Page 109 of The Edge of Dawn

“Then try it.”

“Fine.” Angry now, although he didn’t completely understand why—cursed Mating Fever—Dragek slipped the death-mask over his face and gathered his ka’qui around him. He was surprised at how abundant it felt and how easily it came. Wielding the ka’qui had always come easily to him, but now it was as simple as breathing. He could feel Jade’s thread woven amongst the energy, too. It sparked a powerful instinct within him. He wanted to protect her at all costs. To destroy anything and everything that had the potential to threaten her. He would pull down the stars and break apart worlds if he had to.

Surely, he was going mad.

But it was a good kind of mad. This insanity was like white-hot fire, burning away all the corruption.

Fine.

He spun the ka’qui in the way he’d been taught, letting it flow across his skinsuit, over his sheathed weapons and the death-mask. He felt himself slipping into the void, suspended halfway between this dimension and the next, and he almost found himself slipping away into his inner sanctuary to seek her, but he instinctively knew she wasn’t there anymore.

She was awake.

Waiting for him.

He felt her worry, her yearning.

Energy flowed across his body, across his skin, and where he’d once strained to hold this form, growing fatigued in a very short span of time; it now felt as if he could stay like this forever.

He felt powerful.

Almost invincible.

It was both exhilarating and bitter, for his killing intent was heightened to an almost painful degree, and he craved violence.

She shouldn’t see him like this; she shouldn’t know what he was capable of.

But she’d already delved into the shadows of his mind and soul, and still, she wanted him.

Surely, the Goddess had to have a hand in this because, for a creature like him, it was nothing short of miraculous.

He looked at the warriors, who were all staring at him in turn. Kail made a sign with his fingers. Dragek had no idea what it meant—some tribal thing, probably. Kalan’s and Rykal’s eyes widened a fraction.

Only Tarak and Ashrael appeared completely unsurprised.

A low whistle escaped Rykal’s lips. “That little trick of yours is something else. Never fails to blow my mind. You know, I normally wouldn’t get all sentimental, but Arin says it’s a good thing that I can. Tch. What humans do to us, hm? Anyway, I’m glad you’re fighting on our side, Invisible One.”

Dragek withdrew his ka’qui, emerging from the space halfway between into the cold, clear light of reality. Normally, entering the state of qim would have exhausted him, but he didn’t feel tired in the least.

He could have held it for much longer.

Amun Kazharan wouldn’t know what hit him.

“Do you understand now?” Ashrael asked.

“Yes. The Mating Fever is something else.” In fact, after channeling his energy in that way, he felt a little better—less tense and irritable. Even the throbbing pain in his temples had lessened.

His yearning for Jade hadn’t changed, though. If anything, it was more acute.

How in the Nine Hells was he supposed to fight like this? It was as if he was walking a tightwire between transcendence and total disaster.

“We’ve all been there,” Kalan rumbled. “You’ll manage. Just think of it as a bit of extra suffering before the reward. It’s not like our kind are strangers to punishment, anyway.”

Dragek quietly agreed, although he still couldn’t quite understand why these hard-as-Callidum First Division warriors were being so understanding toward him. Not too long ago, he’d tried to kill one of their very own.

“You’re one of us now,” Kail said coolly as if reading his thoughts. “If you want to remain so, don’t fuck it up.”

“I am not going to jeopardize this mission in any way,” Dragek snarled, his irritation rising again. “I understand what’s at stake.”

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