She said it like that explained everything, but Morgan was more confused than ever. Heat warmed around her neck as the necklace twisted and tightened. A quick glance showed an inch-long skeleton of a piranha, its head full of large, pointy teeth. The bones and tail were jointed, so when she moved the skeleton wiggled, as if it were swimming and scented blood in the water, seconds away from a feeding frenzy.
And Morgan suspected she was the prey.
“Leave her alone, Tamara.” Draven didn’t spare her a glance as he stormed down the stairs, his hair askew, his face so hard Morgan barely recognized him. Atlas followed a step behind, and she didn’t have a doubt the bastard had known where Draven was the whole time but refused to tell her.
“Brother.” She gave his cheek a perfunctory kiss, the action completely lacking affection. “We’ve missed you.”
Morgan stared at the two of them, unable to understand the coldness. Draven said he missed his sister…then why were they behaving so indifferently toward each other? Tamara didn’t seem malicious, more brainwashed about how life really was in the outside world.
Atlas brushed her arm as he passed and joined the others, the four of them creating a solid wall of support behind her…and it worried her to know they thought she needed it.
Draven wasn’t going anywhere, dammit.
“You’ve been away from us for a long time, brother. It’s time for you to come home and do your duty.” Tamara reached out to touch his sleeve, but Draven expertly evaded.
“Duty?” Morgan’s heart froze at the word.
Tamara turned and smiled, but no warmth reached her eyes. “He’s one of the few male sirens. It’s beyond time for him to be placed into service.”
Something inside Morgan tightened in horror, and she was sure she must have misunderstood. “Excuse me?”
An annoyed frown marred her face when Tamara stared at her like she was a dunce. “It’s time for him to serve as stud.”
Morgan gaped at her. “You’re shitting me.”
An arm slipped around her waist, and she recognized Kincade’s solid hold, the scent of hot stone surrounding her. She knew he wasn’t doing it to offer her comfort, more to stop her from lunging for Tamara and beating some sense into the twit.
“It’s an honor to serve the queen and her ladies.” The frown on Tamara’s cute face turned into a scowl at the vulgar language but Morgan didn’t give a fuck. She tried to edge away from Kincade’s hold, but his grip was unbreakable.
Draven grimaced, and Morgan stilled, realizing how difficult his upbringing must have been. He’d been born into an abusive, broken home and lost his whole family before being rescued by the Academy.
He must have searched and found his sister at some point, only to learn just how cruel life really was…because he had nothing to look forward to but the life of a sexual slave.
As a siren, he needed sexual contact to feed…and he hated it. Most guys would love to be able to get any woman they wanted, but it was all fake.
His greatest fear was to never experience true emotions.
And his very own people wanted to use him like an animal put into stud service.
Draven refused to look at her, a slash of red darkening his cheeks, and she couldn’t tell if he was embarrassed or ashamed. Possessiveness churned inside her. She tore out of Kincade’s hold and stalked to Draven’s side, not caring that they were starting to attract a bigger crowd. Wolves began to gather in the small courtyard, prowling through the crowd, keeping the most curious at bay.
A glance revealed Ryder’s eyes were glowing an amber that was almost hypnotizing to watch.
He was controlling the wolves, giving her a little privacy, and she could’ve kissed him.
She grabbed Draven’s arm, gave him a squeeze, then shoved him behind her to join the rest of her team before smiling sweetly at his sister. “Sorry, but he already has a job.”
She didn’t have to turn and look to know that her whole team supported her decision. They would go to war for her just because she asked it of them.
They were family.
What did surprise her was to see Shade and Ward standing with them.
“It’s an honor to serve the queen.” Tamara appeared genuinely confused.
Morgan had just opened her mouth to tell Tamara where she could shove her queen when the double doors to the Academy opened wide.
“Unfortunately, his queen has the power to call him home.” The headmistress was a faerie, but not the wish-giving, sparkling fairy dust sort from fairy tales. These faeries were carnivorous, their mouths filled with needle-like sharp teeth, their bite containing a powerful venom that was strong enough to kill.
Morgan could tell the headmistress was furious because her pupils had expanded until her eyes were nearly black. That’s when she knew the school wouldn’t be able to do a damn thing to prevent Draven from being taken.
“I must say, you are a hard one to find.” An older woman sauntered down the stairs, one of those people so gorgeous it made age irrelevant. She oozed a kind of sex appeal that made everyone sit up and take notice, her movements so graceful people stared.
Morgan had thought Tamara was beautiful, but she didn’t hold a candle to the queen. She had blond hair piled up on her head in a riot of curls, her long, dark lashes framing her crystal-bright blue-green eyes. She was absolutely flawless, one of those women who was so confident she didn’t consider other women competition…because no one could compete.
The infamous queen.
Who instantly rubbed her the wrong way, but Morgan always did have a problem with authority. While this woman might be a queen, she wasn’t her queen.
“You might have successfully evaded me, but you knew the moment you set foot in water that I would come for you.” The queen’s face lit with genuine pleasure, her eyes only for Draven. “I knew you couldn’t stay away forever.”
Water…Morgan frowned, then remembered where they were around water.
