Page 47 of Devoted to the Dragon

I force myself to ignore my nerves and work faster. Fennik is next. His weight is staggering, and it takes multiple tries before I can heave my wolf onto Gunnar’s chest. The move isn’t graceful, and the thudding weight makes Gunnar moan in pain.

Getting the contraption into the water is something else altogether. I fail again and again, cutting my leg on a rock before I get the mass into the water. The river is icy, and the water is fast. The weight of the stretcher is an unmoored anchor against the swirling currents, and the rocks underfoot jab at my wounded feet.

Still, we move quickly, keeping to the shallows by the river’s edge until the current slows. I’m able to get us across a slower part of the river without anyone drowning, though it’s touch and go for a moment in the center when I have to rely on swimming.

My teeth are chattering when I make it to the rocky bank. Icy fear makes my body rattle. I collapse on the shore, unsure how the fuck I’m going to gather the strength to keep moving. The cave is at least a mile from here, maybe more.

A scream bubbles from my throat, and I dig deep, pulling my wolves’ heavy masses from the water with power fueled by rage.When I manage to get us on shore, hot tears replace my fire. I fall to my knees, resting my head on one of Gunnar’s furry thighs.My strength is gone, and I’m alone. My vision dances, and I close my eyes, chilled down to my marrow.

I don’t know how long I cling to the edges of lucidity, my mates unmoving beneath me, before something warm envelops me in a velvety cocoon. It’s so deeply comforting that my muscles relax and my teeth stop chattering. The shadows weave around me, so soft and strong.

My eyes flutter, and I look up into violet eyes set in a delicately beautiful face blemished only by an angry red claw mark. My mark.

After all this time waiting, is this what fate brings me? A serpent mate I can never trust? One who is already working with the Alpha King to capture me?

The stone in my gut and the tightness in my chest fight the truth. Despite my mistrust and hatred of the serpents, the brand glowing brightly on his chest is loud and clear.

“I won’t hurt you,” the serpent lies.

The sound of his voice is just as jarring as it was the first time I heard it. It’s deeper than I would have expected for such a delicate face, though I guess that’s all part of the illusion. The sharp, ethereal features that are so beautiful it almost hurts to look at him. The warmth of his voice. The seductive softness of his shadows and the sincerity in his eyes.

It’s all lies. He’s covered in blood, his forehead a maze of deep veins that tell me he’s been feeding on our misery.

I shove against his hold, but his shadows don’t fight. They caress where I struggle. My limbs grow heavy. I know it’s part of the illusion, but the relaxation and warmth are so inviting, so deep, that my thoughts quiet.

“Sleep now, my little dragon. I’ll keep you safe,” the warm voice reassures.

I don’t believe the lie, but all the fight has been sucked out of me. Darkness rushes over me, capturing me in its current.

Chapter 23

Knox

Islip from the shadows into my bedroom in my wing of the family’s estate. I’m sure my dragon would put up a fight at me bringing her here, but I’d rather deal with her wrath knowing she’s safe.

After I eliminated the wolves hunting her in the forest and paid the king a visit, I followed my new tether, brighter now than all my other anchors. I wasn’t surprised to find my little dragon dripping like a furious drowned kitten and stubbornly trying to hoist her wolves from the water. Her energy was pulsing red, her emotions a riot of fear, rage, and crushing heartache. The heartache was so bitter I nearly choked on it, but I forced myself to taste what I had caused. When she collapsed on the bank, I couldn’t continue to watch her struggle, even when I knew I was the last person she wanted to see.

My shadows unravel, and I gently place her wolves on my bed. I can’t bear putting her down just yet, cradling her closer to my chest. I carry her to the bathroom, frantically riffling through cabinets for supplies while I dial Stefano.

Her bodyguard, the strange werewolf beast, is in bad shape; his breathing is labored, and his body is torn to shreds. There isno way I’m letting him die. I’m already up to my knees in grovel-dirt. I don’t need to add losing her mate to my grave.

My brother picks up on the third ring. “Knox, I’m about to?—”

“I don’t have time to explain, but I need a favor,” I say in a rush, starting the bath water, then running supplies back into the bedroom.

My brother sighs, the sound full of recrimination.

Before he can lay into me, I snap, “I get it, man. I’ve spent most of my life fucking around. But right now, I need you to have my back, Stef.”

“What shit have you got yourself into?—”

“Stef,” I hiss. The hard, rattling sound of my serpent’s burst of dominance surprises even me.

“Yeah. All right. What do you need?”

“Come to the manor. My rooms. Bring medical supplies and any antidote you have for the shit you’ve been making for the wolves.” I hang up before he answers.

For all of Stef’s brilliance, he’s a horrible shadow-walker. He rarely uses the blur to travel, claiming it makes him dizzy. By the time he arrives, I’ve got my little dragon sponged down, bandages over her wounded feet and her side, and she’s snuggled up in bed beside her wolves.

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