Chapter 19 #2
At school, we had an entire semester on him as he’s that important to our history.
He almost single-handedly won a war with the fae a bazillion years ago.
He’s the head of the hunters guild, and he controls the hellhounds —scary shifter warriors that have fire magic.
You seriously don’t want to meet a hellhound.
They are scary—like really, really scary.
Yeah, the dragon shifter is huge. Must be over eight foot. Oh, and he’s silver. Silver skin, long silver hair, and his eyes are dark silver, the colour of storm clouds.
He meets my gaze. “Miss Dennison.” Heck, he’s so polite.
“General.” I gulp. He’s so dangerous. “Councillors.” I nod at the rest of the room.
I might as well be polite and get my introductions out of the way.
Not that they care. But now isn’t the time to make enemies or piss these people off.
I bet they’re already annoyed about having to be here in the first place.
“Until we know the girl’s parentage, the vampires should be responsible for her.” Lord Gilbert continues his poor attempt at controlling the room. He pulls up a datapad that I presume has my medical report on it.
Yeah, thanks for that, Dr Ross.
“It says here she’s deficient in various electrolytes and that she refuses to drink blood.” He lowers his tablet and haughtily glares at me. “We need to assess her.” He then looks down his nose at the dragon.
Whoa, I think I’m going to rename him Death Wish for fun. The man clearly has no self-preservation.
The dragon shifter grunts and dismisses him entirely.
“I think—” Death Wish’s words abruptly cut off when Atticus turns his head and narrows his eyes. Finally, he shuts his mouth. Death Wish bristles.
I almost smirk before I can catch myself. I have to keep my face blank. Even I can pick up on his unease.
“The girl is still a child and will not be bargained for like a piece of meat,” the dragon shifter finally growls out. His voice is a rumble that has every hair on my body rising. He looks around the room as if daring the others to disagree. Of course no one does.
It’s my turn to bristle at being called a child—again. I’m seventeen, not a toddler.
“I believe she should stay with me,” says a chocolaty voice. “I know the girl, and I am impartial.”
Xander.
My eyes drift to the side of the room where he casually stands, leaning against the wall, his arms across his chest. What on earth…
“I’m a neutral party, and besides, she’s my employee and I have an obligation for her welfare.”
I open my mouth to correct him as to why the hell not: I quit that stupid job days ago. But his eyes narrow at me in warning, and I sensibly snap my mouth closed. Perhaps that would be a stupid thing to do.
“Xander is more than capable to see to her medical needs,” the dragon agrees.
“The shifters have already attempted to kill her,” the quiet, mysterious Atticus says.
“We all know females aren’t safe in their care,” says a dark-haired man who has the most glorious Irish accent.
Madán, representative of the fae winter court.
Enormous pale blue eyes and pointed ears betray him as a full-blooded aes sídhe, a warrior elf.
His black hair is long, as is their custom, styled into intricate plaits.
Black fae warrior markings like human tattoos start at his right hand and go all the way to his neck.
They link him to his court and give him crazy powers.
Sat next to him is Magnus, blond where his colleague is dark, with green eyes instead of blue. Both warriors protect Ireland.
Everyone in the room turns at once to a sweaty Frank who stands between two angry-looking shifters. He fidgets under the room’s regard.
I allow myself a small grin when I get a look at Freaky Frank’s face. Shifters heal fast, crazy fast. But they have to change into their animal form to do it, and if the swollen, broken nose and the specks of crusted blood around his nostrils are any indication, he hasn’t been allowed.
I did that. The darkness inside me purrs with glee that he is still hurting.
“Yes, about that,” says a deep voice, a shifter.
Why don’t I know this guy? My heart squeezes my blood through me in fierce, urgent beats.
His whole vibe sends shivers racing across my skin.
Wow, I’ve never had such a visceral reaction to someone before.
Sharp cheekbones set off a narrow nose and a severe jaw.
Heavy-lidded eyes framed by dark blue lashes.
The shifter is oily; his entire power is off. I get the general impression he’s the type of man who wouldn’t think twice about kicking a puppy. Every instinct tells me he’s wrong, bad. I shudder.
He’s handsome. I shrug. If you ignore his evil vibe. But what freaks me out at this moment is that his hair is exactly like mine. It’s not quite rainbow. It’s shaded differently. Blue hues are broken up with slices of green. His eyes are pale, a pale grey that is almost white.
He’s a unicorn shifter.
Aren’t unicorns supposed to be all sweetness and light?
Not this… this man… God, I’m so confused. I gnaw on my lip. This man reminds me of the darkness that festers inside me. He has the same feel.
Sick rushes up my throat, and I force myself to swallow down the mouthful of bile. My throat burns. My mind gives me the answers, answers I hadn’t wanted to see.
Nature wasn’t wrong.
I wasn’t unbalanced.
The raging dark inside me isn’t the born vampire part of me. No, it’s the unicorn.
Well shit.