Page 44 of Guardian of the Cursed Egg
She moves to the kitchenette, the sound of the coffee maker bubbling softly in the background. Steam rises as she pours a cup, and she buries her nose in it, inhaling deeply. The rich, bitter aroma mixes with the sharper, more primal scent lingering in the air. Her hands tremble slightly as she takes a sip, but she doesn’t look at any of us.
“I guess I know what we’ll be doing on the weekends.” I laugh softly to myself, the sound light against the heavier silence hanging in the room. A faint smile tugs at my lips as I glance toward Abraxis.
“What would the rest of us be doing?” Vaughn asks, his deep voice steady as he leans back on the couch, eyes narrowing in thought, as he watches Abraxis.
“Whatever Mina asks you to do,” Abraxis replies, his tone calm but layered with authority. “My dragon and her dragon will do the digging of the nest with our talons. None of you will be strong enough to do what we need to do.” His gaze lowers, the sharp glint in his eyes catching the low, flickering light of the kitchenette. He watches Mina as though she’s the sun and he’s caught in its gravity, unmoving and entranced.
The soft clink of a glass breaks the silence, and then Mina’s steps pad across the room, almost soundless. She slips in beside me, her presence like a quiet storm settling at my side. Her head presses against my shoulder, her silky hair brushing my jaw as she sighs softly. Her warmth seeps into me, comforting but electric.
“It’s a lot of work,” she murmurs, her voice softer now, like the rustle of leaves before a windstorm. “Maybe we can find what’s left of my mother’s egg chamber … if we run out of time.” Her breath tickles my neck, warm and heady, and the scent of her deepens. It’s intoxicating—spiced honey with a hint of something wild, something primal. It clings to the air between us, wrapping around me like a second skin.
A soft chuckle escapes my lips as I turn and press a kiss to her temple, inhaling her scent. “Are you scent-marking me, my love?” I ask, my voice low, teasing, though I can feel my heart thudding harder in my chest. I nuzzle her gently, careful to keep my movements slow, deliberate. The edge of my smile threatens to break wider.
“Guilty as charged,” she purrs, the sound vibrating against my skin. She shifts, her soft cheek brushing over my shoulder as she rubs her neck deliberately against me. The pressure is firm but intimate, possessive. When she finishes, she moves to the other side, her throat grazing the line of my collarbone before another soft rumble spills from her lips—a sound both comforting and predatory.
The room feels warmer now, the air heavier. The scent she leaves lingers, more potent than before, filling my senses as though I’ve been pulled into her orbit.
When she’s done with me, she crosses to Callan, her movements fluid and confident, like a predator claiming its territory. Callan’s face lights up with a grin, and his gryphon lets out a high-pitched whistle of delight. The soft sound is almost musical, bright against the low, growling hum that seems to follow Mina. His fingers thread through his hair as she nuzzles against him, and he laughs—a bright, unrestrained sound that makes me glance toward Abraxis.
I shrug lightly, the corner of my mouth twitching in amusement. “She’s marking her nest,” I say, my tone teasing. “Including her people.”
Abraxis chuckles, a deep sound that seems to resonate in his chest. “I was waiting for this to happen,” he says, his brilliant smile radiant and far too knowing.
“What do you mean you’ve been waiting for this?” Vaughn asks, his head tilting as his sharp eyes flit between Abraxis and Mina.
“Dragonesses tend to become possessive of their nest mates,” Abraxis replies smoothly, his voice even but laced with amusement. “Bonded and unbonded mates, to be clear.”
Mina glides toward Vaughn, her movements slow and deliberate. She leans in, brushing her throat against him as well, her soft skin meeting his in a careful sweep. The air around her hums with the weight of her presence, her scent thickening once more as her dragoness leaves her mark. Vaughn stiffens briefly, but his features soften as he exhales, the tension bleeding from him. The room feels alive—charged, like the moments before a storm breaks. We’re all caught in Mina’s pull now, whether or not we realize it.
