Page 59 of Dragon Unleashed

The ring slowly melts off my finger, a rivulet drooping toward the floor. Before it reaches the ground it reforms, dropping the last foot onto the hardwood with a tinkle. A perfect circle again.

What the hell just happened?I turn to the officiant. His big, sad eyes look back at me.

“I’m sorry. Miss Bal, Mr. Cuelebre, the ceremony has failed.”

The man folds up his papers and exits with heavy steps. The entire room is silent. No one moves, no one breathes. No one dares say a word.

My friends, my allegiance. Chano.

We failed. I failed. I didn’t even know it was possible.

Chapter Twenty-eight: Lorelei

The little ring glints on the floor. But there’s no way in all the hells I’m picking it back up. I cradle my hand and sneak a look at Chano. His brow is still furrowed, his lips pursed. He’s devastated.Did my doubts cause this?I toe the ring toward him, and he scoops it up, cradling it in his palm. He slips it into his pocket before finally meeting my gaze.

“Infirmary, now,” Chano says, his voice cracking.

Our little gathering of friends watches us in silence as Chano walks me back down the aisle, away from the makeshift altar, away from our plans. My shoulders hunched, I feel all eyes on me, the weight of their judgment.I shouldn’t have delayed the ceremony. I shouldn’t have doubted us.I trip in the stupid satin heels and a hand steadies my elbow. I glance up, straight into Farrell’s glowing amber eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he mouths.

I shrug, a stray tear escaping and rolling slowly down my cheek, ruining my makeup.I don’t want his stupid sympathy. I want Chano.This was my indecision. My stupid fear ofcommitment, my inability to rely on other people. That’s what led us here. Farrell’s sympathies are misplaced. I’m to blame.

Chano’s hand on my back steers me away. With leaden steps we make our way to the infirmary, neither of us able to say a word.

The nurse takes one look at my mangled finger and calls for the doctor. The smell of burned bacon is everywhere. Except it’s not bacon, it’s me. I can barely feel it; it’s not even as sore as when Frank would burn me with his cigarettes. Nerve damage will do that.

I tweak off the sterile dressing draped over my hand. The skin around the edges of the wound is leathery, and an odd off-white. Fatty tissue pokes out, exposed, where my skin’s been melted off.Is that…?I wriggle my fingers. Tendon, and bone. I turn my face away and retch.

“So long as we debride the wound now, your supe healing will do the rest. You shouldn’t even be left with a scar.” The doctor startles me as he walks into the room on rubber-soled shoes.

“Her Aeternum mark? Will it grow back?” Chano blurts.

I didn’t think. It’s been burned off. No second stage and no mate mark. A lump forms in my throat. I scrub my good hand across my eyes and clench my teeth, waiting for the doctor’s answer.

He peers closely at my finger, gripping my wrist, turning my hand this way and that.

“I don’t see why not, there’s still a faint outline on the charred skin. See here,” he says, turning my hand again. “And here.”

Chano leans in, blocking my view. He’s so desperately in need of reassurance I can’t even be cross. Some of the tension leaves his body and he kisses the lobe of my ear.

“It’ll be all right, chica, you’ll see. Serves me right for rushing you. I should’ve got burned, not you.”

He’s not giving up on me, on us. Of course, he’s not. He’s Chano Maverik.

He might be the meanest brute out there when it comes to his gang, but he’s a big softy for me. It might be the sedative, but the tension slips away as they wheel me to theater. He’ll wait for me.

“I’ll kill her!”

An angry voice in the far distance drags me back toward consciousness. Peeling an eye open, the stark white of the room and the bright light are immediately blinding. I screw my face up and turn my head into a starched-crisp pillow. Crashing reverberates down the hall and I snap my eyes back open, struggling to sit. The door opens so violently that it bounces back off the wall. Alarick, Chano’s second, scrambles into the room, Raff close behind. Their panic is infectious.

“Get up, Lorelei. Get up. Get up, now. Before he does something he’ll regret,” Alarick barks, yanking at my tangled covers. I fight the sheets, trying to throw them off, my uncoordinated limbs refusing to respond.

Feet thunder up the corridor, the place shaking with each step.

“We’re too late,” Raff yelps, tugging Alarick back.

My eyelids droop, the fogginess from the anesthetic gripping me again. I fight my woolly brain.Something is coming.

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