Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77293 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77293 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
I turned my head to look at the Drake and felt a stab of hope. His eyes were no longer burning pools of lava—they looked normal and sane. His scales no longer had the blood-red glow. Instead, I saw a warm, golden glow taking its place. And the insides of his sail-like wings had gone from crimson to gold as well.
Good! I thought. The curse is lifting!
But I didn’t dare let go of the Curse Breaker yet. I had to be sure every last bit of the curse came free from the Drake. It’s kind of like scraping something sticky, like gum off of something—every little bit has to be gone before it’s completely clean again.
I could feel my own blood and life-force waning—flowing down my arm and away in a trickle of scarlet. Can you bleed to death from your hand? I had a woozy feeling I was going to find out. But I still didn’t let up. I wanted Saint and his Drake to be utterly healed and this was the only way.
“My Curse is lifted,” I heard the Bruja say. Her face was sagging and her whole body was bent almost double with the weight of the magic she’d done to remove it. “But beware,” she snarled at me, her features contorting with rage. “You may have had your way with me, but I will have mine with you as well. You lose the Curse, then you lose yourself as well, witch-boy!”
Then she muttered something else in the Drake language, though I couldn’t tell if it was magic or just something obscene and fell over into the mud. As I watched, her body melted into the stinking ooze and she was no more.
I fell to my knees as well—I couldn’t help it. I was so dizzy. The magic had certainly had its way with me too—it’s not easy to conduct seventeen years of hatred and pain through your body without getting overwhelmed by it. I didn’t know how much longer I could keep it up.
Saint’s Drake lifted his head to the sky and gave a bugling call—then he lowered his long neck and nudged me anxiously with his snout. I could hear him asking if I was all right…and then he disappeared.
In his place was my boyfriend. Saint was naked but I didn’t care about that. The look on his face was one of pure horror.
“Avery! Avery, let it go!” he begged, reached for my hand. “It’s over now—it’s done. Dios, you’re bleeding yourself dry! Let it go!”
I tried—I really did. But by now my fingers were locked around the Curse Breaker and the spines of it were buried in my palm—I literally couldn’t release it.
“Trying,” I whispered faintly. “Can’t…sorry. Love…you.”
And then everything around me faded to blackness and even Saint’s beloved face was gone.
35
SAINT
I gathered Avery into my arms and held him close to my heart. His eyes rolled up in his head and he was limp in my grasp—I truly feared that he was dead. I leaned closer, trying to feel his breath on my cheek but I felt nothing.
My heart ached and I expected to hear my Drake roaring within me. But to my surprise, I felt nothing inside. Well, not nothing—I could still feel him in there. But there were no emotions coming from him—he was completely mute. After years of having him roar and rage inside my head, it was strange in the extreme. But right now, I was too obsessed with the man I loved to think much of my other half.
“Avery!” I begged, patting his cheeks. “Avery, please come back to me! Please!”
Suddenly there was a rush of wings overhead. Looking up, I saw a Drake landing near me. And then another and another. I recognized them too—they were some of my Sire’s most trusted guards. One by one they changed and came over to me.
“Santiago, your father has sent us to bring you to him.”
It was General Lupe, my Sire’s second in command.
“What…how…how did you know I was here?” I asked, finally getting the words out.
“Your father had a Bruja put charms around the entrance to our lands,” he answered. “We knew as soon as your Drake flew through the Rift. Come—I am ordered to bring you to him.”
“No!” I glared up at him fiercely. “Can you not see that my beloved is wounded?” I couldn’t bring myself to say the word, “dead” though I feared that Avery was. He was so limp in my arms—the only thing still tense about him was his fingers—the evil spiked ball was still clutched in his hand.
General Lupe made a face of disgust.
“Let him be—you must take your place at your father’s side and there is no room for another man beside you,” he snapped.
“No!” I held Avery even closer to my heart. “He is my l’lorna! I will never let him go!”