BOOK TWO - promised series
Catherine's search for answers take a new turn as she fights her way through unknown territory. On the run, new hurdles are thrown her way that she needs to face.
When her unique gift to manipulate emotions goes haywire...
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Dante heard the screams before he saw who caused them. The moment Kendra had sent him her emotions, cold fear had gripped his heart and hadn't let go since. Reagan sent him to look after them in order to minimize the risk of someone seeing them. Two dragons were more easily spotted than one, though Dante knew how hard Reagan struggled with wanting to aid his promised but how heavy the burden weighed him down of being the one to protect his kind.
"Protect her, Dante", Reagan said, his voice heavy with emotion. Dante wasn't sure what to make of it—of Reagan, openly caring for something the way he did for Catherine. Dante was used to Reagan's cool way of handling situations with perfect control and not accepting anything less.
"I will."
Dante wanted to add something, anything, to let Reagan know that his inability to aid his promised himself was not on him. The influence that the Ancient's voices had had was too big of a risk to take. If Reagan found himself in situations that aroused intense emotions, the chance of losing control of his dragonfire was too great. Grinding the Fallen's bones was a process that required an iron will. A will that would not bend to the influence of the magical residue—of the voices. And though Reagan had succeeded, his will had not remained completely untouched. Dante knew that his older brother struggled with it, constantly. And hurting his promised's family out of a momentary loss of control... Reagan would never forgive himself for it.
But Dante didn't know how to articulate his thoughts and his understanding, so he said nothing at all.
There was a gnawing feeling to the possibility of losing someone—one Dante had experienced enough in his long life. The fear of losing someone to death.
To him, it was the worst imaginable. Losing someone he cared about. Dante wasn't going to let Reagan lose his promised, and he sure as hell wouldn't let anything happen to Kendra.
Batting his wings as fast as he could, he thundered across the sky. His velocity created a literal thunderstorm behind him, in the same way shifters were able to create a Rukhs' by generating magic.
The storm mirrored what raged inside of him.
With a frantically beating heart, he ignored the muscle pain that began the longer he flew like such a maniac. He couldn't go any faster—he was at his limit.
Dante was already a fairly fast flier, but at this moment, he would have rather teleported himself there. Every second physically hurt him more. His heart pounded against his chest, harder and harder.
He sent worry to his promised—not to receive reassurance, but much more to figure out how dire the situation was. He only knew it was urgent, not what had transpired or if she was okay. He only figured if he couldn't sense she was in life-threatening danger, she wasn't. That didn't mean she wasn't in any danger at all, however. And that could change very quickly. He suspected the Immortals might have caught up to the shifters, or were close, at the very least.
