Authors: Tessa Adams
Animalistic cries and screams filled the air, along with the heavy thud of bodies colliding with each other. Lightning and fire whizzed in all directions, coming dangerously close to them on numerous occasions.
Biting her lip as one of Dylan’s dragons sent flame streaming way too close to Shawn for comfort, Jasmine climbed to her feet and began dragging the six-foot-six, two-hundred-and-seventy-pound man back into the alley where Logan had stashed her. Moving him went against all her training as a doctor, but leaving him out there—exposed—seemed like an even worse idea.
Shawn passed out about a hundred feet before their destination, which was a blessing, since she didn’t have to worry about causing him more pain as she dragged him. When they were finally in the relative safety of the alley, she checked his pulse and breathing—both of which were weak, but present—and then looked around for a weapon.
There wasn’t much to work with, but she finally found a plastic beach umbrella that had been discarded near the Dumpster all the way at the back. It wasn’t the best weapon, by any means, but after quickly unscrewing the pole from the umbrella, she had a long, hollow stick with a very sharp tip. With enough force it might be able to do some damage—not enough to actually kill a dragon, but maybe enough to buy them time for more help to arrive.
Carrying her prize, along with a few empty glass beer bottles, to the front of the alley, she laid them down next to Shawn, then broke the bottles against the wall, like she’d seen them do in movies. It wasn’t as easy as it looked on TV, but she finally got two with wicked edges. Of course, if the Wyvernmoons got close enough for her to be able to use the bottles, she pretty much figured she’d be dead, but it made her feel a little better to have them.
A huge series of battle screams came from outside the alley. After checking to make sure Shawn was still stable—or as stable as he could be—she ran to the opening to see what was going on.
A whole other group of dragons was arriving, whose colors ranged from purples and golds to blues and reds. Dylan’s other sentries had finally arrived.
Jasmine’s shoulders slumped in relief, even though she could see they were still outnumbered two to one—thanks to the light blue dragon who had let the bastards in. The new dragons headed straight for Dylan, who was fighting back to back with Quinn and a huge blue dragon that she assumed was Gabe, as the three fought off what looked like eight black dragons.
While she watched, one of the Wyvernmoons wielded a lightning bolt like a sword. More than once it landed on Quinn, sizzling across the skin of his chest and arms and leaving black marks in its wake.
She wanted to go to him, wanted to help as she normally would, but in this situation she was seriously outgunned and she knew it. She would only be a liability. The knowledge stung.
The new dragons ripped through the group surrounding the Dragonstar king, and soon all eight of the enemies lay dead and dying on the street. Dylan and his sentries turned their attention to the other Wyvernmoons, who were locked in battle with Logan and a female dragon.
Jasmine winced as she realized how badly the two dragons were injured, guilt assailing her as she realized she’d sent Logan out into that mess. But without him, the purple female dragon—one who had arrived with the first group of reinforcements—would have been dead by now. She looked close to death as it was.
“What’s going on out there?” Shawn whispered. “How bad is it?”
“Nine other Dragonstars arrived and it’s helping. Dylan is okay and so are the others. They’re all injured, but they’re all still flying—which means they’re in better shape than you are.”
“Where’s Callie?” he demanded.
“Which one is she?” she asked. She’d met all the sentries in their human forms, but unless she’d seen them shift, she didn’t have a clue who was who.
“The light blue one that caused all this,” he muttered, and for the first time, his voice had a bit of strength to it. “Traitorous bitch.”
“That was Callie?” Jasmine hadn’t gotten much of an impression of the woman the one time they’d met at the lab, but she’d seemed nice enough. Talk about looks being deceiving.
“Yeah.”
“I don’t see her now.”
“Probably ran away like the fucking coward she is.” Shawn tried to struggle into a sitting position, but he wasn’t strong enough, and he fell back to the dirty street. She checked his pulse—at his wrist and in his leg—and didn’t like what she found. She needed Quinn and needed him now, or she wasn’t sure Shawn was going to make it.
Picking up her makeshift weapon, pathetic as it was, she told Shawn, “I’m going to try to get Quinn. I’ll be right back.”
“Jasmine, no!” He snagged her wrist as she was standing up, and though he was in bad shape, he was still incredibly strong. “You can’t go out there.”
