She swiped at the tears streaming down her cheeks and blinked the blurriness away as she ran toward the beach. A sharp stone cut through the skin of her heel, but she kept running. She hadn’t had time to get shoes since the damned dog had stolen her flip flop. She was almost there when a loud, piercing screech filled the air, sounding right above her.

  The phoenix that had been going after Draven flew over the water. In its huge claws, Draven lay limp. Blood trickled from where the bird’s talons dug deep into his sides. Cortney stumbled to her feet, a sob ripping from her throat. He had to be okay.

  Another screech and Ry was on him. His mighty wings flapped, fanning his flames so that seeing him was next to impossible. With his talons stretched out, he grasped the other phoenix at the back of the neck.

  The phoenix tried to peck at him, but Ryland was out of reach. He gave the bird a mighty jerk, and its head snapped to the side as its neck broke. Moments later, its claws loosened their grip, and Draven fell.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Cortney screamed as she ran. She was already in the water by the time he created the splash when he landed. He was at least a hundred feet out. The water was deep enough that it would cushion his fall, but even a phoenix had to breathe.

  Her lungs burned for air, and her arms ached, but she kept swimming. Flipping Draven onto his back once she reached him, her heart stuttered, and another sob tore out of her. His lips were blue. He wasn’t breathing. She had no way of knowing if his injuries were too severe to heal, but damn it, she could do CPR if she could just get his body onto the shore.

  She tried to maneuver herself into position to give him a breath, but she was still too deep. Kicking hard, she dragged him closer and closer. Her arms and legs trembled under the strain. “You can’t do this to me, Draven,” she yelled at him, her throat raw.

  A flash of blue overhead was all the warning she got. The next second, Ry had shifted and dropped into the water next to her. The splash he created sent her and Draven underwater. She spluttered as she bobbed back to the surface.

  “I’ve got him,” he told her as he took over pulling Draven through the water.

  When they reached the shore, she fell to her knees, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. “Put him down here,” she ordered between gasps.

  “Fuck,” Ry cursed as he did as she asked, before covering the largest wound with his hands applying pressure.

  The sand beneath Draven stained red with his blood. He was losing so much.

  Trista was there in seconds, starting compressions, while Cortney positioned his head and neck, opening his airway.

  “He doesn’t need CPR,” Ry said, his voice hoarse. “We need to slow the bleeding so his phoenix can heal.”

  “He does. Unless a phoenix can live with lungs full of water,” Cortney bit out. There were many things she wasn’t sure of, but this, she knew. Her training took effect, steadying her hands, and her mind for the task at hand.

  Jasmine dropped to her knees on his other side and pressed on another deep wound.

  “One, and two, and three, and four,” Trista counted out loud, not stopping until she reached thirty, pausing just long enough for Cortney to blow two breaths into Draven’s lungs.

  Ry’s eyes grew wide, and he nodded.

  After the next set of compressions, water bubbled to Draven’s lips. “We have to turn him onto his side to let the water out.” At once, Ry log rolled him, while Cortney steadied Draven’s neck.

  Lake water spilled from between his lips, but he didn’t cough. “Turn him back,” Cortney ordered. “Breaths first,” she told Trista. It went against every textbook, and all her training, but she had to try.

  She gave him two slow breaths, then sat back on her heels. “No more compressions,” she told Trista, who looked at her like she’d grown a second head and put her hands on his chest again.

  Cortney sobbed and shook her head. “No more, stop compressions,” she said, her voice wobbly. More than anything she wanted to see his chest rise and fall, but doing compressions wouldn’t help. The need to keep the heart beating, and the lungs breathing had repeatedly been drilled in her mind during her years at university, and still throughout her nursing career, but that wasn’t what Draven needed. The bleeding had to stop, and the best way to do that was to stop the heart from beating. At the instinctual level, it was so wrong, but she knew she was right. “He’ll bleed out more if we do compressions.”

  Trista gasped and immediately stopped.

