In agony now, she struggled to pull away from his grip. Then his hand loosened, his back arched, and he fell to the ground and convulsed. Oh shit oh shit oh shit. Even as she dove to try to turn him onto his side, he exploded into his dragon form, the huge bronze body slapping into her. She tumbled backward and fell. With a sharp crack, the back of her head hit the floor.

Pain lanced through her skull. Dragos’s witchlight had extinguished, and it was pitch black.

No, it was the faintest bit gray. Gradually her eyes adjusted. They had walked far enough from the sinkhole that very little light penetrated. The giant dragon lay immobile, and her soul echoed with emptiness.

The constant, often subtle presence of their mating bond had vanished.

“Oh no no no no NO NO NO….” Horror and wrongness yanked at her. Ignoring her body’s flashes of pain, she sprang to her feet, cast her own witchlight and tossed it to the ground, and ran for the dragon’s head. Her beautiful, strong, irascible mate couldn’t be dead. Not just like that.

Stumbling over a rock, she fell onto the dragon’s snout. Warmth curled from his nostril. He was breathing. She sobbed in relief, stroking his bronze hide. “Wake up!” she hissed at him. “You wake up.”

Another breath of wind blew around her, carrying with it a hint of wings. Something did this to him. Something made him convulse. Leaping to her feet, she grabbed her bow, pulled an arrow, pointed it into the darkness. Her pulse thudded in her wrists and temples.

Dragos, she said telepathically. I need you to wake up. You’re the size of a six-seater Cessna. I can’t move you on my own, and there’s something down here in the dark with us. We’ll figure out the mate thing later, just, wake up now, please. You have so much acreage I can’t protect you if something attacks you on the other side. Please, please, baby. I need you to GET THE FUCK UP.

The world flexed. The dragon shimmered and disappeared, and Dragos’s human form lay sprawled on the ground. She backed over to him, knelt, and put her fingers to the carotid artery at his neck. That incredibly stubborn, ancient heart of his was still beating strong.

She still couldn’t move him. As a human, he had to weigh close to three hundred pounds. Now what?

Just as she was about to scream as loud as she could for help from the surface, he opened his eyes and looked at her.

In the witchlight, his irises were amber.

Not gold.

He smiled. “Hello, darling. Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

Inside, she went cold and dark and numb.

Somehow, she made herself whisper, “You fell. Are you okay?”