Page 53 of Dragons' Mate
“I feel… unsettled.”
“It is a necessary sacrifice.” He sighs. “We can make it go faster for her.”
I hear something scraping. The sound is familiar and I realize it's the rasp of a canteen being opened. Then… Water pours over me, soaking my dress. The wet fabric makes the cold suddenly a thousand times worse. Ten thousand times. My lungs seize. I can barely breathe. Or shiver. Or scream.
One of the priests leans down to close my eyes for me, before the pair walks away.
CHAPTER25
Quinton
"Over here!" Quinton’s holler barely pierced the howling gale to reach the others. His breath hung in the air, a cloud of vapor that was quickly swept away by the relentless gusts. The once crisp and mild autumn air had been replaced by a harsh, unnatural winter snowstorm that swept mercilessly across the mountainous forest. Quinton had no idea how the priests managed it. Nor did he care. He cared about nothing but one thing.
His mate.
His fierce, fragile, mortal mate who’d been out in the elements for six hours. She was still alive. Quinton knew that because he was still alive, but that was of little consolation. Quinton was fading. Stumbling over his own feet.
When the trial was announced, Quinton had readied himself to fight every dragon at the citadel. He was good at fighting. Good at killing. But the priests had twisted things again. Quinton’s teeth and claws and wings did no good against the cold.
“You felt her again?” Tavias trudged up beside Quinton.
With the poor visibility, they’d given up searching from the sky hours ago, leaning instead into the pull of Quinton’s mating bond. When the trial started, the flares of pain and sheer panic the bond carried to him had sent him into fits of rage. That was before he learned how much more frightening silence was. And the bond had been dead silent for the past half an hour. Until now.
“Yes.” Quinton closed his eyes, focusing on the bond that connected him to Kit. It was faint, a mere thread amidst the cacophony of the storm, but it was there, a beacon guiding him towards… toward here. This spot. “She is here.Here.”
Here was nothing but a blanket of deep clean snow. Dropping to his knees, Quinton started to dig, his brothers following his lead without question. Quinton’s breath came in ragged gasps, his lungs aching from the frigid air. The snowstorm raged around them, swallowing every sound and obscuring their vision. His nostrils flared, attempting to catch even the faintest scent of Kit, but the biting wind tore at his senses, making it near impossible.
The unmistakable jolt of connection surged through Quinton again. Here. She was here.
“I have her,” Hauck roared.
The pack converged on Hauck’s spot, everyone's frost-bitten faces etched with the same mixture of hope and dread that pounded through Quinton as they pushed snow aside with their hands.
Kit was unconscious. Unmoving. The snow surrounding her body was densely packed, a sign she'd been there for a while. Her right arm was spread outward, fingers peeking through the white blanket, while her left was tucked under her body. Her clothes, soaked from melted snow and then frozen again, clung to her body, making her appear like a statue. From the way her left foot was twisted, as if she’d caught it on something, Kit appeared to have fallen.
Quinton ran his fingers over her face. It was slightly turned to the side, melting snow trickling down her pale cheeks and full blue lips.
Hauck lifted her into his arms, which was fair since it was he who’d first found her.
“Hey, turnip,” he called. “Time to wake up.”
No response. Not even a blink or change in the rhythm of her breath. But the mating bond still pulsed between them, weak but unmistakable. It was a lifeline, a connection that tethered her to this world. Quinton would do everything in his power to keep it from breaking.
They carried her up to their camp, Cyril and Tavias taking charge of security while Quinton and Hauck stayed with Kit. Quinton's stomach clenched into a knot. He couldn't shake the feeling that, despite having been found, Kit’s time was running out. That she slipped further away with every moment.
Once at camp, the pack’s entire focus turned to re-warming the mortal. Hauck peeled the frozen garments from Kit's body, the pieces coming away in solid blocks, each holding the cold that had nearly killed her.
Quinton didn’t remember discarding his own clothes, but the moment Kit was naked, so was he. He gathered her against him, the chill of her skin jarring against his warmth. A moment later, Hauck was equally naked on Kit’s other side, the pair of them pouring every ounce of warmth into her.
Cyril hauled in several large stones from the outside, Tavias channeling his magic into the rocks. The heated stones hissed and steamed, creating a barrier against the relentless chill until the whole shelter felt like a greenhouse amidst a winter storm. Quinton felt the heat from Tavias's magic and his brothers’ bodies working together, the warmth slowly seeping into Kit's icy form. The once-loud wind outside became a distant hum, overshadowed by the thick silence inside.
Hours passed. Kit’s limbs warmed, her skin regaining a pinkish glow that Quinton was used to seeing. But still, she did not open her eyes and the mating bond continued to whine with a low steady hum of despair. Unable to sit still, Quinton paced the length of their shelter, stopping every few steps to listen for any sounds of an approaching assault. They were vulnerable now. His mate was vulnerable.
“She is fine,” Tavias announced, crossing his arms. His voice was edged with a promise of violence to anyone who dared disagree and the clothes he’d put back on shifted over coiling muscles. “She is exhausted. Pushed beyond her limit. Of course she is asleep.”
Hauck, who was taking his turn cradling Kit against him, brushed a strand of hair from her face. "Fight it turnip,” he whispered. “We’ve some flying to do, you and I. Think of all the people we’ve not pissed off yet. Hardly seems right to stop now. Open your eyes just for a moment, and I promise I’ll fly you anywhere you want. We can perch on the tallest spire of the citadel or else shoot through the clouds. Maybe not during the winter, but you’ll love that on a hot day. Blink just once, and we have a bargain.”
Quinton continued pacing, his steps soft against the ground. Kit was alive. She wasthere.He could feel her essence through their bond. And yet she showed no sign of it. “This isn’t right,” stopping suddenly. “It doesn’t add up.”
