by Maya Daniels
“Fenrir …” my voice trails off when he lifts a hand to stop me from saying anything else.
“It’s a long story.” Soren snorts indignantly at Fenrir’s comment from behind me, but the Fae ignores him. “And I will explain everything when I can. Right now, I need Leo’s help and a promise from all of you that whoever comes back with him to Sienna will be protected.”
“Human?” Zoltan turns all business, his arms folding across his chest in reaction to an unknown threat to what he considers his domain. If he keeps this territorial bullshit up, I honestly won’t be surprised if he starts pissing on everything.
“Half bloods …” My spine snaps to attention hearing that. “I can’t be sure how many will be coming, but some might be just like the mother and two half bloods that Leo brought not long ago.” Running a hand through his hair in frustration, Fenrir huffs out a heavy sigh. “Myst made a deal with a human to have them saved from the hunter’s compounds.”
“And we trust this human?” I really want to punch Zoltan for the question, because as soon as I hear half bloods, I want to run head first and get them out myself. I understand his worry too, so I bite on the inside of my mouth to keep it shut.
“I do.” My body jerks as if Fenrir has slapped me.
“You trust humans?” I couldn’t keep quiet any longer. Out of all of us, Fenrir is the one who looks down his nose at everyone, including some supernaturals.
“I trust that human. Not humans, Drake.”
“Oh, we are back to Drake now. Got it.” For some reason it rubs me wrong that he is distancing himself. I’ve done nothing to deserve it, which makes it an even more bitter pill to swallow. “Anyway”—Cutting off whatever he was going to say to that, I turn to Leo—“what can we do to help?”
“Nothing now until we know more about this. I will go meet with the human first.” Scrubbing at the back of his neck, Leo peers at Zoltan with his lips pressed in a firm line. “You okay with that? I don’t think I have the strength right now to deal with newcomers while I keep trying to control the influx of powers that continue to hit me from the Academy and having to worry about fighting you if it comes to that.”
“Why would he fight you?” Frowning I turn from Leo to Zoltan. “Why would you fight him?”
“He allowed himself a full transformation,” Soren answers, while a muscle keeps pulsing in Zoltan’s clenched jaw. “The territorial instincts are still too strong and he can’t keep them under control. Not yet. It’s what happens when you ignore or refuse your nature for too long.” My eyes follow Soren’s hand when he reaches up and rubs at the center of his chest absentmindedly. “Isn’t that correct, Rìgh fuil?”
“What did you call him?” I have to remind myself that Soren can snap my neck with a flick of his wrist, otherwise I may slap him for constantly speaking in tongues.
“Blood King.” An intent gleam enters Soren’s gaze while he stares at Zoltan, as if he’s daring him to dispute him or say something to contradict him. “Isn’t that what you are, Zoltan?”
“We will take anyone the human brings to the portal and protect them.” Turning his back to the Dragon Blood, Zoltan answers Leo. He is a bigger person than me. If looks can kill, Soren will be ashes right now based on the glare I pin him with. “As long as Francesca is nowhere near them, you will have no problem with me. Just keep them out of sight for now.”
“I can help protect them, too.” Jumping in their conversation, I lean heavily on Tenebris so I can see around Zoltan. “Wouldn’t they be safer here with all of us? Let’s not forget we still don’t know if we have more moles telling Roberti our every move.”
“As much as I would love to fight beside you, Drake, and antagonize Zoltan every chance I get at the same time, I don’t think that’s a smart idea. Not right now.” One side of Leo’s mouth curls, and it softens the sting of his words. It doesn’t feel nice to be excluded.
“The two of you should talk,” Fenrir says almost under his breath while he darts glances at Soren. “Don’t do what I did.” His white-on-black eyes lock on Zoltan and some unspoken understanding flows between them.
I want to ask a hundred questions but keep quiet, diverting my attention from them by gliding a hand over the panther’s back. A deep purr vibrates through my palm all the way up to my elbow, and I look down at Tenebris. His keen, bright green eyes flick between all of us, his intelligence and cunning raising goosebumps over my arms.
