Page 28 of Guardian of the Cursed Egg
Sliding my feet into four-inch black heels, I tie the straps securely and straighten. Before stepping out, I turn to the mirror, taking in the reflection staring back at me. My green and silver scales shimmer under the light, their arrangement like wings spread over my shoulder blades, with a delicate line trailing down my spine and curving over my hips. They’re a mark of power, of lineage, of strength. Only the most powerful dragonesses carry this many scales in their human form.
For a moment, I run my fingers over the scales at the base of my neck, tracing the ridges. For Abraxis, my mate, I will show every part of who I am. The most feared general in current history deserves nothing less than a mate worthy of his title.
I pull out my phone and text Cerce and Cora to meet us. Time to make an entrance.
CHAPTER 16
Callan
Abraxis orchestratesthe chaos with his usual calm precision, arranging for the entire nest to be fitted while Mina chooses her gown for the winter formal. He insists that we all coordinate, since we’ll be seated near the head table she’ll start at during the event. Of course, he’s kept Mina in the dark about his plans for us. “It’s supposed to be a surprise,” he said with that smug, knowing grin of his.
Now, here we stand, dressed to the nines in stiff, formal suits, waiting for her to emerge. Abraxis’s mom and sister arrive just as the restless energy in the room peaks. He’s on them in seconds, shushing them and enlisting their help in keeping our arrival under wraps. Cerce flits between us, adjusting ties and smoothing hair, her sharp eyes sparing no detail as we await Mina’s entrance.
Then, the moment we’ve all been waiting for.
“Cerce?” Cerce’s name rings out, clear and musical, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps. She runs towards the curtain, and Cercefreezes, her expression a mix of shock and delight. Whatever Mina has chosen, it’s about to steal the breath from all of us.
“On the count of three, I’m opening the curtain,” Cerce says, moving to her place by the cables. Her voice trembles slightly, as if even she can’t wait to see. “One... two... three.” The curtain sweeps back, and the air in the room shifts. It punches out of my lungs, and for a moment, I can’t breathe.
Mina stands there like a queen descended from legends, draped in a gown of black and crimson. The fabric hugs her frame, the deep colors mirroring the three dragons tied to her soul. The black and crimson particularly evokes Abraxis, whose scales share the same duality. She’s breathtaking.
“Do I look okay?” Her voice is soft, uncertain, the question trembling between us. Our silence must feel damning to her.
“You look absolutely stunning,” I manage, the words rough with awe. I lift a hand and motion for her to spin. She does, the gown flaring out with her movement, and my chest tightens.
She’s done it on purpose. Her scales—green and silver—glimmer in the light, all of them on full display for the event. A deliberate statement, bold and unyielding.
“Mina...” Abraxis’s voice is a low growl, possessive and raw, and Mina’s cheeks flush at the sound.
“The most feared general of our time deserves to have the world know he has a powerful mate at his side,” she says, and with a graceful flex of her back, her scales catch the light, shimmering in an almost hypnotic display. Confidence radiates from her, a living testament to her strength and the bond we share.
As she approaches, I can see the glint of mischief in her eyes. She stops in front of Leander, her voice soft. “I have a request, if it’s permitted for the processional.”
Leander raises a brow. “What is it?”
She steps closer, her hands brushing against his face. “Will your Nightmare carry me in the procession? I don’t trust myself on a warhorse I’ve never ridden, and to be honest … I’ve never ridden a horse at all. The idea of being thrown scares me.” Her touch is gentle, and the significance of her bare hand on Leander’s face makes Cerce gasp softly. She understands.
We all do.
Mina’s spine stiffens as the realization settles over her. She’s touching him and no one is getting sick. Before anyone can react, she bolts for the nearest dressing room, retreating into its shadows. Abraxis moves to follow, but I block his path, my hand firm against his chest.
“Talk to your mom,” I say, meeting his intense gaze. “I’ll handle our mate.”
He hesitates, the protective fury in his expression softening into reluctant trust. With a curt nod, he turns to deal with his mother, leaving me to step into the quiet storm Mina has become.
“Mina, please let me in.” My voice is soft, almost a whisper, as I rest my forehead against the closed door. The cool wood presses against my skin, grounding me even as worry churns in my chest.
“I messed up, Callan... I really messed up...” Her words are broken, choked by the soft sobs spilling through the barrier between us. It cuts through me like a blade.
“It was bound to come out eventually,” I murmur, hoping my words carry some semblance of comfort. “At least it’s now and not during the formal.” But even I don’t know if that’s enough to soothe her.
The click of the lock disengaging is deafening in the silence. I exhale slowly, the weight of her letting me in, hitting me as powerfully as anything. Abraxis must have cleared everyone else out, giving us space to deal with this privately. When the door creaks open, I see her—broken, vulnerable. Her makeup is smeared, black streaks of mascara tracing the path of her tears. Those pale gold eyes of hers search mine desperately, as if I hold the answers to questions too painful to voice.
I take her hand gently, guiding her back into the room. The gown she wears is stunning, but it’s like armor she no longer wants to bear. I help her out of it with care, my hands steady despite the storm inside me. Now isn’t the time to let my base urges surface. Right now, she needs comfort, not desire.
“What are we going to do, Callan?” Her voice trembles as she dives into my arms the moment she’s changed. She presses her nose against my throat, her eyes falling closed as though she’s seeking safety in the scent of me.
I wrap my arms around her, drawing her close and breathing her in. My response is measured, calm. “There’s nothing to do. Powerful dragonesses throughout history have had large mated nests. It’s not our fault Cerce had an arranged marriage.” I hold her tighter, grounding her even as Vaughn quietly enters the room.
