She hadn’t thought it possible, but the man, who must be Harold Carpenter, paled further. “Rhodes will more than kill me.”
Gideon’s eyes narrowed. “Nelson Rhodes is one of us. A witch.”
Mina gasped. “Is that possible?”
“It wouldn’t be the firsssst time one of usssss hated what we are, my Mina.”
Carpenter shook his head. “He’s not one of you freaks.”
Gideon grinned, and another one of Carpenter’s bones snapped. “His son isn’t psychic. He’s a witch.” The grin turned vicious. “That makes the boy mine.”
Carpenter began to struggle in earnest, but the invisible bonds held fast. “No. Rhodes will get his boy back.”
“I beg to differ. Blake is in Maggie’s Grove. Living with us. One of us.”
Carpenter shook his head. “Stupid little shit. His father will get him back and whip his ass.”
“His father will have to go through me first.” Gideon flexed his fingers again. Carpenter’s leg twisted, the jagged bone stabbing through his flesh, soaking his jeans in blood. Carpenter’s shriek didn’t drown out Gideon’s stern question. “Who is behind Rhodes?”
“No.” The head of the local Van Helsings was shaking his head violently. “I won’t say.”
Gideon snarled and snapped Carpenter’s other leg. “Who is behind Rhodes?”
“No!”
Mina watched in horror as Carpenter’s entire body twisted, mangling itself. Carpenter’s gurgling cries cut off as his head twisted on his neck twice.
Gideon took a step back, his expression just as horrified as Mina felt. The bubble around Carpenter popped, the body dropping to the ground with a wet smack. “Fuck.”
“You didn’t do that?”
Gideon shook his head. “No. I was going to break all his bones until he told me what I wanted to know, but this...” He took a deep breath. “Part of me feels he got what he deserved, but I know this is beyond what even one of the black would do. This was more than a simple hex.”
“Sssomeone’sss protecting their sssecretssss.”
Gideon nodded slowly. “I’d normally want to examine the body, try to determine how this was done, but something about it is off. Wrong.” He stared at Dragos. “I don’t want—” he waved toward the mangled corpse, “—this in Maggie’s Grove. It could taint the town.”
Mina paled. “Then it’s true. Kate was working with a demon. Fuck, the Van Helsings are infested.”
“If it is a demon behind this...” Gideon glanced back down at the body of Harold Carpenter and took a deep breath. “My people will be ready.”
From the determination in his gaze, she had no doubt the witches would live up to his promise.
Chapter Eighteen
“I still say we should have left the buildings intact. At least we would’ve known where the Van Helsings would return to.”
Dragos tried to ignore Gideon, but it was proving to be impossible. The man had been glued to either his or Noah’s side since Carpenter’s untimely demise. The witch was chock-full of opinions too. Ones he was more than willing to share. Whether or not Dragos wanted to hear them.
If the gods had hit him with the Karma stick, he didn’t show it. He looked hale and hearty. Whatever price he’d paid for his actions with Harold Carpenter, it didn’t show in his shining eyes or rosy skin.
“We need to beef up the perimeter. I think your sotiei is right. We need to physically patrol, at least until the Van Helsings are dealt with.”
As annoyingly persistent as the man was turning out to be, Dragos had to admit he was right. “We’ll discuss it after the duel.”
Gideon shot him an unreadable glance. “Did Mel know about Dominic?”
Dragos scowled. “No. And I intended to keep it that way.”
“She should have.” Gideon smirked, irritating Dragos further. “His aura is rather...unique.”
“How long have you known?”
“Since I could first read auras.” Gideon held up his hand. “I may be a prick, but I’m not that big a prick. His secret’s been safe with me. It will continue to be so.” The smirk died away, and that fierce determination Dragos was beginning to understand crossed his face. Gideon felt the same way about the people of Maggie’s Grove as he and Noah did, and it made Gideon’s more annoying traits tolerable. The man would become an asset, once he figured out how to work with Dragos and Noah rather than trying to badger them into submission. “Dominic is one of ours.”
