Dragonfury 01 - Fury of Fire by authors_sort Page B

could handle.
    “Take a deep breath.” He glanced over his shoulder, his gaze locking onto hers over the wide expanse of black leather. “In through your nose, out through your mouth. We’ll pass through quick, but…”
    “But?”
    “It won’t be pleasant for you.”
    Terrific. Just what she needed…more pain. “Bastian, why don’t we just go another way? I don’t think I can—”
    He squeezed her hand. “You can take it.”
    Without giving her a chance to protest, he tightened his grip on her and tugged. She sucked in a quick breath, holding on tight as he drew her toward the wall. Rippling like water, the stone hissed, humming like an electrical station…reminding her of chain-link fences and big signs that read “High Voltage. Keep Out.”
    Bastian gave her another squeeze. She muttered a curse as the first wave of static electricity hit. The current arced, raising the hair on her forearms, attacking her spine as it went head to head with her central nervous system. As the spasm hit, muscles tightened over her bones. Gasping, she clung to Bastian, double fisting his hand, stumbling behind him, hopping back on the name-calling train—big jerk, bonehead, Neanderthal dragon-man all took a turn on her mental wheel. God, she sucked at this…needed a whole lot of practice in the insult arena. Maybe an urban dictionary—the one rappers used—would help with that shortcoming. Maybe—
    An electro-pulse zapped the air out of her lungs. A howling burst of frigid wind followed, tearing at her already mangled braid. As the tendrils flew around her head, the terrible prickling sensation showed no mercy. Her muscles cramped, shooting pain from the soles of her feet, up her spine, to the back of her head.
    Holy crap. This was…so not…normal.
    She choked on empty lungs. Her vision shorted out, going dark and then light, flickering like a schizophrenic lightbulb. She blinked fast, then gave up and squeezed her eyes shut, forcing one foot in front of the other.
    Dear God, when would the nastiness end?
    The smell of stagnant water in the cave faded. Something pungent and clean stepped into the void. Heavy on the antiseptic, the scent reminded Myst of the hospital…of pine floor cleaner and surgical soap.
    “All right?”
    She shook her head as Bastian slid his arm around her. Leaning into his heat, she settled her cheek against his shoulder, feeling sick to her stomach and blank in the head. Breathe. In. Out. In. Out. She followed the pattern, curling her hands in Bastian’s coat, unlocking her lungs one gasp at a time. Little by little, the pinwheeling stopped and the kaleidoscoping color faded into dark spots.
    “Bastian?” His name came out on a weak exhalation, raspy and unhinged.
    “Yeah.”
    “I can’t see.”
    “Give it a minute.” His voice came soft, and his breath warm against her ear. “The doorway is a little intense if you’re not used to it. Keep your eyes closed. Concentrate on breathing instead of seeing. It’ll come.”
    “Is he all right?” she asked, tasting the bile poised at the back of her throat.
    “Came through like a champ.”
    Relief rolled through her as she listened to his voice and took his direction…even though she wanted to punch him instead. Just breathe . What kind of advice was that anyway? The stupid kind, and nowhere near sufficient for what she’d just stepped through. Score another point on the jerk-o-meter for Bastian. He was already up to two million, and the number just kept climbing. Especially when he was playing the whole savior angle… playing being the operative word.
    “You know, the whole nice routine?” Pressed up against him, her voice came out muffled, but at least she sounded better, more steady, less shaken. Thank God. “You might as well drop it. I’m not going to forgive you for kidnapping me…ever.”
    “Forever is a long time, bellmia .”
    “Jerk.”
    He chuckled. “Probably.”
    “Undeniably,” she countered, pushing against his