Chapter 33
THIRTY-THREE
Christian
I can feel her, just barely, but she’s muted. It’s a strange feeling, like she’s deep underwater and I can’t quite see her through the muddy depths. Carver should feel her fully since they’re fated, but apparently he feels nothing, and his panic is fueling my own.
“Anything?” I ask, panting with my anxiety. I’ve never been afraid like I am in this moment. In all my years, I’ve never feared for the life of someone. But now . . . I’m afraid.
“Nothing,” Carver hisses, his eyes bright as he searches, his wings tucked in tightly to his back. “Something’s happened. I feel nothing.”
“Fuck!” I snarl, rushing toward the tiniest thread of awareness I can feel. “I can’t . . .”
The feeling shifts then. At first, it’s as muted and dull as before, and then it explodes with so much awareness, I stumble to a stop and have to brace myself against the nearest tree.
“What?” I gasp, clutching at my chest as I feel her settle there. I can feel her, stronger than before, stronger than she’s ever been.
My heart physically pulses for her. Raw agony stabs through me.
Carver drops to his knees, his hand clutching onto his chest as he cries out in pain. They’re fated. He’s likely feeling his own awareness and hers at the same time.
And then she starts to move. I feel her closing in on me. Wherever she is, she’s changing direction and now heading back our way, toward where Thorn and the others fight.
“Come on,” I growl through my teeth, my hand still clutched against my chest as if it’ll keep all the blood inside me.
Carver stumbles to his feet, his ragged breathing worrisome, but together, we both begin to run.
She’s moving fast, so fast, we almost can’t keep up.
It’s strange. She’s human, achingly so, though there’s power in her veins that we still haven’t fully realized.
Now, something else feels like it has taken control. She no longer feels human.
She feels like everything.
We shoot through the tree line and stumble to a stop as we take in the fight before us.
Thorn, Rorrick, and Seven all stand back-to-back, their swords out as they face off against the Dead.
Dead Promised screech and swipe out at them with ragged claws and sharp teeth, but strangely, they don’t attack.
“Where is she?” I growl, searching frantically. But I don’t see her.
Fuck! I don’t see her!