Page 131 of Lana Pecherczyk

His fingers brushed her arm, just missing as the current yanked her away. “Blake!”

“River!” She managed to face him, eyes wide. “Tunnels underwater—” Her words disappeared underwater.

He surged after her, gripped her wrist, and lifted her to the surface.

“I’ve got you,” he said, holding her afloat.

“Tunnels,” she spluttered.

“Where?”

“Every few meters.” Another spluttering gasp. “More storm drains.”

Of course, she’d noticed. Even drowning, his mate’s mind worked faster than his.

The same ancient human engineering on the cliffs created a maze of underwater passages. These ruins had been some kind of amusement park in Blake’s time. Most of the passages were death traps, but some weren’t. During low tides, River and Cloud explored them in their youth, searching for treasure.

Water ricocheted off rocks, spraying their faces as the river became rapids. Debris struck their legs and ripped at their skin. Nothing was immune to the waterfall’s pull.

In no future would they survive that drop, not even with working, drenched wings. Maybe if he shifted into his crow form, but that meant leaving Blake to die. Fuck no. The current brawled with him, but he’d been born for this—the Well had named him for this.

River relied on his friend to save him from drowning last time.

This time, he relied on himself. He summoned mana and formed eddies in the water, pushing them toward the ravine’s jagged cliff face.

“Hold your breath,” he roared as they neared the wall.

When a collision was imminent, he dragged them under. His shoulder took the hit against the rocks, saving Blake as hesearched for their opening.The drain. The drain. Where was it?There—a dark splodge.

His broken wings snapped out, exploding into the water like parachutes and slowing their pace. He tucked one like a rudder and angled toward the drain. Blake fisted his shirt, her trust absolute despite the lack of oxygen. They’d been submerged for too long. His lungs burned. Hers would be dying.

Once inside the drain, he used mana to propel them away from the source. His wings pulled at the joints. Dim light glimmered ahead. Hope. He angled upward and pumped more mana. They broke the surface just as Blake’s grip weakened, her presence fading through their bond.

His lungs heaved in damp air. Shadows. Space. Blue bioluminescent worms dotted the ceiling, but that’s all he had time to glimpse. Nothing else mattered but the woman in his arms.

“Breathe, Blake. Breathe.”

Her slack face failed to respond.

“Blake!”

Need to heal. Need to breathe for her.Terror filled him as he kicked toward the edge of their dark pool. This had to be an old maintenance tunnel, not a storm drain. His feet touched the ground. He held her afloat and breathed into her lungs. She convulsed and choked, spitting water from her lips. Wild eyes locked onto his as she gasped.

“You’re alive,” he croaked. “We’re alive.”

She threw her arms around him, legs too, clinging like a bear, sobbing into his neck. Cupping her head, River waded through the last distance and lifted her onto the dirt platform. Then, with her help, he hauled himself up beside her.

They collapsed side by side, facing each other. He felt so heavy. Barely had the strength to rest his hand on her shoulder, but he needed to touch her. Needed to be sure she was there.

Only then did he allow himself to close his eyes and silently thank the Well for wanting what it wanted.

Chapter

Forty-One

Jagged, burning throbs of pain forced River’s eyes open before he was ready. He tasted copper and river silt, felt hard dirt against his cheek, and registered a steady drip of water. Each breath dragged in the scent of minerals, old paper, and something else he couldn’t name—something familiar that skittered at the edges of his memory.

He inhaled, and pain stabbed him beneath the ribs. The kelpie’s claws had cut deeper than he’d realized. Blood pooled beneath him, sticky and warm.