15 Reed #3
I buried my face in the curve of her neck, breathing in the clove-and-rain fever of her skin, and reached deep into the bedrock of my spirit.
I didn’t just project my scent. I deployed my aura like a heavy blast shield.
I built a dome of magma and dark stone, like I had forged in the Dreamscape, wrapping her light completely inside the vault of my own soul.
It took every ounce of strength I had to not tear her clothes off while I laid my magic over her. And as the green sweep of the drone washed over the hood of the truck, a paralyzing dread seized my throat.
I had watched my brothers—Brann, Santos, Levi, Tommy, Finn—nearly lose their minds protecting their mates. I had stood on the firelines as the stoic commander, watching them unravel with primal terror whenever their women were in danger. I thought I understood.
I didn’t know a goddamn thing.
Being in the center of the storm, feeling the frantic, rapid flutter of her pulse beneath my chest, knowing that a single hairline fracture in my magical shield would expose her to the butchers—it was a terror so absolute it nearly froze the magma in my veins.
“I’ve got you,” I breathed against her ear, my body vibrating with the effort of holding the shield. “Breathe me in, sweetheart. Hide in the mountain.”
Her arms hooked around my neck, her fingers digging through my shirt into the flesh of my back. She arched up against me, her hips rolling in involuntary, feverish Heat rhythms. A ragged sob tore from her throat.
“Reed... Goddess, Reed, I can feel your fangs,” she said against my skin. “The bond... It’s right there. Bite me. Please, just bite down...”
Bite her, my wolf howled, surging toward my teeth, pressing hard against my gums. Mark our mate. She’s begging for it!
“Hold the line,” I groaned, grinding my teeth so hard they creaked. “Hold on to me.”
We are going to die of this holding, the beast whimpered, digging his claws into my spirit. We are dying of not taking her.
Then we die holding, I answered through locked teeth.
I reached behind her with my free hand, my fingers sinking into the nylon of the passenger seatback. I squeezed with the full force of my founding blood, ripping the heavy fabric to shreds, tearing the seams apart just to give my hands something to destroy that wasn’t her clothes.
The emerald light hit the windshield.
It poured across the glass in an oily, sickly wave. I felt the magical probe touch the truck, lingering, tasting the air.
I locked my bulk tighter over Avaline, letting a deep, territorial purr rumble up from my chest—a low vibration that resonated against the granite overhang.
Nothing here, I projected with every shred of my alpha will. Just rock. Just fire. Just the mountain.
The green beam hung over the hood. One heartbeat. Two. Three.
Then, with a faint hiss of static, the drone rotated and swept further down the canyon.
The green glow faded. The darkness returned.
Outside, the timber went silent.
Inside the cab, the only sound was the harsh, ragged rhythm of our breathing, and the heavy thud of our pulses hammering against each other in the dark.
Then the scanner on the dash hissed, a burst of scrambled Conclave emergency chatter breaking through the speaker.
“—all regional assets, fall back to Sector Zero!” a voice barked, cutting through the static. “High Arbiter Gault has initiated Fortress Protocol at the Caldera Summit. All Inner Circle alchemists, vampire syndicates, and council magistrates—report to the throne room!”
I lifted my head from Avaline’s shoulder, expecting to see the fierce fire in her eyes.
Instead, I saw her eyes roll back.
A tremor wracked her frame, her spine bowing off the seat as her body temperature spiked past the safety threshold. The heat pouring off her skin went from a simmering fever to an absolute inferno.
“Avaline!” I rasped, grabbing her shoulders as a wet, choked gasp tore from her throat. Her head lolled against my arm, her pulse racing at a terrifying speed. Years of suppressed biology were collapsing all at once. Her internal organs were beginning to cook in the ungrounded fire.
“Fortress... Protocol,” she wheezed, her fingers clutching weakly at my turnout coat, her brilliant mind fighting through the boiling fog of her blood. “Reed... he isn’t locking us out. He’s sealing them in.”
“Don’t worry about it—”
Her eyes fluttered open, wide and terrified in the dark.
“The old magic requires a massive blood sacrifice to seal the mountain’s wards permanently.
They are preparing to drain every dormant left in those cages to lock the gates.
If we don’t breach that summit, we won’t be rescuing our sisters.
We’ll be walking into their mass grave.”
The blood in my veins went cold.
I grabbed the heavy green radio mic from the dash, clicking the selector to the pack’s encrypted emergency channel.
I keyed the mic, my voice shaking the glass. “Ridgeline Hotshots, Code Black. I repeat, Code Black. Pull everyone to the farm. Now!”
I jammed the mic back into the clip, twisted the ignition key, and threw the heavy diesel into gear, roaring out from under the granite overhang and tearing down the mountain road.