Every muscle in Nero’s body jerked taut, and the white lightning shooting through his head engulfed his whole body. Time stuttered. People around him yelled, fought, ran closer, but he was frozen, locked tight, only his thoughts whirling as if making up for the rest of his enforced stillness.

Werner shoved a guard into another one, making a hole in the chaos for Becca to slip through. She bolted, but the guard who’d been shoved lurched forward and grabbed her arm.

Darkness billowed across Nero’s senses, but he didn’t know if it came from within him or her.

She staggered.

Her. The weakness was hers.

She slashed at the guard’s wrist with her knife, but he wrenched her off balance and the cut went wide.

Every muscle in Nero’s body went slack and pain returned to just screaming through his chest and head. Time lurched back to normal. His knees buckled, and he yanked his wind around him before he could fall.

Becca slashed again at the guard holding her wrist, but her attacks were weak and growing weaker. The adrenaline that had burned through the haze was waning, and she was going to collapse. Her weight crushed within him and her thoughts narrowed to one focused word: freedom.

The man who’d shot Nero with the Taser rushed toward him. Nero knocked him back with a blast of wind and staggered toward Becca.

The extra men from behind were almost on them, and he had no idea if he had the force of will right now to cut deep enough with his wind to stop them. Three of the original five were on the ground, and he couldn’t tell if Werner had killed them or not — or even what type of magic the human mage had used to subdue them — but that still left five remaining, and the two more who were fast approaching.

“There are too many,” Nero said. “We have to get out of here.”

Werner’s gaze snapped to him. “We’re not doing anything.” He jerked his attention back to the fight and rammed an elbow into the gut of the closest guard.

The man grunted but didn’t go down, and another guard raised his Taser and aimed at Werner.

Nero shot wind into Taser Guy, slamming him over the picnic tables and snow bank and into the high rise wall on the other side of the patio.

“You can argue semantics after we’ve escaped.” And once they were out of the gatelock. Hopefully, Werner couldn’t summon a gate, and Nero could at least control where they went. Whether Werner was another product of Zenobia’s coup or not, it didn’t matter. He was a mage, which meant Nero was going to have to deal with him. Hopefully dealing would mean staying sane and joining the puzur.

The guard on Becca grabbed for her other wrist. With her weakened muscles, if he captured both her hands, she’d be lost. She heaved to the side, her foot hit ice, and she slipped. Her will snapped tight around Nero’s essence and shot another blast of agony through his skull.

With a gasp, Nero whipped a thread of wind against the guy’s hand, making him release Becca, then drew more wind to shove the guy back, but the muscles in Nero’s chest clenched. Becca groaned. Her eyes rolled back and the tremor snapped taut, lancing through Nero’s body. She was going down and taking him with her.

The guard who’d had her before lunged in, reaching for her knife.

Nero’s wind stuttered. Darkness rushed around his vision, razor sharp, with every muscle contracted. He couldn’t help her, and while one of the men on Werner had dropped unconscious to the ground, the other had scrambled out of reach and drawn his Taser. They weren’t going to get to her in time.

Fight, Nero barked, half to Becca and half to himself, to break through the convulsion.

Becca’s eyes flew open. “Get out of my head.” She slashed her knife at the guard’s hands. He dodged the attack but stepped in close enough to grab her.

Fighting wasn’t working. Their only option was to run.

Nero shot another blast at the man on Becca. It lurched halfway to the target, threatening to vanish. He ground his teeth, forcing more of his will behind his magic, and it gained enough strength to shove the man out of reach.

Becca leaned against the wall, the knife still held ready but the rest of her body sagging with exhaustion. Her lids dipped as if she was about to lose consciousness, and the weight within Nero swelled.

“I said fight.” Nero slammed wind into the next closest guy, tossing him over the picnic tables and crashing into the wall of the opposite high rise with a sickening crunch. He forced a third gust at the two on Werner — his power stuttering out halfway and only managing to shove them back a few feet — and reached for Becca. With a lasso of wind, he captured her knife hand, steadying it long enough to hold it in place while he snaked his other hand across the back of her waist, pulled her against his side, and took her weight.

“Let go.” She wrenched against his grip but didn’t have the strength to break free.

“Not going to happen.”