“I must go back across the portal.” Fenrir rolls his shoulders as if uncomfortable for being here with us. “If you need me, I will come … if I can. Do not hold it against me if I’m otherwise occupied.”
“Your loyalty has never been a question, old friend.” Clasping the Fae’s forearm, Zoltan slaps him on the back. “Do what you need to do. If you need our help, all you have to do is ask.”
“This feels like a goodbye.” Panic surges through me and I snatch Fenrir’s arm in a tight grip, my nails digging into his skin. “Why does this feel like a goodbye? Is it me? Did I make you not want to be here?”
Old triggers rear their ugly head, choking me. Half blood, unworthy, abomination, unwanted … not enough, not enough, not enough … Words scream on repeat in my mind and silence everything else.
“Franky.” I snap out of my downward spiral when Fenrir shakes me by the shoulders hard enough to make Tenebris snap his jaws a hairsbreadth away from his hand in warning. “You are not at fault for anything. Myst needs me, and I have denied myself long enough what I knew in my heart to be true.”
“Oh …” Blinking stupidly at him, I have to wait for the panic to subside so I can speak. Seeing Zoltan forcibly keeping himself from throwing the Fae off me clears the doubts that were trying to choke me as well. “I knew there was something between the two of you.” Happiness warms my insides and I give Fenrir a big smile. “I’m not gonna say I won’t miss having you around, Fenrir. I’ll have no one to pick on.”
Leo clears his throat loudly and my smile wobbles.
“The mutt will have to deal with all my glorious attitude now.” If I’m blinking fast, it has nothing to do with the prickling tears at the back of my eyes. It’s from the flickering flames. Right, that’s the reason for sure.
“You cannot leave.” There is no argument left when Soren speaks from behind me. “You made an oath.”
“And you’ll watch me break it, seann dràgon.” Squaring his shoulders, the Fae glowers at Soren. “You can try to stop me, but I will not let you kill me easy.”
“No one is killing anyone.” Whirling on Soren, I grab his upper arm and shake him as if that will make him to stop being a jerk. He doesn’t move an inch, but his eyes snap to my hand that is wrapped around his bicep. “You said it yourself: no one wins against the Fates. Stop being an ass or I’ll castrate you.”
I see Leo wince from the corner of my eye and Zoltan’s eyebrows crawl up his forehead.
“Go, Fenrir. Say hi to Myst for me.” Not taking my gaze away from Soren, I swallow the lump in my throat. “And don’t be a stranger, okay?”
Not caring about the angry Dragon Blood, Fenrir turns me and wraps me up in a bone crushing hug. I cling to his shirt, grinding my teeth to stop the sob that’s trying to escape me. With a kiss pressed on my forehead, he takes one step, then another before he spins on his heel and walks away. I keep looking at his back until it disappears out of sight.
“I’ll come if you need me.” Calling after him, my voice echoes off the high walls and ceilings.
“I know.” I can hear him answer, but I wonder if I am just imagining it.
“He will be back.” Zoltan comes behind me, his body enveloping mind as I lean the back of my head to his chest.
“Why is it that I don’t believe you?”
He doesn’t answer, and I’m grateful he is not trying to lie to me. There was a finality in Fenrir’s hug that squeezed my heart until it felt like it would explode. I’ve always been on my own, even when Daren acted like he was there for me. Fenrir was the firs
t true friend I had and watching him walk away feels like something inside me is breaking with no hope of repair. A chill spreads through me making me shiver in Zoltan’s arms. Not even the heat of his body can warm me.
“It’s the oath being broken,” Soren spits in disgust.
“Huh?” My mind reeling, I turn absentmindedly toward him.
“That emptiness and ice you feel.” His face twisted in anger, the Dragon Blood glares at the place where Fenrir disappeared. “It’s the oath being broken.”
“And you know this how?” Bile burns the back of my throat.
“He bound the two of you with the oath, and he can feel it break, too,” Zoltan murmurs in my hair as he presses a kiss to the top of my head.
“I have no idea what any of you are talking about.”