Mount Olympus.
When Draven jumped in the water to save her life.
Twice.
She did this.
It was Morgan’s fault the queen he detested had found him.
Instead of running, Draven kept his mouth shut and remained by her side, knowing they would come for him.
She turned and glared at Draven, and he lifted his chin, crossing his arms defiantly.
“Why?”
Why didn’t he run?
He seemed to know what she was asking and shook his head. “You were here.”
His reply crushed something deep inside her, breaking something fragile—he stayed knowing that they would come for him, and he hadn’t said a word.
She couldn’t even blame him.
He stayed because he hoped the mating marks would appear.
Unfortunately, time had run out for them both.
“I’m sorry.” Morgan then turned, keeping herself between the queen and Draven. “But there was a misunderstanding. Draven already has a job. He’s staying.”
Instead of being upset, the queen laughed. “How sweet! One of his playthings is in love.” Her voice was a throaty purr, all syrupy sweet, her laughter inviting others to join her.
The queen looked at Morgan for the first time, and a pure, calculated ruthlessness stared back at her. The woman honestly believed it was an honor to be chosen as her mate, and that she could and should have anyone she chose, whether they wanted to be hers or not.
Morgan was still devastated that Draven hadn’t told her the truth. If she’d known, she would’ve found a way to make her claim on him official.
She thought she’d been giving him space.
She had been a fool.
The queen lifted an imperious brow, then looked beyond her. “Come, Draven, say goodbye to your toy. It’s time to go home.”
The way the queen spoke the last word confirmed her worst fear…if Draven left, he would never be allowed to return.
The queen turned on her heel, clearly ex
pecting him to obey. To her surprise, Draven actually made to follow when Morgan stomped on his foot, then slammed her elbow back, keeping him in place, knocking a startled umph from him. “I don’t think so.”
The queen spun slowly, clearly irritated at having anyone contradict her, especially a nobody like her. “Excuse me?”
The words were polite, but the tone said who the fuck gave you permission to address me?
“He’s my mate.” Morgan shrugged, completely unconcerned that he didn’t bear her mark. He wanted to stay with her, and that was all that mattered.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” the queen said waspishly. “He is mine. One of my people. You have no right to interfere.” The queen demanded, her eyes turning stormy, and she pointed at Draven like he was an object. “I have every right to kill you if you try to prevent him from obeying.”
“Actually,” the headmistress strolled down the stairs with a Cheshire cat smile. “If they are mated, her claim trumps yours.”
“That’s impossible.” The queen narrowed her eyes, her annoyance turning darker. “He’s already been claimed.”
Morgan smiled triumphantly.
“Then let’s ask him.” She turned toward Draven, who had remained unmoving at her side, revealing none of the turmoil she saw in his eyes. “Are you mated to the queen?” She held up her hand before he could speak. “And remember, the headmistress will be able to tell if you’re lying.”
“No, we are not mated.” Draven spoke in a clear voice, his eyes on Morgan, silently pleading with her to believe him. She’d swear that she even saw an apology for not telling her sooner.
“He speaks the truth.” The headmistress confirmed, her voice warm and confident.
“Are you mated to her?” The queen spat like a wet cat, and Morgan half expected to see her fluff up and hiss.
“In all the ways that matter.” His voice was a deep purr that made Morgan want to get closer. She settled for grabbing his hand, pleased when he clutched hers almost desperately.
“Also true,” the headmistress said.
“But the mating is not complete.” The queen sounded so confident that Morgan turned in time to see a smirk cross the woman’s face. She was up to something, but hell if Morgan knew what. “That means he’s mine. I’m his queen.”
She said it with a straight face, her tone imperial, expecting everyone to jump and obey.
Morgan had enough.
Something must have warned Kincade what she intended to do, because he darted forward as if to silence her. Morgan twisted Draven’s arm, manhandling the siren between her and Kincade.
“Queen of your people.” Morgan turned and gave the bitch a sharp smile. “But I’m next in line for the crown. By your standards, I believe that means my claim over him trumps yours. You won’t take him from me easily, and certainly not without consequences.”
Chapter Nine
Shocked gasps followed Morgan’s declaration. Then dead silence descended over the Academy, as if even the ancient building was holding its breath. Despite the wolves keeping people at bay, Morgan didn’t doubt that everyone heard her confession, but she would deal with that fallout later…after Draven was safe.
Ward shook his head, clearly exasperated at her announcement, but he didn’t speak a word of protest. While her men might have tried to stop her, they wouldn’t have succeeded. She was more than a match for them. Morgan suspected only Ward or Shade would have been able to contain her—but not for long.
The queen flinched, her nostrils flaring in rage. “Lies.”
“She speaks the truth.” Shade straightened his lanky body from where he was lounging against the guard wall. The wolves let him pass as he sauntered forward. He unbuttoned the top of his shirt, then pulled it aside to reveal the silver and gold seal that had been stamped into his upper chest.
Morgan blinked at him in surprise. She hadn’t realized the mark was the royal symbol, but she should’ve known. The top swirling design resembled an intricate crown, while underneath had a name stamped into it…hers.