“She said let go.” Werner jerked toward them, but one of the guards dove at him. He stepped into the attack, letting the man grab his arm, and slapped his palm against the guard’s cheek. The guard screamed and thrashed against Werner’s grip.

Another man fired his Taser at Werner. Nero swept a gust of wind and knocked the barbs off target. “I’m not your enemy.”

“You’re not my friend,” Werner growled.

“I won’t go back.” Becca wrenched harder, her rage and fear giving her power.

“You’re not going back.” He had no idea where back was, but he had the distinct impression it wasn’t the facility she’d just escaped from.

That’s a lie. You’re one of them. You’re the devil’s master, you’re—

Another blast of pain shot through him and her exhaustion weighed down his muscles.

Shit. He couldn’t fight all of them. He had to get out of there, with Becca, and—

And what?

Mother, he had no idea. He couldn’t think straight, and he’d never not been able to think straight.

He tightened his grip on her and bolted down the walkway. Becca twisted in his grip, the pain from her ribs and cracked collarbone screaming through him. They reached a narrow street with vehicles parked on one side, leaving enough space for a single one-way lane. The sizzling magic of the gatelock flickered, indicating he was drawing close to the edge.

“Let go,” Becca hissed, her tone dark. The tendons in her knife hand and up her forearm flexed with the effort to rip free from his grip. She wasn’t going to go with him, and she wasn’t going to abandon Werner.

Another guard screamed and dropped while two more lunged for Werner. Nero shot a blast of wind down the walkway and shoved one of the men on Werner into two others. If Werner could escape, Nero could go after him later without having to deal with a dragon-controlled facility. Once he’d dealt with Becca, of course.

One more gust, and Werner could run.

Nero shot another blast, but a snap of agony exploded through him and his power faltered. The wind capturing Becca’s knife arm vanished, and she wrenched free.

“You’re not taking me back.” She lunged at him faster than he would have thought possible, given her injuries and exhaustion.

He leapt back, his foot hitting the icy curb, and stumbled into the road to catch his balance. The sizzle of the gatelock vanished as if he’d stepped from one room to the next. Becca glared at him, her eyes wild and hard with determination and her breath misting around her head as if she really were a red drake from before the Great Scourge. She was mesmerizing, everything about her capturing him, breath, body, and soul.

His thoughts stuttered. He’d been there before. Had experienced this moment before… not this moment but this… sensation?

Another man screamed. Nero’s gaze jumped past Becca’s shoulder to Werner. Bodies littered the ground around him. Whatever his earth magic was, it was powerful. He’d incapacitated half a dozen men within a handful of minutes.

Shit. Yes, ideally Werner needed to escape as well, but there was no way Nero would be able to deal with both him and Becca at the same time. Not without help. And there was no way in hell he was letting anyone, not even Raven, see how Becca affected him.

“This is my nightmare, my brain. I control you.” She lunged at him.

He heaved to the side and whipped a lasso of wind around her knife arm. She kicked at his knee, but he yanked his wind and jerked her to him, her back to his chest. With a hiss, he summoned a gate under their feet — please, Mother, let it take them to the safe house — and shot a final gust of wind at the three remaining men on Werner.

Becca wrenched against the wind holding her, and the black nothingness of the gate enveloped them as the three guards on Werner were shoved five feet back. Werner glared and yelled at him, then bolted toward them as the world turned black.

Heavy, consuming darkness pressed against Nero’s senses. Up and down vanished, the weight emanating from Becca dragged at Nero’s muscles. Then his foot hit solid floor and the gate released them into the front room of what used to be a convenience store, on the main floor of a converted house, and now was his secondary safe house.

Thank the Mother his gate had taken them where he’d intended and had positioned him a few feet from the side wall, with him between her and the way out. Everything would have become more complicated if he’d gated them to Raven and the new intake.

Becca gasped, and a flash of pain cut into him. His wind vanished and she ripped free of his grip.

“I’m done being a prisoner.” She lurched away from him, stepping into a beam of streetlight cutting through a crack in the boarded-up windows, away from the door. Her dark eyes were too wide, her heart-shaped face too pale, and her black hair was matted and hung at uneven lengths, adding to her feral look. It hurt looking at her. No one deserved to have suffered like that.

