Page 35 of Saving Her Dragon

Sydney actually let out a quiet, self-deprecating chuckle at her own lingering panic. To keep her mind from inventing monsters in the shadows, she pulled her tablet from her lap and opened a book by her favorite paranormal romance author, C. D. Gorri. The familiar, comforting rhythm of the story helped anchor her. Every few minutes, like clockwork, she would look up from the screen, her eyes darting to the corner of the ceiling where the camera’s red light glowed steadily, then back to the quiet form of her Mate. Everything was completely fine.

Then, she glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand.

3:42 AM.

Sydney’s entire body went completely, utterly still. The words on her screen blurred. The number seemed to burn itself into the back of her retinas as the memory of the leather-bound notebook rushed back into her mind.

3:42 AM.

The exact timestamp Garrett's hand had written on the page while he was dead to the world.

She held her breath, her eyes locking onto Garrett’s face. He didn't move. He didn't rise. He didn't even twitch. The sheets remained perfectly flat across his broad chest.

3:43 AM.

The clock shifted. Garrett remained completely undisturbed, his breathing deep and even. Sydney let out a slow, cautious breath, a wave of relief washing over her.

“See?” she thought fiercely, trying to force her racing heart to slow down. “It’s just a coincidence. A meaningless number. Everything is fine.”

And then, the universe went entirely wrong.

It didn't start with a physical movement or a sudden drop in temperature. It started within the sacred space of the Mating Bond.

Garrett was physically right there in front of her. She could see the steady rise and fall of his chest. She could hear the quiet murmur of his breath. But through the deep metaphysical channel that bound their souls, Garrett simply vanished.

The Bond didn't break. It didn't sever, and there was no blinding flash of agony that usually accompanied a damaged connection. It was infinitely worse. For one horrifying, breathless second, the space where Garrett’s vibrant, fiercely protective soul usually resided went entirely, completely empty. It was like reaching out to hold someone's hand and finding nothing but a freezing, endless void.

Sydney’s stomach dropped into a bottomless pit of ice. She blinked, shaking her head as she tried to force her consciousness deeper into the Bond.

“I’m just distracted,” she lied to herself, her mind panicking as she concentrated all of her energy on the link. “I’m just tired.”

Nothing. There was no warmth. No draconic heat. No Garrett.

“Sydney.” The voice echoed inside her head, stark and flat. It was Kara. The Dragon Queen sounded grim. There was none of her usual dry humor or protective snark. There was no teasing banter about public indecency. It was just her name, spoken with a heavy, cold gravity that made the hairs on Sydney's arms stand on end.

Kara felt it too. The Dragon Queen with whom she shared her soul was staring into the exact same empty void.

Sydney bolted from the chair, her tablet clattering to the floorboards, forgotten as she rushed to the side of the bed. Reaching out, her hands trembled as she pressed her palm directly against Garrett’s bare shoulder. His skin was warm. The pulse fluttering against his neck was perfectly steady, perfectly normal.

"Garrett?" she whispered, her voice cracking with a rising, uncontainable terror. "Garrett, please."

His eyes remained tightly closed, his face completely peaceful in the dim moonlight. She slid her fingers down his arm, gripping his large hand, squeezing it with everything she had, desperately screaming for him through the empty channel of the Bond. There was no answer. Nothing but a quiet, hollow echo.

And then… Garrett’s fingers moved.

His hand shifted against hers. Slowly, deliberately, his large fingers closed around her palm, giving her a gentle, reassuring squeeze. Three fingers wrapped around her knuckles, pressing twice in a specific, rhythmic cadence.

It was the exact, familiar squeeze he gave her every single day when he wanted to tell her he loved her without saying the words aloud.

Sydney’s chest heaved, a sob of pure, overwhelming relief rising in her throat. She nearly collapsed against his chest, her mind instantly screaming that he was back, that he was okay…

Then, she looked down at his face.

Garrett’s features were entirely slack. His jaw was relaxed, his breathing deep, rhythmic, and slow. The absolute, unshakeable reality slammed into her like a physical blow.

He hadn't woken up. He was still completely, deeply asleep.

The hand squeeze was almost enough to reassure her.