Page 62 of Forbidden Devotion
“I’m glad your parents took it well. Ramsey…did not. He was angry. That was unexpected. I don’t know what to say. Hopefully, the other alphas will react better,” Mitchel replied.
“I’m sorry. Are you okay?”
“Oh yes, I’m fine. I mean, I’m disappointed. Maybe I thought Ramsey was different than he really is. I guess it’s good to find out, even if it does sting. He hasn’t been that angry with me since a couple of us pups thought it would be fun to hunt our human neighbor’s herd of sheep. I don’t know which is worse, killing a bunch of domesticated farm animals or dating a vampire, but it’s rare for Ramsey to get that riled up.”
“Maybe he needs some time,” Eleanor said. “You probably caught him off guard.”
“Maybe so.” Mitchel hoped she was right.
“At least he doesn’t have to buy anyone a herd of sheep this time,” Eleanor quipped.
An ear-piercing boom rang out before Mitchel could continue, so loud and with such intensity Sinclair felt it down to his bones.
A wave of panic spread across the densely packed room as everyone reacted in kind, shuddering and lifting their hands to protect their ears. Painful and disorienting, the initial noise had let up, but more bangs followed.
What was happening?
Sinclair’s gaze shot toward Mitchel, who looked equally stunned.
The sound faded and was replaced by an eerie ringing Sinclair realized wasn’t a real noise but his eardrums’ reaction to the violence. He could see people’s lips moving, but he couldn’t hear their words.
Smoke crept through open doorways, filling the room.
Mitchel was yelling at him to do something, but he was too stunned to move, and he couldn’t understand what Mitchel wanted him to do.
Mitchel closed his arms around his shoulders and dragged him out of his seat. Sinclair tried to cooperate, but it was like his body was frozen. He’d never been so scared.
Noises drifted back into his consciousness as Mitchel hauled him out of the dining hall and toward an exit. Everyone was headed that way.
A stampede.
They were going to be trampled.
“Explosion!” someone yelled, albeit in a strange, muted tone. “There’s been an explosion.”
“It was humans!” someone shrieked.
“The humans are attacking!” another shout somewhere off to his left.
Confused, Sinclair panicked. What did they mean? Nothing made sense. He followed Mitchel and the others as best he could, but the crowd was ramming toward the exit with a ferocity that could only be caused by mass chaos. He couldn’t keep up.
Mitchel had a painful death grip on his wrist.
Instinct made him pull his arm away to cover his ears. Regret hit instantly as he was swept up in the crowd, separated from Mitchel and the others. Moisture under his ears that should not have been there coated his palms with stickiness, and he still couldn’t hear properly.
Smoke filled his lungs. He could hardly catch his breath. The back of his throat felt burned.
When he lowered his hands, they were bloody. His ears were bleeding!
The crowd pushed him outside. He had no choice but to go along or be dragged under the tide of bodies. He’d lost sight of Mitchel in the fray and wouldn’t have been able to hear him, even though he knew he’d be shouting his name.
Sinclair smelled blood—blood and burning. Lots of it. Once outdoors, the crowd thinned enough to see through the smoke. Supernaturals began to disperse, grouping naturally by species.
In the panic, he still hadn’t figured out what had happened. Had there been a bomb? Where was Mitchel? It had to be a bomb. But was Mitchel okay? They hadn’t been near the blast. His parents. Where were they? Were they okay?
Sinclair swayed on his feet, now unsupported by the throng of people. He couldn’t seem to find his balance.
Something hit his head hard.
