Page 63 of Saving Her Dragon

Then, Garrett inhaled a deep, steady breath. His eyes fluttered open, the irises a rich, clear, brilliantly vibrant lavender. He was present. He was entirely there.

Before she could even utter his name a second time, Garrett’s large hands snapped out. He grabbed her by the waist and violently yanked her down against his chest, pulling her into an embrace that wasn't sexy or playful– it was pure, raw, desperate survival. He buried his forehead deep into the crook of her neck, his broad shoulders shaking as he held her with a strength that anchored her to the earth.

Sydney wrapped her arms around his neck, her tears finally flowing freely as the Mating Bond flashed with the vibrancy and life of their love. There was no static. No freezing void. No empty closet. Through the link, she could feel Han resting completely against Kara, their ancient Dragon energies intertwined without a single line of interference. Everything was exactly where it belonged.

Grey stepped closer to the bed, his voice a low, rough rumble. "Leviathan?"

Garrett didn't release his grip on Sydney, but he lifted his head slightly. His lavender eyes met his brother’s heavy gaze. "Gone."

"Dead?" Carrick pressed.

"No," Garrett said, his voice turning solid and certain. "But he's not inside me anymore."

The victory settled over the room like a warm blanket. Dr. Darcy Thorntree systematically began ripping the electrodes off the headboard, her tablet finally displaying a perfect, flawless waking baseline. Ginnie let out a soft laugh, gathering her silk thread, while Carrick slowly sheathed his ancient blade back into its scabbard and released it back into the ether.

Garrett slowly loosened his grip, allowing Sydney to sit up and get onto his lap, though he kept his large hands resting firmly on her hips. She felt him looking inward, dropping his consciousness into the vast, fiery spaces of his own mind.

He searched the perimeter. He scanned the coordinates of his own soul.

Pure joy flooded through the Mating Bond, flowing from Garrett into Sydney until she could barely breathe around it. There was no hidden compartment, no stone pillars, and no black shadow waiting for the clock to strike 3:42 AM.

Han settled into the warmth of their shared soul with a deep, contented rumble. “Just us, lad.”

Looking at her Mate’s face, a profound, overwhelming wave of peace washing over his features, Sydney squeezed his hand.

"What?" Garrett asked as he opened his eyes, smiling a real, genuine, unburdened smile that reached all the way to his eyes for the first time since his rescue.

"Nothing," Sydney murmured.

Raising an eyebrow, he traced her lips with his fingers. "Nothing?"

As he pulled her against his chest and locked his arms around her, she looked deeply into his eyes and winked. "Not a thing. That's exactly the point, my love."

14

Just Us

Garrett woke up, and his first instinct was to prepare for a mission.

His eyes snapped open. His muscles locked beneath the covers. His pulse spiked into a frantic, tactical rhythm before his vision had even cleared. For weeks, waking up had been a high-stakes hazard assessment. Where am I? What time is it? Did my body move? What did I take? Where is Han? Where is Sydney?

He lay perfectly flat on his back, staring up at the white-painted wood of the cottage ceiling. The room was bathed in the quiet, golden warmth of a late Texas morning, completely still save for the soft rustle of the summer breeze through the window screens.

“Morning, Lad,” a deep, familiar rumble echoed from the absolute center of his soul.

Garrett let out a shallow, shaky breath as the Dragon King’s presence washed over his nervous system. Han wasn't behind a stone wall. He wasn't trapped behind a monolithic door, and he wasn't screaming a warning from the other side of an abyssal void. He was right there, whole, present, and radiating a comfortable Dragon heat that anchored Garrett to the bed.

Beside him, the sheets shifted. Sydney rolled over, her blond curls scattering across the pillow as she instinctively curled closer to his side, her warmth pressing against his ribs. Through the raw, beautifully restored channels of their Mating Bond, her energy poured into him. It was bright, unreserved, and entirely filled with a fierce, protective love and the best thing in the world.

Garrett flicked his eyes to the digital clock on the nightstand. 7:18 AM.

He had slept straight through the 3:42 AM corridor– hopefully without incident. No more specialized neurological monitors were rigged to his headboard. No more screaming digital graphs. No more Dr. Darcy Thorntree tracking his brain waves, and no more heavy wooden chair positioned in the hallway with his brother sitting vigilantly in the dark. Just sleep.

Still, a soldier didn't abandon a lifetime of tactical discipline just because life had shifted gears. Trauma didn't miraculously disappear because the Demon Lord had been severed from the line.

Garrett systematically ran through his own internal checklist. He lifted his hands from beneath the sheets. They were clean. No dried gray clay, no phantom ink on his fingers. He looked past the foot of the bed toward the bathroom floor. His leather combat boots sat exactly where he had left them, in their bedroom this time, polished and perfectly aligned.

Then his gaze shifted to the top of the cedar dresser. Resting right beside Sydney’s jewelry box was a thin, vibrant strand of blue silk.