“So this weekend we can divide our forces.” My voice is steady, though the weight of the plan feels heavier with every passing moment. I glance down at Mina as she slinks back over to me, her warm, silken skin brushing against mine as she rubs her neck over me again. The subtle, musky scent of her dragoness fills the air—a heady mix of smoke and wildflowers that tugs at something primal within me.
“While you and Mina dig, we can try to find the egg chamber and see if it survived the attack,” I say, my words barely masking the unease crawling up my spine.
Abraxis strides forward, his boots thudding softly against the stone floor. He stops just short of us, his broad frame imposing as he crosses his arms and flexes his wings, the leathery sound sharp against the quiet. “It sounds like a solid idea. While we dig the new nest, you can seek the same one she slept in last time.”
“Do you think the egg chamber survived?” Mina asks, her voice low and curious as she climbs up behind me. The heat of her body presses into my back as she leans against me, her arms sliding around my neck. Her hold is light but possessive, her breath warm against my ear.
“It’s possible,” Callan says, his tone thoughtful as he studies the map of Mina’s parents’ nest spread across the table. The aged parchment crackles softly under his fingers as he traces the intricate tunnels and chambers. “The way the rubble fell, it may have only sealed one tunnel. We won’t know until we start looking.” He leans over my shoulder, his closeness unsettling, and runs his fingers through Mina’s hair. Her deep hum of approval vibrates against my back, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine.
“Tomorrow is another day,” Abraxis mutters, raking his fingers through his dark hair. The gesture is slow, almost lazy, but his sharp gaze belies his casual tone. He leans back against the couch, the leather creaking under his weight. “Back to classes and teaching.”
“I’m kind of excited, to be honest,” Mina says, her voice tinged with amusement. Then, without warning, she nips at my shoulder. The sharp sting of her teeth pierces my skin, and a gasp escapes me before I can stifle it. A deep, guttural purr rumbles from her chest as she latches on, her tongue darting out to lap at the wound. The slick warmth of her tongue contrasts with the sharp, metallic tang of my blood, and I can feel her satisfaction, like a pulse through the bond we share.
“I love how you taste,” she murmurs against my skin, her voice dripping with hunger.
“That is very concerning,” I manage to say, forcing a smile that feels tight and unnatural. I glance up at Abraxis, whose eyes are fixed on Mina, his expression unreadable but sharp. The tension between us is palpable, the air thick with unspoken words and unacknowledged danger.
CHAPTER 27
Mina
Friday can’t come fast enough.The very air seems heavier with unease, like an unseen pressure pushing against my chest. The thought that the elders—and possibly even the headmaster—have been bought off, either by Arista’s father or mine, coils like a venomous snake in my gut. I already felt uncomfortable walking the academy’s halls before; now, every shadow feels longer, every whisper sounds sharper.
I stop, my boots scuffing against the cobblestones, and glance around. Students drift past me, their chatter and footsteps blurring into an indistinct hum. Some laugh, carefree and oblivious to the shifting tides beneath the academy’s polished surface. I clutch my canvas tighter; the edges digging into my palms. Vaughn walks beside me, his scent—woodsy and clean—grounding me as the two general education classes I pushed through this morning weigh on my shoulders like chains.
The painting in my hand feels heavier than it should. My fingertips skim over the dried layers of paint—rough where the strokes arethick, smoother in the shadows. It’s a zoomed-in painting of Thauglor, a white-faced black dragon. His massive eye gleams like polished onyx, framed by the curve of a scarred horn and the rugged texture of pale, marred scales. If you look closely, you can see the reflection in his eye: my dragoness, fierce and free in flight. A shiver prickles across my skin at the image. The mating flight—the thrill, the hunger, the bone-deep connection. I had that with Abraxis.
Vaughn carries his painting carefully, but I catch flashes of pink and white blossoms through the thin paper wrapping. I furrow my brows, trying to see what he painted. “Cherry blossoms,” he mutters, his voice tinged with irritation. “Like my uncle wanted.” The sharp smell of paint still clings to his clothes, mingling with the faint scent of charcoal dust.
