Afterward she remembered a series of images, like pearls on a string.
She opened her eyes to find that Graydon held her back against his chest, one arm across her shoulders, the other arm clamped low around her waist. They sat in a cage made of talons formed by Dragos’s two front feet. Rune stood over them, looking through the talons. “Hold her just like that,” he said with his face grim. “Don’t let her get jostled.”
“I got her,” Graydon said. “Let’s go.”
They were acting so dramatic, like it was life or death or something. So much for being big tough warriors. They were worse than a bunch of high school girls.
She faded out as Dragos launched.
The next thing she knew Dragos was the one holding her. She could have carried a brimming wineglass and not spilled a drop as he raced up a flight of stairs. “I don’t care!” he roared. “Get any goddamn doctor fast as you can. Steal one from Monroe if you have to. One of you fly to New York and get our Wyr healer!”
She tried to focus her blurry gaze. Is this Urien’s house again? I’m awake, I’m asleep, I’m awake, I’m asleep. I’m in the house, I’m out. Now I’m in again. This is getting ridiculous.
And she faded out.
Then things got really strange.
She was immersed in the dragon’s Power. He had consumed her. With every breath, he worked her lungs. Her heartbeat faltered. The great engine of his heart took over the rhythm. Her Power started to fade, but he had her Name. He demanded she stay in her flesh. She drifted inside him, inextricably woven with his life force.
She thought she heard her mother say, He cannot hold you forever. You may come to me if you wish.
But there was somebody else with them, a bright, tiny, stubborn spark. He was just a new creation, but he already had his own opinions. Dragos held her life to her body, but her son’s Power pulsed inside her.
He was trying to heal her. She roused.
Oh no, sweet baby, she crooned. You’re too small for that.
The peanut begged to differ.
A warm glow of energy suffused her body, so like her mother’s healing Power, so like her own. For one moment everything was shining and well and right. Then, with infinite gentleness, the dragon laid his Power on that tiny spark of life that glowed too bright, too strong, and eased it back until it nestled into place.
Precious baby boy.
Her fingers crept an inch across a sheet. They were grasped by a much larger, more powerful hand that held on to her hard as she fell asleep.
TWENTY
When she woke up again for real she was in their bed at Cuelebre Tower. She gazed at the ceiling for an unmeasured time as the light changed. It was quiet. She was warm, clean and dry and pain free.
Dragos lay beside her, his arm around her. She looked at his sleeping face and saw something she had never seen before. He looked exhausted and worn, as if something inside of him had stretched too thin. She frowned. Had he gotten hurt in the battle?
She tried to raise her right arm to stroke his face but she couldn’t. She tugged at her arm, and all of a sudden Dragos rose up on his elbow. He put his hand on her arm to hold her down. “Sweetheart, don’t do that.”
“My hand’s caught on something,” she mumbled. She looked up at him with sleepy anxiety. “What’s wrong? You look so sad. Are you hurt?”
He smiled down at her, gold eyes alight, and the careworn look vanished. “I did not get hurt, other than in my heart.”
“Somebody shot you in the heart!” She tried to jerk her hand up.
“Pia love, stop. Look at your arm.” She turned and followed the direction of his pointing finger. “You have an IV drip. You keep trying to pull it out in your sleep, so we had your hand tied down. We didn’t want you to hurt yourself.”
“Oh.” Feeling foolish, she subsided. She turned back to him. “Somebody shot you in the heart!”
“Yes.” He kissed her nose. “You did, metaphorically speaking.” He kissed her mouth, his caressing lips infinitely gentle. “You were dying, you little shit. Your heart shut down and your lungs stopped working. I had to take over for a while. Then our son decided to help and almost burned himself out healing you. It scared centuries off my life.”
He nuzzled at her, his eyelids closed. She breathed him in, rubbed her cheek against his and let his presence soothe the jagged edges inside.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. A tear slid out of a corner of her eye and soaked her hair, followed by another. “I’m so sorry for everything.”
“Stop that.” He cupped her face and wiped the tears away. “It’s not your fault. I flew your doctor back from Cancún and had quite a talk with her. First I found out what an IUD was and how it could have endangered both you and the pregnancy. I understand why you panicked and why you were afraid I had forced the pregnancy on you.”