into Preor Tower before depositing him on one of the couches in the lobby.