He hadn’t paid the gateway much heed when he’d leaped through several days ago to find Ash after fucking Skaldr had abducted her—he’d been too furious. Now, staring at it, a slow burn of fury started deep in his gut at the savage destruction of the portal.
At its center, a chest-high splinter hovered in the air—no glow, just a serrated gap between veils, light skittering along its edges, flickering like a wound that never healed. Around it, ironstakes jutted like rotten teeth, each crowned with a thumb-sized red light, pulsing slowly and steadily like hellish coals?—
Wards.Godsdammit.
Two guards in Malcarion’s dulled gold armor patrolled the perimeter, their scaled breastplates catching the setting sun in bloody streaks.
C’mon, you assholes, give us a fucking break. Take a piss.
Ash crept closer to him, her breath a soft, strangled sound as she stared at the gateway.
“We should get an opening about now,” he warned, grasping her hand.
“How do we know if we’ll end up on Earth?” she whispered.
“With portals, thought becomes anchor. Hesitate, and the veil throws you somewhere else?—”
Voices in the old draconic tongue drifted across the caldera.
“Need a drink,”one guard grumbled.“Stinking heat.”
“We just came on duty,”the other snorted.
“Fuck!” Race swore. “They’ve already changed the guard rotation.” His grip tightened on Ash’s hand. Her foot slipped, scattering crystal shards like broken glass.
The guards wheeled around. “Get them!”
Boots thundered across crystallized ash.
There was no time to let her recover. “Hold on?—”
A lookout on the ridge lunged into view in mid-shift, his body warping, bones cracking, scales erupting. Race drew his obsidian dagger from his boot and hurled it straight into the male’s heart before the shift completed.
A shriek split the air as the part dragon, part man collapsed.
Race grabbed Ash and dematerialized them once more. The strain hit harder this time, his power already taxed from the earlier jump. Their molecules dragged, the resistance clawing at him. Ash’s essence trembled against his, or maybe it was his own power faltering…
They reformed somewhere deep in a dense forest, back into midday, and his knees nearly buckled. Ash stumbled against him, her breath coming in sharp gasps.
“We need to walk the rest of the way,” he rasped, forcing his lungs to work.
Her fingers tightened around his arm as they started up the slope. “What’s wrong?” she panted, worry bright in her eyes. “You’re pale. What happened?”
“Too far,” he rasped. “Dematerializing isn’t meant for such distances, especially both ways, and before you ask, unlike Earth, I can’t…I can’t just open portals here. The air’s different, saturated with magic—will resonate, bringing Malcarion’s entire battalion after us.”
“Your dagger! You left it behind.”
“Will get it back… No one can steal it. Bound to me—” His head swam, and he grabbed a low-hanging branch to stop from swaying.
“Race!” she gasped, slipping her arm around his waist. “Let me help.”
“I’m fine.”
“Oh, stop being such a bear.”
He huffed and pushed on without her help. A part of him longed for her arm around him again, because even breathing was a struggle—hell, his entire fucking being shook likejelly. He had no idea how far they walked—only that every step felt like dragging himself through sludge.
Ash’s breathing grew harsher, faster, but he didn’t dare stop. In his current state, if they were attacked, he’d lose control and burn down this mountain, and she would get caught in the crossfire.