“You’re not a prisoner.” But she was probably crazy, which meant—

“And I’m not crazy. This is a nightmare. It isn’t real.” Her gaze jumped over his shoulder to the door, and her eyes narrowed. “You’re not real.”

“I am real.” Was there even any point? He’d thought trying to convince her of the truth was the right answer. Everything… almost everything said working with her was the best option, but he could feel her confusion whirling with the exhaustion and knew it was only a matter of days, if not hours — if not already — before the soul sickness consumed her mind. The greatest kindness he could offer her was a quick death. And now his chest hurt even more.

She widened her stance, ready to fight. “I won’t make it easy on you.”

“Nothing about this is easy.” Mother, this was why he’d created the puzur. She was innocent. She hadn’t deserved what Zenobia had done to her. None of the mages the Asar Nergal had been forced to kill in the last couple of weeks had deserved that fate. But if he let her live, the sickness would consume her soul, and her magic could endanger others and would certainly endanger his puzur.

“I’m only a danger to the monsters in this nightmare.”

“But this isn’t a nightmare.” Why was he even trying? What was wrong with him? She’d had a dragon’s soul inside her and couldn’t accept it was real. She’d seen his wind and felt the woolly darkness of a gate. If that didn’t prove the truth, then just telling her it was real wouldn’t change anything.

“You honestly expect me to believe those monsters, those… dragons—” The hand holding the knife trembled and her will clenched tighter around his essence, slicing agony through his head. “It wasn’t real.”

“It was.” And he was so sorry it had happened.

“You can’t be sorry. You’re one of them—” This isn’t real. It can’t be real.

Her trembling increased, physically and mentally. Her thoughts were shards, disjointed, fracturing and refracturing, cutting into both of them.

“I’m Becca Scott! I am Becca.”

“You are.” If only he could fix this. Mother, he wanted to fix this. But what had been done to her couldn’t be undone, and if he let this go on any longer, she was going to take him and everyone he cared about down with her. He was stronger than this. He was the dugga, doyen of the Major Black Coterie, and an ancient drake. He’d do what needed to be done. He always had.

“Get out of my head!” She lunged at him, her essence surging stronger through him, a whirlwind of broken glass.

He jerked to the side, caught her wrist with a wind rope, and wrenched the knife from her hand. With a roar, he swept the blade toward her heart, and an inferno exploded in his chest. His muscles froze, clenched in place, the knife a hair’s breadth from the front of her hospital gown, and every cell in his body screamed to protect her.

Protect.

The fire in his chest grew, searing over his limbs and into his skull.

Protect her. With everything. To his last breath.

Mother, no.

It wasn’t possible. He’d felt this before, welcomed the elation, the resolve, and the surety of soul. And he’d been crushed by it two thousand years ago. But that time before hadn’t felt as if every nerve had been touched with acid, or as if this resolve was encased in iron and unbreakable. It had been hot, sultry, and quietly certain. He’d known the truth in the core of his being. It had been strong and solid, but this… this was as if an unrealized missing connection had suddenly been completed, and all the world’s electricity was raging through him, wild and out of control.

Except there was only ever one. That was the way it worked.

Only one.

He’d already found her, and his inamorata was already dead.

Becca scrambled back. “I said get out.”

The exhausted weight emanating from her surged, and the fire in his body froze into agony. The muscles in his chest and left arm seized and the tremor swept through him, beginning a convulsion.

“Get. Out!” Desperation filled her expression, her body taut and trembling. The impending convulsion threatened to consume her, as well.

Nero’s knees buckled, and he couldn’t focus long enough to summon even a hint of wind to hold himself up or break his fall.

Inamorated. He was inamorated again. To a human.

A soul-sick human.

She punched at his head, her will squeezing both of their essences tight. He raised a hand to block her strike, but his thoughts muddled between brain and body. Her fist slammed into his cheek. Something cracked. The room twisted and the threatening darkness rushed around him.

His other cheek hit the floor before he knew he was falling. Becca grabbed the knife from his hand and bolted to the door.

“Wait—” His vision blurred and darkened. He was going to pass out. He had to stop her, had to protect her, had to—

Mother. Inamorated again. It wasn’t possible.