Eternal Mates 7 - Taken by a Dragon (13 page)

“Bloody heavy bastard,” she muttered and growled as she pulled and manoeuvred into a better position at the same time, slowly edging around until she was sitting with her feet braced against the black ground and could see the whole of his arm. “Please wake up. You’re too heavy.”

She wasn’t sure whether he could survive the enormous drop to the side of the mountain either.

He showed no signs of stirring so she did the only thing she could. She heaved, leaning backwards and pulling on his arm. Each inch she gained tore at her muscles, sending pain blistering across her bones, but she refused to give up. Loke had saved her and now she would save him.

She grunted as she shuffled backwards, her bare feet slipping on the harsh rock surface. It scraped across her skin but she didn’t feel the pain as she focused on hauling Loke onto the ledge. His head appeared in view and she leaned backwards, yelling out her agony as she fought his dead weight, dragging him up.

When his upper body was on the ledge, she put her feet beneath his arms, hooking him. She worked her hands down his arm and held it near his elbow, and reached for his other arm. He loosed a muffled grunt as she grabbed hold of it and she stilled, checking his face.

He was still out cold.

“Come on, Loke,” she whispered and pulled him, issuing a silent apology at the same time as she dragged him across the rough ground. His injuries were already extensive. He didn’t need her adding a multitude of scrapes and grazes to them, but he was far too heavy for her to lift.

When his entire top half was on the ledge, she rolled him over onto his back, hooked her hands under his arms and stood on trembling legs. She raised him off the ground as much as she could manage and pulled him backwards with her, towards the cave.

Christ, he was heavy.

She set him down a short distance from the edge of the ledge and struggled to catch her breath. She needed to get him inside the cave, but she also needed to do it without hurting him. She looked back into the cave and her eyes fell on the furs. She hurried over to them, grabbed the biggest one from the pile, and raced back to him. She laid it out beside him and gently rolled him onto it, so he lay on his back in the thick black fur.

Anais kneeled beside him and checked him over. The wound in his side was the worst, still spilling blood over his left hip. She needed to bind it, but she wasn’t sure he had anything she could use. The furs were too thick and she hadn’t seen any other material lying around.

She looked down at her t-shirt and hesitated for only a second before pulling it off over her head. She found his knife a short distance away and used it to cut her top open down one of the seams, and then sliced it into two pieces around the middle, so it formed long strips. She wrapped one around his waist as tight as she could get it and placed the other beside him on the fur for later.

Satisfied that she had slowed the bleeding, she moved around to his head, grabbed the fur and began hauling him deeper into the cave. She diligently kept her eyes off his lower half. He hadn’t sustained any injuries there, so she had no reason to look at him below the waist.

Especially when he was completely naked.

Apparently, his trousers didn’t magically appear by themselves when he transformed back.

She stopped when they were close enough to the fire and looked around her, trying to get her mind to stop racing so she could figure out everything that she needed to do. She had to be quick, but it was hard when fear and panic were colliding inside her, sending her thoughts spinning together.

Anais sucked down a deep breath and closed her eyes, seeking some calm among the storm of her emotions.

She needed to focus.

What did she need?

Water. The pool.

Cloths. Hell, she wished she had remembered the ones he had given her to use when she had bathed before she had ripped her only top in half.

Warmth. The fire.

He had all those things. It was a start anyway.

She burst into action, throwing more branches onto the fire and leaving them to catch as she took the torch and raced towards the bathing pool. She skidded on the black pebbly ground as she ran at full pelt into the cavern and gasped as one bit into her bare right foot. Ignoring the pain, she grabbed the pail and filled it with the cool water from the well, and checked the two cloths she had left laid out over the rocks after she had bathed. They were dry.

Anais ran back to the cave and straight over to Loke.

She set the torch down by the fire, put the pail beside him and let the cloths fall from her arms. Her gaze ran over him, assessing his injuries. The grooves in his chest where he had been clawed were deep and weeping blood. She wasn’t sure how quickly dragons could heal. The slashes weren’t pouring blood as they had been before, but she wouldn’t know whether they needed her assistance to heal well until she cleaned him off.

She couldn’t do that until she had addressed the stab wound above his left hip though.

She went to his knife where it lay on the ground a short distance away and drew down a deep breath, mentally preparing herself for what she had to do. There were no needles and no thread on hand. She would have to seal Loke’s worst wound in a more ancient way.

Anais toyed with the knife as she built up the courage she needed. It was going to hurt him and he was already weak, badly injured because of her, but she had no choice. If she didn’t seal the wound, he might bleed out.

She took another of the furs and laid it over his hips, giving him some warmth and dignity, and then kneeled beside him, between him and the fire. She set the knife down, took up the smaller cloth, and plunged it into the pail.

Anais focused on Loke, slipping into a detached and methodical state as she worked to remove her makeshift bandage from around his waist, wring out the cloth and use it to clean his stab wound.

It was ragged.

She tentatively prised it open, stopping when she reached a point where his flesh was already knitting back together. Blood rose like a tide, filling the wound and spilling across his pale skin again. She mopped it up and applied pressure to the wound while she picked up the knife with her other hand. He was healing, but not quickly enough. She needed to seal the jagged cut for him.

She held the knife over the fire, waiting for the blade to glow red-hot before pulling it out, lifting the cloth from the wound and pressing the blunt edge of the knife against the gash.

Loke arched upwards, his bellow deafening her and making her ears ring long after he had fallen silent and still again.

“Sorry,” Anais whispered and peeled the blade off him, revealing angry red raw skin. She bathed it in cool water, her hands shaking.

In the quiet, alone with him, it all threatened to overwhelm her.

She was safe now because of him. He had fought for her, had taken blows meant to kill him, in order to stop another male from being able to claim her. It was all her fault. She was the reason he was in this state, fighting for his life. He had saved her. Again.

