Page 68 of Driven By Dragonblood
My foot already lay like lead against the gas pedal, but I couldn’t get there fast enough. The sun sank in my driver’s side window, the sky darkening along with my thoughts as another call sent me to an automated voicemail.
“Fuck!” I tossed the cell onto the passenger seat, swearing at every slow-moving asshole in my way and the stretch of road still needing traveling before I reached him.
If that boy jumped, it would be my fault. I should have invested more time with him to assure my own mind of his stability before agreeing with Doctor Holliday’s conclusions that he was fine and ought to be released. I should have keptmy damn hormones and dick in check when he’d shown up at my house, and I sure as fuck shouldn’t have been so harsh when telling him to leave, dismissing him as though I didn’t give a fuck he’d spilled his guts to me.
How would he feel anything other than rejected? Used and discarded like a piece of trash—the same as he felt over his parents’ treatment of him, according to Doctor Holliday’s notes in Jaxon’s file.
“Goddamnit!” Again, the boy didn’t answer, and I found my hands shaking and eyesight hazing over the fact I might be too late.
When I approached my destination, darkness coated the land. Even with my cell phone’s light, I wouldn’t be able to peer into the canyon to see if he’d survived. I swung into the overlook, my headlights illuminating a figure on the other side of the fence.
My breath left in a rush, the relief of finding him alive after talking to me nearly an hour and a half ago, weakening me to the point of passing out. “Jaxon.” I slammed the car into park and hopped out, my legs shaky as hell, sweat on my forehead, guts tight even though he stood rightthere. Alive. Whole.
Mine.
Teeth gritting, I approached with hesitant steps, hands clenching and releasing at my sides, adrenaline crashing through me.
Back to me, Jaxon leaned over the rim, hands closed around the top railing, and holding himself at an angle out over the cliff.
“Jaxon,” I called, hating that my voice shook and betrayed my fear—my longing for him to hear me. To stay.
He finally glanced over his shoulder, his face pale in the blinding headlights. “You came,” he murmured and turned, still gripping the railing.
“Don’t do this,” I said, stopping a good twenty or so feet away—close enough I caught his scent on the cool breeze. Swallowing hard, I shook my head, concern for his well-being stronger than any arousal that energy between us dictated overtake my body.
“You have to see for yourself that I’m not crazy,” he said, his eyes wide, hair mussed as though he’d been running his hands through it.
“I know you’re not,” I assured him with a quiet voice.
“I need you to understand.” He let go of his hold with one hand.
“Please, Jaxon.” I reached toward him, palm up, even though he wouldn’t see my face from the headlights at my back. “Please don’t do this.”
“You’ll never believe me if I don’t.” A soft smile tilted his lips—froze my fucking insides.
He let go.
Arms spread wide, he tipped back.
Disappeared into the abyss.
“No!” I hollered and leapt forward, the inner beast in me roaring.
Too late—I’d been too fucking late!
Chapter 27
Jaxon
Patrick’s scream was nothing less than perfect as wind rushed against my back. I seemed to float on air, the blackness of night swallowing me whole.
But I didn’t fear smashing against the rocks like Gramma did.
A harsh flap of wings sounded, and talons grabbed hold of me, yanking me from my free fall, shooting me up toward the sky.
My grin widened even as my heart sped to my toes at the abrupt change of trajectory.
We shot upward, car lights blinding me for a brief second as another flap of Prim’s wings damn near blew Patrick off his feet.
