Page 37 of Guardian of the Cursed Egg
Sensing my nearness, Leander uses my hair to bend my neck forward, his lips brushing my skin for only a second before his teeth sink in. The sharp pain blooms into molten ecstasy as he breaks the skin, and the world shatters. I detonate around him, my body tightening and pulsing as waves of pleasure ripple through me. Every inch of him is claimed, drawn deeper as I spiral higher, my cries echoing in the charged air.
Somewhere in the haze, I catch a glimpse of Callan, his glowing eye locked on us as he tips his glass to his lips. The heat of his gaze sears through me, promising that this is far from over.
Leander’s length slips free, leaving a trail of heat and a slick gush down my inner thigh. The mingling scents of sweat, musk, and desire cling to the air. It’s a heady cocktail that keeps my dragoness prowling close to the surface. He releases me slowly, his lips pressing a tender kiss to my shoulder, then dragging languidly over the wound at the back of my neck. His tongue flicks out, warm and rough, sending shivers racing down my spine.
“I still need to mark you,” I pant, my voice a shaky rasp as my body trembles under the aftermath of his claim. The fire within me hasn’t yet cooled, a molten ache still simmering in every nerve.
Callan steps into my peripheral vision, offering a glass of water with a straw. The coolness of the liquid as it trickles down my parched throat is a stark, almost shocking contrast to the heat still radiating throughme. My lips tingle as I pull away from the straw, my breaths still shallow and ragged.
“That’s why I’m here.” Callan’s deep voice rumbles close, his tone edged with command. He uses the side of his curled index finger to guide my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze—his one good eye gleaming with possessive intent. Before I can respond, he takes the glass from my hands and spins me with a firm yet fluid motion. My senses reel as he catches both of my wrists, pulling them behind my back in a grip that leaves no room for escape.
“Offer her whichever shoulder you want marked—or your neck, whatever you prefer,” Callan directs to Leander, his words a low growl that vibrates against my ear. The cool press of his chest against my back contrasts with the warmth of his grip on my wrists, sending a ripple of heat through me.
Leander steps closer, his scent—earthy and faintly icy—filling my nose and settling in my chest like a balm. His lips brush mine with a tenderness that threatens to undo me. His hands cradle my face, rough and calloused but achingly gentle, as he tilts his head to offer the left side of his neck.
My dragoness surges forward, roaring in my mind, her hunger clawing at the edges of my control. My breath hitches, coming in ragged gasps as I fight to temper her primal demands. The left side of his neck gleams with a faint sheen of sweat, the pulse beneath his skin thrumming in a steady rhythm that beckons me.
I press my lips to the spot first, savoring the warmth of his skin beneath me. My human teeth graze him lightly, almost reverently, before the shift happens. Without warning, my teeth elongate, sharp and unyielding, my dragon’s fangs sinking into his flesh. His blood bursts onto my tongue, hot and coppery, its richness flooding mysenses and settling the tempest within me. My dragoness purrs in satisfaction. Her edge dulled, her hunger sated—for now.
I draw my tongue over the wounds, sealing them with care, my lips lingering on his neck before I pull back. His blood still lingers on my taste buds, a reminder of the bond forged in that moment.
Callan releases my wrists, his hands brushing against my hips as he steps back. He swats my ass with a playful smack, his deep laugh vibrating through me. “Let’s have some dinner before rounds two through who knows how many. I worked up an appetite just watching you two.” His grin is wicked as he waggles his brows, his teasing lighting a spark of amusement in my chest.
I chuckle, my lips curving into a sly smile. “You really need to watch Abraxis and me if you want to see enthusiastic mating,” I laugh, my dragoness rumbling in agreement.
The heat between us hasn’t abated entirely, but the promise of more hangs heavy in the air as we prepare for what’s to come.
CHAPTER 22
Vaughn
WatchingCallan run around the nest in Malivore is hysterical. He’s pacing the wide stone hall, the slap of his boots against the polished floor echoing off the dark walls. His hands flutter over decorations, smoothing tapestries that don’t need fixing and shifting crystal vases that have already been perfectly arranged. “Callan, chill out, man. Everything’s going to be alright,” I say, leaning against the cold stone wall, arms crossed.
