Page 125 of Full Moon
Chapter 55
Diaval
I wishwe didn't have to drive through this town.
Every street, every corner seems to pull painful memories from Feray. I can feel them thrumming through our bond, like a dark echo of something she's desperately trying to bury. It's as if she's reliving it all over again.
I keep my gaze on her, watching her eyes pulse ice blue in intervals that make my heart tighten. Easton keeps glancing over too, his concern palpable as the air grows heavier with each passing mile.
Do you sense any more magic restraining our mate?I ask Easton through our mythic bond.
Nothing,he responds after a beat.I think whatever happened when we crossed into the arctic finally snapped free. Do you think they bound her true form, and returning to where she was meant to be was the key?
His question catches me off guard. I tilt my head, feeling my dragon stir, his thoughts meshing with mine as we debate the merits of Easton's theory. It makes a cruel, twisted kind of sense—that someone might have bound her, shackled her true self to the seat of her species' power.
It's a sound theory, meat bag.My dragon rumbles gruffly.Eggs go dormant for much less.
His reminder brings to mind the egg that sits in Feray's lap now—active, humming with life. It should have hatched years ago, but it didn't. It waited for Feray to find it, waited for the right time, the right place.
Or the rightful ruler of the north,my dragon adds, a hint of arrogance slipping into his tone.
But this isn't the time for arrogance. Feray's pain is too raw, too real, bleeding through the bond and wrapping around my heart like a vice. We're not just driving through a town. We're navigating a minefield of memories.
The crunch of rocks and branches under the tires is a welcome distraction from the storm of theories ricocheting around in my head. If the school hadn't interfered, if the amulet wasn't worn—would Feray have migrated north like her forefathers before her, on her own? The thought gnaws at me, but something else gnaws harder.
The pressure inside the car is growing with every passing second. The air feels wrong—thick and heavy, pressing against my eardrums like we're descending into deep water. My dragon stirs uneasily, his massive form coiling tighter in the back of my consciousness.
Something's wrong, meat bag.His voice slithers through my mind, urgent in a way I've rarely heard. His scales bristle with unease, and I feel phantom spines rising along my own back.We're being watched. Hunted.
I feel it too. Every nerve is on fire, every ancient instinct screaming that something is amiss. The hair on my arms stands on end. My pupils dilate, trying to catch movement in the shadows between the trees. Nine hundred years of survival instincts are shrieking at me torun, tofly, to get my mate out of herenow.
But there's nowhere to go. The road stretches ahead, flanked by dense forest on both sides. We're boxed in.
Feray shifts in the backseat, her movements sharp and sudden as she stuffs the egg into her backpack with trembling fingers. Her eyes dart around—left, right, up through the sunroof—her senses as heightened as mine. I catch her reflection in the rearview mirror, and her eyes are already pulsing ice blue, her wolf rising to the surface without being called.
"I don't like this feeling," she murmurs, her voice tight with barely controlled fear. Her gaze scans the woods, searching for threats she can sense but can't see. "Something's out there. Something old."
The trees seem to lean closer. The shadows between them grow darker, deeper, despite the afternoon sun. I could swear I see shapes moving in my peripheral vision—there and gone before I can focus on them.
We cross the edge of town, the road leading us back to Blackmore, when the world explodes around us.
There's no warning. No flash of light, no incantation, nothing to brace against. One moment the air is clear—the next, thick gray smoke materializes inside the car itself, conjured from nothing, filling every inch of space in a single heartbeat. Darkmagic. Ancient magic. The kind that reeks of blood sacrifice and forbidden rituals.
The smoke doesn't just burn—itdevours. It claws down my throat like broken glass, sears my lungs like I'm breathing liquid fire. My eyes stream with tears that evaporate instantly from the heat. This isn't natural smoke—it'salive, writhing with malevolent intent, seeking out every orifice, every wound, every weakness.
I can't see. I can't breathe. I can'tthink.
I slam on the brakes, throwing the SUV into park as the heat and smoke claw at every inch of exposed skin. My hands are blistering on the steering wheel, the leather melting against my palms.
POISON,my dragon roars.GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT?—
Feray is out the door in an instant, coughing so hard I hear her retching as she drags her backpack behind her. Thank the gods. Thank every god that ever existed. She's out. She'sout. But I can't move.
My blood isn't just boiling—it'scarbonating, fizzing through my veins like acid eating through copper pipes. Every muscle locks in place, seizing so hard I hear my own teeth crack from the pressure of my jaw clenching. I fight for control against the beast within, but it's like trying to hold back a tsunami with my bare hands.
My dragon is thrashing,screaming, scales rippling under my skin in waves that tear muscle from bone. He's desperate to be free, to escape this metal coffin that's become our death trap. But the shift won't come cleanly. The poison is blocking it,corrupting it, turning what should be a seamless transformation into a nightmare of half-formed scales and splitting skin.
I hear Khal tumble out the back door, his shift overtaking him in a violent surge that sounds like wet cloth being ripped apart. His basilisk rises with a shriek that could shatter glass, hissing and thrashing, rubbing its face against rocks, trees, anything it can reach—trying desperately to clear whatever toxin is burning its eyes.