“It’s time we have a talk.” Zoltan sounds calm, but his heart is trying to punch a hole through his chest and my back.
“I will come for this talk as well.” Soren juts his chin stubbornly.
I say nothing, still feeling raw from the knowledge that Fenrir left us for good. Zoltan tucks me under his arm, nodding at Leo as we walk past him. The Alpha squeezes my arm in comfort but releases it too soon for my liking, and then we are gone.
I wish I can say the same about the ancient Dragon Blood following right behind me.
Soren is proving to be a bigger problem than I ever anticipated.
Chapter Three
People were giving us wary looks and a wide berth until we reached the dining hall. Not even the memory of my brother’s head rolling on the floor stopped my feet from moving as Zoltan guided me to the corner of the large space we somehow marked as our own since the day I walked through those cursed gates of the Academy. It feels like that was a different time.
A different life.
Placing me on one of the armchairs, the vampire arranged my limbs to make me comfortable. Feeling numb inside and not caring one way or the other, I let him do what he wants. As soon as Zoltan steps away and perches on the sofa closest to me, Tenebris plops over my feet, covering them with his body. That left Soren to situate himself across from me on another armchair. The ancient Fae grumbled something but took his seat.
“Dearly beloveds, we are gathered here today …” I speak clearly before hysterical laughter bursts out of me. It really does feel like a funeral.
Soren gives me a worried look before his gaze darts to Zoltan.
“It’s the breaking of the oath making you feel like that.” He repeats Soren’s words, taking a hold of my hand and rubbing my fingers between his.
“How is that possible, Zoltan? I don’t remember taking or giving an oath to Soren, or Fenrir for that matter.” I realize that I’m pressing the fingers of my free hand at the center of my chest, so I drop my hand limply in my lap. “It feels like I have an organ missing or something.”
“You would not remember it because it was given at the time you were born.” Soren clears his throat, leaning on the armchair like he is posing for a photoshoot. “Your father gave the oath in your name.”
“Maybe you should join my father so you two can discuss it, then.” If my father was alive, I think I might kill him myself right now. “What was it? Some deal, like an arranged marriage or whatever you want to call it?”
“We are not human.” My palm started itching to slap the arrogant look off Soren’s face.
Letting my fangs drop—as tiny as they are—and my eyes shift to the snake ones—or dragon vertical pupils as nature has made them—I grin humorlessly at the ancient Fae. “You don’t say.”
“Magnificent.” Eagerly leaning his body forward, the awe on Soren’s face made my stomach churn.
“The oath, Soren.” Hissing to snap him out of whatever fantasy he is creating in his head, I tighten my hold on Zoltan’s hand. “How do I get rid of this feeling. Fenrir was my friend … is my friend,” I amend. “As much as I’ll miss his stick-up-the-ass self around here, I shouldn’t feel like a part of me is missing. This is not normal.”
“You are the last of your kind.” A glow enters his orange eyes, which sends a shiver crawling up and down my numb body. “That oath was the right thing to do, and it has made it so your line will continue.”
A yelp bursts out of me when Zoltan’s hand clamps over mine like a metal vice, grinding my bones.
His face is carved out of stone, but he says nothing.
“Meaning what exactly?” Tugging on Zoltan’s arm, I untangle my fingers from his and take his hand in both of mine. Touching him grounds me because it feels like the floor is about to fall from under my feet. “No more riddles. Speak plainly so there aren’t any more misunderstandings. How am I the last of my kind? What about you?”
“The last female Dragon Blood, Francesca Drake.” Eyelids lowering, Soren’s calculating gaze sends alarms blaring through my brain. “It was my belief that you would need a strong royal Fae bloodline to continue yours. Fenrir was willing to take the oath, and until now, he saw it as an honor.”
I laugh.
Peals of laughter shake my shoulders and tears gather around my lashes. The longer Soren stares at me like I’ve finally lost it, the louder I get. A stich forms on my side when I start gasping for air. Poor Zoltan looks ready to jump and kill something, lost as to how to deal with me right now.
