His stuttering heartbeat can be heard in the dead silence following my declaration, heavy and ringing with a finality I refuse to accept. Barely more than a gravelly whisper, he manages, “What do you mean she’sgone? She said she wasn’t going to leave. Did you check the kitchen already? And the game room to make sure she isn’t with Stone?”
I stare at the security log on the screen, trying to make sense of what I’m seeing. Scrolling back from the time-stamped entries of each of us retreating to our bedrooms late last night, I can’t find anything showing Amara ever even entered her room. The front door opened when we came home last night, shortly after Avery returned, and she flew off again to hunt like usual, nothing out of the ordinary… except for the fact that Amara’s bedroom door never opened last night.
My heart skips a beat.Avery didn’t come find me before heading out again. Shealwayschecks in first.
Kodiak is faster analyzing the data than I am, his voice breaking. “He took her. While we were in the other godsdamned room arguing, he fuckingtook her.”
Five seconds. It’s all we allow ourselves to absorb the horrific realization before we’re storming out of the room.
Stone is entering the hallway as we burst into it, and his hackles go up instantly. “What’s wrong now?”
I can’t speak. The words are ash in my throat, regret and guilt holding my vocal cords hostage.
Kodiak snags Stone’s upper arm and drags him with us to the end of the hall before delivering the news. “Fuckface used Avery’s anklet to gain access to the castle and grabbed Amara before she ever made it to her room last night.”
By the time the final word is out of his mouth, Stone’s eyes have gone completely black. Not the vertical slits of his dragon taking over, but demonically devoid of any and all emotion. For several tense seconds, he’s motionless, not even breathing.
And then he explodes.
Stone transforms in less than a blink, a mottled grey and opal dragon destroying the nearest wall and taking to the skies with an eardrum-shattering roar that nearly brings me to my knees. Amongst the rubble and debris, I fight my own shift, rushing towards my office instead.
Caving into the bloodlust and rage won’t bring our mate back. But maybe, if I can keep my head on straight long enough to grab a list of all of the known packs that support the sick bastard, we’ll be able to save Amara before she’s forced to bear any more scars.
ChapterTwo
AMARA
Fucking hell, my head is killing me.
Groggy as hell, I sit up in bed, feeling like I deep-throated the Sahara desert. Wincing as I swallow, I fumble for the bottle of water on my nightstand… and meet empty space, tumbling over the edge head first.Fingers scrambling against the bed frame, I save myself from face planting on the floor, only for my breath to hitch as I catch sight of my surroundings.
It all comes back to me in a sickening rush that makes my stomach churn. Malcolm pulling me into an air pocket where the guys couldn’t see or hear me, knocking me out before the flight so, and I quote, ‘I wouldn’t feel bad being reminded of what I couldn’t do.’
Plants surround me to the point the massive bedroom is better described as a circular, underground greenhouse with a queen-sized bed in the center. The lower walls are cement, the glass panes starting seven feet up and curving into a dome that breaches the surface to let in a steady stream of light, highlighting the explosion of color surrounding me. Flowers, fruits and vegetables, budding trees. The air is humid, heavy and cloying with the scents of everything blooming, but the room is so open, it manages not to be stifling.
“Are you thirsty?” a familiar voice asks from the other side of the bed, and my entire body freezes with painful awareness.
You survived him once, you can do it again. You’re stronger now. Have more to live for.
Fighting the maelstrom rocking me to my core, I take a few seconds to ensure my voice will come out relatively steady before responding. “No thanks, I’m okay.”
A crinkling of plastic and a small huff later, I’m reluctantly forced to look my tormentor in the eye, because it’s better than having him at my back.
“Don’t worry.” Setting the brand new package of plastic water bottles at the foot of the bed, he rips a hole in the top and pulls one out. Crawling across the mattress, he brings a bottle to my ear, a low rumble of discontent resonating around the room when I flinch away before I can stop myself. Letting me hear the snapping of the seal, he goes the extra mile and guzzles a hearty swig to prove it isn’t laced with anything before offering it my way again. “Not drugged, and you’ll be pleased to know that Jack Mullins couldn’t walk for a week after I found out what he did to you. That was-” he growls in agitation “- unacceptable.”
He doesn’t give me another chance to protest, holding it to my lips and tilting the bottle up to force the water down my throat. It finally spurs my frozen muscles into action, taking the bottle from him to at least drink myself. Water dribbles onto my dress, the red color darkening like blood droplets staining the fabric, and I close my eyes to keep from spiraling.
Breathe, Amara. You’re no good to anyone in the throes of a panic attack, and Malcolm is the last person you want trying to help you through one. Deep inhale through your nose, slow exhale through your mouth. When it’s safe enough to fall apart, you can have a meltdown. Until then, all of our lives are riding on you keeping a clear head and finding a way out of this mess.
Still, an errant crackle of electricity jumps from my fingertips to his, a broad smile splitting his face as he crosses his legs and settles in beside me. Where he considers it a sign of our connection, though, all I can think of is that I need to clear my scattered thoughts long enough to build up enough of a charge to bring a lightning bolt down on his face.
Dark blonde hair falls into his face as he shakes his head with an irritated huff. “Youhatedresses. They kept you away from me for months, yet couldn't be bothered to learn even that much about you.” Sliding one hand up my wrist, his fingertips trace over one of his scarred designs beneath the sheer fabric of my sleeve. “But they wouldn’t have allowed you to show off our mate-marks in public like this, would they?” Earnest, emerald eyes meet mine. “No, you chose this dress, didn’t you? Hoping someone would see you weren’t theirs and save you.”
My skin crawls under his touch and I jerk my hand away, wrapping my arms tightly around my middle. Mentally bracing myself for his anger, I’m thrown off balance when he only stares at me with pity I don’t want or need.
“The people in that place were cowards, but you knew that, too, were waiting for me to rescue you again; just like old times.” The corner of his lips twist into a warped smile. “Even I needed a little help breaching that monstrosity’s defenses, though, and you were clever enough to sneak me the key. You’re perfect, Amara. I couldn’t have asked the Fates for a better mate.”
Stone’s coaching filters through the panic clawing at my throat.‘Find something to focus on in the midst of chaos, and it’ll become the eye of the storm. Then you can breathe while studying everything happening around you so it’s not so overwhelming. Disassociate if you have to; it’s better than a panic attack when you’re in a hostile environment.’