  Ryland loosened his hold on his friend’s wound, and sure enough, the blood leaking from the gashes slowed to a trickle.

  “How long before we know,” Cortney asked Ryland past the fist-sized lump in her throat.

  Ry wouldn’t meet her gaze. His cheeks turned red, and he sniffled.

  “How long, Ryland?”

  “He lost a lot of blood,” he choked out.

  Cortney shook her head, and a whimper slipped past her lips. “No, he’s not dying for real. He’s a phoenix, damn it. How long until he explodes into a huge fireball and comes back to me?”

  When Ry didn’t respond, she squared her shoulders and wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Fine. I’ll wait.”

  “Cort,” Trista started, her voice thick. “He might not make it back.”

  Cortney was vaguely aware of the people surrounding them. Tears streamed down many of their faces, but she stayed where she was with his head on her lap. “He will.” She refused to believe otherwise.

  Trista knelt beside her, wrapping her arms around her. Pain tore through her, but she didn’t give in. She wouldn’t.

  Jasmine came close, speaking to her, but she didn’t hear a word. A small tremor started deep in the center of her, shaking her to her core. Her eyes blurred with fresh tears, and she brushed them away with jerky movements. Her lungs burned, and her throat ached. She swallowed hard, trying to keep herself together, but one sob broke free, then another.

  Her shoulder shook as she bent over him, pressing her wet lips to his. “You have to come back,” she whispered as she stroked his cheek. “Please, for me.”

  She pressed her trembling fingers to his cold cheek. “He needs a blanket. He’s so cold,” she said.

  Trista nodded. “Someone get him a blanket,” she called out, then tucked it all around him when it was handed to her a short while later.

  When one was draped around her shoulders, Cortney burrowed deeper beneath it and eventually lay down next to him. One by one, the people lingering around them mumbled awkward condolences and stepped away.

  She watched his chest, hoping—needing—to see it rise and fall, but it didn’t. Damn him.

  Trista cleared her throat. “I think we should go in, Cort.”

  Cortney shook her head. “I can’t, not yet.”

  “I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice breaking, “but it’s time to go inside. Ryland will bring him in. They have ceremonies they’d like to perform.”

  “I. Said. Not. Yet.” She glared at her friend. “There’s still time. Ryland said it could take hours.”

  “It has been hours, hon.” She looked at Trista, then to her surroundings, only then noticing that the sun was setting.

  She wanted to tell them all to leave her the fuck alone. She wasn’t ready to give up, but if she said that, they’d just get pushy and try to fix her. But there was nothing to fix. Draven wasn’t fucking dead. “I just need some time alone with him. Please. I’ll come in later, I promise.”

  Trista sighed but then nodded before she stood and held her hand out for Ry to take.

  “Knock on my door when you’re ready,” he told her before heading off.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Crickets filled the silence as Cortney lay there with her head on Draven’s shoulder. She could be wrong, but she thought a frog might have bumped against her leg. Every minute that passed had her heart squeezing tight, making it harder to suck a breath in, but she stayed where she was.

  When—not if—he rose, she was going to be there. And the jerk was going to be in so much shit for putting her through all that. Once he’d made it up to her, she’d tell him that she would be his mate.

  She pulled the blanket closer, fighting a losing battle against the chill that had seeped into her bones earlier that day. Her nose was like ice. Even cupping her fingers around her mouth and breathing warm air onto it did nothing to warm it. That was another thing he’d be paying for, making her freeze by herself all night when he should have been giving her his phoenix’s warmth. She closed her eyes, relieving the burning grittiness from too much crying and not enough fluids had caused. There wasn’t a chance in hell she would sleep, but it felt good to rest them.

  Someone came by to check on her, but when Cortney didn’t open her eyes, they left again without saying a word. A deep voice mumbled something a distance away, and then they were gone.

  Good. Cortney didn’t want to have to deal with sending anyone away again. She opened her eyes to a pink and orange tinted sky. She blinked, focusing her eyes.

