Colton sat up in his childhood bed at his parent’s house and fought back the bile trying to climb up the back of his throat. He had dreamt of his mate again. Her face had been contorted in pain and worry. The smell of sickness and death surrounded her.
He flung himself backwards and covered his eyes with his arm. Why would Fate be showing him his mate in so much pain when he wasn’t able to be with her? He tried to hold on to the nebulous fading images from his nightmare. She had dark circles under her eyes and she had been too pale.
Everywhere his mate turned was sickness, blood, grief, waste, fear, and death. What kind of hell was she trapped in?
‘Please. All I ask is for a chance to meet her, to show her some joy in this life before we join you,’ he whispered his prayer as two scalding hot tears escaped, racing down his temple to disappear into his hair.
‘Please.’
