Page 79 of Dark Dragon’s Mate

Emon couldn’t get Tristan’s attention; he was still trying to take out the guards on the balcony, but he was swaying on his feet. Those mind-blasts were sucking him dry.

Emon ran from behind his table to behind the cart of boxes, trying to get to Johnson before he could finish opening the portal.

Too late, he saw Grange stagger over to Mayah, who Brock had just freed from her bonds. Brock went after him with the knife, but Grange shoved him roughly aside and he hit the wall, sliding to the floor.

Grange pinned Mayah’s arms and carried her toward Johnson. The portal began to form.

Emon, growling, dashed across the empty space, trying to get to his sister. A bullet smashed into his leg, knocking him to the floor. He felt a rush of warmth, and blood spurted out.

Fuck. An artery. He dragged himself out of the line of fire and pressed on his thigh, howling with rage more than pain. If he moved his hands, he was fucking dead.

Trish burst through the doors into the room, straight into the thick of the fight. Some enemy soldiers were down, but some were still shooting. She pounced on one, teeth bared, and took him out before he even realized she was there.

Grange was carrying a struggling Mayah toward a quickly forming portal. Mayah head-butted him and he staggered, losing his hold on her. Mayah twisted free, and Tristan tossed her a rifle. She swung it around, slamming the butt into the side of Grange’s head. He went down.

Mayah ducked behind a table and began shooting.

But where was Emon?

Trish scanned the room. He was on the floor, blood pouring from a wound on his leg and pooling on the floor.

Emon!

I’m okay he said. Get Johnson. The suit. We have to keep that portal closed.

But he wasn’t okay. He was bleeding out—she could feel his energy draining away.

Not Emon! No!

There’s nothing you can do for me. Mayah was trying to get to him, but she was pinned down by rifle fire. No one else was close enough.

The portal was forming.

Emon was dying.

Get Johnson. You can’t help me.

Fuck that shit.

She bounded over to Emon as if there were wings on her paws. A bullet cut through her, and then another, but she barely felt them.

She had to make it.

Trish! Don’t!

A third bullet thudded into her, and she stumbled. Darkness hovered, threated to take her, but she fought it as she always had. She hadn’t let death get the upper hand all those years, and she wasn’t going to do it now.

With the last of her strength, she lunged at Emon and bit him right over the wound. Deep. To the bone.

I claim you. Mate. You are mine.

Blue lightning crackled around them.

Trish felt the lightning jolt through her. Draken blood burned her mouth, her throat, her muscles and nerves, her flesh, her soul.

And then everything stopped. Her heart, her lungs, her blood, her brain. For one terrifying second, she was dead.

Then the energy exploded, healing her wounds, knitting together flesh and bone. She let go of Emon, expecting to see his leg healing. But it wasn’t. He was staring at her, eyes dark.