Page 31 of Driven by Dragonblood (Blood Born #3)

Patrick

I was losing my shit. Fucking thirty-eight years of age, hard-fought for stability built inside my head, and it was all being ripped to shreds by two kids.

Old enough.

“Shut the fuck up!” I slammed my fist on my desk, jostling the pen close by. I’d managed to quiet the voice in my head almost the entire previous day—even with Primrose’s scent lingering in my nose and on my fingers long after I had showered and fallen into bed.

I’d passed Emelia in the hallway not long after losing control with Primrose, her gaze pinning me, weakening my defenses against the darkness that immediately began whispering its need to be free, to seek out, to taste, and take what belonged to us.

Couldn’t fucking stand it.

I held my head in my hands to keep from jerking off or grabbing my keys, sprinting from my three-room, struggling practice on Main Street, and tearing off to the next town.

To stop myself from striding into Jax’s apartment and owning them both in the way I lusted for.

On their knees. Worshiping. Begging for pain and pleasure.

Easing the ache in my chest and my goddamn balls in their willing holes.

“Fuck.”

Whiskey would be the better option.

Safer, at least, I thought while glancing around the sparsely decorated space I could finally call my own practice.

Blue tones meant to soothe covered the walls, a beige couch and chair, soft enough to offer comfort but not lull people to sleep.

I had managed to pay the bills accrued over the previous month, and my only patient for the available evening hours had left not long ago.

Caught up in my head and the driving need attempting to own my body, I locked up my office, not meaning to head southward when I backed out of my allotted parking spot. I held the steering wheel steady, my gaze straight ahead, while my humanity, my better half, told me to turn around.

Give in. Fuck them both, find the release we desire, and I promise to be silent afterward.

“Manipulative little fuck,” I said through clenched teeth and gripped the steering wheel even tighter over the eloquence of the thing in my soul who had escaped its prison without my noticing.

Take what we desire. Fulfill our lust.

Visions flooded my head of satiated bliss…blessed quietness in my head, allowing me control.

“Fuck them out of my goddamn system in privacy where no one would know,” I said as the plan unfolded in my head, “then walk away.”

I would rid myself of this need to own their bodies and return to building my business and creating a life without drama.

One set in science and truth.

The slithering beast chuckled even though my dick jerked in my pants .

If I gave in to my lust behind the door of Jaxon’s apartment—no cameras, no phones recording the act of wrecking the two youngsters—I could finish this unfazed, my profession intact, even if my self-pride shattered for giving in to my baser instincts.

That, I could fucking live with. What I couldn’t continue handling was the desperate need, the consuming craving dominating my thoughts and hindering my ability to focus on responsibilities.

The sunset smeared purple across the sky as I turned into the cul-de-sac. Tires crunching on the road, I rolled to a stop and peered back at the driveway to the apartment above the garage.

Same as the first time I’d approached Jaxon’s place, no awareness of his presence tingled over my skin as it had when occupying the same room. I rolled the window down and breathed in the cool evening air. No scent of either Jaxon or Primrose filled my lungs as it had a few days prior.

Scowling, I reached for the door handle, but my cell’s buzzing stopped me.

Was Steven’s friend finally returning my call?

I grabbed my phone off the passenger seat. A number I didn’t recognize showed up, and scowling, I tapped the ignore button and tossed the cell onto the seat.

I climbed out of the car, intent on Jaxon’s apartment, my skin buzzing and pulse thrumming. No one answered my knock, and other than the bathroom, I could easily scan the empty interior through the window to the left.

Rather than feel relief at having temptation removed from my path, I scowled, hands on hips as I peered around the neighborhood from my vantage point on his deck, wondering where the fuck a young couple went on a Tuesday night.

Movies? Out for pizza ?

How they managed to stop fucking each other to go out into public, I had no clue. Cursing some more over the images now flashing in my head, I climbed into my car and started the engine. A glance at my cell showed a voicemail had been left from the number I hadn’t recognized.

Reminding myself of my profession, I grabbed it and keyed in the code to access the message.

“Doc.”

My cock swelled at the sound of Jaxon’s voice.

“I…uh…I’m really struggling.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose beneath my glasses, my eyelids sliding shut as concern and longing swamped my mind.

“I’ve been so confused, so messed up in the head—I can’t do this anymore.”

His voice broke.

“Shit.” I held my breath, the hairs on my nape rising.

The message cut off without another word.

Hand shaking, I hit the recall button, my stomach churning.

