Page 66 of Guardian of the Cursed Egg
“I told him. Told them both. Thauglor is pissed he’s not able to hatch yet to help.” My fingers brush against the eggshells, and I feel the delicate vibrations of the life inside. “We’ve already been talking about the nest structure.” I lock eyes with Abraxis. “They agree to leave things as they are unless we travel to places where their influence isstronger. Then they would expect you to defer power to them at that time.” I watch a muscle twitch in Abraxis’s jaw.
“That is very reasonable. I accept.” His voice resonates in the hush, and when he places his hands on the eggs, I sense the slight rise in temperature. “We will do whatever is best for the nest and Mina, first and foremost.”
The eggs grow warmer in my lap, and a faint glow seeps through the shells. I press my lips together, feeling my pulse quicken at the reaction.
“Wow … I heard them,” Abraxis says, pulling his hands away. The glow fades, leaving a fleeting after-image in my vision.
“They seem very calm,” Ziggy observes, and the soft sizzle of Vaughn placing a steak on the griddle reaches my ears. The savory aroma of cooking meat fills the air, momentarily distracting me from my fear.
I look down at the eggs and let out a long, slow breath. “They have me. I temper their rage.” The pulses beneath my fingertips slowly, each throb becoming gentler. “Speaking to Abraxis made them tired.” Carefully, I push myself off Leander’s lap and head to my room, the corridor slightly cooler against my skin. Once inside, I nestle the eggs among my pillows, making sure each one is cradled securely.
Iris slithers in, her scales rasping on the floor. She settles beside the eggs, coiling her lithe body around them. I can hear her low, hissing breath as she adjusts, and the tension in my shoulders releases just a little. “Thank you for everything,” I whisper to Iris and the eggs. The comforting silence of my room wraps around me, and for a moment, I can almost pretend all is well.
Dinner feels heavier than it should, despite the brightness of the dining room. The overhead chandeliers cast a clean, steady light across the polished oak table, their golden glow illuminating every detail. The gleam of cutlery, the crimson juices pooling beneath thick slices of steak, and the faint steam rising from untouched plates. Even the slightest movement seems sharp and exposed under the relentless clarity. My nerves are frayed, my focus glued to the door, jumping at every faint creak in the building. Any second now, Balor could walk through the front door.
“I should have gone with him…” I mutter, the frustration in my voice barely contained.
Callan moves behind me, his arms draping loosely over my shoulders as he leans in. His touch is warm, grounding, and his familiar scent—a mixture of pine and feathers—briefly pulls me back from the edge. “Wherever he hid her, it may not be safe for you to follow,” he says, his voice calm and steady.
“I’m a flying fortress with lightning. I think I’ll be okay,” I reply, tilting my head to glance at him with a faint smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes.
Across the table, Abraxis puts his fork down with a deliberate click, the sound cutting through the silence like a blade. His golden gaze locks onto mine, unyielding. “Even with that as a factor,” he says slowly, his words weighted, “I won’t risk you over a female who stopped talking to you for something that isn’t your fault.”
I shake my head, irritation flaring like embers catching fire. “She’s still my sister. My mom is still my mom, even after everything that’shappened.” I spear the last piece of steak, savoring the richness of it as I chew, but even the burst of flavor feels hollow. When the plate is empty, I shove it away, the sound harsh against the quiet tension in the room.
“I need to go to my classes tomorrow,” I say, my voice firmer, “and then back to training. I need to get faster.”
Ziggy reaches across the table, his gloved hand sliding over mine. The leather is cool against the heat of my skin. His grip is light yet intentional as his fingers press gently over the knife I hadn’t realized I was still holding. “If you use the kendo sticks, I’ll shift, and you can try to avoid my tentacles,” he offers with a faint, teasing grin. “I’ll retract the barbs so I only slap you instead of ripping your skin off.”
I stare at his hand for a moment, his words barely registering as the weight of my thoughts grows heavier. The dragoness within me stirs, restless and impatient. A part of me—a selfish, primal part—wants to take everyone in the nest as a mate, to bind us all together, to strengthen us. Callan and Vaughn haven’t noticed their increased strength yet, but Leander picked up on it the other day. I need to talk to Callan about it, but not when Abraxis is around.
Strategically, it’s sound.But do I really need eight mates?
CHAPTER 41
Callan
It’s been almosta week since we delivered Mina’s mother’s hands to her. The memory still makes my stomach churn, the grotesque image of severed flesh burned into my mind. The faint scent of blood had clung to the package, metallic and bitter, despite our efforts to mask it. I always knew her father was a sick bastard, but this? This takes the fucking cake.
Balor returned last night, his boots heavy on the stone floors as he brought news of Mina’s sister. He hid her with his people, a fucked-up protection program that reeks of our desperation. He mentioned her sister finding a mate within his nest—a twist none of us saw coming. Even more interesting, the elders warned them about the risk of birthing dragon kin instead of dragons or basilisks. The thought of it lingered in the air like the scent of scorched wood from the hearth.
We sat around the long, scarred table as Balor recounted his tale. His voice was steady, but the weight of his words bore down on the room. Mina just stared at him, her golden eyes flickering between human and dragon as if caught in a storm of rage. The faint scent of ozonefilled the room each time her dragoness stirred, sharp and unmistakable. Abraxis had to pull her into his arms, wrapping her in his leathery wings to calm her trembling form. Even then, her growls rumbled low in her chest, vibrating like distant thunder.
This morning, the air is crisp and biting on the observation deck. The sun glints off the frost-dusted railing, and the faint metallic tang of the cold stings my nose. Below, the sound of sparring fills the courtyard. Grunts of exertion, the clash of training weapons, and the sharp crack of impact echo upwards. Mina and Ziggy are in the ring, drawing a crowd. Her petite form moves like a shadow, darting and weaving as Ziggy’s massive displacer beast swipes at her with retractable claws. The beast’s tentacles whip through the air, creating sharp whooshes as they aim for her.
“She’s so afraid of failing,” Balor says from behind me, his voice low and unexpected. I nearly jump out of my skin, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end.
“Fuck, dude, you scared the shit out of me,” I snap, forcing my breathing to even out. My heart pounds in my chest as I turn to face him, then glance back down at the sparring match below. Mina’s quick movements are a blur, but Ziggy keeps pace, his brute strength countering her agility.
“Sorry about that,” Balor mutters, stepping closer. The faint musk of basilisk clings to him, earthy and predatory. “Yesterday’s discussion in the den hit hard for me, so I came here to hide out.” His tone carries an edge of weariness, like a blade dulled by too much use.
“Mina was in here earlier with similar concerns,” I say before biting back a curse. My hands clench the icy railing, the metal biting into my palms. That was something she told me in confidence.
“What do you know?” Balor’s voice drops, the predator in him rising. He moves closer, slipping his sunglasses over his eyes—a clear sign his basilisk is near the surface.
“Mina’s dragoness is demanding to bring you and Ziggy into the nest fully,” I admit, running a hand roughly through my hair. The strands catch against my calloused fingers. “She’s painfully aware of the possibility of producing dragon kin with you.” Below, Mina and Ziggy grapple, her foam daggers stabbing into his ribs with quick, precise movements. Abraxis’s sharp voice cuts through the air, scolding them for playing around instead of taking the fight seriously.
“Trust me, my basilisk wants to claim her as his own,” Balor says, his gaze dropping to his hands. The onyx-black scales ripple over his fingers, catching the light like polished stone.
