Becca collapsed in Grey’s arms and Nero went lax in Raven’s. Diablo wrenched himself away from them to the far side of the kitchenette, his beast roaring and clawing at his insides. He needed to scream, fight someone, break something, anything to ease the raging emotions. For a second, when Becca and Nero had first appeared, there’d been a frozen moment of nothing, then a massive wave had exploded through him carrying her panic and desperation and pain. So much pain. It had only gotten worse when Nero had regained consciousness. More agony and heart-rending terror.

“Okay,” Raven said, her voice breathy.

Diablo ground his teeth. Her and Grey’s fear remained the only emotions in the room — and, thank the Mother, at a fraction of the force of Nero’s and his human’s — but it still set his beast on edge.

“Okay.” She tossed the sterile wipe to the floor beside her, grabbed a towel, and dabbed at Nero’s back. “Okay.”

Her fear didn’t diminish.

“Okay.

Mother of All. “Stop saying okay,” Diablo snapped.

“She’s just trying to get her bearings.” Grey adjusted his grip on Becca and hooked his forearm under her legs, holding her cradled against his chest. “It’s all just a little shocking.”

“You God damn think? The dugga of the Asar Nergal is fucking inamorated with a human mage.” And your fear is making me want to punch someone. He glared at Grey. “How long will he be hurt?”

“I have no idea,” Grey said. “I only read about it in one of the Handmaiden’s books. She’d been wondering if, in our new human state, being inamorated was even possible.”

“Fucking wonderful.” The longer Nero was out of commission, the greater the chance the problems at Court would make an appearance. That’s what they’d been doing down there in the first place. Raven had needed to stay near the new intake, who had yet to regain consciousness even long enough to give her his name, and he and Grey had joined her to figure out what the hell to do about everything.

“At least we can still soul bond.” Raven rolled Nero onto his back, the towel still in place behind him, and checked the hole in his chest.

“That’s not a good thing,” Diablo growled. It was a fucking mental illness and everyone around him was falling victim.

“It is what it is,” Grey said.

Diablo’s beast snarled. “It is what it is?” He jerked toward Grey, but managed to wrench himself into stillness instead of crossing the remaining feet to the silver drake. “She’s soul sick. She’s one of Zenobia’s broken toys, and she’s going to destroy this puzur.”

“You don’t know that.” Raven glared at him.

“You’re willing to bet Mia and Jeff and Tyler and all the others’ lives on that?” Was she willing to bet her own life on that, because he sure as hell wasn’t.

“He’s inamorated. He doesn’t have a choice.” Grey’s expression turned fierce, and his love for his inamorata flooded Diablo. Grey would do anything, including sacrifice himself, to protect his soul mate. The emotion defied logic. It really was a mental illness.

“We need a plan,” Diablo said. A way out. Mother, a way to save Nero when his human succumbed fully to the soul sickness.

“I agree,” Grey said. “First, let’s get these two in a bed. Is there anything big enough down here for two?”

“Because they’re in luuuuv?” Diablo’s beast shuddered.

The muscles in Grey’s jaw twitched, but his emotions softened toward Diablo — not the response the beast wanted.

How the hell was he going to get a fight if he couldn’t rile anyone up?

Not fucking now, he hissed at himself. Just hold your shit together long enough to figure out how to deal with Nero being inamorated.

“They should be together so it’s easier for Nero’s soul magic to deal with taking on her injury. If either one of them was conscious, I’d suggest getting him into a bath.”

“Running water is better for water drakes,” Raven said.

“I’m sure Nero has a tub with jets,” Grey said. “But again. Both unconscious. It’ll be easier to just put them in a bed while we figure out what we’re going to do about this… development.”

“And by development, you mean fucking insanity,” Diablo said.

“For the love of—” Raven sat back on her heels. “Pick up Nero and gate him to the room with the queen bed. I want him down here so I can keep an eye on everyone.”

“Fine. Whatever.” Diablo picked Nero up, making sure to also hold the towel against his doyen’s back, and gated to the room at the end of the hall. It had a queen bed because sixty years before, they’d rescued twins with a linked earth magic and there had been separation issues when their earth magic had first awakened.

He set Nero on the bed and forced himself to the far side of the room before he could grab the black drake and shake him. What was he thinking, letting himself get inamorated? It put everyone at risk. Except Becca knew that. She probably knew a whole lot of things, including all of Nero’s secrets. As a telepath and with the bond of being inamorated, she was probably in Nero’s head. No, she was stuck in his head.

That had been clear from the emotions pouring from her. She’d been terrified she couldn’t control her magic. She’d been terrified of magic. But nothing had been more terrifying than realizing Nero was willing to sacrifice himself and everything he held dear for her. And with all that fear, Diablo couldn’t tell if Becca was inamorated back. That would just suck, since Nero’s emotions had been clear. His soul had chosen her. But he’d also been confused, as if there’d been something wrong about being inamorated with Becca.

Yeah, well, there was everything wrong with being inamorated with the human. Especially if the human wasn’t inamorated back. Even worse if that human went crazy.

Grey strode through the doorway and laid Becca on the bed beside Nero. Raven followed with the towels and the first aid kit.

“At least her aura is strong,” Grey said, setting Becca’s hand on Nero’s.

A wave of calm from Nero washed through Diablo, as if just that simple contact was enough to ease some of the turmoil.

“Strong aura means strong magic.” Diablo shifted, uncomfortable with Nero’s comfort. “She’s not a natural. That means it’ll be harder for her to accept reality.”

“Strong aura might also mean that even dragons with the ability to see the difference between humans and drakes might not be able to tell she’s human,” Grey said.

Raven set the extra towels on the bed beside Nero and put the first aid kit on the bedside table. “I didn’t know you could see the difference.”

“I can’t.” Grey tapped his temple. “Read that in one of the Handmaiden’s books, as well.”

“Was there anything in those books about how to uninamorate a dragon?” That would solve all their problems.

Raven glared at Diablo. “You’d really take this away from him?”

“To save him and all of us when she loses it? Hell, yes.”

Grey’s expression darkened, and a wave of danger and sadness billowed from him. “You don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

“I understand that if any dragon sees Nero with that woman and realizes she’s human, he’s dead. Regis won’t care about saving his soul. He’ll send whoever his assassin of the week is and kill him.”

“I doubt Nero will be taking her to Court.” Raven checked the wound on Nero’s chest, and her emotions turned to relief. Guess the wound was finally sealing shut. It wouldn’t be long before the internal injuries were taken care of and his soul magic had burned through the sedative keeping him unconscious. Which only brought them back to their original problem.

“Dragons don’t just live at Court,” Diablo said. “Is he going to take her to his home in Rome? Sure, a third of our coterie knows about the puzur, but another third thinks he’s a Traditionalist and has given Regis his full support.”

“If Regis gets his way, there’ll be very few dragons living in the human world,” Grey said.

“That’s a whole other problem, and we aren’t going to figure anything out right now.” Raven squared her shoulders. Now that Nero was out of immediate danger, her relief was being overwhelmed with exhaustion. She’d been helping Anaea with her out-of-control magic for almost two weeks now, which had to be stressful enough, but yesterday she’d had an all-day vigil with the new intake who, for some reason, wasn’t waking up. And now she had one of Zenobia’s victims to save because their doyen was inamorated with her. And there wasn’t a damned thing Diablo could do to fix any of that.

His beast growled and churned.

And no, killing Becca wouldn’t really solve anything, as much as that seemed like the easiest answer.

Mother, he really needed to hit something.