“Oh, dear Fates, you are serious.” Gulping air to fill up my lungs, a few more barks of laughter pass my lips. “You are kinda forgetting the most important thing in your idiotic plan, I think.” Slowly and purposely, I point a finger at myself as if he is stupid. “Half blood. Repeat after me … half blood.”
“You are a Dragon blood.” Straightening his spine, Soren looks like I just insulted him. “Your bloodline is strong enough for an offspring. You will continue your line.”
“That was your and my father’s idea? To force Fenrir into an oath? And then what? When I’m old enough I’ll jump right in and start popping out babies?” I realize that I actually feel sorry for Soren. He is delusional. “This right here”—Swirling a hand at my lap indicating my uterus, I glare at him—“does not work. You can’t be that far gone not to understand that. We can’t breed; it’s scientifically proven, in case you missed the memo.”
I don’t bother mentioning that’s why Zoltan and I have been humping like rabbits every chance we get without me batting an eye. As a half blood, I can’t have younglings. I knew that since I learned what being half blood meant. So did Zoltan, at least that is what I assumed. Uneasiness clamps my stomach and I dare a glance at his face.
I wish he looks angry.
The blank expression he is wearing spikes my blood pressure through the roof. The slow smile curling Soren’s lips makes the dining hall spin around, so I grab hold of the armchair in a white-knuckled grip. My chest starts rising and falling rapidly, all the oxygen in the room not enough to help me breathe. Dark spots dance at the corners of my eyes, so I don’t fight Zoltan when his hand takes my head and pushes it between my knees.
“Slow breaths.” His voice sounds from very far away and is muffled by the thundering of the heartbeat in my ears. “Slow, deep breaths, love.”
“He is full off shit,” I gasp, still hyperventilating. The sound of tearing fabric where my hands still grip the armchair for dear life helps bring me back a little. “Tell me he is full of shit.”
“Yes, tell her, Zoltan,” Soren chirps a little too happy for his wellbeing.
“I did not know.” That strange lilt that sometimes enters Zoltan’s voice should calm me as it always does.
It doesn’t.
It makes me see red, as a matter a fact.
“I do have a theory on this.” Soren keeps talking while I battle the panic attack and the murderous tendencies clawing at me. “Your bloodline accepts all those you have exchanged blood with as part of what is yours. Humans tell tales about dragons hording, but that cannot be further from the truth. We simply value what we call ours and guard it viciously. With your history of getting in peculiar
situations and always finding yourself at the wrong place at the wrong time, you have exchanged blood with more than just Fenrir.”
Soren’s voice fades into the background. I can hear him talking, but my mind flashes back to that first day when I came to the Daywalker Academy. When the portal was attacked and I was dazed enough for Zoltan to have to carry me to his rooms. I drank Fenrir’s blood that night, which left him unconscious for a long time. After that, I kept pushing Zoltan away until the night he found me on the third floor and let me drink from him. Did he know what was going to happen? I would hate to think that he was manipulative enough to trick me into doing what I wanted. Zoltan is cunning, but he’s always honest when it comes down to something like this. Right?
Astara being within an inch from her life floats to my mind next. She was attacked by the hunters and I gave her my blood. Then Daren giving his when the bomb blasted us off the road in Myst’s car, along with Leo. Zoltan’s face, his lips twisted and a feral expression on his face while inside that cage, and I allowed him to drink me almost to death then. If Myst hadn’t pushed him off me and given me her blood, I wouldn’t be here. Acid burns the back of my throat as I try to swallow the bile.
Did all of them know what they were doing?
By not asking if I wanted the bonds the blood created, were all of them stealing a piece of my safety? Were they pretending they were doing it for selfless reasons under the pretense of helping?
Am I pathetic enough to see friendships, and dare I say love in places where nothing but survival played a part?
Is anything in my life even real?
“Drake.” Zoltan barking my name snaps me out of my wallowing.
“Were you going to tell me?” I don’t care how hollow my words sound because my insides are way hollower than my words in this moment.
“It changes nothing.” The sincerity in his voice lifts my head so I can look at him.