He flicked a look at the queen, his imperial gaze looking ready to squash her, every inch of him the imposing god. “I’m at her service…”
Morgan was surprised he didn’t choke on the words. They clearly cost him to say them, and she raised a brow at him in question.
She didn’t trust his altruism.
He was up to something.
“You die, I die.” He muttered under his breath, but she heard him easily.
Ah…the connection to her that allowed him to stay earthside. If she died, he would be sent back to Mount Olympus, where it was only a matter of time before he was hunted down and killed…or worse, sent back to Tartarus, where he would be sacrificed for the greater good. She would’ve expected people to be afraid of a god, but they found it an acceptable risk to drain them of their magic just so they could become more powerful themselves.
Everyone stared at her in either fear or awe, no one really paying attention to Shade.
She was stunned to realize no one had recognized him as a god, but maybe it was for the best that he remained just a servant. No god had been to earth in centuries—the last time they wreaked havoc across the globe, the destruction lasting long after they were gone.
The only explanation was that people saw what they wanted to see.
Morgan turned to face the queen and crossed her arms, indifferent to the can of worms she’d just opened. She had no doubt it would come back to bite her on the ass, but it was only a matter of time before the news got out anyway.
If it allowed her to keep Draven, then it was worth the trouble that would come her way.
Both women glared at each other, neither willing to back down. The bitch queen narrowed her eyes, something calculating moving within their depths before a triumphant grin curled her lips. “There is only one way to settle our differences—a challenge.”
“What do you have in mind?” Morgan was conscious of the guys shaking their heads, but she ignored them. The guys should be thankful that she was being so cautious—for example, she didn’t immediately agree, and didn’t try to kill the bitch on the spot.
Draven took a single step toward her, his expression furious, but she saw the raw terror beneath his fury. Though he was afraid of going back, dread churned in his eyes at the thought of her risking her life for him.
“Don’t. I’m not worth it.” His haunted eyes were shattered. She remembered the story of his youth—he was a throw-away kid. He believed he didn’t matter.
He couldn’t be more wrong.
“You are to me.” She turned away from him, her resolve firming as she faced the queen.
The bitch watched the exchange, her focus solely on Draven, possessiveness and avarice in her eyes. Morgan barely resisted the urge to stand between them. Whatever the sea queen had in store for Draven, it wouldn’t be pleasant. Without a doubt, if Morgan fucked this up, no one would ever see Draven again.
When the queen turned her sea blue-green eyes back on her, Morgan lifted her chin and braced herself for the worst.
“A Wild Hunt. My champions against you.” Smugness oozed from the queen. “For five days, all you have to do is evade them until sunrise.”
Morgan resisted the urge to cheer, barely repressing her triumphant grin, and got down to negotiations. “Three days.”
The guys swore viciously behind her, no longer trying to hide their displeasure. She didn’t care. Morgan had been on her own for years, used to hunting on her own. If she couldn’t evade her hunters, she would kill them.
The queen narrowed her eyes, studying her, before a triumphant grin crossed her face. “Very well. The hunt will begin at sunset.”
“Not yet.” No way was she going to let the bitch make all the rules. “I have a few of my own requirements. No hunting inside the Academy. Your campions are not allowed to set foot on the grounds or involve the students in any way.”
“Then I suggest that you be away from the school before then. Anyon
e with you at sunset will become a part of the hunt.” Annoyance colored the bitch queen’s voice, but the smugness didn’t fade at all. She expected Morgan to die, and relished the prospect of Morgan suffering for daring to take what she considered hers.
Morgan didn’t care. She was confident she would win.
She had too much to lose.
But she needed to find a way to balance things a little. “No portals.”
“Agreed.” The queen’s smug expression tightened, and Morgan knew she’d scored a hit. “We begin tonight.”
“Agreed.” As soon as Morgan spoke the word, it felt like hands were tightening around her throat until she couldn’t catch her breath. If this was some kind of magic, her own should’ve neutralized it. Instead her magic seemed to be fighting back.
As the queen turned and glided away, Ascher grabbed her arm and swung her around to face him, steam practically rising from his clothes, his anger literally a burning flame. But after one look at her face, he sensed something wrong.
Unable to speak, Morgan tapped her throat.
His expression tightened, his anger fading a fraction in understanding. “It’s a geas, a binding magical oath. If either of you fail to uphold your side of the bargain, it will turn into a noose. Just stay calm, the pressure will ease as soon as it’s latched onto your aura.”
Funny how the queen walked away without a problem—the lying bitch.
The anxiety building in her chest eased, turning into pure rage, and she let it simmer while Ascher continue to sooth her with his low, rumbling voice. The scent of charcoal and fire rose from him in a comforting wave, and she gripped his shirt, pulling him closer.
All Ascher wanted to do was throttle Morgan for agreeing to anything without consulting them, much less risk her life on a pointless hunt. The queen would never let Draven go. One way or another, she would sink her claws into the siren.
But seeing her in pain crushed his anger, and he grabbed Morgan’s hands, giving them a reassuring squeeze. Wanting to comfort her, he began to babble. “The geas is a warning. If either of you break the rules of the hunt, the spell will go into effect, and you will die.”
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