CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE ISI #3
The words from Velacross’s journal became reality. I felt sharper, faster, more aware of every movement around me. Trew’s presence in my mind was a constant warmth, our thoughts and instincts aligning until we moved with a synchronicity that went beyond training.
Our friends and the other companions continued to fight, Levar and the dragons swooping over the battlefield, their jaws closing around creatures and flinging them against boulders. They followed up with a blast of flames that incinerated the beasts.
More slithered from the wasteland, and I lost track of time, of individual kills. Everything became movement and blood and the ring of steel on bone. Trew was always there, guarding me, creating openings, moving in perfect harmony with me.
I saved him from a blind spot attack, impaling my blade between a creature’s eye cluster. Trew returned the favor not long after, his sword taking the head off a creature that was coiling to strike.
When one got close enough that I could smell its rotten breath, Trew’s roar ripped through the night. A mate defending what was his. The creature actually hesitated, instinct recognizing the fury in that sound.
My blade found its brain through the gap in its skull plates. Thorne would have been proud of my precision.
Finally, blessedly, the last of them fell.
We stood among the carnage, breathing hard, covered in their blood and our own. Pherin and Gavelle padded between the corpses, ensuring nothing remained alive, while Dare kept rearing up and stomping his hooves back down on an already flattened carcass.
The dragons circled beyond the boulders, watching for more, while Levar and Keek flopped on the ground beside each other, their intent gazes watching for another attack.
Trew stood along the edge of the open area on my right, his sword still tight in his hand. “Is everyone—”
The ground trembled, and we all froze.
Another creature rushed out from behind a large cluster of boulders. It came at us like a serpent strike, its body flowing across the ground with terrifying speed. Derren’s sword caught it across the maw, but it barely slowed. Lexie’s blades found joints, severing ligaments.
It kept coming.
Pherin and Gavelle converged on it from opposite sides.
Flames scorched its hide. Massive jaws tore chunks of flesh.
But this one was different. Stronger. More determined.
It thrashed, its segmented body whipping around to catch Gavelle across the ribs.
The firecat went flying, slamming into a petrified tree trunk hard enough to crack stone.
“Gavelle!” Trew’s anguish ripped through me.
The beast’s attention shifted, its six eyes locking on me. It coiled, every muscle in its body tensing. Preparing to strike.
I saw the moment it committed. Saw the joints dislocate as it prepared to launch itself forward with enough force to crush me.
Time seemed to slow.
I lifted my blade, but the creature was too fast, too focused, too—
Trew slammed into me from the side.
We hit the ground hard, my breath exploding from my lungs. His body covered mine, shielding me completely.
The creature slammed into Trew’s back, and a sickening crunch rang out. A tremor went through his body as claws twisted around to rake across his belly.
“No!” The word ripped up my throat.
Trew twisted beneath the creature’s bulk, his sword arm coming up. He drove the blade through the beast’s throat, punching out the back of its skull. Blood poured over us both as the creature convulsed, its death throes violent enough to shake the ground.
While Gavelle staggered to his feet, Pherin launched herself at the dying beast, her jaws closing around what remained of its neck. She tore it free, flinging the severed head away before turning back to us.
Trew shoved the body off him, rolling to his knees. His breathing came harsh and ragged. He was hurt. Bleeding. And he hadn't stopped moving.
“Trew!”
“I’m alright.” But blood pooled around his hand pressed against his belly. He staggered to his feet. “Are you hurt?”
“Me? You just—”
“Are you hurt?” The command in his voice cut through my panic.
“No.” My hands shook. “I’m not hurt.”
King wounded, Pherin shouted in my mind. Broken!
Blood soaked through his tunic, spreading in an ever-widening stain that made my hands shake.
“Let me see,” I whispered, already reaching for the torn leather.
His hand caught my wrist, his grip weak but insistent. “You first. I need to know you’re not wounded.”
“I’m fine.” I pressed closer, until our foreheads touched, until I could feel his ragged breath against my lips. “But you’re bleeding. You’re hurt because you protected me. I can’t lose you.”
His golden eyes blazed.
“Never,” he rasped. “I’d die a thousand times before I let anything touch you.” The possessive certainty in his voice sent heat spiraling through me despite the horror of the moment. He was mine. This beautiful, broken, impossibly brave man was mine, and I was never letting him go.
His legs buckled.
With a groan, I caught him, wrapping my arms around him, taking him down to the ground.