Before I can say I didn’t have a chance against his stubborn ass, Dean dives in for a kiss that stretches long into the night.
29. Trance
Hazel
Igroan when something wet hits my face, cold enough to drag me out of sleep.
I swear I’m going to kill Dean if this is some stupid prank. I need at least two more hours of sleep before my brain starts working. We didn’t crash until two in the morning, and I’m the one who’ll be dealing with overenthusiastic kids in the morning, not him.
I raise my hand to wipe it away, but the stickiness clings.
Something shoves into my side, nearly knocking me off the bed, jolting me fully awake.
A thread of Dean’s Divine snaps in front of my face before flickering out.
What the hell is he planning now?
When I turn toward him, I freeze. He’s already sitting up, his essence circling him in frantic, uneven bursts. It doesn’t move like it usually does. It looks… panicked.
His Divine flickers again, dimming before struggling back to life, but I can feel something is very wrong.
I rub my eyes hard, trying to clear my vision because I have to be seeing things. Dean’s Divine doesn’t just disappear like that. It’s always steady. Controlled.
What’s happening?
And then the metallic scent hits me.Blood.
Something glints in the darkness, and I realize a second too late it’s one of my daggers just as Dean drives it into his stomach.
“Dean!” I lunge for the dagger, but he rips it free and slams it into his thigh before I can stop him. I grab the handle, but his grip only tightens, forcing the blade deeper.
“Dean, what the fuck are you doing? Stop!” My voice cracks, panic bleeding through the words.
His shadows come to help me, wrapping around my wrists, lending me just enough strength to wrench the dagger out of his thigh, but it doesn’t stop him from trying to drive it straight into himself again.
Has he lost his fucking mind?
My eyes finally adjust to the darkness, and my stomach drops. Blood pools around my mate, soaking into the sheets. His thighs, his stomach, his legs… all covered in stab wounds.
This time, when his Divine flickers, I understand why. He’s losing too much blood.
I yank the blanket free and press it hard against the wounds on his thighs, but the moment I look away, Dean takes the opening.
His hand snaps up, aiming straight for his heart, and I barely catch it in the nick of time. My palm closes around the blade, the edge slicing into my skin, while my other hand grabs his wrist, trying to hold him back, but Dean is stronger than I am.
My blood drips down my hand, mixing with his, but nothing snaps him out of whatever this is.
This isn’t like him. He’s not even reacting to hurting me.
“Dean, please!” I choke on a sob, begging him again and again, but it’s like he can’t hear me.
He can’t hear me…
The realization settles cold and heavy in my chest.
I notice the way his eyes are fogged black, and my heart stops beating.
No. It can’t be.
