Page 60 of Howling
I consider us even.
While he might need to take me back alive, I don’t have the same restrictions. Scruples are for those who have the luxury of choice. If he tries anything, I won’t hesitate to remove the threat.
“I propose a truce,” I suggest, suddenly questioning my own intelligence. Bargaining with him is a risky gamble, but I can’t do what needs to be done if I’m worried he’s going to slip a knife between my ribs at any second. “I’ll remove the chains holding you in return for your promise that you won’t try to take me back.”
“And you’ll just take my word for it?” He nearly chokes on his snort of derision.
His disbelief is valid.
The council has trained its people so well that no one does anything without expecting something in return. If everyone is too busy looking out for themselves, they can’t work togetherlong enough to remove the council from power—just the way they want it.
It’s controlled chaos.
Any inkling of rebellion is put down brutally. It doesn’t matter if they’re guilty or not. Even the whisper of dissent is enough for people to be targeted for death.
The Orion studies me as intently as I gaze at him, each of us trying to discover if the other can be trusted. But if Gramps trained him, he can’t be all bad, right?
“Yes,” I admit begrudgingly, striding closer. Fuck, the bastard is tall, even taller than Garth. Sure, shifters are built stronger and taller than humans, but these two are monsters in human form. Annoyed that I have to peer up at him, I glare. “If you betray me, it’s the last thing you’ll ever do. Without the collar, the council either believes you are dead or gone rogue.
“Something tells me you are almost as important to them as I am.” I raise a single brow in question, but he remains mute, his expression revealing nothing. “They’re going to want proof of your demise. My guess is the other Orion will now be searching for you too…unless you plan to return to duty?”
A snarl curls his lips, and I don’t miss the shudder that ripples through him—no, not a shudder.
A low growl rumbles from his chest, his rage vibrating the air between us.
“If we want to survive, the two of us are better than one.” I ignore the way the other guys are watching us with too much interest. While I don’t think they would turn us over if offered a reward, I’m careful not to say too much.
The Orion studies me closely, like he can read my mind despite my shields. Maybe he can. Who the fuck knows what kind of abilities a dragon might possess?
I don’t flinch away, willing him to see that I’m not lying.
“I didn’t kill the man who raised me as his own.” Rage sparks my magic, and I curl my hands into fists to keep from lashing out, craving vengeance. He might be an Orion, but I instinctively know he had nothing to do with Givvens’ death.
Silence stretches between us for another minute before he lifts his bound arms in my direction—a silent demand to be released. I reach forward, then my hands pause over the chains. “Death before dishonor.”
It was a phrase my gramps said only to a select few, a code used for those he trusted most. It’s a gamble to even say it out loud, but I have to know if he can be trusted.
His eyes widen slightly, his chest stops moving, and he doesn’t hesitate to return the corresponding reply. “Justice and vengeance for all.”
I drag my eyes off him, my mind spinning as I work to unseal the locks on the chains. The silver itches against my skin, but it doesn’t burn, not like it does to other shifters.
I don’t have powers per se, not like witches and mages. My abilities are more subtle, ingrained in me like they are any other sense, similar to smell and strength.
I’m not familiar with the runes etched into the metal. I brush my fingers lightly along the symbols, my touch disturbing the magic enough that the spells smudge. The slight glow dims, and I systematically work my way across each rune. As more and more disappear, the magic weakens. By the time I smear the last symbol, a bitter chill radiates from the metal.
My fingers barely brush against the lock before the Orion flexes, his muscles rigid under the strain. The metal cools further, frost discoloring the links, then large cracks spider across the surface.
The temperature continues to drop, and my breath fogs the air. Tiny snowflakes drift lazily to the ground, and the sound ofcrackling fills the silence. My lungs ache with each breath, but I don’t turn away.
Metal pings ominously, then tiny cracks splinter across the surface.
Tyler nudges me farther away, practically bristling with menace, like somehow, he will be able to protect me from being turned into a human popsicle. The chill is so strong that I have no doubt the Orion could freeze a person solid in seconds.
He’s a fucking frost dragon.
Shit!
I stagger in shock, barely keeping my legs beneath me.
