Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 117336 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117336 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Even as I say the words, though, they're lies. I want her to live. I want her to live more than anything. But the feral, possessive part of me that has been growing by the day hates the thought of her smelling like another male. She'll smell like him and not like me…
Unless I give her my fires. Unless I pour my essence into her and take her as my mate, joining our minds together for all time.
The moment the idea crosses my mind, my fangs descend, shockingly long. Lust boils through my system, and I growl, hunching over my sick mate as I clutch her against me. The dragon part of me wants this, painfully so. It's practically unhinged at the thought.
If she must have someone else's blood, let her also have my fires.
I do not hesitate. Even if I lose myself in the process, I must claim Melina. I must brand her as mine. That feral, untamed part of myself demands it.
Tilting my mate's head, I expose her throat and sink my fangs deep into her. Venom floods out of my fangs, pouring into her punctured skin. She shudders under me, moaning, and a hot rush of bliss races through me as I claim her. My cock jerks, and then I come, my seed thick and hot, sticking my pants to my skin. I've never felt such ecstasy. Such unhinged wildness. My thoughts are of Melina, and Melina alone. Her scent is everywhere, and I prod at her mind with my own. You're mine, I call to her. My mate. Take all of me! Join with me. Let me love you.
Please.
Another shudder of pleasure ripples through me, and Melina's blood touches my tongue. The taste of it is pure wildness—and it makes the drakoni side of me go mad. My thoughts bubble, fierce and intense, and as I release my mate, other thoughts rush in to take the place of her.
Scents—too many. The stink of hundreds of humans. The smell of decay. Of water. Insects. Mud. Dragons. Everything.
Sounds—everywhere. People talking. laughing. A child crying.
Thoughts—the children. The wishing touch of other drakoni…and the thing in the Rift.
All of it crashes over me and I lose myself to the madness.
Chapter
Thirty-Four
MELINA
Everything aches.
Literally everything. I lie in bed, the scent of stale sweat—my own?—perfuming the air around me. I can smell my hair and my blankets, and from a distance, I can smell hot soup. For the first time in what feels like forever, it doesn't make me want to vomit. That's a good sign.
Too bad everything hurts. My eyelashes hurt. My pores hurt. My scalp hurts. My neck feels especially tender on one side. Even my fingertips ache, as if I've somehow been poking things endlessly in my sleep. Amazing how even an eyebrow can hurt. I mean, that's a pretty impressive feat.
I lie in silence, too pleasantly tired to open my eyes. It's a slightly different tired than before, when it felt like there were weights attached to my limbs. Even so, I'm in no hurry. I enjoy the quiet, feeling a cool breeze on my face, and a strange sort of peace flooding through my body.
A door opens somewhere.
"How's she doing?" whispers a woman.
"Better, I think," whispers another. "Any sign of him?"
"Nope. Hopefully he'll come to himself soon."
I frown at that. Who are they talking about? I open an eye and turn my head, and I'm shocked at how much effort that simple motion takes. Rachel stands in the doorway, and Jenny sits next to me, a book in her hands. There's a bowl of soup nearby and some water, and my throat suddenly feels like the desert. I'm so thirsty. I open my mouth to speak…and croak instead.
That gets their attention. Both Jenny and Rachel turn to me, bright smiles on their faces. "Oh my god," Jenny says, excited. "You're awake!"
"Water," I manage. "Can I have some water?"
"Of course!" Jenny grabs the cup and Rachel moves to my side, fluffing pillows and helping me sit up. Again, I'm shocked at how weak I am and how much effort it takes simply to sit upright. But Jenny holds the lukewarm water to my lips and helps me drink small sips, and it's the best thing I've ever tasted.
When my thirst is satisfied, I lie back on the pillows, closing my eyes again. "Thank you."
"Don't thank us. We're just glad to see that you're on the mend," Jenny says, her voice sweet. "You really had us worried for a while there."
I manage a smile at that. My memories are hazy, but something tells me I've been sick for more than a few days. I've had the flu in the past, but never after the Rift, and never without medication. It's been worse than I ever imagined, and I have a newfound sympathy for my patients. I have vague recollections of people pushing broth on me, waking me up to ensure that I take mouthfuls of soup. Lately, the hazy thoughts have been of women, or Gary, but before…it was all Azar. Azar with worried looks on his face, Azar holding me tight while I shivered, Azar murmuring in my ear and telling me how much I mean to him and how I wasn't allowed to die. I'm not entirely sure I didn't dream him, except I can smell his faint scent on my blankets. "How long have I been sick?"