“If I don’t get Quinn, you’ll die.”
“He’ll kill me, anyway, if I let you go into the middle of that. Just stay here. It’ll be okay.”
“No, it won’t. You don’t have much time left, Shawn.” She tried to twist her wrist away from him, but he was too strong. “Come on, let go.”
“No.”
Gritting her teeth, knowing that every second that passed was precious, she finally did the only thing she could think of. She dropped the umbrella pole and with her now-free hand hit Shawn hard in his leg wound, with all of her body weight behind it.
He didn’t make a sound, but his eyes rolled up into the back of his head as he passed out. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, grabbing up the meager weapon and running for the opening at the front of the alley.
She’d barely taken two steps onto the sidewalk when the light blue dragon—Callie—landed in front of her. Unsure of what to do, knowing only that she was in seriously deep shit judging by the red haze in Callie’s eyes, Jasmine started sidling toward where the other dragons were fighting. Surely, if she got close enough, one of the Dragonstar sentries would notice her being stalked by a rabid, pissed off dragon. If she was really lucky, maybe Quinn would notice, and she could kill two birds with one stone.
But with her third step, Callie let out a horrendous screech and came straight at her—razor-sharp talons raised to do as much damage as possible.
Jasmine clutched her umbrella pole, pointing the sharp tip straight at the dragon, who barely seemed to notice the weapon. This was completely understandable, as the metal was no match for her claws, her teeth or the fireballs Jasmine knew she possessed.
Still, standing and taking it wouldn’t do any good. Jasmine stepped forward as Callie got closer, raising the pole straight up and shoving with every ounce of strength she had.
It went straight into the dragon’s sensitive underbelly, impaling her. Callie screamed, loud and long, and still Jasmine pushed, afraid to stop. Callie’s eyes glowed feverishly and, even wounded, she lifted her talons to strike her attacker. Jasmine braced for it, knowing it would be a killing blow. Knowing there was no escape.
The claw came down and Jasmine gritted her teeth, preparing for the pain—but the blow never landed. In the blink of an eye, Quinn was there, grabbing Callie’s talons in his teeth and crunching down. Jasmine heard the bones break even over Callie’s screams, and then even the shrieks were silent as Quinn sliced her neck open, from one side to the other.
Callie was dead before she even hit the ground.
Quinn shifted quickly. “Jasmine, what—”
She pointed to the alley. “Shawn’s dying. You have to help him. He won’t make it much longer.”
Quinn didn’t argue, just picked Jasmine up and ran with her back to the alley. Quinn started cursing as soon as he saw Shawn, but he was incredibly gentle when he set Jasmine back on her feet. Jasmine watched him run to the other male. Wanting to help as well, she started to follow, but with the first step her legs went out from under her.
She hit the ground hard, then didn’t even try to fight it as she passed out for the first—and hopefully last—time in her life.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
H
ours later, Jasmine stood in a hot shower at Phoebe’s house, washing blood and grime and God only knew what off of herself. She knew her friend was doing the same, as were Dylan and Quinn and a number of the other sentries. It was a good thing the house had a lot of bathrooms.
She still couldn’t believe the fight was over—and that Callie was the only Dragonstar to die, despite the Wyvernmoons best efforts. Shawn had been badly injured, as had Jase and Riley, and it would take time for them to recover, despite Quinn’s healing powers. But the others had been in pretty decent shape, and she, Phoebe, and the clan’s other doctor, Gerald, had been able to patch them up without Quinn’s help.
This was a good thing, as Quinn was still pissed at her for passing out. Like she’d had any control over it. Hell, she was pissed enough at herself for both of them. She still couldn’t believe she’d keeled over like a total candy ass. She’d been through civil wars, bomb blasts, firefights and the worst viruses on the planet and never lost her cool. But one fight with a bunch of dragons, and she face planted at the first opportunity. It was humiliating.
Feeling dirtier than she could ever remember, Jasmine scrubbed and scrubbed at her skin, ignoring the pain in her ribs where Brock had cheap-shotted her, as well as the large, very painful bruise on her shoulder. She had bigger things to worry about.
