“Daphne?” Harper’s voice was serious, nearly grave.
“Hunter. Daphne is... momentarily occupied.”
A pause. “In a weird way?”
“Maybe. Why?”
“Because crazy shit is going down in Mystic Hollow. People are losing it. Sleepwalking. Seeing monsters. Attacking their families. I called her to warn her because it seems to be worse around her place.”
His fingers tightened around the phone. “Thanks. And... how are you guys planning to deal with it?”
“We’re winging it. Empaths, elves and shifters alike, they’re all on edge. Everyone’s feeling it. Even Nick hasn’t stopped pacing. It’s like the air’s too full. Like something conscious and ugly is moving where it shouldn’t, affecting emotions.” Another pause. “Do you know what’s up?”
“Maybe.” But his stomach twisted as his resolve steeled. “Keep me posted.”
“You bet.”
He ended the call and turned back to Daphne.
Still chanting. Still not there.
Another crash outside, loud, metallic this time. A car, maybe. A pole. Didn’t matter.
His voice cracked. “Damn it, Daphne.”
He couldn’t get into her mind.
Couldn’t reach her through reality.
But the bond–they’d found each other through it once. He would find her again.
He closed his eyes and reached for it, deeper than he ever had. It was there. Barely. Slippery and thin as spider silk, but there. He gripped it with everything in him, his power, his love, his fear, and pulled.
Why do you keep running from me?His voice trembled through the link.Come back, sweetheart. Come back to me. I love you.
He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, talking to her through clenched teeth and sheer will. Pleading. Pouring his soul down that line.
Until finally, finally, he felt her stir, a heartbeat skipping back into rhythm.
The chanting stopped.
She blinked.
Then doubled over, clutching her head in both hands. A devastating moan tore from her throat like she was being ripped back into herself.
Hunter caught her before she fell, his whole body shaking in relief as he held her. “That’s it,” he whispered. “That’s it. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”
He carried her to the couch, carefully laid her down, and went back to get her some water. “There. Sip some of it.”
She obeyed before letting go on the pillows. “Why does it have to hurt like a bitch,” she groaned.
“I’d take it all if I could, sweetheart.” He kneeled at her side, wiped a hand on her sweaty forehead, clearing it of her hair. “Things are getting crazy, and–”
Black fog twirled in the room, dense and quick, then solidified into Dorian. He straightened his tie and marched toward the couch. To Hunter’s surprise, he kneeled beside him and reached out, touching Daphne’s cheek with the softest brush of fingers,then rested his hand on her forehead in a gesture almost paternal. “How is she?”
“She,” Daphne said, dragging herself up to sit with a wince, “is getting seriously pissed off by the entirety of this situation.”
Dorian’s mouth quirked at the corner, amusement fighting grim concern. Then he glanced around the room, like he was straining to hear something that didn’t belong exactly to sound, sight, scent, and yet was all of those. “The bond,” he said.
