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Fuzzy voices filtered through June’s ears. She thought she heard Tristan, murmuring for her to stay awake. She was trying, but it was as if her energy had been zapped. Nothing felt right. Her body was heavy and cold. She couldn’t open her lids but for the smallest gap, and when she did, everything was a blur.
“Can you open your eyes, love? Can you look at me?”
Stabbing pain radiated over her body on the heels of a fever. One minute she was hot, the next freezing. It was like fire and ice seeped through pores. With much effort, she pried her eyelids open. It was like lifting barbells with her lashes.
Tristan loomed over her. He looked crazed with worry. Blood was smeared on his face in the shape of a hand.From me?
When she tasted a metallic tinge in the back of her throat, she realized she was dying. Devastation coated her mind. How silly it seemed now to have worried over her short time with Tristan—when the countdown could have been measured with an egg timer. If she had known, she would have told him how she felt. She would have let herself love him with all her heart.
Tristan wiped away a tear from her cheek. “You’re going to be okay. You’re going to be fine. Do you hear me?” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself. “I have a witch here who is going to help you. She’ll heal you.”
He was going to let a witch perform magic on her? Her head lolled. Her eyes closed once more.
“Stay with me,” Tristan pleaded. He cupped her cheek. “You’re going to marry me and be my wife and I’m going to make you so happy. Or we don’t have to get married. Just stay with me.” She managed to pry her eyes open for him, but he was fading now, his beautiful face growing fuzzy.
“I Love you,” she muttered before the world went dim. The pressure bearing down on her let up. Everything grew feather-light. Pain dissipated. She no longer felt exhaustion. She no longer felt anything…but for a terrible longing.
Loud noises slammed into her, a desperate bellow that tugged at her soul, a beast suffering such dreadful anguish it broke her heart.
Please…please come back…please…Someone was chanting to her. Beckoning her. She realized that sound came from her dragon. Her soulmate. That was the sound of his own heart breaking. He was pleading with her, over and over, his face buried in her neck. Had she died?
When she sucked in a breath, he gasped and drew back. His eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot. “Witch! You’re running out of time. Remember what I said. Your life depends on hers.”
The pain in June’s chest increased tenfold. She gagged and gasped and wheezed. A bit of warm liquid ran from the side of her mouth.
Despair twisted Tristan’s beautiful face. He looked…destroyed.
She hated to see that look on his face. She wanted to reach up and pull him into her embrace, but her limbs were too heavy, and she hadn’t the energy. “You’re…strong,” she choked out. “You will…be okay.” He could go on without her. He could be happy again.
He shook his head, his eyes glistening. “NO!Never will I be okay.Never!Not without you. Don’t do this. Don’t leave me. Youfight, dammit.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Witch! Make haste!”
Movement in the corner of her eye. A glowing white orb. An otherworldly luminescence. It grew nearer and she realized a woman with snow-white hair held the light in her hands, an astounding, almost liquid ball of glowing brilliance, beautiful and pure, that ebbed and flowed as though it were a living thing.
“What is that?” Tristan demanded.
The woman’s voice was soft, yet confident. “A dragon’s soul.”
Horror swept over Tristan’s features. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but no words came out.
“The goddess has smiled down on us all,” the woman said. “One of the dragons had life in it still, else I don’t know what I’d have done. I must fuse this soul with hers to give her the strength of your people.”
Dumfounded, Tristan gazed down at June with concern. Her vision blurred at the edges. She fought to keep him in her sights. She wanted him to be the last thing she saw before the end.
He seemed to glean her thoughts. Worry cut lines into his face. His hands shook as he pressed down harder on June’s wound. “Have you ever done this before?” he asked the witch.
“No. I have only heard tell. I know that it will not be easy, and it will not be pretty. She may cry out, but no matter what, you cannot interrupt me. If you do not think you can handle that, I must ask you to leave.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he snarled.
“Then you mustn’t interfere.” The strange white-haired woman held the soul in one hand. In the other, she produced what looked like an ivory dagger, bent at a perfect arch and sharp at one end.
“Is that a dragon tooth?” Tristan asked.
“It is. I must open her chest with it.”
Say what now?
Baring his teeth, Tristan shook his head. “Fuck no. Are you mad?”