“Doc?”

“Jaxon. Thank fuck.” I clutched at my chest, fisting my shirt. “Where are you?”

“The canyon.” His whisper made shivers slide down my spine and my brow furrow. “Where my grandma ended her suffering.”

My inner whatever the fuck it was, went still—a predator paused, muscles tensed and ready to spring.

Go.

“What are you doing, Jaxon?” My voice barely escaped past the tightening of my throat.

“I can’t stand it anymore.” The line muffled as though he fumbled with the cell.

“Jaxon! ”

“I gotta let go. Need to fly, Patrick.”

“No!” I turned the key and tore out of the cul-de-sac. “Jaxon!” A glance down at the cell showed he’d hung up—or fucking jumped. “Goddamnit!”

I sped northward, a cold sweat breaking out on my upper body, clammy hands clutching the steering wheel.

I knew the exact southern rim viewpoint he spoke of, which lay well over an hour away.

The overlook mentioned in his file, the image in black and white his parents had provided.

I’d wondered what had led his grandmother to leap to her death.

Voices, they had claimed, similar to the one enticing Jaxon to leap, to fly —even though he couldn’t.

I hoped, fucking prayed to whatever deity reigned over the universe, that everything I’d learned since Sunday morning with David, every goddamn tale of dragons and dragonblood was true.

We are real.

“Shut the fuck up!” I hollered with a shrill voice, my insides shaking.

True. All true.

If Jaxon threw himself off that ledge and didn’t sprout those fucking wings he swore he had beneath his skin…

I tried to call, but he didn’t answer.

My foot already lay like lead against the gas pedal, but I couldn’t get there fast enough. The sun sank in my driver’s side window, the sky darkening along with my thoughts as another call sent me to an automated voicemail.

“Fuck!” I tossed the cell onto the passenger seat, swearing at every slow-moving asshole in my way and the stretch of road still needing traveling before I reached him.

If that boy jumped, it would be my fault.

I should have invested more time with him to assure my own mind of his stability before agreeing with Doctor Holliday’s conclusions that he was fine and ought to be released.

I should have kept my damn hormones and dick in check when he’d shown up at my house, and I sure as fuck shouldn’t have been so harsh when telling him to leave, dismissing him as though I didn’t give a fuck he’d spilled his guts to me.

How would he feel anything other than rejected? Used and discarded like a piece of trash—the same as he felt over his parents’ treatment of him, according to Doctor Holliday’s notes in Jaxon’s file.

“Goddamnit!” Again, the boy didn’t answer, and I found my hands shaking and eyesight hazing over the fact I might be too late.

When I approached my destination, darkness coated the land. Even with my cell phone’s light, I wouldn’t be able to peer into the canyon to see if he’d survived. I swung into the overlook, my headlights illuminating a figure on the other side of the fence.

My breath left in a rush, the relief of finding him alive after talking to me nearly an hour and a half ago, weakening me to the point of passing out.

“Jaxon.” I slammed the car into park and hopped out, my legs shaky as hell, sweat on my forehead, guts tight even though he stood right there . Alive. Whole.

Mine.

Teeth gritting, I approached with hesitant steps, hands clenching and releasing at my sides, adrenaline crashing through me.

Back to me, Jaxon leaned over the rim, hands closed around the top railing, and holding himself at an angle out over the cliff.

“Jaxon,” I called, hating that my voice shook and betrayed my fear—my longing for him to hear me. To stay.

He finally glanced over his shoulder, his face pale in the blinding headlights. “You came,” he murmured and turned, still gripping the railing .

“Don’t do this,” I said, stopping a good twenty or so feet away—close enough I caught his scent on the cool breeze. Swallowing hard, I shook my head, concern for his well-being stronger than any arousal that energy between us dictated overtake my body.

“You have to see for yourself that I’m not crazy,” he said, his eyes wide, hair mussed as though he’d been running his hands through it.

“I know you’re not,” I assured him with a quiet voice.

“I need you to understand.” He let go of his hold with one hand.

“Please, Jaxon.” I reached toward him, palm up, even though he wouldn’t see my face from the headlights at my back. “Please don’t do this.”

“You’ll never believe me if I don’t.” A soft smile tilted his lips—froze my fucking insides.

He let go.

Arms spread wide, he tipped back.

Disappeared into the abyss.

“No!” I hollered and leapt forward, the inner beast in me roaring.

Too late—I’d been too fucking late!