Chapter 42
Chapter
Forty-Two
DECLAN
B rianna. In trouble.
Have to find her.
Must destroy enemy.
Mine.
Mate.
Pain.
So much pain.
Only the fact that I can still feel her, that I still know she’s out there, allows me to cling to any shred of sanity I have lingering. To cling to the tattered control over my dragon.
I hear my brother, like a far-off whisper deep in my brain, coming from all directions and none at the same time, like it’s coming through a thick blanket of fog.
I know he wants me to stop.
I know he wants me to land, to shift back, to give him any sign that I’m still me.
I want to but the dragon can’t disengage from what he wants most. Our mate.
I want to reach out to him. To anyone, really, who can hear my thoughts. Anyone I can reach, through this fucking fog.
I want Brianna’s voice to fill my head, to bring me back to myself.
My dragon doesn’t care though.
Rip.
Tear.
Burn.
Destroy.
We will light the entire world up in flames, if that’s what it takes to get Brianna back into our arms. We’ll shred any and all of those who get in our way.
And if we come across the fucking bloodsucker, Grey, not much more than pink mist will remain when we’re done with him.
Declan, you have to stop. Syrena will find her.
Malcolm’s voice again, trying to reason with me, to reason with my dragon.
There is no reason.
MATE! He barks it again, echoing in my head, no doubt echoing in Malcolm’s too.
A cityscape appears in front of us, the buildings growing taller and taller as my wings ache in protest from such a long flight.
I know I should stop, land, let Malcolm put me down for a while.
I should give in to his pleas to let Syrena find my mate, to bring her to me.
But how can I, when I know she’s in pain? When I know she’s in danger, alone with our baby, at the mercy of a fucking psycho?
I have to find Brianna.
I have to find my family.
The feeling of Brianna, of my mate, suddenly drops off, and my dragon doesn’t fucking care anymore.
We drop down, right into the middle of a city, one I don’t recognize.
Too many buildings. Too much metal, glass, stone. Too many scents of humans.
MATE! MINE!
I let out another burst of fire.
I don’t care what I burn. I want it all to burn.
To break.
Lay in tattered destruction like my heart and soul.
I won’t stop. Can’t stop.
Not until I have my mate.
Or I have the sweet release of a death where I can join her again.
My tail swipes through the metal and glass of a storefront on the street I’m on. My talons tear into asphalt like it’s made of foam.
Shrieks of terror echo off every modern surface of the buildings and vehicles surrounding the street and decorating along the sidewalks of it, but I can barely hear them over the roar of my dragon, the roar of my fire. I will destroy everything to find her.
Another dragon lands near me, letting out a roar of his own.
No fire, though.
Just the sound. A warning. A demand that I stop.
Another feeble attempt to keep me from tearing through the world to find my mate. There’s nowhere on this planet, nowhere in all of time and space, I wouldn’t go to find her. To bring her back to me.
The other dragon is a dark violet with slashes of green. He’s young, his dragon’s build is still lanky and he’s not as muscular and filled out as I am. He should be easy enough to take, so he gets out of my way.
The dragon lunges at me.
My wing screams in protest as I bring it around to block the incoming attack. I squat down and brace for impact. The moment he collides with me, I give him a harsh push and lash out, swinging claws and my tail to distract him. I bite into his shoulder until he lets out a shriek from the pain. I hold him down while I send a blast of fire into his face as a last warning to leave me alone.
Fire burning hot and bright.
Declan, please!
Somewhere in my head, it sounds like my brother’s voice.
I relent with the fire and look away from the dragon. Is my brother here?
I catch a scent of something familiar. My mate.
Far off.
Covered in the stench of fucking vampires. I latch on to the scent and toss the intrusive dragon across the street into another building. I enjoy the satisfying crunch of glass shattering and metal creaking and breaking, the building losing its structural soundness.
Everything hurts as I stomp through the streets following my mate’s scent.
My vision blurs and the skyscrapers surrounding me look more like the walls of the battle coliseums I fought in. If I’m going to find my Brianna, I must battle anyone that gets in my way. The shaking, quivering pain of the jacked-up cattle-prod jolts from my captors. I can feel the uncontrollable agony of shifting without any say, my body reduced to a tool, to a fucking killing machine.
Just as I’m about to turn down another street, I get hit by a force so strong it knocks the wind out of me. We careen into another building. The fucking dragon knocked the wind out of me. I scramble to get to my feet, spinning to knock down the intruder with my tail to give me a few more seconds to regain my footing.
This opponent is stronger than any others I’ve fought. Maybe he doesn’t fight as often. Maybe he’s recently been captured.
It doesn’t matter.
The pain doesn’t matter.
Nothing matters.
Nothing except for Brianna.
My mate. My baby. My family.
The other dragon nips at my tail, a move my brothers used to pull when we were play-fighting as kids. When we were learning how to be warriors.
Not enough to hurt, not enough to break through scales.
I whip around and swipe at him with my claws, aiming for the jugular. We collide together again and a thrashing of talons and teeth.
I’m not playing.
As my claws collide with scales, I let out a burst of fire, intent on setting everything I can aflame. His scales. His flesh. His blood. His bones.
I’ll rip him to shreds, rip this whole place to shreds if I can.
I keep my focus on Brianna, trying to find her scent again as I strike and bite the annoying pest of a dragon standing in my way. I’ll find Brianna and we’ll go far away from here. Away from everyone who would hurt us. Everyone who would try and kill us.
Starting with this fucking dragon. He’s my first obstacle. I’m not letting them drug me again. Not this time. I will not put those cuffs on again and be forced to wait in a dungeon until it is time for me to fight for my life. Kill my own kind. Even if they aren’t dragons, they are my own kind.
The dragon roars in pain and rears back away from me, proving that my talons hit their mark. He limps away, trying to get space from me no doubt. I will not give him time to recover. To come at me again and try and stop me from saving my mate.
I lunge at him, pinning him beneath me as I snap at him with my jaws. Finally, I manage to get my teeth wrapped around his neck, just under his jaw to keep him from biting at me. I hold the young dragon down with my weight, force, and fierce desire to kill anything that stands in my way. Breaking through his scales, ripping into him, tasting the hot, coppery burn of his blood as it hits my mouth. More fire pours from me, engulfing his dragon head, over his neck, down his body, until I can’t see anything else.
Just flames. Fire spreading across the streets over the broken pieces of glass, personal items left behind by fleeing humans, and rubble of destruction left in my wake.
The charred scent of flesh filling my nose. I squeeze my eyes closed. I don’t want to remember killing this dragon as much as I don’t want to remember the rest of the lives I took trying to survive day by day in this bloody prison. Once Brianna is safe, I’m going to kill her father and bathe him in blood and fire as well.
I’m never going to be able to wash this blood off my talons, any more than I can wash the blood off from any of the other supernatural creatures I’ve killed because of Brianna’s father. Because of Grey.
Maybe I should rip my own throat out.
Maybe I should let Brianna and our baby be freed from the weight of my guilt, the weight of everything I’ve had to do to survive.
If Brianna’s even still alive.
I can’t feel her. I can’t hear her. I’ve lost her scent.
If she’s gone, then what’s the point of even living?
I never got to claim her.
I never got to fully make her mine, to see her fly, to see her in all her obsidian glory.
Did this beast have a mate? Did I just orphan some dragon younglings?
I raise my talons again, ripping into his soft underbelly, intent on making sure this one will only haunt me in my dreams.