Page 105 of Dragon’s Rebel

Promise to love

Promise to stay

They were all around her now, inside her head.

Promise to listen

Promise to tell the truth

Promise to care

This was for Thorne. For his dragon. Because she couldn’t bear to lose them.

Promise to comfort

Promise to open your heart

Finally she shouted, “I promise!” Tears were running down her face. “I’ll do anything. Just save Thorne.”

It is done.

Rebel felt a pulling, as though all the life was being sucked out of her. All her energy. All her love. All her hope. All her strength. All her will. She was left with nothing, an empty husk huddled on the cavern floor.

And then she heard one final voice.

Accept.

Receive.

And everything she’d lost came flooding back to her, twice as strong. Life and energy strength and hope.

And love. Her mind was filled with a thousand tiny moments, Thorne and his dragon. Smiling. Frowning. Bowling. Making love. Working at his computer. Flying. Loving her. She was inundated with all Thorne’s love. All his dragon’s love. Every moment of happiness she’d given them; every moment of hope.

It was two-way street. It always had been.

The bond wasn’t about being trapped. It was about loving so much, being loved so much, you never wanted to leave.

This was her chance. She reached out with both hands, and grabbed it.

Rebel felt her body dissolving, fading away like fog. There was a rush of wind, and she was being pulled through nothingness, trying to hold on to Thorne’s love, feeling him slip through her fingers.

She tried to call out to the dragon, follow me, but she didn’t know if he could hear. She was alone, and she felt bereft, as if half of her was missing.

Faintly, she heard someone saying, “Oh, fuck. They’re dead. How the hell—”

The wind carrying her blew faster, a roaring in her ears, and then she was back in her own body, in the abandoned house, lying next to Thorne.

All her senses seemed heightened. She could feel a presence next to her, heat and bulk, and she smelled warm leather and sweat, sulfur and a hint of decay.

The force field was gone. One of Corwyn’s minions was squatting next to her, his fingers on the pulse under her jawbone.

Rebel opened her eyes. “Not quite, fucker.”

His split second of shock was all she needed. Rebel jammed her elbow upwards underneath the guard’s jaw, snapping his head back. He lost his balance and fell backwards, and she followed up with a kick to the side of the head.

He went down, but there was another one just behind him. Rebel rolled to her feet and smacked him with a roundhouse kick, but he barely moved.

His eyes glowed orange red.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. A hellhound. He grinned at her and growled.

Rebel backed up, looking toward the door to the library—their exit. She knew she could never make it before the hellhound was on her. And Thorne was still on the ground. Had he been healed? Was his dragon back?

The hellhound advanced, growling.

Thorne! Rebel called silently.

And he opened his eyes. They were electric blue, with vertical pupils like black slits.

Dragon eyes.

Her bracelet turned warm on her wrist, and she heard the roaring in her ears again. The hellhound hesitated, cocking his head as if he heard the noise. Rebel whistled. “Here, boy!”

He turned to her and lunged. Rebel dodged, ducked her shoulder, and rolled toward Thorne.

The hellhound followed. Thorne rose to his knees, took a deep breath, and blew a stream of fire right into the hellhound’s face.