Dragos shook his head, amazed at how territorial the coven leader was turning out to be. “Is there shifter in your family line somewhere?”
The smirk was back, but Gideon turned his attention toward the open field. “They’re here.”
Two dragons landed on the field—one dark blue, the other a bright periwinkle. Gideon chuckled, his expression warming for the first time since Dragos met him. “Greer was right. Your father really is lavender.”
Dragos rolled his eyes, ignoring the way the witch laughed beside him.
“Wish your brother luck for me, Dragos.”
Dragos smiled. “I will, draga mea.”
Mina had chosen to remain in the Throne, tending Iva’s tree. Iva had joined with it as soon as she entered the Throne, refusing to speak to anyone, even Mina. None of them knew how long she would remain communing with her yew and gathering her strength. Noah now haunted the Throne, lying in shifted form beneath his mate’s leaves, waiting for her to be strong enough to join him once more.
His wolves had taken to patrolling during the day, keeping Mina and Iva as safe as possible. Greer had managed to aggravate more than one by insisting on playing fetch. But a few of the younger pups were having fun with their new playmate so the older wolves hadn’t done anything to retaliate.
Besides, if Greer decided the wolves were no longer welcome in the forest, the forest would kick them out.
All of them remembered how the ruling dryads had forced the wolves from the forest after they attacked Amara. Only Noah’s apology and willingness to make amends had granted them access once more. With Ash off tending to Selena, and Iva communing with her tree, it was up to Mina, Greer and Noah to keep the Throne safe.
He turned his attention back to the field, where a deep purple dragon had joined the dark blue one. Trajan now stood next to his brother, ready to act as his second. A pale blue dragon joined Laurentiu on his side of the field. Apparently his father had picked Vasile’s enemy, Lezeu, as his second, possibly hoping to inflame his son into making mistakes.
Vasile wouldn’t. Dragos hadn’t spoken to his brother, but he’d recognized the expression on Vasile’s face. Vasile would not be defeated today. Not by Laurentiu, and certainly not by Lezeu.
Not one of the royals was impartial in this duel, so a non-dragon was drafted to act as arbiter. Dragos had picked the one person he felt neither Vasile nor Laurentiu could object to, and the man had promised to shift if either did so with any vigor. Dragos smiled as the arbiter stepped onto the field.
Dominic, his highly polished dress shoes no doubt getting scuffed and dirty, walked carefully toward the exact center of the field. He placed himself between Laurentiu and Vasile and held up an ancient parchment. “Gentlemen, is there no way this dispute can be resolved peacefully?”
Both Vasile and Laurentiu roared, indicating their unwillingness to come to an accord. Dragos had expected no less. This was a duel for dominance, not honor, and neither party would be willing to back down.
When the roars had subsided, Dominic continued. “Very well.” Dominic unrolled the parchment, reading from it in a soft voice that somehow still managed to carry to all corners of the clearing. “Then the rules of the duel are as follows. As this is a challenge for leadership of the clutch, it shall be to the death.” The dragons surrounding the field roared once more. “Leaving the designated dueling field will be considered a forfeit, and the party doing so shall be put to death by the clutch or, if he succeeds in getting away, will be permanently exiled from al
l dragon-kind.” He pointed toward where the other dragons had lined up, forming a square. “This is your field of battle. I suggest you remain within it, though you are allowed to fly above it. The seconds may not interfere unless cheating is detected, at which point they may call a halt to the duel and bring their concerns before me.” Dominic pushed his glasses up his nose and glanced at each pair of dragons. “I assure you, gentlemen, I will be impartial.”
Laurentiu hissed his disapproval. “I object to a non-dragon as arbiter of this duel.”
Dominic’s eyebrows rose. “Duly noted, and overruled. The rules of the duel state that the arbiter must be impartial to be fair to each party, and not one dragon in your clutch can claim such a distinction.” He cleared his throat and turned his attention once more to the parchment. “The winner of the duel will immediately be declared Prince of Dragons, and shall rule the clutch and all the clutches as is his right.” He folded the document back up and made his way toward one of the edges of the battlefield, remaining precisely between the two dragons the entire way. He turned once he reached the edge of the field and lifted his hand.
