Page 51 of Enemy Wolf

Right off the bat, I was dying to tear into some scaly dragon’s throat. It turned out he first came to her that same night I had been there for the security cameras. Fucking dragon must have watched me, waited for me to leave, and stayed downwind so I wouldn’t scent him.

Shiloh unwrapped the bandage around her arm and I wanted to break the table in half over what she revealed. A long black mark, raised up from her skin. She said it burned when the dragon was near, and she believed he used it to track her, keep her on a leash of some sort.

Across the room, no one was looking at Sawyer as he noticeably paled. The Howling Death enforcer stacked his palms in front of him, hiding his own mark that looked identical to Shiloh’s. I glared at him, hoping he could feel my stare. Whatever business he had with dragons, he was certainly in no hurry to talk about it. He’d better hope, for his own sake, that he didn’t have anything to do with these threats against my mate.

“Thank you for coming to us with this,” Derric said, which was when I realized Shiloh had finished. “I have some follow-up questions, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course.” Shiloh nodded.

“Did this dragon shifter ever tell you his name? Or did he wear a biker vest with any kind of road name or title?”

“I never got his name and he didn’t wear a vest.” Shiloh shook her head. “His coloring was orange, though. Orange scales, orange-yellow eyes.”

Derric’s eyes shifted toward Ruse, who gave a subtle shake of his head. I suspected that description was sadly too broad. Orange was a common coloration among dragons.

“What about the potion?” Ruse asked next. “What would it do for him?”

Shiloh drew in a shaky breath, and I slid my hand into her lap, capturing one of hers.

“It’s an extremely volatile, flammable solution called Visakari’s Kiss,” Shiloh said. “It hasn’t been made for centuries, if not longer. It was used in ancient warfare to make huge fireballs.”

“Scaly shit wanted a weapon to destroy us all,” someone snarled with a pounded fist to the table.

“Why would a dragon need a fuckin’ fireball potion?” someone else shot back.

More packmates chimed in, talking over Shiloh who was trying to get a word in to explain more.

From deep within my chest, I released my wolf, lending him my throat, my voice, and all of our shared protective instincts. He growled so loud and furiously that it cut through the noise of my squabbling pack and rattled the table.

“My mate isn’t done speaking,” I said to the hushed silence that followed. Then I pulled my wolf down, sat back, and massaged Shiloh’s nape while waiting for her to continue.

She cleared her throat and squirmed in her seat, her delicious scent blooming and filling my senses. I hid my smile and said nothing, but made a mental note. If putting my packmates in their place turned her on, I’d have to do it more often.

“So, uh, no one alive has seen this happen,” she went on. “But it’s written in ancient grimoires that a dragon who consumes the potion will breathe fire that is toxic to other dragons. It will have a sedative, numbing effect that knocks them unconscious, eventually killing them by way of systemic organ failure. So not even other dragons are safe from this potion.”

The room remained quiet for a long time until Derric said, “So he’s trying to rule Shadowburn Cliffs before he takes us.”

Ruse made a dismissive noise. “Take out his own people? Hellfire MC, no less?”

“Dragons don’t have pack instincts like we do,” Derric countered. “Hellfire is the only close-knit community there is. Otherwise, dragons are mostly solitary. They don’t have the same sense of loyalty to each other as a species.”

“So this guy is trying to become a solo tyrant?” Sawyer crossed his arms over his chest, still hiding his mark. “Take out Hellfire with this toxic fire potion and rule the territory with fear?”

“That was probably his pipe dream, if the potion is as difficult to make as Shiloh says,” Derric said. “He was probably banking on causing panic here in Vargmore. He figured Shiloh would fail at the potion or tell someone what was going on, then set the place on fire.”

“To what end, though?” Sawyer asked. “Just to start a war?”

Derric shrugged. “Maybe to look like he’s taking initiative? Kissing Hellfire’s ass to make a name for himself with them?”

“Our peace agreement benefits them too,” Tryn pointed out. “They don’t want war any more than we do.”

“Respectfully, Alpha,” Shiloh piped up. “I don’t believe this dragon was scheming that much. He didn’t seem…reasonable. He wanted this potion made at all costs, and an absurd amount of it. I don’t think he even considered it was nearly impossible to make, despite my telling him multiple times.”

“So, are you thinking Sawyer’s assessment is the most accurate?” Derric’s tone wasn’t accusatory, he genuinely wanted to know. That was what made him a good alpha, his willingness to be wrong.

Shiloh nodded. “From what I could tell about him, I think it’s the closest guess we have. He’s mad for power and not all right in the head. He just wants to be the biggest and baddest… at any cost.”

“So he sneaks into enemy territory and threatens one of our citizens,” Derric snarled. “He deserves a coward’s death, that’s for sure.” The alpha laid both palms flat on the table. “So, capturing him. Shiloh, you said he’d return at the end of the month?”

---