Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 93267 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 466(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93267 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 466(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Even after reaching the safety of the street, Calhoun didn’t release him. He dragged Gregori over to one of the ambulances and covered his mouth with an oxygen mask. As much as he wanted to say he didn’t need it, he couldn’t deny that first deep breath was amazing. The last of the fog cleared from his brain.
The firefighter next to him pushed off his helmet and removed his respirator, so Gregori could see the smiling face of a middle-aged man with dark hair and bright brown eyes. “You doin’ okay now?”
“Yeah, better. Thanks.” It was hard to be convincing when Gregori had to stop twice to cough up some black crap from his lungs. “Calhoun?”
“Yep, but you can call me Derek.”
“Thanks for your help, Derek. Gregori Valerii,” he said, sticking his hand out to shake Derek’s.
“No problem, man. Dragons are a national treasure for all of us. Someone needed to watch your back.”
Gregori huffed out a weak laugh before placing the oxygen mask over his mouth and nose again. He didn’t feel like much of a treasure right now, but it was fine. At least he got some of the fire out and helped to save the guy and his dog.
Derek cocked his head to the side so he was in Gregori’s line of sight. “But are you sure you’re okay? I know the docs probably can’t help a dragon much, but you seemed…a little off.”
Gregori flashed his new friend a weak smile. “Yeah, I’m not feeling quite myself recently.”
“Do dragons get colds?”
He laughed a little easier this time. “Not ice dragons.”
Fuck that. He’d never heard of any dragon catching a cold. It just didn’t happen.
But deep down, he knew this wasn’t a cold. He also knew it was getting worse, not better. It wasn’t about adjusting to his new scenery or his new life here with Salem. This was about being away from his clan—exactly what Rodrigo had been worried about from the very beginning.
And while he was being painfully honest with himself, there was also a chance Salem’s continual denial about them being mates was having a negative impact. But what the hell was he supposed to do about it?
Leave Salem?
Fat fucking chance. No dragon left his mate. He wasn’t worthy of having a mate if he was willing to leave him unprotected. He didn’t deserve to have a mate if he wasn’t willing to put up with a little magical inconvenience.
No, he would just have to find another way to get his magic working and stir his dragon from its lethargy. Because if he didn’t, he could die the next time he tried to use his magic to save people.
It should have been a simple procedure.
That thought kept repeating in Salem’s head like a mantra, even as machines blared out warnings, people scrambled around the table, and something like panic shot up his spine. It should have been a simple procedure. He shouldn’t have a twelve-year-old girl crashing on his table when all he was supposed to do was come in here and take out a damn appendix.
All of his experience, training…it started clicking over in his head even as he tried to diagnose the problem. She was crashing, not breathing. He’d barely gotten her open, the laparoscope cued, when she’d crashed so suddenly.
“Beth, did you check if she was allergic to anesthesia?”
Beth had ten years under her belt as an anesthesiologist and didn’t make rookie mistakes, but he had to check because right now, anything could be the culprit.
“Yes, she wasn’t allergic.”
Shit, so it wasn’t that.
“Pull out,” Salem commanded sharply. “Tape those incisions shut, I don’t need her hemorrhaging blood—shit!”
Her pulse flatlined.
Salem leapt into doing CPR, both palms flat on her sternum as he pulsed. One, two, three—come on, kid, come on—four, five, six—do not fucking die on me—seven, eight, nine—
For all of his experience, despite his training, there was so fucking little he could do right now, other than perform CPR and pray. Even his magic was no help here. There wasn’t a single fucking spell he knew to magically get this girl breathing again, her heart beating. What was even the use of magic if he couldn’t save one child?
Her pulse leapt back up, jerky, but at least there. She sucked in a ragged, full breath, then another, coughing a little around it.
Salem disengaged, sweat beading his forehead, his own heart going a mile a minute.
Beth had already shut off the anesthesia flow; the other nurses assisting removed the robot and taped the incisions shut. Surgery wasn’t happening today, not until they knew what had caused this madness. Salem was just glad they were only delaying a surgery and not prepping for a funeral.
He watched the monitors like a hawk, and while her numbers weren’t great, she at least had a pulse on the screen and not a flat line. Frankly, he wasn’t going to rest easy until those numbers improved.