  Leaning over Cortney kissed his blue lips, and stroked his cheek. “When are you coming back? I could use a bathroom break,” she said even though she knew no one could hear. Sitting up, she rested her hand on his chest. At least she’s stopped shivering while she’d dozed.

  She gasped and pressed her other hand to his skin. It wasn’t cold. It wasn’t all that warm, but it sure as hell wasn’t dead cold. And she knew from working at the hospital what that felt like.

  Torn between running to get Ry and staying in case Draven rose, she just sat there with hot tears streaming down her face. She tried to call out for Trista, but her words came out in a husky whisper that sounded more like a croak that a yell.

  “Come on. I’ve waited all night. It’s time for you to get back here,” she said as she ran her fingers through his hair. She took a deep breath, then another. The heat radiating from his body rose quickly, warming her fingers.

  She heard a door close a distance away, and whipped her head around. Trista walked toward her with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. The look of pity on her face morphed to one of confusion when Cortney smiled at her.

  “Where’s Ry? He has to come out.”

  “He’s coming. Are you okay?” Trista asked tentatively.

  “He’ll rise soon. Tell Ry to hurry, or else he’ll miss it,” she said as she brushed her hair out of her face. She must have looked less than sane, because Trista knelt next to her and pulled her into her arms.

  Cortney pushed back. “I’m not crazy. He’s warm. Touch him. His skin is warm.”

  Trista hesitated, but then did as she asked. Her eyes grew wide. “Holy shit.” She glanced over at her, then jumped to her feet and ran to where Ryland was already coming out his front door, but it was too late.

  Bright yellow and orange flames exploded from Draven’s body, blinding her. Her hair blew away from her face with the force of the energy rushing past. Heat swept across her skin like a lover’s caress, soft, and titillating. She couldn’t see him, but she kept her hand on his chest, grounding herself in the storm blasting around her.

  Her heart pounded, and she could hardly breathe, not in fear, but with the excitement of knowing that Draven was coming back to her.

  The brightness of his flames dissipated much slower than Kirk’s had. Maybe it was because no one tried to absorb the energy for her as he had done at the hospital, or maybe it was because Draven’s phoenix was that much more powerful, but either way, she was glad to be at the center of it.

  It wasn’t until the flames died out that his chest finally rose and fell as he gasped for air. He drew in a long breath, and his entire body stiffened.

  Cortney leaned close and pressed her lips to his. “It’s about time you came back,” she said when he finally opened his eyes.

  Ryland came running, falling to his knees next to his friend. He dropped his head into his hands and shook as silent sobs tore through him. Trista went to him, offering support even as her tears fell.

  Draven opened his mouth to speak, and tried to lift his head from the ground, but all he managed was an agonized moan.

  “Don’t talk. Everyone is okay,” Ryland said regaining his ability to speak.

  Cortney’s teeth chattered and her whole body shook. All the fear and anguish inside her released at once and left her reeling. She reached over, stroked his lip with her finger. Pink. And warm. Finally. Her vision blurred, and the lump in her throat threatened to choke her. He’d made it back.

  “Let’s get him inside,” Ry suggested once Draven was able to sit up. Another man, Cortney couldn’t even tell who, came to his side, and along with Ryland helped Draven stand. All she knew was that his blast had woken the Odyssey, and everyone was there to support him and welcome him back.

  Cortney followed, her legs shaking so much she stumbled. She still didn’t have any damned shoes on. “Lexie owes me a pair of flip-flops,” she told Trista as her friend helped her stand again.

  “You’re such a nerd,” she responded, with a watery laugh. “I’ll get you a hundred pair of flip flops if you want.”

  The men half carried, half helped Draven walk up the stairs to his room. “Where’s Cortney?” she heard him ask as they sat him on the edge of the bed.