Tears filled her eyes and she scrubbed them away, refusing to let them come.

What he had done was noble and kind, and she had realised something as she had watched him fighting for her, being clawed and beaten.

She felt something for him.

Perhaps that wasn’t entirely the truth.

Perhaps she had realised it before that moment, when she had seen the way the female dragon had looked at Loke and it had dawned on her that the female wanted him. That bitch had taken Anais from him with the intention of handing her over to another male so she could have Loke for herself.

But Loke had looked at her with only hatred glowing in his eyes.

And he had looked at Anais with a wealth of tenderness and heat.

That tenderness and heat, and the feelings she felt for him in return, had been the reason she had foolishly kissed him. She hadn’t meant it as a good luck kiss. Hell, she had intended it to be far from that when she had pressed her lips against his, but her courage had failed her, even when he had begun to respond.

She had feared what she had done, so she had covered it up by pretending she had done it purely to wish him luck.

Was it so wrong of her to desire him?

She stroked her fingers across his brow and looked down at his face, studying the strong line of his jaw and his straight nose. His dark lashes and wild blue hair. His sensual lips. Lips that had felt right against hers. Heat curled through her, stirred by the memory of their kiss.

He was handsome, noble and kind. He was gracious and tender, and attentive. He was brave and strong. A warrior who spoke to the one within her. He didn’t coddle her in a way that made her feel weak or belittle her. He was everything she had ever wanted in a man.

But had never expected to find in a dragon.

Anais leaned over him and pressed a long kiss to his brow. It was damp beneath her lips, dotted with sweat, and cold. Those two things drove her concerns about herself and what she was doing out of her mind, replacing them with concern for him. He needed her now and she would take care of him.

She focused on washing him, bathing him from head to toe and tending to every one of his wounds. She carefully cleaned the claw marks on his chest and inspected them. Beads of blood broke the surface in a few places down each red line, but the slashes were already closing so she left them alone, allowing them to heal naturally.

When she was done with washing him, she covered him with the furs and then rolled one and placed it beneath his head, raising it off the ground. She kneeled beside him and watched over him as he slept, determined to stay awake and on hand in case he needed her.

Behind her, wind whistled across the cave mouth.

A quiet voice pointed out that this was the perfect opportunity to escape and she pretended not to hear it. She didn’t feel like escaping anymore, and her change of heart had nothing to do with the other dragons or any fear that they might grab her again. The desire to stay came from Loke alone. He had fought for her and now she honestly believed that he had meant every word that he had said to her.

He wanted to keep her safe.

He had done just that.

Now it was her turn to keep him safe.

Anais brushed her fingers across his brow, smoothing strands of his rich blue hair from it, her gaze fixed on his face as he slumbered.

She had been so afraid when she had watched him fighting for her. She had felt on the verge of losing him and it had filled her with dread, with a deep consuming need to call his name and somehow convince him to break with his warrior’s code and fly away with her.

Far away.

She no longer wanted to run away from him.

She wanted to run away
with
him.

But he was right. They couldn’t run.

They couldn’t run because Loke wasn’t the only one who needed her now.

She frowned down at him as anger burned through her veins, setting her blood aflame.

Her friends needed her too.

She didn’t know how many huntresses the other dragons had taken from the battle, but she was going to find out. She wasn’t going to let them suffer anymore.

She would find a way to save them just as Loke had saved her.

D
arkness pulsed around him like a living thing. It seared like fire and burned like ice. It thickened and closed in on him, and then thinned and swept away, growing transparent in places, granting him a glimpse of Heaven from the blackest pits of Hell.

His little Amazon.

She danced into view and then disappeared again, twirling out of existence.

Loke reached for her, stretching towards his elusive female, desperate to grasp hold of her slender wrist and pull her close to him.

Where she would be safe.

She appeared again. A brief smile. A flash of warmth in her eyes. A laugh that echoed around them. His fingers brushed hers and he tried to curl them around to lock her to him, but she faded away, leaving only emptiness behind, a cold that swept over him and numbed him to his soul.

The darkness closed in again. Cloying. Choking. He shoved at it and fought like a wild thing, swatting at it and pushing his palms into it, trying to drive it away from him so he could catch another glimpse of Anais.

When it faded this time, he saw her standing in the middle of the village and his heart stopped dead before rocketing into action, thundering against his chest. Ren struck her hard, sending her staggering backwards across the black ground, and a cheer went up around Loke.

He growled and tried to run towards her, driven by a fierce need to pull her into his arms and shield her from the male’s blows, but his feet refused to move. He grabbed his bare legs and tugged at them, desperate to pull them free of the dark earth that covered his feet.

Ren struck again, dealing a blow that sent her crashing to the ground, and Loke’s heart lurched into his throat.

He reached for her, calling her name even though no sound left his lips.

Anais rolled onto her front and struggled onto her hands and knees. She shook her head, causing her long blonde hair to sway and brush the ground, and then pushed herself up onto her feet. She swayed on the spot as she turned to face Ren and something flashed silver in her hand. Loke’s eyes darted down to it and widened.

His knife.

She roared a battle cry and launched herself at Ren.

Ren’s golden eyes flashed like fire.

Loke bellowed a cry of his own, trying to call her back and stop her.

Too late.

The dragon male lashed out at her with long talons, cutting her across her chest. She stumbled a few steps, her hand coming up to her chest as her face tilted downwards towards it, and then wavered and collapsed in a heap.

Loke snarled and pulled on his legs again, filled with a need to reach her.

The village swirled into darkness, drifting away from him as he flew backwards through the air, still reaching for Anais.

The abyss swallowed him. It crashed over him and then receded, revealing his cave.