Page 43 of Dragon’s Rebel

Chapter 19

He wasn’t breathing. Rebel stuck her fingers up under his jaw, trying to feel the pulse. It was barely there.

She struck Thorne’s chest with her fist, over his heart. “You are not dying on me now,” she yelled at him. “We need you. I almost got squashed by Vyrkos for you, Lizard, and you are not fucking allowed to die, you hear me?”

She hit him again. His chest lifted as he sucked in a breath, and he coughed weakly.

“Thorne?” He didn’t wake up, and his breathing was shallow. The bleeding from his nose and ears seemed to have stopped, though.

Using all her strength, Rebel hauled Thorne to his feet. He weighed a ton, and he was slippery with sweat and blood. She guessed that dragon shifting-with-clothes thing only worked when they were conscious. Good to know.

She draped him over her back in a fireman’s carry, wrapping his arms around her and holding onto them, and half-dragged, half-carried him into the house.

She got him down the hall to her bedroom and heaved him onto the bed, ignoring the blood and dirt rubbing off him onto the sheets.

She checked him again. Still breathing. “Good,” she muttered. “You do not get to die, you crazy fucking dragon. Nobody dies without my say-so.”

But he was still on the brink of slipping away. She could feel it.

She left him just long enough to run warm water over a washcloth and bring it back, wiping the blood off his face.

His cheeks were hollow and there were dark smudges under his eyes. His hair was mussed and tumbled. His scowl was gone, and he looked younger and more vulnerable.

Rebel sighed. She was a sucker for tough guys turned vulnerable.

She cleaned him up as best she could—until he started shivering. His skin had gone from cold and clammy to hot—too hot. He was feverish.

Oh, hell.

She pulled the blankets up, but he was shivering so hard his teeth were actually chattering. She got a couple spare blankets and piled them on top, but it didn’t seem to help. She was starting to feel weak and lightheaded now too, as if his state was somehow affecting her.

What if he were draining her life force? Could they both die?

No. Not happening. Rebel crawled into the bed beside Thorne, trying to hold him down, to soothe him.

“Did you hear me? We’re going to make it through this, you bastard! You can’t leave now. We have to find the Seal. We have to save the world. And we haven’t gone bowling. Or to Disney. Or done the nasty. I’m not checking out before the hot sex, and neither are you.”

She wrapped herself around him, trying to calm the shaking. She should call the others. Tyr was some kind of dragon healer; maybe he could help.

She felt in her pocket for her phone, but it wasn’t there. Shit. It had probably fallen out in the yard, when she was getting shaken like a margarita in a blender.

She moved to get out of bed, but Thorne clung onto her like he was drowning and she was his last chance at survival. “Okay, it’s okay,” she said. “I’m here. I’m not leaving.”

She felt so dizzy, and so tired. Maybe she’d just stay here for a few minutes, and then she’d get up and look for her phone.

After a while the shaking calmed. Rebel was warm now, and filled with an aching lassitude that made it hard to think of moving. Thorne was still holding on to her but not as hard, and his breathing had evened out, though he was still racked by the occasional shiver.

Everything began to slip into darkness. She could still feel Thorne, but she could hardly see him now. Her eyes felt like they were open, but they must be closed, because there was nothing but darkness around her.

Wait. She could feel Thorne, but she couldn’t feel the bed underneath her. It was like they were floating in space, with only each other to hold onto.

And then she heard his voice. Rebel?

I’m here. Where are we?

I don’t—his voice broke off. Then, I think we’re in the spirit world.

The spirit world? That couldn’t be good. Please tell me we’re not dead.