“Come back to me, Jos,” I whispered to her, hopeful that my voice would flow to her as hers had to me. It wasn’t fair what fate had planned for us – to take us from one hell to another, to tear us away from each other, to tear her away from her mate.
I let my magic settle inside of her for a minute before I moved it toward my target, fusing parts of myself with her, my magic connecting with nerve endings in an attempt to contact her. I let my finger slide down to connect with her mark, the jolt rocking through me as it always had, every day that I had touched it from the first. Even when she had felt nothing, I had always felt it. I sighed at the sensation and closed my eyes, letting my mind fuse with hers.
I would have yelled at what I found, but I was too scared to see the emptiness of her mind.
There was a reason I could not sense her power, her emotions, or her soul. Nothing was there. Her body was an empty shell. I gasped internally at the emptiness, at the confusion and loss I felt from being inside of her like this and finding her gone.
There should have been memories, dreams, and visions, but I saw nothing but blackness, the velvety color clear and dark.
If she had left to join her mate in some expanse of eternity, would it leave an empty shell behind? I was foolish to think that this would work. That even a blood connection would work. It couldn’t work because there was nothing here to attach to. There was no bridge to bring her back.
Edmund must have attached himself to Ryland before he used the connection. That’s how he gained control. For us, it was too late.
I let my mind linger inside the black realm that Joclyn had left behind, searching for any way to bring her home.
As I searched, I sang. I sang the song I had written for her all those hundreds of years ago. The song that was only for her.
I left the song inside of her head hoping that it would, at least, welcome her home.
Chapter Twelve
My stomach growled with the lack of food, but I just ignored it. I had gone longer without eating. Forced starvation was one of my father’s favored techniques. But I had been living in comfort for too long, my body had become used to consistency. Being trapped in a cave for the past few days had not helped to give it the consistency it now felt it needed.
I laid my head against the back of the cave, ignoring the hard cold stone that pressed against my body and focused instead on the soft warmth of the girl that was curled against me. At least I could make Joclyn comfortable. I pulled Dramin’s robe around her, tucking the edges under her in an attempt to trap her body heat against her.
Her heartbeat was steady against me. It hummed against my skin as it followed the rise and fall of her chest. I focused on it, waiting for her body to seize again.
I had slept with her here for the past few nights, her body warm against mine. But tonight I could not sleep. I didn’t know what was going on in the prison she remained in, but her body had twitched and moved more than usual. Only an hour ago, her knee had been hurt so badly that the tendons had been ripped away from the muscle.
I repaired it dutifully as she slept, wrapping it in heavy bindings as she twitched, and I sang my song to her. I let the words fill her mind, my voice imprinting inside of her whether she was there to hear it or not.
It had been the same pattern for the past four days – heal her and sing to her. Then, after every time, I connected with her mind in an attempt to find her. I would keep trying everything I could to save her, to bring her back to me. I would wait forever if that were what it took.
Her body seized again, and her chest racked as she coughed, more blood drizzling from her mouth. I wiped it with the back of my hand and then onto my jeans. With nothing to clean her with, my pants had been stained a warm red hue, her blood deepening the color every day.
My fingers clung to the once soft fabric of her shirt, pulling it down just enough to check the skin on her shoulder, where the ?tít lay inside of her, the dark red scratches deepening in color as I watched, a small trickle of blood appearing on the surface. I replaced the shirt and held her against me, rocking as I clung her to me.
Desperation, it was a feeling I had rarely felt in my long life. I had never really been hopeless enough to feel it. I was always the one in control, powerful and resilient. I laughed at battle and found joy in an impending death. But with Joclyn’s injured body in my arms, I only felt desperation.
If I had ever believed in God, now would be the time I would call to Him, beg Him to save her, to bring her home. But I didn’t, and whoever had called my kind to come forth from the mud had always been strangely silent.
“Have you slept?” I didn’t even move at Dramin’s question. I kept my head curled against Joclyn, my hair falling around us.
“No,” I whispered loud enough for him to hear me. I knew my voice would carry through the cave. “Last night was bad.” I didn’t dare elaborate.