Page 123 of Full Moon
Chapter 54
Feray
The bitter tastelingers on my tongue, a harsh reminder of the imp’s foulness. As Diaval approaches, my heart swells with gratitude, and I could almost kiss him for his thoughtfulness. He hands me my bag, and without hesitation, I shift back, relieved to find my clothes still intact. My fingers fumble through the contents until I locate my toothbrush and toothpaste. I need something, anything, to rid myself of that awful taste.
I brush my teeth with determined strokes, the fresh mint slowly overpowering the bitterness. Diaval stands by, ever attentive, holding out a bottle of water and my birth control tonic. I rinse my mouth, savoring the cool, clean water, before swallowing the tonic. I tilt the empty bottle toward Diaval, showing him it’s all gone. “I know I need it for now,” I admit, my voice tinged with discomfort. “But after everything that was done to me, it makes me uncomfortable to take it.” I glance up at him, searching for understanding in his eyes.
His response is immediate, reassuring. “It’s understandable, my eternal.” He offers me a small, comforting smile, his fingers brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “Once everything issettled and we are truly safe, the tonics will be nothing but a memory.”
His words resonate deeply, and I return his smile with a nod. I know, with every fiber of my being, that he means each word. We’ve talked about this before, my mates and I—about having a big family someday. We’ve already taken the first step with the dragon egg we brought with us, a symbol of the future we hope to build together. Khal and Diaval have been so careful with it, taking turns carrying it as if it were the most precious thing in the world. It’s adorable watching them swaddle the egg to each other’s chest. But today, it’s Torben who’s carrying it, and I can’t resist teasing him. “You look cute, daddy bear!” I call out, delighting in the way his cheeks flush.
Before I can revel in Torben’s embarrassment, Diaval’s fingers gently grip my chin, guiding my gaze back to him. “Hmm...” His displeasure is subtle but clear—he doesn’t like it when I call Torben that.
“Yes, D?” I ask, my tone soft. In public, I don’t call him daddy; it just doesn’t feel right, so we settled on just the letter. It’s our little compromise, and no one else needs to know.
“Finish your water like a good girl, then your snack sticks.” He pulls out several more sticks, placing them in my hands. “A hangry wolf is a naughty wolf, and not in the fun way.” He tilts his head, giving me that look that says he knows exactly what he’s doing.
I take the sticks and water, nodding slowly. “Okay, D.” Leaning forward, I plant a kiss on his cheek before I head towards the SUV, the warmth of his skin still lingering on my lips.
“I don’t see anything out of place with the SUV, so let’s load up and get going,” Khal calls out, his voice steady and reassuring as he heads toward the driver’s seat. He starts up the vehicle, the low rumble of the engine breaking the quiet stillness of the field.
Diaval catches up and we walk over, hand in hand, our steps in sync as if we’ve done this a thousand times before. The cool metal of the door handle is a stark contrast to the warmth of his palm. We slide into the back seat, the interior dimly lit by the soft glow from the dashboard. Torben is already settled beside us, the egg cradled carefully in his large hands. I reach out, unswaddling the precious bundle, and gently place the egg on my lap.
The intricate, scale pattern on the shell immediately catches my eye. It’s mesmerizing, each groove telling a story of ancient power and life waiting to emerge. My fingertip traces the ridges and valleys, the texture both smooth and rough under my touch. As I focus on the shell, a faint tap resonates from within, sending a thrill through me. I smile, looking down at the egg, my heart swelling with a mix of awe and protectiveness. “I felt the hatchling,” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the hum of the engine.
Carefully, I pick the egg up, holding it close to my ear. The world around me fades, and all I can hear is the slow, steady rhythm of the heartbeat within, like the ticking of a metronome. It’s hypnotic, grounding me in this surreal moment. I lower the egg back onto my lap and lean into Diaval, pressing my ear to his chest. His heartbeat echoes the same slow, deliberate cadence, a comforting reminder of the life we are guarding.
“What do you hear?” Easton asks, his voice cutting through the quiet as he turns in his seat to look back at us. Khal drives the SUV smoothly pulling away from the tree line.
“It’s slow and steady, like Diaval’s,” I reply, my voice laced with uncertainty. “I can only guess it’s normal for a dragon.”
“Hatchlings generally have a slower heart rate,” Easton explains, filling in the gaps. “So they don’t burn through all the food in the egg with them.”
“Oh, okay. So slow is definitely a good thing then.” I smile, relief washing over me as I go back to tracing the scale pattern on the shell. Each touch is a silent promise, a vow to protect the life within, no matter what lies ahead.
The drive seems endless,though I know it isn’t that long of a trip to Silver Falls. But time drags, every minute stretching out as I shift uncomfortably in my seat. The confined space feels suffocating, and I can’t help but fidget like a restless child, my body itching for the freedom I crave. The car smells too much of leather and the faint scent of old food wrappers that linger despite our best efforts to clean up. I hate it. I feel caged.
“Are you okay, little wolf?” Torben’s deep voice rumbles beside me, his large hand resting on my thigh, trying to steady me. But his touch, though comforting, can’t soothe the anxiety clawing at me from the inside.
“After not being in a vehicle for so long, I’m not liking this. I feel caged,” I admit, shifting again, trying to find a position that doesn’t make my skin crawl. The seatbelt tightens around me, and I nearly rip it off in frustration.
Diaval’s voice cuts through the tension, his tone laced with understanding. “Let’s take a break and let Feray shift and run. I was afraid of this happening. Wolves notoriously hate being in vehicles for long periods of time.” His eyes meet mine, offering an unspoken understanding that calms me just a little.
Khal doesn’t need to be told twice. As soon as we find a spot, he parks and opens the door, the cool air rushing in like a lifeline. I hand the egg to Diaval, my fingers lingering for just a moment before I shift, the change washing over me like a wave of relief.
I take off, paws pounding against the cobblestone road, the sensation foreign and uncomfortable but still better than the suffocating confines of the car. The wind whips through my fur, the smells of the town swirling around me.
I skid to a stop at the intersection where Easton died, the memory of that day slamming into me like a physical blow. My breath catches, and I take several hesitant steps back, unable to bring myself to cross over it. The weight of that day hangs in the air, a thick, suffocating fog that I can’t escape.
“I’m okay, my flame. I’m right here next to you, alive and safe.” Easton’s voice, so close, so real, cuts through the fog. I feel his fingers digging through my thick pelt, trying to soothe the storm inside me. His touch helps, grounding me in the present, but the memory of his death remains, sharp and fresh, like it just happened yesterday.
The pain of that day, the loss I felt, still lingers in the back of my mind, a wound that hasn’t fully healed. I know he’s here, alive and with me, but the memory of losing him … it’s a scar that won’t fade.
I remain staring at the spot on the cobblestone where the scorch marks remain from his resurrection. The charred edges are a haunting reminder, burned into the stone as if the earth itself can’t forget. It takes several heartbeats before I tear my gaze away, forcing myself to turn and nudge him toward the SUV. The weight of the past presses down on me, heavy and suffocating, but I push through it.
I hate the idea of being in the vehicle for long. The thought of being confined, trapped in that small space, makes my skin crawl. It’s as if my body wants to revolt against it, every instinct screaming for freedom.
Reluctantly, I shift back, the familiar sensation of muscles and bones rearranging themselves washing over me. I straighten out my clothes, trying to shake off the lingering discomfort. “Easton, take the center seat,” I order, my voice sharper than intended. He glances at me, a mix of curiosity and concern in his eyes, but he doesn’t argue. I slide into the seat by the door, needing that connection to the outside world. “Maybe being able to open the window will help me,” I mutter, more to myself than anyone else.
