Chapter 16

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

G rabon's wings folded against his back as he landed in the blood-soaked courtyard. The acrid smell of smoke and the metallic tang of blood filled his nostrils, but he paid it no mind. He quickly scanned the chaotic scene, searching for one person amidst the sea of celebrating Elvar.

Vera.

The lingering adrenaline from the fight still hummed through his veins as he strode through the crows, searching for her.

"Vera!" he called out, his deep voice carrying over the din.

No response.

His pace quickened, his gaze darting from face to face. He reached the spot where he had last seen her during the battle, expecting to find her brilliant red hair and fierce brown eyes. But the area was empty, save for discarded weapons and fallen bodies.

A cold dread settled in the pit of his stomach. His chest tightened, making it difficult to breathe. Where was she?

"Have you seen Vera?" he asked a nearby Elvar warrior, his voice gruff with worry.

The Elvar shook his head, confusion etched on his delicate features. "I'm sorry, I haven't."

Grabon's heart sank further. He turned to another group of Elvar, his movements becoming more frantic. "Vera? The human woman with red hair? Has anyone seen her?"

More shaking heads. More concerned looks.

The fear that had been gnawing at him now threatened to consume him entirely. His hands clenched into fists, his nails digging into his palms. He had to find her. He couldn't lose her, not now, not after everything they had been through.

He spotted a familiar figure and hurried towards her.

"Maeve, where is Vera?" he demanded. "I can't find her."

A terrible thought struck him and he gave her a horrified look.

"Please don't tell me she's hiding from me."

Maeve frowned, shaking her head.

"Not at all. In fact she went off in search of you."

"Then where is she?"

"I don't know. The last time I saw her, she was going down those stairs."

Maeve pointed at a guard tower at one end of the battlements. He called back a thank you, already racing for the stairs. What if she'd fallen? Injured herself?

The thought haunted him and he breathed a sigh of relief when he reached the tower and found it completely empty. Except, where was she? He was about to return to the courtyard when he caught the faintest trace of her sweet scent - a scent tainted by the acrid tang of fear.

His heart clenched as the horrifying realization dawned on him. She'd been taken. He looked around frantically, searching for any clue, any trace of her whereabouts. A few feet away, he spotted signs of a struggle - scuff marks in the dirt and a torn piece of fabric that carried her scent.

His fists clenched again. She'd been taken and she was in danger. A cold fury welled up inside him, washing away the fear and the uncertainty. He would find her and he would bring her back. He wouldn't let her down. He couldn't. With a low growl, he began following the trail, his keen senses picking up on subtle clues that others might have missed.

Frustrated with the slow pace, he launched himself into the air. His powerful wings beating against the sky as he extended his senses, searching for any trace of her. His people were arial hunters - he'd grown up using those skills - but it had been many years since he'd needed them so desperately.

He took in a deep breath, testing the air for her scent as he scanned the ground below for any sign of her, his sharp eyes picking up every detail. His love for her fueled his every move. He had failed to protect her once; he wouldn't fail again.

The idea of her in danger, scared and alone, tore at his very soul. He pushed himself harder, faster, ignoring the burn in his muscles and the strain on his wings.

"Hold on, Vera," he muttered through gritted teeth. "I'm coming for you."

His wings carried him swiftly above the dense jungle canopy, as the trail led him deeper into the wilderness - or what he hoped was the trail. The signs he was following were so faint that it would be easy to miss one.

A break in the foliage suddenly revealed a tiny clearing. His heart skipped a beat as he spotted a small flyer, its engines humming in preparation for takeoff. Two figures struggled near the boarding ramp - one was unmistakably Vera, her bright hair catching the light. Her hands were bound but she was still fighting. Then the slaver shoved her roughly towards the ship, and fury ignited in Grabon's veins.

He tucked his wings and plummeted towards the clearing. Turning at the last moment, his feet hit the ground with a loud thud. The slaver, caught off guard by his sudden appearance, barely had time to react before Grabon lunged for him. The male stumbled backwards, releasing his grip on Vera, and Grabon seized the opportunity, his fist connecting with the slaver's jaw in a brutal blow.

The slaver went crashing to the ground, his body limp, but Grabon ignored him, focusing on his mate.

"Are you all right?" he demanded as he sliced through her bonds.

"I am now."

She gave him a shaky smile and threw herself into his arms, clinging to him as her body shook. His arms tightened around her as he breathed a silent prayer of thanksgiving. He'd found her in time. She was alive and unhurt.

He drew back enough to look down at her and caught a flicker of movement from the corner of his eye. The slaver, not yet defeated, reached for something hidden beneath his cloak. Without hesitation, he threw himself between Vera and the threat, his protective instincts overriding all else.

A searing pain exploded in his side as the slaver's weapon found its mark. He gritted his teeth, refusing to cry out. Warm blood seeped through his fingers as he pressed his hand against the wound, but he didn't falter. With a roar of defiance, he lashed out with his other arm, catching the slaver's wrist and twisting it until the weapon clattered to the ground.

In one fluid motion, he brought his knee up into the slaver's stomach, doubling him over. A swift elbow to the back of the head sent the attacker crumpling to the forest floor, his neck at an awkward angle. He was clearly dead but this time he double-checked to make sure before turning back to her.

Now that the immediate danger passed, his body screamed in protest. He stumbled, fighting to remain upright as his vision blurred, the trees around him seeming to sway. Through the haze of pain, he heard Vera's horrified gasp.

"Grabon! You're hurt!"

The fear in her voice cut through the fog in his mind. He turned to face her, forcing himself to stand tall despite the agony radiating from his side. Blood trickled between his fingers, but he paid it no heed. His eyes locked onto her face, searching for any sign of injury.

"Are you all right? Were you hit?" he managed to ask. His voice sounded hoarse, strained.

"No, I'm fine."

Her face was pale with shock, her eyes fixed on his wound. He wanted to reassure her, to tell her that he would be fine, but the words caught in his throat. Instead, he took a shaky step towards her, determined to keep her safe, to shield her from any further harm.

The pain in his side throbbed relentlessly, but he pushed it aside, ignoring it as he pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly against his chest.

"You're safe now," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion as he breathed in her scent, allowing himself a moment of relief. She was here and unharmed, and that was all that mattered.

Reluctantly, he released her, knowing they needed to move. He took a step and stumbled, the loss of blood making him dizzy. She was at his side in an instant, her arm around his waist, supporting him.

"What can I do to help?" she demanded.

"B-bind the wound."

She quickly used his knife to cut strips off her clothing to pack the wound and then tie the crude bandage in place but he was swaying by the time she finished.

Together, they began the slow journey back to the village. His arm rested heavily across Vera's shoulders, both for support and the lingering need to know that she was there and that she was safe. Each step sent a fresh wave of pain through his body, but he gritted his teeth and pressed on.

By the time they reached the village he was barely conscious, simply concentrating on staying upright. He heard her call for help, saw the flutter of iridescent wings, and then the ground was rushing towards him.