She told herself it wasn’t her fault. Callie had attacked her first, and she hadn’t even been the one to kill the dragon, but it didn’t matter. She couldn’t forget driving that pole into Callie’s belly, punching through skin and muscle and internal organs.
It wasn’t like cutting a person with a scalpel, and she prayed that she’d never have to do it again. Having a hand in taking Callie’s life—even in self-defense—was the worst thing she’d ever done.
A wave of dizziness hit her, sharper and more severe than back in the alley. She almost lost her footing. Bracing a hand against the shower wall, Jasmine slowly lowered herself to the floor, keeping her back braced against the wall as she waited for the world around her to stop spinning.
It finally did, but it took a long time. The water went cold around her; she shivered, still not well enough to stand. Finally she attempted to get up, lost her balance and banged her sore shoulder against the shower wall. She saw stars.
Shutting off the water, she dried herself quickly, then took a minute to poke at her shoulder. The pain was getting worse, not better, and as she ran a gentle finger over it, she could tell why. The bruise was on fire, and under the surface was a giant knot. The softest touch made her wince. If she hadn’t known better, she would have sworn it was an—
Oh shit.
Jasmine’s heart pounded faster as she went over to the mirror to get a better look at it.
Oh shit
, she thought again. There it was, in the center of the knot.
Another wave of dizziness swamped her, the feeling having nothing to do with Callie and everything to do with the terror sweeping through her.
Sinking down on the bed, Jasmine buried her head in her hands. Now she was well and truly fucked.
Quinn waited impatiently for Jasmine to join him and the other dragons in Dylan’s very large family room. He didn’t know what was taking her so long, but if she didn’t show up in the next five minutes, he was going to go up to her room and drag her ass down here if necessary.
He wanted to see her, to touch her, to make sure she was okay after everything she had seen and done that day. Phoebe, sitting on Dylan’s lap, looked shaken, and she’d been around the dragons a hell of a lot longer than Jasmine had. Was it any wonder his mate was hiding in her room? She was probably wondering the best way to get the hell out of there, and he didn’t blame her a bit.
The only thing that kept him from storming up to her room and demanding that she let him in was their fight that morning. He couldn’t believe less than twenty-four hours had passed—so much had happened it felt like a week. She’d basically told him she didn’t want him for a mate, and it hurt to remember her words.
Her breakthrough earlier at the lab had boggled his mind, and she’d discovered it after only four days. He had been working on a solution for years. Phoebe had been damned right when she’d said that Jasmine was brilliant at what she did. As he’d worked with Dylan yesterday—breaking down the antibodies they’d developed against the virus in an effort to formulate a vaccine—he’d been overwhelmed by his feelings for her.
Gratitude, awe, desire, need—all had combined inside of him, mingling with love, until all he could think about was how lucky he was to have
her
for a mate. How he would do anything and everything to keep her safe, to keep her with him and to let her know how much she meant to him—if she let him.
Then all hell had broken loose. He’d never in his life felt the kind of terror he’d experienced when Logan had told him he was on the run with Jasmine. His entire world had narrowed to that one thing, that one moment, the desire to do and sacrifice anything to save her. Himself, Logan, even Dylan, when he had spent the last four hundred years ensuring that his king was safe. It was a horrifying feeling, and an awe-inspiring one.
What it meant—what it boiled down to—was that he wasn’t going to let her go. She could call him whatever she wanted, accuse him of being a Neanderthal, throw the biggest hissy fit imaginable, and it wouldn’t matter. She was his, and he would ensure she stayed with him.
There was no other option.
Quinn glanced up at a sudden commotion at the door. Jasmine stood there, looking even paler and weaker than before—as though she was on the verge of collapse. He was across the room before he was even conscious that he had moved.
Tyler beat him there. Quinn stiffened as the other man held out a hand to her. What was Tyler doing? The traitor Callie had been Tyler’s sister—Quinn had known her since she was a little girl. He still couldn’t believe that she had betrayed them—and that Quinn had been the one who killed her, with help from Jasmine. Ty looked absolutely sick, but he hadn’t spoken about it yet, and Quinn wanted to make sure he didn’t take his sorrow out on Jasmine. He put a hand on the small of her back to offer support—and to ensure Ty knew she belonged to him.