Jaxon shoves me into Flint—for protection, I think—and then moves to intercept the guard, but Mekhi is on the other side of the group, and the split second he took to shove me into Flint cost him. Worse, it costs Mekhi, as Jaxon is half a second too late as the guard sinks his werewolf teeth straight into Mekhi’s throat, going for the jugular.
97
Another One
Bites the Dust
Macy screams as Jaxon rips the wolf off Mekhi’s throat, and for one second, two, time seems to stand still. And then all hell breaks loose.
Mekhi drops to his knees, clutching his throat, as blood pours onto the ground around him.
I’m desperate to reach him, but every time I try, Flint wraps his tail around me—my own personal dragon armor—and holds me tight even as he shoots fire straight at the contingent of guards rushing toward him.
But I’m not weak, human Grace anymore, and while he is busy par-broiling one of the werewolves, I grab hold of my platinum string as tightly as I can.
“Get to Mekhi,” Hudson urges. He appears behind me as the shift comes over me. “We can still save him, but it has to be now.”
I don’t question him—not about this and not when time is so precious. Instead, I shoot straight up in the air to disentangle myself from Flint’s tail.
He’s either too busy to notice or he trusts gargoyle Grace in a way he doesn’t trust my human form. Either way, he doesn’t come after me as I fly straight up, high above the melee.
Blood and destruction are everywhere—broken branches litter the ground, several trees are either uprooted or on fire, and people and animals are locked in hand-to-hand combat or lying dazed and injured on the ground.
A quick scan of the area shows that Mekhi is the only one of my group who is injured, thankfully. I race to him, dropping into a crouch beside him and shielding him with my wings as the fighting continues to go on around us.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Jaxon trying to get to us, but guard after guard is grabbing on to him, fighting him, trying to tear him apart. They aren’t having much luck—my mate is way too powerful for that—but they’re slowing him down, and every second they cost him could cost Mekhi his life.
“No, it won’t,” Hudson tells me. “We’ve got this.”
“How?” I ask even as I press a hand to Mekhi’s throat in a vain effort to stop the bleeding. I’m willing to do whatever he wants but unsure of what we can do. Mekhi’s already lost so much blood. I know he’s not human, but I can’t believe he’s got much time left.
“Break off a piece of your stone,” Hudson tells me.
“A piece of my stone?” I repeat, glancing down at myself and the thick, heavy pieces of stone that make up my entire body now. “How do I do that?”
Mekhi gasps and clutches at me, his hand wrapping around my arm and squeezing hard. At first I think he’s trying to break the stone off me, but then I realize he’s shaking his head, mouthing no, no, no as he grows more and more sickly looking.
“I have to, Mekhi,” I tell him. “You’ll die if I don’t.”
He shakes his head again, continues mouthing no to me, even as he runs out of air and starts to be strangled by his own blood.
“I don’t understand,” I tell Hudson, close to tears as I try to find a balance between what Mekhi wants and what I know is the right thing.
“It’s because you’re Jaxon’s mate,” Hudson says grimly. “He knows you’re going to be queen one day and, close friends or not, he can’t allow you to sacrifice a piece of yourself for him. It’s an etiquette thing, ancient rules that don’t matter until we get to a situation like this.”
“Fuck ancient rules,” I spit as I reach up and break off a piece of my horn. God knows I hate the damn things anyway.
Mekhi’s eyes widen, but I lean down and whisper, “I won’t tell if you don’t. Now, shut up and let me do what I can before it’s too late.” I turn to Hudson. “Tell me what to do. Please.”
“Cup the stone between your hands,” he tells me, “and let me do the rest.”
I don’t know what he means, but now isn’t the time to argue, so I do as he says. Seconds later, I feel a strange heat running down my arms and through my fingers.
A few seconds after that, Hudson says, “Okay, that’s enough.”
I lift my hand to find a fine stone powder cupped in my other palm. I want to ask how he did it—because I know, deep inside, that this was Hudson and not me—but there’s no time. “What now?” I beg.