My reaction surprised me—it took all the breath from my body as though a giant fist had me in its grip. The Isobitch had stolen children?
Why did I care?
I clamped down on my emotions, and growled, “Fang. Now.”
Disappointment flitted across her face. What did she expect? If she wanted someone to run after Isobel and rescue kids, she had her ex-Centaur monster-shifter do-gooder. Or any one of several other annoying types who hung out around this place.
Stolen children were not my problem.
Both the Satyr and the Dragona were openly glaring at me now, too. If they wanted a hero, they were looking at the wrong fucking Dragon.
The Dreambitch raised her hand to her neck, and a familiar fuzzy form walked out onto it. I waited a beat, sure the Webspinner would leap onto me—but when she didn’t, I grabbed her off the offered hand, and placed her on my neck.
I was unprepared for the fangs to sink in. I’d been bitten before, but not like this. She worked them deep, back and forth, injecting as much venom as possible.
I made a grab for her, but she squirmed away, and then, she bit meagain.
I might have supernatural healing ability, but there were few things as toxic as Webspinner venom. It wouldn’t kill me, but the next few hours were not going to be pleasant.
This was what I got for having a pet with fucking opinions.
I took two steps away from Riley, and my legs buckled. A split second later, the darkness took me under.
5
Rafael
Isobel and the coven escorted me down the hall.
I was so wrapped in the bloodmagic that I could barely see straight, but only if I’d been blind could I have ignored the things we walked past.
Brock’s primary palace reflected the tremendous wealth his mother had accrued over her years as an overlord, as well as her brutality. The hall was lined with shallow alcoves, each with an item displayed on a pedestal. They lacked any symmetry in theme or design. The objective was simply to flaunt a valuable object to the viewer. Everything from antique weapons, to sculptures, to mummified heads mounted on stakes.
I shuddered as we passed by the shrunken, sightless eyes. Isobel paused our group in front of one, and I couldn’t help but stare at the Dragon head. The flesh had long dried beneath the scales, and the lips had pulled back from the sharp teeth in a death grin.
“He thought he could steal from my mother,” boomed a deep voice. “He was wrong.”
Brock came up from behind us, and I ripped my gaze away. The bronze Dragon gestured behind me. “You might recognize that one. I took his head after Havoc was done with him.”
I turned and my stomach clenched—the head mounted behind us was far from mummified, and I recognized him as the Dragon shifter that had tried to build his own empire at Brock’s expense. I’d witnessed Havoc rip him apart, right before he’d flown after and mated the shifter’s enslaved daughters.
I turned away.
The bronze Dragon’s lips twitched as he dismissed me and wrapped a muscular arm around Isobel instead.
“So, have we caused a stir at the academy?” Isobel asked him.
The question made me wonder about their bond. Could they not communicate telepathically like most fated mates? Mindspeaking required openness and honesty—neither of which were qualities they possessed.
I winced as he ran his tongue along the side of her neck and groped beneath her robe while he rubbed at his own crotch.
They certainly didn’t have issues with the physical side of their relationship.
He answered as we resumed our progress up the hall. “Oh, yes. The place is a hive of frantic activity. Good thing you brought the horse brats here—even the council won’t be stupid enough to come after them.” He frowned as he rubbed a noticeable welt on his arm. “I need a fresh venom dose from my contact, though. We met at the Richin market last time, but since they’ve cracked down on student travel, I haven’t been able to arrange a meet.”
Isobel frowned. “That’s an issue. We need that connection.”
Brock nodded briskly. “I’ll see what I can do, but it might take time.”
