AllFreeNovel
Share Us
His hands were shaking. He clamped them over his knees and squeezed, but it was little help.
“And when I get that way, when I can’t talk myself out of the dark, my magic spirals out of control and does terrible things. It’s hurt people before. It’s what killed Unwin, and what saved me from certain death at the claws of another dragon who wanted me dead.”
The bead of blood in Everard’s nostril broke free and splattered on the hardwood by his feet. Everard looked at it, then fished a handkerchief from his breast pocket and dabbed his nose disinterestedly. “I see.”
He pocketed the handkerchief and jotted down a few things into his notebook, then put it away. “I want to start you on an SSRI. I would also recommend finding a therapist. There aren’t any dragons I’m aware of who are accredited, but I’m sure there must be an Attendant out there with licensing you could confide in. I’ll poke around and see if I can source any names for you.”
Everard took a prescription pad from his bag, clicked his pen a few times while making a thoughtful face, then continued. “An SSRI is basically an antidepressant, by the way,” he said as he jotted something down. “They’re frequently used to treat depression and anxiety, and although they are by no means a cure, I believe once we find the correct dosage, you should notice a marked improvement in your quality of life. Better yet, I have a hunch that should we be able to get your physical symptoms under control, your magic will follow suit. Here.” He tore off the top sheet of the prescription pad and crossed the room, handing it to Sorin. “We’ll start you at a low dose and keep you there for four weeks to see if anything changes. If nothing does, we’ll increase your dosage and see what happens. You may experience a few mild side effects after you begin treatment—usually nothing more severe than an upset stomach, loss of appetite, or unusual feelings of agitation—but those will fade over time. If you are concerned about anything you’re feeling, you’re welcome to contact me at any time. Bertram has my private number, but just in case…” He produced a business card from his back pocket and offered it to Sorin alongside his new prescription. “You can reach me using the number listed there.”
“Thank you,” Sorin said numbly. He ran his thumb over the edge of the business card, not wanting to look at Everard—not wanting to look at anyone. He felt hollow in the same way he did after an ugly cry.
Could the solution really be as simple as taking medication?
Was there really hope for him?
Part of him didn’t want to believe it, lest it not come to pass, but another part was cautiously optimistic. It whispered this was the start of something good. Something real.
A smile cracked through the pain on his face.
He was ready.
Ready to heal.
A dark blur of movement from the doorway caught his eye, and overjoyed, he looked up to greet Bertram and tell him the good news.
But it was not Bertram.
It was Sebastian.
Murderous gaze set on Sorin, he barreled unopposed into the room.
32
Sorin
Sebastian came right up to the bed, knees bumping into Sorin’s as he grabbed Sorin by the front of his shirt. He didn’t lift him into the air, but he did tug enough that Sorin’s collar dug into the back of his neck, creating uncomfortable pressure and forcing him to tilt his head upward, bringing him eye to eye with the Drake who most wanted him dead.
“You,” Sebastian growled, his eyes narrowing into slits. “It was bad enough when I believed your reign of terror was only a few years in the making, but to know you are the same omega from all those years ago, the one who stole my mate and made him suffer, makes my blood boil. You are a blight on our family. I should end you here and now.”
Sebastian’s lip pulled back to reveal teeth both pointed and sharp. Dragon’s teeth. Tools meant to eviscerate. Those teeth had torn members of the Vanguard in two. Had snapped through bone and spilled blood. Had taken the lives of people Sorin held dear.
And now they were coming for him.
It was just like it had been on that night—the moment it had all gone wrong. Memories of that time drowned out all other thoughts, plunging Sorin into a part of his past better left forgotten.
Crackling fire.
Oppressive heat.
The screams of the dying. Of friends. Of found family.
Guilt, horror, and chaos.
All of it came roaring back, and he could not control it. Could not get it to stop, even though he tried. His magic, already stirred up from his appointment with Everard, lashed out violently as he spiraled.
Sebastian’s nose began to bleed.
“Good lord, Sebastian,” said an exasperated Everard, butting his way between Sebastian and Sorin to swat at Sebastian’s hands. “Let the little Molotov cocktail go. Not only will he kill you before you get a single claw in him, but he is family. Set him down at once. You are being quite rude.”
