Page 55 of Hunted
And I...I didn’t burst into flames.Not on the outside.But the magic inside me pressed against my ribs stronger than ever, searing, like it was burning me alive from the inside out.It was sick of being tamed.And with my missing birthright magic, everything was unstable, including my control over my shifter side.Iloathedbeing out of control.
I turned away from the doorway and stalked down the hall to the old map room.Once upon a time, I had used it like a war room, as if I was an ancient ruler plotting to overthrow kingdoms.But we didn’t really use it anymore.The rebel court's revenge plans were usually hatched in the workroom or in the kitchen these days.
This room had become a museum of sorts.Another collection that I carefully hoarded, to the gleeful delight of my dragon heart.Antique maps were displayed on shelves and on the walls.Charts of failed offensives and little wins from my past were preserved to remind me that failure was no excuse to give up.Diagrams of re-ordered territories from Michigan’s early days.Lines drawn in faded ink across the city of Detroit, tracing secret routes and marking hidden caches of weapons and goods, some of which were long-cleared out, and some that still held valuable treasures hoarded over the years of planning.
The table in the center was circular, carved from the bone of a distant dragon ancestor, and inlaid with obsidian.Old.Stubborn.A relic of a time when magic and clan meant more than it did now.It had belonged to my grandfather, once upon a time, one of the few items I had managed take back as I slowly rebuilt my life here.I dropped into a nearby chair and leaned forward, elbows braced on the edge of the table.
My claws itched to shift.My jaw ached with held breath as I struggled to keep the fire inside.Damn it!I was stronger than this.I should be off daydreaming about all the ways I could kill the emperor when I finally got to him, not worrying about nesting, and mate bonds, and court dynamics.
An old, faded chalk drawing of the city’s underground tunnel system was still visible on the table’s dark surface.I reached for the nearest chalk stick out of habit and began marking new lines, noting recently collapsed portions of the tunnels, and the few new branches we had forged or discovered over the last few years.Images of Ruya's face pulsed behind my eyes, the memory of how she’d looked the moment I almost bonded her...how she’d surrendered completely, not an ounce of fear in her.
An irritating noise called my attention back to the present.I looked down to find I wasn’t holding the chalk anymore.I’d scratched a line across he table with my talon instead.
Bone and obsidian dust pooled beneath my fingertip.I stared at it, then laughed out loud, bitter and disbelieving.I had come so far.Patiently, slowly plotted and pushed, weakened the syndicate bit by bit over the years in ways they didn’t even comprehend, and gathered resources until I was ready to strike.I held back and made sure I wasn’t moving too quickly in my quest for revenge.And now, when I was so close to finally reclaiming my family’s honor by destroying their murderer...I was going to fail.
At his rate, I’d die or be lost to insanity thanks to the ever-increasing effects of my missing magic, well before I was able to execute my grand revenge.
I pulled my hand back.Watched smoke curl from the surface of the table from the heat of my touch.Power, and magic, and rage were trying to leech out of me.But I was still in control, for now.Control.Always control.That was what they needed from me.What I’d always given them.What I’d built my entire rebellion on.Control over the odds.Control over my damned dragon impulses.
But today that stubborn control didn’t feel like strength.It felt like an erosion of my true self.I was a dragon—a wild, powerful beast meant to live with passion and fury, not be tied down and made small by things like caution or plans.I felt like I’d lost hold of the reins, and the beast was about to burst into flight.
It seemed denying my bond with Ruya was the final straw.
I didn’t blame Ruya.Goddess, no.She hadn’t asked to be kidnapped and brought here to heal me.She’d held this court together with her smile and her softness.She’d poured healing into every wound—physical and otherwise—and never asked for anything in return.
She deserved warmth.Gentleness.Safety.But all I had was fire.
A burst of heat rippled up my spine as my fangs and claws elongated.The seat beneath me started to smoke.Fire curled up my throat as my magic flared, and I bit down hard to hold it back—hard enough to taste blood.The scent of smoke rose from the carpet beneath my feet.
I closed my eyes and tried to breathe.Tried to remember how I used to do this.How I used to keep the fire locked behind my ribs.How I used to—
Something shrieked overhead.Then a feathered body slammed into my face.
“Odin,” I gasped.
He flailed, wings flapping madly like he was trying to beat sense into me.Or put out the fire.
“Get—off—” I tried to shove the insane animal away with out turning him to ash with my touch.
Ruya insisted the animals could understand our human speech when she was within a wide radius of them.But the crow ignored my demands.He scrambled onto my shoulder and stuck his beak directly into my ear and screamed again.
“Not today, Satan.”
I blinked.A laugh burst out of me.Had I justunderstoodRuya’s crazy bird?And had it just said...?
The sharp, startled sound of my own laughter bubbled up from a place I hadn’t touched in weeks, temporarily extinguishing the flames.
“Odin—”
“No more stupid dragon meltdowns!”he cawed.
I snorted.“It was just a little bit of smoke.”Was I really talking to the bird?
“Property damage.Emotional damage.The dragon is damaged.It hurts my witch.Hurts us all.Knock it off.”
I tried to shove him off me.He bit at my hair, pulling several strands from my scalp with an annoying sting.
“Okay,” I wheezed.“Okay, okay—you win!I’m a disgrace of a dragon and I will stop setting things on fire!Just leave the hair alone, you monster.It took forever to get it to into that chignon!”
