Page 17 of Fury of Affliction

On high alert, Midion took another sip. “Any idea where she went?”

Breathing through the anguish, Hamersveld shook his head.

“What about an alias?” Syndor asked. “You got a name we can chase?”

Against his will, the name streamed into his head.

Natalie Kristiansen.

Love of his life. The lifeblood running through his veins. His first, last and only from now on. His everything. The entire reason he shied away from hunting her down. He’d given her his word. Risked his life and position inside the Razorback pack to ensure she stayed safe. No matter how much it hurt…or how much he missed her…he refused to break his promise. Natalie deserved to live a good life far from the dangers of Dragonkind.

Natalie.

Kristiansen.

Gorgeous name. As beautiful as the female who now possessed it.

Her first name was human given, written on her original birth certificate. The surname, however…

He swallowed past the lump in his throat.

Her last name was special. One that had belonged to his mother, and he’d gifted Natalie when he set up her new identity. So yeah, he knew the name she’d adopted before he forced her to flee Seattle.

Leaning against the kitchen island, Rampart frowned. “Sveld?—”

“I can’t.”

“What you can’t do is go on like this.” Understanding in his pale blue eyes, Rampart met his gaze. “You refuse to feed. You hardly sleep. You’re fixated on her. In need. In pain. So short tempered the warriors Ivar’s given you to combat train walk on eggshells whenever you’re around.”

“With good reason,” Syndor muttered. “No one’s stupid enough to mess with a?—”

“Surly water dragon,” Midion said, finishing his packmate’s sentence. “Scale-splitting nasty. Fun to watch in action, though.”

Ignoring the byplay, Rampart stared at him, refusing to back down. “Ivar doesn’t want to have this conversation with you. Heloves you. Doesn’t know how to talk about it without hurting you, so?—”

“Ram,” he growled.

“It falls to me,” Rampart said, sailing past the interruption. “I’m your friend. Your brother-in-arms. We’re new to it, but I care about you. I hate the path you’re on, man. You’re going to end up dead if you don’t figure out how to rein it in.”

With a sigh, Hamersveld bowed his head, knowing Rampart was right. He wasn’t handling the loss of Natalie well. He ached for her, so much some nights he wished for death, desperate to stop the pain. And yet, he struggled to talk about it. To invite the males he trusted into his head—into his heart—for fear of being perceived as weak. Now, though, the door was open. Which left him with a choice—accept the help he needed and be honest. Or continue to be reckless and die alone in open skies when the Nightfuries attacked.

He sat with the idea for a moment, then put his feet in gear. His footfalls echoed, bouncing off dark cabinetry. His heart thumped, hammering the inside of his chest as unease cascaded through him. Quieting the urge to turn away, he joined his packmates at the island. Shoving two stools out of his way, he folded forward and leaned in. His forearms touched down on polished granite. A chill skated over his skin. Courage surfaced, warming him, dragging a decision up from the depths of his soul.

Chest so tight it hurt to breathe, he whispered, “I don’t want to hurt her.”

Rampart frowned. “I know, but?—”

“If I hunt her down and bring her back, I take her life. Natalie dies here,” he said, needing to make the warriors he fought beside every night understand. “I’d rather live my life knowing she’s out there somewhere—happy, healthy and whole—instead of dead.”

“Who says she’s happy?” Rampart asked, challenging his assumption. “Maybe she misses you…needs you…is suffering without you as much as you are without her.”

Syndor grunted in agreement.

“Fucking A,” Midion muttered, swirling the dredges of coffee at the bottom of his mug. “Strong bond, powerful reaction. The way you’re reacting means she accepted you. Probably had just as strong a reaction to you as you did to her.”

Throwing him a sidelong look, Syndor asked, “Is Midion wrong?”

“No,” he murmured, feeling the truth of it in his gut.

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