Dragos tensed. This was it.
Dominic received a nod from each dragon. His hand lowered sharply. “Begin.”
Laurentiu immediately leapt into the sky, Vasile quickly following. His father had been faster off the ground, but once in the air, Vasile was slightly faster. Whatever advantage Laurentiu had hoped to gain was quickly gone, the playing field once more level.
Vasile and Laurentiu circled one another while their seconds roared encouragement. Neither second would speak beyond the roars unless foul play was detected.
Vasile used his speed to strafe Laurentiu with a spray of flame, searing Laurentiu’s side. Laurentiu cried out in agony and chased after Vasile. Both were careful to remain within the confines of the dueling circle.
The two made another pass at one another, each spouting flame, hoping to weaken their opponent with burns.
They circled each other, but Dragos could see Laurentiu’s wing smoldering. His father would have to land soon. If he did so, he would be at a disadvantage unless Vasile landed as well.
He doubted his brother would pass up such an advantage in the name of fair play.
The two dragons roared, taunting each other. Laurentiu, heedless of his smoldering wing, banked sharply and fired on Vasile, singeing his son’s wing. Vasile screeched as the tip of his wing burned.
They were even now.
They flew lower to the ground, still circling, still testing one another. If one of them took another blow to the wing he would have less distance to fall, less chance of taking damage due to hitting the ground. A wise tactic on both their parts. His father might be ruthless, but he’d never been stupid.
Vasile flew at Laurentiu, his mouth gaping open, possibly hoping to take a bite out of the older dragon. Laurentiu barely managed to dodge, the wound to his wing hampering him.
Vasile circled back—Laurentiu’s burst of flame barely missing his side.
They were far more evenly matched than Dragos had known. The outcome suddenly didn’t seem quite so secure.
Vasile managed to circle behind Laurentiu, flaming his tail, but Laurentiu managed to return the favor as Vasile banked away. The two separated, circling once more as each took the measure of the other. Both dragons were covered in scorch marks, smoke rising from both bodies.
They appeared to be equally wounded.
Even if Vasile won, he’d need time to recuperate. Time in which he would be vulnerable to the likes of Lezeu, who would no doubt challenge his brother and refuse him the traditional six days’ preparation time.
It was one of many reasons Dragos had asked Dominic to be present.
Vasile turned on a wingtip, moving away from Laurentiu toward the edge of the field. Laurentiu, possibly hoping to edge Vasile out of the ring, took off after him.
But Vasile must have known what Laurentiu would do. He shot up, getting above Laurentiu in a move that no one saw coming. He dug his claws into Laurentiu’s shoulders and forced his father to the ground.
Vasile struck, ripping Laurentiu’s throat out.
He ended the duel, and his father’s life, in one swift blow.
Dragos lifted his head and gave voice to the savage joy that flowed through him, his cry joining that of the other dragons in and around the field. Only Lezeu failed to respond, the pale dragon grumbling under his breath, defiant in the face of Vasile’s clear victory.
Vasile, his muzzle dripping blood, turned on Lezeu and snarled. Lezeu snarled back.
Vasile immediately pounced on Lezeu. Despite his wounds he took the pale dragon down, his jaw clamped on the back of Lezeu’s neck, demanding submission from Lezeu.
But Lezeu fought Vasile’s dominance, thrashing under the darker dragon, forcing Vasile to clamp down harder. One particularly violent movement from Lezeu later and his neck snapped, still locked in Vasile’s jaws. Vasile slowly released his enemy and stepped back.
Dominic stepped into the ring and approached Vasile. He bowed deeply. “All hail the Prince of Dragons.”
The dragons hummed deep, welcoming their new prince.
When the sound died away Vasile had shifted. His bearing was regal despite his nakedness, his wounds battle scars instead of a weakness. “The dragons shall remain in Maggie’s Grove for now, assisting my brother, Dragomir Ibanescu, with the Van Helsings that threaten his clutch.”
Dragos jumped as the rest of the clutch gasped in surprise or grumbled in dissatisfaction. His brother had essentially declared him not only no longer an exile, but the leader of a clutch.
