Chapter 33 Theron
THERON
Oh fuck—I lost her! I fucking lost her.
The current rips past me, dragging at my legs, slamming into my chest hard enough to steal my breath. I stumble, go under for a moment, and come up choking, water rushing into my mouth and nose as I fight to stay upright.
“Elowen!” I shout.
My voice is swallowed by the roar of the river—I might as well be whispering.
Where the fuck is she?
I spin, scanning the churning water, my heart pounding so hard it feels like it might tear itself out of my chest. The river isn’t the same anymore—it’s not the shallow, manageable flow we stepped into.
It’s alive now and it’s fucking angry. The moment she took the water for the spell, something changed. I can feel it—some ancient magic stirred up, something that doesn’t like being touched. Elowen took something it didn’t want to give and now it’s determined to take her.
I can’t let that happen.
“Elowen!” I shout again, my voice raw. “Elowen, where are you?”
I look downstream at the churning water but I see nothing. No flash of red hair—no adorable freckled face—no sign of her at all.
Panic claws at my throat.
“Find her,”my Drake snarls inside my head, his mental voice sharp with urgency. “Find her now.”
“I’m fucking trying!” I growl back, forcing myself forward, fighting the current as it tries to drag me downstream.
Every step is a battle. The riverbed shifts beneath my feet, slick stones threatening to send me under again.
I’m afraid to go too fast—what if I miss her?
What if she’s clinging to a branch or a rock and I get swept right past her?
Where is she? I can’t fucking lose her. I can’t.
The thought hits me hard, deeper than anything else. Not just can’t. Won’t.
I won’t let her go. If I do, I’ll lose part of myself—something vital. Somewhere between the mountains and the sky, between the first time she touched my Drake without fear and the way she said my name like it meant something the curvy little priestess became mine.
And now she’s gone.
“No,” I rasp, shaking my head hard as I force myself forward. “No, no, no.”
I try to Shift, thinking I can find her more easily from the air—Gods, I try.
I call to my Drake, reaching for that familiar surge of power, that Shift in bone and muscle and fire—but the river is too strong, too chaotic.
I can’t get my footing, can’t focus long enough to let the change take hold.
Or maybe it’s the Sacred River itself stopping me—holding me back by its chaotic magic.
I don’t know, but for the first time in my life, I can’t let my Drake out.
I get so focused on trying that I miss a step. The current slams into me again, knocking me sideways and I go under.
Cold water closes over my head, deafening and blinding. For a second, I lose all sense of direction—up, down, it doesn’t matter. It’s all just force and pressure and chaos.
I fight my way back up to the surface, gasping and wiping water from my eyes.
Elowen, where is she? If I can’t Shift, I’ll have to find her without my Drake’s help.
Focus, I tell myself. Find her.
I scan downstream, looking desperately for any sign of my curvy little priestess.
And then—there—I see it!
Something pale is caught in a tangle of dead branches jutting out from the far bank.
My heart stutters in my chest. It’s white—her robes! Her priestess robes! That must be it.
“Elowen!” I bellow.
I don’t think—I just move. The current is worse here—stronger, dragging at me as I push across the river, swimming as fast as I can, but it’s slow going in the chaotic, swirling water. My arms burn with the effort, my lungs heaving as I force myself forward inch by inch.
The Drake roars inside me, lending me strength, driving me harder.
“Closer. Faster. Now!” he commands, and I feel his urgency pouring into me.
“I’m fucking going!” I grit out, my teeth clenched. “Getting to her as fast as I can!”
But that’s not fast enough for him. He urges me—pushes me. Elowen is precious, she must not be lost!
I feel the same way.
At last I get to the other side of the Sacred River. The branches are half-submerged, the water slamming against them in violent bursts. Whatever is caught there is being pulled and twisted, the fabric snapping in the current.
I reach it at last and my hands close around soaked cloth.
It is her robe—I fucking knew it!
“Fuck, baby—come here!”
I grab hold and pull, hauling her toward me. But when I see her, my heart sinks.
She’s limp—dead weight in the water—her body dragged half under by the force of the river.
“Come on,” I grunt, wrapping an arm around her, turning us both toward the bank. “Come on, little one—stay with me.”
It takes everything I have left to get us both out of the river. Every ounce of strength and my Drake’s strength too, which he pushes into me like fuel as though he’s breathing fire into my forge at the smithy back home.
By the time I reach the shore, I’m fucking shaking. The current was so strong near the end it felt like the river was trying to drag us both back and drown us. It really is angry, and the anger feels personal.
But my Drake won’t let up and neither will I. I drag us both onto the muddy bank, collapsing onto my hands and knees, coughing and gasping as I try to get air back into my lungs.
Oh Gods, I’m fucking exhausted. I’ve never felt like this—not even the first time I Shifted and let my Drake out as a boy, which was a harrowing experience.
For a moment, I can’t do anything—I just lie there, chest heaving, vision swimming. Then I remember Elowen.
I roll toward her immediately and see that her curvy body is still—too still.
Her face is pale, making her freckles stand out in stark relief and her auburn hair is dark with water, plastered to her cheeks and neck. Her lips are slightly parted, her lashes resting against her skin like fans.
She doesn’t seem to be breathing.
“Elowen,” I gasp again, my voice cracking. I cup her face, patting her cheeks lightly. “Hey—hey, wake up. Come on, baby—please!”
I get no response.
Fear spikes through me, sharp and vicious.
“Don’t do this,” I whisper harshly. “Don’t you fucking do this to me!”
I press my fingers to her throat and after a long moment I find it—a pulse. It’s weak and thready, but it’s there. She’s still alive—still in there somewhere and I can’t let her go. I have to bring her back—but how?
I put a hand on her chest to confirm that she’s alive. She’s breathing—I can feel it. Her breaths are shallow, barely there, and her skin—Gods, she’s freezing.
“Fuck,” I mutter, already moving.
I gather her up into my arms, pushing myself to my feet on legs that feel like they might give out beneath me. I stagger a little, then steady myself and head for the trees.
I need shelter and heat, and I need it quickly.
Otherwise, I’m going to lose her.