My bottom lip trembles. “I’m worried about Mac too, I swear, but Xaze…” I shake my head, unwilling to finish the thought.
Lord’s eyes soften. “You don’t have to say that. I know. We all do. We also understand what’s at stake for you personally.” He puts his hand on my chest over my heart. “Can you feel him anymore?”
“Sort of. It’s uncomfortable, like my dragon is searching for a bond he can’t find.”
“Hold on to that. Your dragon knows Xazedose is alive.”
I nod, squeezing his forearm. “I don’t know what I’ll do if?—”
“Don’t entertain it. Focus on finding them.”
“Right. Okay.”
“Let’s get you some clothes.”
I let Lord help me to my feet and walk me to my house. When the door opens, the scent of my mate accosts me, making my dragon thrash and growl. I hurry upstairs to throw on proper clothes and shoes, then meet Lord and the others in the courtyard just as Dahlia is crossing the grass to join us, her black satchel in tow.
The normally glamorously edgy witch is wearing sweats and a t-shirt, and has her hair in a bun. That’s when I realize the time. It’s the middle of the night.
“You boys sure do know how to keep a witch on her toes,” Dahlia says, placing the bag on the grass before kneeling and digging through it. “I’ve got a ward that should help, but it’s pretty powerful stuff. Are you sure this is the best avenue?”
“We don’t have a choice.” All eyes turn to me. “There’s no other way to get them but to go down there. Gods know I wish I knew wheretherewas.”
Dahlia nods, her expression tight. “Only the dragons can go. Oh, and you, Dray. Any supes can withstand it, but not mortals.”
“Boo.” Lake pouts.
“I think that’s just fine,” Dempsey says, wrapping his arm around Lake’s, looking a little pale. I guess we finally found the curious little nerd’s limit.
“I’ll put a demon ward on the property to keep anyone except Montrose out.”
“Xazedose,” I growl.
Dahlia raises an eyebrow. “Xazedose.” She smiles. “Alright, give me a few minutes to bippity boppity boo this shit.”
My brothers gather around me, their concern and support reaching me and calming my dragon. At least for now. I have no idea what kind of rage I’ll unleash when I get to the underworld, but I know I’ll do whatever I have to do to get my mate back safely.
May the gods of hell be in our favor.
Chapter Twenty-two
MONTROSE
The smell of sulfur and the incessant screams of trapped souls are a hellish—quite literally—reminder that I’m home, even if my head is swimming and my eyelids are too heavy to lift. My throat is dry and parched, making every swallow feel like razor blades. The spot where Maggard’s dagger pierced me throbs with every breath I take, and with every agonizing pulse, I can feel myself getting weaker and weaker.
Have we been down here for hours or days? It’s impossible for me to say. I drift in and out of inky black unconsciousness, grateful for the few stolen minutes of peace without pain every time they come. And each time I wake, there are whispered words of comfort and pleading, a familiar voice alternating between telling me I’m going to be okay and begging me not to die. It’s a nice voice, but it’s not the voice I want to hear right now as my life slips away inch by inch.
“I really thought he’d be dead by now,” a different voice scoffs, and there’s an answering burst of mocking laughter from at least two others.
A deep, protective growl vibrates in the air around me, and the laughter just gets louder. I try to open my eyes, but it’s useless. I barely have the energy to draw in each breath anymore, let alone lift my eyelids. I do manage to twitch my fingers, but even that feels like a monumental feat that I won’t be able to repeat.
“Leave him alone. I’m the one who stole from you, so why don’t you let him go and focus on punishing me instead,” the kind voice says with a tremble.Mac. That’s who the voice belongs to. The dragon who stole my ring from me. The little twerp who led me tomydragon.
Valentino. Visions of my mate fill my mind, and if I had any energy to sob, I think I would. I waited thousands of years to find my fated mate and I didn’t even get the chance to claim him. Maybe it’s better this way though. If we’d claimed each other, then he’d be dying right now too. I feel for the connection between us, pouring some of the last dregs of my energy into plucking at it helplessly. It’s pulled taut with the distance between us and fading just the same way I am, but there’s momentary comfort in it anyway. My lips barely twitch with an attempt at a sad smile for all the things that could have been between Tino and I.
The cruel voice—Maggard, my foggy brain supplies the name—laughs harshly.
“I can multitask, dragon,” he says. The ground shifts under me, and there’s a thunderous, metallic sound that can only be Maggard rattling my cage. I groan softly, my limp body flopping with the force of it. “How does dying feel, traitor? Is it painful?” he taunts. “Do you think there’s an afterlife for us? Maybe you’ll wake up in an even deeper layer of hell, one reserved for demons who betray their own kind.”
