Page 18 of Fury of Affliction
“She might be in pain, brother.” Blue eyes boring into his, Rampart turned to face him. Mirroring his position, he leaned in, planting his elbows on the counter. “Can you live with that? Can you honestly say she’s better off without you? That having Natalie in your life isn’t worth the risk?”
Worth the risk?
Hamersveld’s brows collided. Could he could live with the idea Natalie suffered without him? The question came. The pain went as his heart, mind and soul answered with a resounding NO.
His reaction, along with the instinct behind it, was selfish. Unhinged. Unconscionable, given the consequences. The second he claimed her in the way of his kind, she became a target. Being with him might well shorten her life. Then again, it might not.
He’d seen the mating mark on the Nightfury warriors in battle. Bastian and his band of bastards had cracked the code. His enemy possessed the answer to the ancient riddle of energy-fuse. The bond allowed a Dragonkind male to mate a female without hurting her, gifting him the ability to feed her the healing energy she needed to not only thrive during pregnancy, but also survive birthing a Dragonkind infant.
Vital information.
Essential to a warrior who loved his chosen female.
A possibility for him and Natalie if he uncovered the Nightfury pack’s secret. Staring at the countertop, the beginnings of a plan surfaced. He needed to discover Bastian’s weakness and force a confrontation. Capturing a member of Bastian’s pack would force the Nightfury commander’s hand. In exchange for the safe return of his warrior, Bastian would divulge the ins and outs of energy-fuse, providing what he needed to keep Natalie safe.
A good plan.
Not a great one considering Nightfuries continued to be scarce in the sky, but workable as long as Ivar agreed, he remained patient and?—
Powerful energy sizzled across his senses.
His sonar went haywire.
Agony slashed at him.
With a curse, Hamersveld jerked upright. His dragon half snarled. The signal expanded, throbbing inside his skull, throwing him off balance. He stumbled sideways. The air heated. Magic blasted outward. Stools skittered on wooden legs. Battling the surge, he planted his feet, fighting to get his bearings as his brothers-in-arms surrounded him.
“What—”
“The—”
“Fuck, Sveld?”
The question didn’t register. Voices ceased to matter as his sonar pinged again. He latched on. The fuzzy blip solidified inside his skull. His breath caught. His heart turned over. Thank the goddess. Natalie. She’d broken through the five-hundred-mile marker. Was close and getting closer. Each ping brought her further north, firmly inside his hunting circle, feeding him her location, allowing him to hook into the bio-energy she trailed like a long-tailed comet.
The signal screamed across his mental screen.
His dragon half roared in triumph.
Overwhelmed by the brutal onslaught, Hamersveld groaned and doubled over. Hands planted on his knees, he stared at the tops of his boots. “Hristos.”
“What?” Midion said, half-bite, mostly bark. “What is it?”
Hitting his haunches beside him, Rampart leaned down to look him. “Talk, Sveld.”
“Natalie,” he rasped, struggling to breathe.
“What about her?” Setting up shop on his other side, Syndor palmed his shoulder.
“She…” he trailed off as the jagged signal smoothed out. The painful throb downgraded, unlocking his lungs. He drew a breath, then another as gratitude struck, pushing tears into his eyes. “She’s close. On her way home.”
“The five-hundred-mile marker?”
He nodded. “She just blew through it.”
“An hour ’til nightfall,” Midion said. “Think you can hold out ’til then or?—”
“Do we need to lock you down?” Rampart asked, dread in his tone.