He’d made Dragos a dragon again. He’d made him family again, and for that, Dragos bowed to his new Prince. “You and your clutch are welcome, my prince.”
But Vasile was not done with the surprises. “The mountains above the town will be our new aerie, until homes can be provided for our people.” He began to pace, but his gaze remained sharp, locked on to the dragons that surrounded him. “I have watched the cooperation between the people of Maggie’s Grove, both human and supernatural, and have come to a conclusion. Too long have we been isolated from other supernaturals. I intend this to change, and I intend that change to begin here, in my brother’s clutch.”
He raised his hands as more grumbles followed his pronouncement. “This will not be our permanent home, though some may choose to make it so. And if Dragos accepts them, I will allow the move.” His gaze raked over them once more. “Trajan, my second and the heir to the throne, has mated a human—my brother Dragos’s Renfield.” Trajan’s purple head nodded, and every dragon present could sense his satisfaction. “Trajan has informed me that he will be the first new draconic resident of Maggie’s Grove since Dragos founded the town. He has also informed me that, should I die without issue, the clutch, under his rule, will move to the Grove.” He held up his hands. “But that is for another time. It is a new day for the dragons, one free of the tyranny of my father. Now, we celebrate, for once again we are brothers.”
Vasile shifted and began to dance in the air, an aerial display that showed how swift and sleek he truly was, despite his wounds. The rest of the dragons joined him, dancing around their new prince whether they approved of him or not.
Vasile was right. This was a time of celebration, where one dragon had triumphed over another and a new era was begun.
“Join usss, Dragosss.” Trajan hopped in front of him, his wings fluttering. “Fly with ussss.”
“Do it, love. I’ll be waiting for you.”
Dragos grinned—feeling whole for the first time since his father first threw him away—and joined his brothers in the sky.
* * *
Mina settled back against her oak and waited. She’d cleared the Throne, knowing what would happen tonight. Her friends had been more than happy to allow her to do what needed to be done.
Ash and Greer had gone to their homes.
Iva was communing with her tree, and Mina didn’t know
when she would emerge again.
At least she was home, safe and sound in the Throne, and Mina would do what she had to in order to help her friend healed. But right now, she had bigger things to do than worry about her co rulers.
Tonight, Dragos would be claimed. They would be one, in the ways of her people as well as his.
“Mina?”
She reached up and tweaked her nipple, hoping he’d see her. She was open to his gaze, vulnerable. Naked where she rested against her oak, her legs draped on either side of one of its massive roots. One of her hands was sunk deep inside her tree, joining them together. The bark would not mar her flesh.
She was one with her tree, and it could not injure her, or her mate, on this night.
“Oh, Mina.” He stepped to where she could see him, his gaze hot and hungry. “Te iubesc.”
“I love you, too.” She arched her back, hoping to entice him closer as his eyes began to change. “Well? Are you going to leave me wanting?”
He began to strip, his gaze glowing bright red, leaving his clothing strewn behind him. Within moments he was crawling toward her, every inch the hunter. “I would taste you, draga mea.”
She spread her legs wider in silent invitation.
Dragos surprised her by stealing a slow, sensual kiss. His hard cock nudged her opening, but while part of her wanted to feel the long, hot length of him slide into her she wanted his mouth more.
Dragos kissed his way down her body, pausing at each breast to tease her nipples to painful hardness. He took his time exploring, nibbling her stomach, his tongue swirling around her belly button before drifting down to torment her right above her clit. She could almost feel him licking her there, driving her insane with his wickedly talented tongue. He kneaded her thighs as he finally tasted her, humming his approval. His gaze bored into her, locking her attention on him as he rang whimper after whimper from her.
He held her still when she tried to move, keeping her right where he wanted her, forcing her to accept the pleasure as he wanted her to. Her body thrummed with desire, her pussy throbbing with need as he continued to tease her with the promise of a cataclysmic orgasm. She needed, wanted so desperately to come she was ready to pull her hand from her oak and force her will on him, make him give her what she craved.
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