Page 34 of Guardian of the Cursed Egg
I blink at him, a bit stunned, before the realization settles in. The guysreallythought of everything. Each one planned a date or trip to makeme feel special, but they even factored in the ones who couldn’t be with us yet—the mates still trapped in their eggs.
With a full heart, I curl up in my recliner, the eggs, and Iris nestled safely on my lap. As the warmth from the pillow seeps into me, I let my eyes drift shut. A nap sounds heavenly. Dinner will be its own adventure, but for now, I’m content in this quiet moment with all of them close, no matter their form.
Ziggy makes three trips to move the entire nest to the restaurant, sparing anyone from the hassle of flying the family over. The guys don’t argue when I insist on bringing the egg carrier with me, and I can’t tell if that’s a good thing or just another sign that they’re too tired to fight me on anything tonight. Part of me keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop, for this all to unravel and reveal itself as a dream. Any second now, I’ll wake up late for class, heart pounding, and the egg nothing but a fading memory.
The waiter approaches, and Abraxis doesn’t miss a beat. He orders the family sampler meal, a spread designed to offer a bit of everything for dinner. I tilt my head, listening as he carefully discusses the platter’s options with the waiter, making minor adjustments here and there. He even thinks about the nest, making sure there’s something for everyone. It amazes me how much attention he’s paid, how effortlessly he keeps track of everyone’s quirks and preferences.
“Is there anything else you’d like to do tonight?” Ziggy asks, breaking into my thoughts as he tears a piece of buttered bread. The soft rip of the crust echoes faintly in the dimly lit room, and the rich scent ofwarm butter mingles with the smoky tang of roasted meat. He pops the bread into his mouth, chewing casually, oblivious to the storm brewing within me.
“There’s one thing…” I reply, feeling a familiar heat rise within me, smoldering low in my belly. My dragoness stirs, a restless coil of power that ripples through my consciousness. Her presence is hot and demanding, like molten fire skimming just beneath my skin. Nights of restraint—just sleeping, just snuggling with Leander—have been driving me to the brink of insanity. The faint cedar and fallen snow of his scent lingers on my clothes, teasing me, tormenting me. He’s prey; I’m a dragon. It might not even be safe for us to be alone together. But inviting Abraxis in? His feral aura is just as dangerous, like an uncoiled viper waiting to strike.
A slow smirk tugs at my lips, a predatory edge curling into the expression as my gaze sweeps over the table. The flickering candlelight casts long shadows on their faces, sharpening their features, and highlighting every subtle twitch of muscle. My tongue darts out, wetting my lips as my canines lengthen, the slight pressure sending a thrill through my gums. The weight of their attention settles on me—heavy, expectant—though they don’t yet understand what’s coming. “I’ll claim what I want for my birthday present at a later date,” I murmur, my voice low, silky, and dripping with intent. The words hang in the air, charged and electric.
Abraxis’s eyebrows shoot up, his golden eyes narrowing as his gaze darts around the table before snapping back to me.He knows.Oh, he knows exactly what I’m after. The realization sets my pulse thrumming with anticipation. The challenge now is figuring out how to pull it off—how to make him feel safe enough to be alone with me, one on one, when mydragoness is so very hungry.
I bite into one of the candied ribs, the sticky glaze clinging to my fingers. The sweet tang of honey and spices blooms on my tongue, but it’s a pale pleasure compared to the thrill coursing through my veins. The faint crackle of the meat under my teeth sends a shiver of satisfaction down my spine. A deep, rumbling purr escapes me, vibrating in my chest, low and feral. The fact they have no clue what I’m plotting is utterly delicious, like a forbidden treat waiting to be devoured.
CHAPTER 20
Abraxis
Mina has beenon edge lately. The tension rolls off her in waves, sharp and heady, like the ozone before a lightning strike. After surviving dinner with her last week, her intentions are as clear as glass. She wants Leander—desires him with a hunger that’s almost tangible. But she’s not acting on it, and I need to know why.
The corridors of Shadowcarve are cloaked in dim, flickering light, the stone walls cold enough to leech warmth from the air. My boots click softly against the polished floor as I make my way to Leander’s office. The faint scent of ink and old parchment hits me as I push the heavy oak door open without knocking.
“Hello to you too, Abraxis. What brings you here?” Leander doesn’t look up at first, motioning lazily to the chairs in front of his desk as he finishes jotting something down.
“Mina,” I say, her name leaving my lips like a low growl, more a statement than an answer. His pen freezes mid-stroke, and he’s on his feet in a heartbeat.
“Is she okay? Does she need us?” There’s a panic in his voice, and he moves for the door like a predator zeroing in on its prey.
I grab his wrist, the heat of his pulse thrumming beneath my fingers. “She’s fine,” I say evenly, releasing him before the tension in his arm becomes resistance. My wings unfurl slightly, shifting as I lean back against the wall. The faint rustle of their leathery folds echoes in the quiet space. “I’m more curious why you haven’t completed your bond yet.”
Leander exhales sharply and returns to his desk, but instead of sitting, he perches on the edge, his posture tight, his expression guarded. “I’m honestly not sure,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “I wake up with her in my bed, roll her onto her back, kissing her—hell, grinding against her—to show her I’m down for whatever she wants. But it doesn’t go any further.”
His words hang in the air, thick and heavy, and the scent of his frustration is palpable—a faint mix of salt and something darker, like scorched wood.
“She’s not taking it further?” I ask, my voice dropping an octave, carrying a faint edge of disbelief.
“No,” he replies, shaking his head, his brow furrowed.
“Hmm…” I let the sound draw out, considering the puzzle before me. Her hesitation doesn’t sit right. Something is off, and I won’t let it fester. “Hold that thought.”
The cool air shifts as I stand, my shadow stretching long and distorted across the stone walls. Without waiting for a response, I leave his office, the door creaking shut behind me. Now, I need to find our wayward mate and figure out what the hell is holding her back. I won’t allow another damaged bond in this nest.
Mina is at Ranathor Keep, the sharp twang of her bowstring slicing through the cool evening air. Each arrow she releases sails with deadly precision, thudding into the targets that Callan raises from their hidden locations. The faint scent of wood smoke and the earthy tang of damp stone mix with the lingering sweetness of Mina’s perfume—something spicy and wild, just like her.
“I need to steal Mina for a minute,” I call to Callan before he can raise the next target. My voice echoes off of the towering stone walls, startling a nearby crow into flight.
Mina spins toward me, lowering her bow, her movements fluid as a predator’s. Her gaze locks on mine, molten amber and swirling with unrest. She’s on edge—I feel it in the charged stillness around her. “Hey, baby,” she purrs, her voice a low hum that curls through me like smoke. She rises onto her tiptoes, her lips brushing mine, warm and soft with a lingering taste of the honeyed tea she must have sipped earlier.
I kiss her back, savoring the fleeting connection, before stepping back. “I need to ask you a serious question.” My tone hardens as Callan ambles over, boots crunching against the loose gravel.
“What’s stopping you from finishing your bond with Leander?” I cut straight to it; there’s no point in sugarcoating with Mina. She’s as volatile as a lightning storm, and indirectness only fuels her fire.
Her answer is immediate, her voice carrying an edge of frustration. “He’s prey, and I’m afraid of hurting him.” Her words hang in the air, sharp and clear, like a blade drawn in warning. From her perspective, it’s painfully obvious, and I suppose it is—looking at it from the eyes of a dragon.
“What do you need us to do?” Callan beats me to the punch, his tone steady, though his jaw tightens. The faint scent of leather and steelfrom his armor mixes with Mina’s wilder scent as she pivots toward him.
