The Warrior King (Inferno Rising #3) - Abigail Owen Page 0,117

his bucking form to the floor. Gold dragons were strong, and Brock, with all he’d lost, was motivated by bloodlust. Maul appeared again, taking a hunk out of his leg before popping away.

In a bucking move, before the hound could rematerialize, Brock tossed Samael from his back. With his hearing out of whack, Samael didn’t know he needed to twist away from the stalactite hanging from the ceiling near the closed passage to the rest of the mountain. He rammed into it, full force, headfirst, and dropped to the ground, stunned.

“Get up.” A voice sounded in his head. Only he wasn’t sure if he was hearing Gorgon, or Meira, or his own voice.

“Samael!”

Meira. That was his mate’s sweet voice laced with terror. For him.

Where was she?

Only he couldn’t think of that now. Instinct spun him to find Brock bearing down on him, mouth wide, ready to snap his neck or rip out his jugular.

Samael, back to the wall, didn’t have time to do more than duck, offering his spiked back as a less palatable option. Teeth and claws sank into the side of the spikes, rending scales and flesh from bone. In a small recess of his mind, the sound of Maul’s crazed snarls told him the hellhound was helping him, but the gold dragon was relentless, and Samael was pinned.

Every second, every lance of pain, and all he could think was that if he died, he’d kill Meira, too. The need to protect his mate surged, firing his muscles and his own rage. Samael thrashed and squirmed until he finally managed to slam the gold dragon against the wall.

The maneuver only stunned the other dragon. Long enough for Samael to get out from under him, but not far enough away. Brock whipped around, his barbed tail a weapon coming straight for Samael’s head with a momentum that made it a deadly weapon.

“No!” Gorgon’s yell resonated inside his head, penetrated everything else happening around him.

The dark-gray form of his king lunged in front of Samael, taking the blow to the head.

In slow motion, scrambling to stop Gorgon, Samael watched as one long spike penetrated, slipping in and out of the king’s skull like an assassin’s insidious blade, with amazing precision, striking one of the few weak points, the small hole that made a dragon’s ear. Gorgon fell to the ground, his face turned to Samael already slack, eyes going blank in an instant. Dead likely before he knew what hit him.

…

Everything had gone black and soundless, pressure and stillness consuming her flesh, encasing her in the very rock of the mountain.

“Let me go. Please let me go.” Meira’s mouth moved, but no sound had escaped. How her mouth had formed words inside this rock, as she was part of the rock, captured by it, she had no idea.

But she’d known exactly who held her there. The gargoyles.

What little oxygen had been in her lungs was gone, and though sightless, she could feel herself losing consciousness, like falling. She wanted to struggle, to thrash through the rock holding her, only she couldn’t move.

Then suddenly, the impenetrable hardness holding her opened around her, the sound of stone grinding on stone painful in her ears, until she emerged in her room in the gargoyle mountain, feet encased in rock. Carrick stood in full gargoyle form, grotesque face and body carved from solid stone, wings flared wide as though he might wrap them around her any second.

In the same instant, a lancing burn at the back of her neck had her clawing at the skin there for a second before realization struck.

Our mating bond.

Sam. Oh gods. Had he seen her be swallowed by stone? Did he feel her dread for his life? Whatever had changed for him, it had sealed their connection. Forever. Only death would part them.

Meira lit her fire, relief pouring through her that she could reach it again, that off switch no longer a problem. Only she couldn’t reach her mirror.

“Send me back,” she begged and demanded at the same time.

With that same grinding noise, Carrick pulled his lips back, baring his teeth. “No.”

The old Meira would’ve stepped back, but her mate was out there, fighting for his life and the lives of every single one of their people.

Meira reached for calm, reached for that place that Samael had shown her, then laid a hand on Carrick’s arm. “You have to, my friend. This is my fight.”

“I swore an oath to protect Serefina’s daughter.” His carved stone eyes had shifted to