The faint scent of Mina’s jasmine-infused hair oil lingers in the air as she sits on the arm of the couch, methodically brushing her long emerald and silver strands. The rhythmic swish of the brush through her hair is oddly soothing against the backdrop of Callan’s chaos. Across the room, Abraxis is polishing his armor. The slow scrape of the cloth against steel punctuates the stillness, the soft glow from the chandelier overhead glinting off his chest plate.
“We have two hours to get dressed and ready for the procession and then the formal right after!” Callan practically yells, his voice sharpwith exasperation. He throws his hands in the air, his frustration almost tangible.
“Sweetheart...” Mina beckons him softly, her voice like warm honey cutting through his frenzy. Callan hesitates, then steps closer, allowing her to pull him into a hug. The scent of wildflowers clings to her, grounding him as her fingers thread through his hair, smoothing the frazzled strands. She kisses his cheek, her lips brushing against his flushed skin. “Abraxis, Leander, and I leave in an hour,” she murmurs, her tone calm but firm.
I watch her glance back at me, her eyes sharp and knowing, and I can’t help but smile. “The rest of the nest will be in the box with Abraxis’s parents, waiting to watch them pass. Once they get past us, Ziggy will phase us into the dressing room so we can get Leander unsaddled, and he can get dressed,” I add, filling in the behind-the-scenes plans we’d meticulously crafted earlier. My voice carries a casual confidence, though the tension in the air makes my skin prickle.
Mina nods before Abraxis takes over, his voice steady. “Mina and I will walk in hand in hand and head to the main table to watch this year’s females enter, including my sister,” Abraxis breathes deeply, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air. His scent shifts subtly—nervous energy tinged with a hint of earth and leather. “Warrick has told me my sister is his mate. So when the meet and greet begins, Mina is going to sit with my parents and sister, and I am going to introduce Warrick to her.” Abraxis looks up from his armor, his sharp golden gaze narrowing slightly. There’s that look again—the tension in his jaw, the subtle twitch of his fingers against the steel. He’s not thrilled, that much is clear, but I can tell he’s swallowing down his protests. It’s better than the arranged marriage his parents hadplanned for Cora, but just barely. The air in the room hums with anticipation, each of us caught in the web of what’s to come.
Getting Leander saddled and Mina up on his back was almost a disaster. The fancy side saddle Abraxis’s mom lent us barely fit Leander’s Nightmare—its obsidian-black frame looked ready to snap under the girth of the beast. The leather creaks ominously with every adjustment. The smell of polished brass and scorched fur filled the air as his fiery mane flickered impatiently. Mina grips the saddle horn tightly, her fingers pale against the dark leather. When she gives the signal, Leander ignites his mane, a blaze of spectral blue and orange flames that crackle and hiss like whispers from another realm.
Satisfied they were in position, I raced back to the family box, my boots thudding against the cobblestones. The scent of roasted chestnuts and sweet cinnamon from nearby vendors mingled with the smoky tang of burning wood, carried on the night breeze.
“Did I miss anything?” I ask Ziggy as I slide into my seat, catching my breath. The roar of the crowd vibrates through the box as the first horses clear the gates.
“Right on time. It’s just starting,” Ziggy replies, his voice almost drowned out by the shutter clicks of the fancy camera he’d brought. The scent of fresh ink and metal wafts from the gadget as he snaps pictures with practiced precision.
“I can see the Nightmare from here,” Vox remarks, moving closer to the rail, the metallic rasp of his armor brushing against the wood.
As if on cue, Leander rears up, his glowing hooves striking the air and igniting an arc of fire that dances across the arena floor. Gasps ripple through the crowd, and Mina’s melodic giggles ring out like a spellbinding song. The sound sharp and clear even over the roar of the spectators. Leander prances in perfect rhythm. His steps glowing faintly as if leaving embered footprints behind, matching stride for stride with Abraxis’s warhorse, whose scales glimmer like molten amber under the stadium lights.
“This is amazing. Mina’s dress compliments my son’s scales perfectly,” Cerce says, her tone dripping with pride. The floral notes of her perfume cut through the smoky air as she waves enthusiastically at them.
Mina leans forward, her gown shimmering like liquid blood and shadows, and whispers something to Leander. The Nightmare breaks formation, its hooves sending up sparks as it trots closer to the box. Cerce leans over, her gilded gown rustling like dry leaves, and hands Mina a lavish bouquet of midnight roses and dragon lilies, their petals shimmering with iridescent hues. The rich, earthy fragrance of the flowers contrasts with the metallic tang of the arena.
