Page 12 of Dragon King’s Bullied Mate

Her phone clattered on a hard surface.

“Lyra?” Beckett’s voice was hesitant and threaded with worry.

“I’m here,” she said immediately, “it’s alright.”

It wasn’t, and Mikael knew that without understanding why.

“That didn’t sound like it. You’re angry.”

“It is,” she insisted, softer now but the tension remained beneath her words like a wire pulled too tight. “I promise.”

“But Lyra, I don’t want to…” Beckett’s voice trailed off and a quiet sob echoed around the room.

His dragon tried to roar at the frustration of not being able to help her, and it made his fingers twitch. In an instant, Lyra was by his side.

“Do that again, Mikael. Make your fingers move.”

Her hand grabbed his in that steady warmth that seemed to exist only in her. His body reacted before he could think. His hand moved, driven by something deeper than conscious intent, and then suddenly he had her.

His fingers closed around her wrist with a force that did not belong to a man half-broken and barely conscious. His grip tightened instinctively as though anchoring himself to the only solid thing in a world that refused to stay still.

Lyra stilled.

He felt it immediately from the sharp intake of her breath to the subtle tension that ran through her arm at the unexpected contact. For a fleeting second, clarity surged just enough for him to feel the connection between them.

“Easy,” her voice came with a hint of surprise in it. She didn’t pull away immediately or fight the hold, but he felt her hesitation. “You’re not awake.”

The words were half-heard, half-felt, and Mikael’s grip loosened. His strength faded as quickly as it had come, and his hand fell back against his side.

“…Ly—”

The rest dissolved before the sound could form. Exhaustion pulled him back toward the abyss. Darkness pressed in again, though not as deeply as before.

Not completely.

Fragments rose in its wake. The sharp bite of snow against his skin. Voices, other men, indistinct but present on the mountain.

And again, the snow cat.

The image came and went in a flash, leaving behind more questions than answers.

Why had no one come?

The thought surfaced sluggishly, weighed down by the fog that still clung to him. If he had been with others, wherever there was, where were they now?

He had no concept of time, but he knew it had been at least a couple of days. Why had no one looked for him?

And as the darkness closed in once more, the last thing Mikael felt was the echo of that fear lingering in the air and the unyielding instinct to protect it, no matter the cost.

Chapter 6

Lyra

The storm finally passed sometime before dawn, leaving the outdoors white and freezing. The fresh snow glittered under the pale sunlight as Lyra went out to the woodshed to refill the racks inside by the fireplace.

Normally she enjoyed the calm after a blizzard, but today it meant that she lost her excuse for not trying to find Mikael help. Anyone who knew her story would accuse her of doing it intentionally to punish him, which she supposed was feasible but was also furthest from the truth. Mikael was in no shape to remember her, especially considering he hadn’t so much as opened his eyes.

After she filled the wood and cleaned up the melted snow, Lyra listened to the hiss of the kettle die down as she stood with a mug untouched in her hands while the small television on the shelf muttered out news she had not meant to listen to but could no longer ignore.