On his other side, another interloper shouldered against him, bracketing him in vicious beasts. He beat his wings and tried to bolt free of their oppressive presence, but he was too confused, too reactive as both he and his dragon approached a state of panic.
Preor were extremely dangerous when threatened—a male hunting for his mate, more so than most.
Yet he soon realized he could not properly hunt with these two warriors intent on getting him to land, so he let the others guide him back to the earth, his dragon only allowing it as his wings began to fail. Before he even touched the ground, the Knowing sickness flooded him, making him stumble as his claws struck the sand. He took one lumbering step and then another before his dragon’s form retreated and his two-legged shape returned to him.
He dropped to his knees in the sands of the Gulf of Mexico, clutching his stomach as it twisted and writhed within him. It was a good thing he hadn’t eaten as his stomach attempted to empty itself while his heart hammered violently. Even through the Knowing sickness, he attempted to find his feet once more, wings outstretched and beating as he tried to fly and find Sasha… Must. Find. Her!
But Whelon could not move. He could do nothing except hold onto himself and pray he did not lose consciousness.
Whoever had taken Sasha had gotten her away with incredible speed. Already they had taken her a great distance from him, the strength of the Knowing sickness telling him how far they had already traveled.
The Knowing sickness… Yes, it was upon him. It consumed his every cell yet he bore the pain with the strength of a soldier. He could not bear that his mate was out there, his shaa kouva, suffering because she was parted from him.
He would find her and those who sought to keep them apart would pay.
Chapter Seven
Sasha was nauseated and weak, the streetlights strobing across the vehicle windows only making her symptoms worse. She wasn’t sure where the large, dark van had come from—she and her mother had traveled to the Choosing station in a taxi—but it seemed her mother had a bigger plan than she initially shared with Sasha.
“What’s happening?” she murmured, swallowing hard against the rising bile in her throat.
Her mother knelt at her side and touched her forehead, pressing the back of her hand to her skin to gauge her temperature. They were in the back of the panel van, Sasha lying on a mattress that covered half of the cargo space. She glanced around weakly and spied cupboards and small panels set with electrical sockets and chargers. Almost as if the van were setup like a small mobile home.
How long has she been planning this? Venom filled her mental voice. This van was not like the trailer they occasionally took to remote locations.
No, that vehicle has my name plastered all over the exterior. This van is for secrecy—for hiding.
Sasha moaned, clutching her stomach and squeezing her eyes shut as dizziness assailed her. Sweat seeped from her pores and dried on her skin, making her feel scratchy and gross. Even though she shivered from a sudden chill that claimed her, she continued to sweat.
“Sasha,” her mother snapped with disgust in her tone. “You’re going to ruin your dress with all that sweating, and your makeup is melting off. Stop this instant.”
“Mother. Can I have a blanket, please?” She was so cold. And hot. Both at once and neither at the same time.
Her mother eyed her warily before sitting back and digging in her pocket. To Sasha’s horror, her mother pulled out a cellphone and took a few pictures of her. She was so out of it, she couldn’t even protest or ask why her mother needed a shot of her sweating and shaking—looking her worst.
For the press, of course. This is exactly what she wanted, Sasha mentally sneered.
Pictures secured, her mother tossed her a blanket and then burrowed through a nearby chest to pull out spare clothing and other supplies. Jenna briefly spoke to two black-clad men in the back of the van with them, and they assured her that they knew what they were doing and would soon reach the safehouse, undeterred.
Safehouse? She had no idea what her mother had planned but she was in no condition to fight with Jenna just then. Not with yet another wave of shivering overtaking her. Even with the blanket her mother had provided, the trembles continued to plague her.
While her mother spoke with one of the guards, the other looked over Sasha with curiosity in his gaze. He glanced at Jenna for a moment, obviously unsure if he was allowed to speak to Sasha, but eventually he just shrugged and shuffled across the floor to her. “Are you okay? Is there anything I can do for you?”
“Is there something hot to drink?”
He nodded and opened a large chest nearby. “We have some stuff in here for the trip and the van is self-sufficient for a few weeks. Is tea okay?”
Sasha nodded, idly wondering if she was strong enough to even hold the cup.
“No sugar or milk!” her mother snapped.
The tough guy shot Jenna a glance but quickly turned back to Sasha. “Here.” He dropped in a big spoonful of sugar while Jenna was distracted. “You need it. You’re in shock or something.”
As he reached to hand her the cup, she sat up a little, gripping the mug tightly as she took a small sip. It did make her feel a hint warmer and the bitter edge against the sweetness of the sugar soothed her writhing, twisting stomach.
“Thank you,” she murmured. She had to fight tears as she met his gaze.
He glanced over at Jenna once more, and it wasn’t a friendly look he flashed her mother. “I’m Dave,” he spoke softly. “Your mother hired the four of us to guard you and keep you safe from the Preor. We’re mercenaries skilled in stealth and covert
