Page 29 of Realm of Wind and Vines
“He’s here,” Isera suddenly calls back.
Exhaustion laces her voice, so I can just barely hear her over the winds.
I suck in a shuddering breath of relief. Staggering to my feet, I start in her direction. The storm winds whirl across the grass, blowing the black smoke away, until I can at last see my three companions.
But my blood freezes to ice when my gaze finally finds them.
Isera is standing between two tall figures on the ground. Orion is lying on his back on the grass. His eyes are sliding in and out of focus as if he has hit his head, and there is a long gash across his thigh from where the dragon slashed him earlier.
A short distance from him is Draven.
My heart stops as I stare at my mate.
Draven isn’t even conscious. He is lying on his side, completely naked except for those magical bracers that store his armor when he’s in his dragon form. As if he was only just barely able to shift back into his human form but didn’t have enough energy left to use the magic of the bracers to return his clothes to his body.
Blood wells up from the claw marks across his chest and the massive bite wound in his side. There are deep holes running straight through his body from the orange dragon’s teeth.
For a few seconds, I just stand there, staring at him. My mind refuses to process what I’m looking at and my body feels completely numb.
“We need to get them out of the storm,” Isera suddenly calls.
Her voice snaps me out of my stupor.
“There’s a cave up there,” she says. “But I used up almost all of my magical energy in that final push to escape, so I can’t summon anything big enough to lift them. We’ll have to drag them.”
When I had my eyes closed against the blinding lightning, Isera must have summoned a gigantic wall of ice or something to stop the others from following Draven when we escaped.
Bending down, I hoist Draven’s chest up and loop my arms under his arms and over his shoulders. He doesn’t even stir. My heart aches as I begin dragging him towards the cave Isera indicated.
Orion, who appears to at least be semi-conscious, must have hit his head pretty hard when we crashed because he doesn’t evencomplain when Isera drags his royal ass and fancy clothes across the ground and towards the mouth of the cave.
My muscles shake and the arrow wound in my side pulses with pain as I pull Draven’s heavy body as carefully as I can across the grass. Storm wind rips at my hair, pulling strands free from my hair tie and sending them whipping around my face. A few of them stick to my wet cheeks, so I try to wipe my cheek against my shoulder to get them off. Rain washes down over us like an unending flood, and lightning splits the dark heavens above.
Clenching my jaw, I grit my teeth as I make slow progress towards the cave.
A small noise of pure desperation rips from my throat as I haul Draven the final distance into the shelter of the cave. Air escapes my lungs in a whoosh when the harsh winds and stinging rain abruptly disappear. It’s cold and gloomy inside the cave, but at least the storm can’t reach us in here.
Isera and I place Draven and Orion on their backs in the middle of the cramped space. The Unseelie King blinks repeatedly and shakes his head while his eyes roam across the jagged roof of the cave, as if he is trying to figure out what happened and where he is. Draven is still unconscious.
Worry snakes through my chest, strangling my lungs, as I stare down at his shivering and wounded body. I yank off my jacket. Dropping down on my knees, I pull off the white shirt I wear underneath the leathers. After ripping it into several pieces, I carefully wrap it around his wounds before tying the final piece of it around his hips. Then I pull on my cold and wet leather jacket again to protect my otherwise bare torso.
With my heart aching in my chest, I gently place my hand on Draven’s cheek.
“Draven,” I say, as if that would somehow wake him up.
It doesn’t.
My heart squeezes hard.
“Where am I?” Orion asks, sounding just as groggy as he looks.
“We’re in a cave,” Isera replies in that no-nonsense tone of hers. “We crashed. Draven is hurt.” Her expression softens for a fraction of a second as she adds, “And so are you.”
The Unseelie King tilts his chin and looks down at the wound across his thigh. “Malachi’s balls. Those were my favorite pants.”
Isera laughs.
It’s a short and abrupt burst of laughter that seems to just rip out of her.
