Page 1 of Barely Breathing

Chapter

One

This is not my bed.

It’s the only clear thought I can manage. It pierces through the haze, settling like an anchor in the swirling chaos of fragmented images. An invisible force makes my limbs feel heavy, and every breath pulls in the smell of wood polish and incense mixed with something darker and masculine that quickens my pulse despite my confusion.

This is not my bed.

The realization keeps surfacing. If I chase the broken whispers of nightmares too closely, they threaten to pull me into a darkness I’m too afraid to face.

I am alone, and this is not my bed.

My skin tingles, making me think of the energy residue left behind by magic. Thesensation is wrong. It’s not the protective warmth of my amulet but something darker, more primal. The air feels charged, like the calm before a supernatural storm.

But I don’t have magic. I’m a mortal born into a supernatural family. I know about magic, but I don’t have?—

Fuck.

A sharp pain stabs my temple, and I’m forced into a memory.

I feel as if I’m floating above my past, watching it from above like staring into the depths of a deep well. I see myself entering a rock troll’s cave home with the vampire, Costin. I hear the gemstones hanging from the ceiling jingle with angry vibrations as if they can feel my intrusion, but I can’t see them.

Morvok’s rock body blends with his surroundings, and I only see the troll because I know where to look. He pushes to his feet, and the low, guttural sound of his breathing fills the cave. He looks tired as he ambles to the worktable where my broken amulet awaits. I cannot understand the strange show playing out in front of me, or why it’s even happening. The moment feels real, but I know this is from the past. I know I lived it, but I can’t recall what happened next.

“Costin and pet.” Morvok turns to face us. Well, past us. He doesn’t seem to notice me above them watching. “Morvok did not expect you to return.”

Suddenly, I’m back in my body, standing on the cave floor. I remember wondering why everyone in my life always underestimates me.

“Fix it.” My raspy voice comes forced from my throat, and I hold out my hand. I need the troll to fix the amulet. My weakened body needs its protection. “We don’t have much time.”

What kind of magic is this? I try to pull out of the fragmented memory, blinking hard to determine what is real and what is the past. It doesn’t work.

“You are too late. Draakmar is awake,” the troll says.

Fear fills me just like it did the first time. Draakmar, the ancient dragon who will rain fire down on the world. The prophecy is clear.

One second, I’m in a cave. The next, I get a flash of a different memory, watching a river of lava make its way down Manhattan. Heat swallows everything.

My eyes focus on the orange glow, and the lava is replaced by firelight gleaming in the troll’s eyes. I’m back in the cave, standing before Morvok’s worktable as he repairs the amulet. The air in the troll’s home is warm, too warm. “If you have failed, we cannot try again.”

He’s talking about the labyrinth. I endured the trials to earn enough magic to fix the stone and stop Draakmar. Time freezes, and Morvok doesn’t move. Before I can wonder what’s wrong, time skipsforward like a stone across the surface of a pond—skittering before finally settling to ripple over us.

I don’t want to be in this dream, filled with anxiety and nausea. My body aches.

Morvok examines one of the amulet’s broken shards in the light. It looks like a gem, but it’s really a fragment of Draakmar’s scale.

“It was forged long ago, a piece of his very essence—his fire, his soul, his power. Only that power can stop him,” Morvok says.

The dragon could only be tamed by a piece of himself, but that piece needs to be fixed. The troll uses my blood to mend it. Fixing the amulet brought back its protective magic and stopped the apocalypse.

The past just stops like we hit the end of a recording. I’m now back in the bed. Alone.

This is not my bed.

I touch the amulet hanging around my neck. The stone is too warm to be from body heat. It pulses in time with my heartbeat. A low hum, so subtle I might be imagining it, reminds me of the distant echo of a dragon’s growl. My fingertips tingle from the magical connection I have to Draakmar.

The amulet is repaired. It’s a powerful magical artifact that connects me to Draakmar and helps me to tame the beast. Now, I control a dragon, an ancient and destructive fire dragonthat sleeps deep within the earth. At least, I think I control him. It might be wishful thinking on my part. The deep connection is new, so I’m unsure how this works. Sometimes, his consciousness brushes against mine like he’s trying to tell me something, but the meaning stays out of reach.

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