  “I’m right here.” Placing her hands on his cheeks, she gave him a soft kiss. “And you’re a jerk for scaring me like that.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Ry clapped him on the shoulder. “We’ll leave you to rest. Cortney hasn’t slept, and I’m sure you’re exhausted. We’ll talk about what happened tomorrow.”

  Draven didn’t break eye contact with her as he nodded. “Thank you.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Draven pulled Cortney close, drawing her between his knees, and wrapped his arms around her waist. He hurt. Bad. But she was as pale as a ghost, and her teeth hadn’t stopped chattering since he’d risen again. He rested his head against her belly and hugged her tight.

  “Are you okay?”

  “No. Not even close,” Cortney said as she sniffled. “You scared me. Everyone thought you wouldn’t come back. I tried to tell them you would, but…”

  He lifted his head and looked up into her eyes. “Had you not been here waiting for me, I don’t know if I would have made it. The phoenix refused to give up.”

  She nodded and sagged against him. “Let’s get you into bed. Once you’re all healed and better, then you can start making it up to me.”

  He smiled at that. “And what exactly am I making up for?”

  Her eyes shone with moisture as she smiled back. “You scared me and shaved years off my life, for one thing. And I spent a night outside, cold, and alone. Not to mention, a frog jumped on my leg. That was definitely your fault.”

  He would have laughed if it didn’t hurt his chest so much to do so. “How am I responsible for a frog jumping on your leg?” When she pulled down the comforter and waited expectantly, he slipped under the covers.

  “It doesn’t matter. You just are.”

  He thought she would slide in next to him, but she tucked the blankets around him and straightened. “Where are you going?” The last thing he wanted was for her to go to her room to sleep. He needed her close as much as he hoped she needed him, too.

  “I’ll be right back. I need to freshen up,” she said, before heading into the bathroom. Moments later, the sound of the shower running drowned her quiet sobs—almost.

  He gave her a couple of minutes before going to her. He was so sore, but his strength was coming back, and there was no way in hell he’d let her cry by herself when he could be there comforting her.

  “You should be resting,” she said softly when he turned her and wrapped his arms around her again.

  “No, this is exactly where I should be.”

  One second she was barely leaning against him, and the next she had him hugged so tight to her that no space separated them from shoulder to knee. It was perfect. She buried her face in his neck, her tears mixing with the hot spray. When she finally stopped shaking, he took his time, washing her hair with the sweet-smelling shampoo she’d brought from home, and lathered a soft cloth and bathed every inch of her body. When he got the cloth ready for himself, she tried to take it from him, but he kept it. He would have laughed at her pout if she didn’t look so damned tired.

  By the time he had bathed himself and dried them both off, her eyelids were drooping. According to the clock on the bedside table, it was past seven-thirty in the morning. Close to eighteen hours, damn it. And by the looks of things, she’d been down on that beach with him for all that time. He shook his head.

  “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” she asked as she cupped his cheek.

  “I’m better than okay, little bird. I’ve got you, and you’re amazing. Let’s go to bed.”

  ***

  Cortney ran as hard as she could, but every time she got close, Draven drifted farther away. He didn’t turn to look at her. He just kept walking. His phoenix screeched and thrashed, trying to break free, wanting to get to her, but it couldn’t. Her heart raced, and her lungs couldn’t get enough air, but she ran on.

  A heavy weight pinned her down, and she struggled against it. She had to get to him.

  “Wake up, love.”

  She gasped for breath. “Draven,” she called out, needing him to hear her, to come to her.

  Her shoulders shook, and warm lips pressed onto hers. “I’m here. It’s okay. Wake up now.”

  Draven’s words filtered into her sleepy mind, jerking her awake. The second her eyes popped open, his mouth came down on hers, stealing her fear, and replacing it with the sweetness of his kiss.

  “You were having a nightmare again.”

  She nodded. “I like the way you wake me from a bad dream,” she admitted as she let her hand wander down his back to his ass.

  He drew in a quick breath when she reached it and gave it a good squeeze. “You should sleep more, little bird,” he said even as he ground himself against her.