Page 44 of Dark Bonds

He thinks for a moment before replying, his words measured and careful. “I believe so. She just needs to rest and regain her strength.”

I nod, not taking my eyes off Frankie’s face. She looks vulnerable like this, so unlike the fierce, haunted girl I’ve come to love. I brush my fingers over her cheek, wishing I could take away whatever pain she’s feeling.

Tori perches on the edge of a leather armchair, gnawing on her lip. “I’ve never seen anything like that before. It was like this glowing wall appeared out of nowhere, but it was black like ourshadows, and it glowed.” I can see her trying to rationalize the impossible.

Hell, I can barely make sense of it myself. The world as we know it is changing, and Frankie is at the center of it all.

Matteo stands near the fireplace, one hand resting on the mantel. “Frankie’s powers are clearly growing stronger, but it seems she doesn’t have full control of them yet.”

“No, she doesn’t,” Bishop agrees gravely. “Which is why she must start training with me immediately. Her abilities have tremendous potential, but power without discipline is dangerous.” His words hang in the air, heavy with implication.

I frown, not liking the sound of that. The idea of Frankie training with Bishop and spending more time with him… it sets my teeth on edge. “When was the last time a shadow shifter produced a shield?” I continue to run my thumb over her cheek, needing to reassure myself that she’s still here, still breathing.

No one answers me, and I turn around. Bishop, Matteo, and Tori exchange glances before looking back at me. It’s Bishop who shakes his head, his expression grim.

“What does no mean?” I nearly squeak, fear clawing at my throat.

“I’m calling Dorian.” Tori whips out her phone, one that Bishop nearly dives for. “No.” She swats his hand away. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

“Tori.” Bishop tries to appeal to her, but that is one ex he is not going to get any sympathy from. The tension between them is thick enough to cut with a knife, years of hurt and betrayal simmering just beneath the surface.

“Oh hell no.” She puts the phone on speaker, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and defiance.

“What?” Dorian’s pretentious tone weaves out of the speaker, dripping with disdain even through the tinny sound of the phone.

“It’s amazing to hear your voice,” Tori snaps, sarcasm dripping from every word. “Have you ever seen a shadow shifter produce a shield?”

Dorian is quiet for a long while. Too damn long. The silence stretches, taut as a bowstring, ready to snap at any moment. “Where is Frankie?” he finally asks, his voice tight with barely controlled emotion.

“Dorian, just answer the question,” Bishop demands, his patience clearly wearing thin.

It won’t work on the dragon. I can hear him shuffling around and the sound of fabric rustling before a door slams.

“On my way.” The phone clicks, leaving us in stunned silence.

“Great, now he is on his way.” Bishop tugs at the strands of his black hair, frustration evident in every line of his body. “He probably has a tracker on your phone.”

I gently brush a strand of hair away from Frankie’s face, ignoring them as she lies unconscious on the sofa. Her breathing is slow and shallow, her skin cold to the touch. I’m worried about her, even though Bishop assured me she just needs rest, but in our world, nothing is ever that simple.

Every few seconds, my fingers brush her cheek, desperate for any sign of life or hint of warmth. Her face is a pale mask, beautiful even in unconsciousness, but haunting in its stillness. The room shrinks around us, the air thick and heavy with tension, unspoken fears, and desires. All I can do is wait for her to wake and pray she won’t remember collapsing in front of everyone.

The door suddenly bursts open, the sound echoing like a gunshot in the tense silence. Dorian strides in, his presence filling the room like a storm cloud, dark and ominous. His eyes immediately zero in on Frankie’s limp form, and something flashes in their depths—concern, possessiveness, or hunger? He crosses the room with quick strides and crouches down besideher, placing a hand on her forehead. I fight the urge to slap his hand away and shield Frankie from his touch.

“What happened?” he demands, his voice sharp as a blade.

“Well, that was fast,” I grumble, unable to keep the bitterness from my tone. I quickly explain the shadow shield Frankie manifested and how it seemed to drain her energy completely. Dorian’s frown deepens as I talk, and his eyebrows draw together, creating a crease that I long to smooth away—or deepen.

“I’ve never seen or heard of a shadow shifter being able to create a shield before,” he says grimly. “Her powers are developing in unpredictable ways.” He tilts his head to the side, as if listening to some distant call that only he can hear.

“What is it?” Tori pops up and begins to pace, her nervous energy bubbling out of her like a cauldron about to boil over.

“It’s something I heard a long time ago about light shifters.” He frowns, his eyes distant with memory. “But Frankie is a shadow shifter.” The words hang in the air, heavy with the weight of impossibility.

“Spit it out,” Bishop demands, his patience wearing thin.

“They can shield.” Dorian runs a thumb across his bottom lip, the gesture oddly sensual in the tense atmosphere. He turns his piercing gaze on Bishop, and I can feel the crackle of power between them. “You need to start training her immediately. Guide her in controlling and mastering her abilities before they overtake her.”

He doesn’t say,“Before they destroy her,” but we all hear it.

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