Chapter 20
Gregory
It took only a single person to poison the moment, curdling the sweet bloom of my mate’s contentment into an acrid tang of terror that clawed at my senses.
My savage nature roared to life, urging me to haul him from the street, to take him back to the mountain and keep him where nothing could touch him.
Evan trembled as he clamped onto my arm, his fingers digging into my bicep.
His nails stabbed at me through the thick cotton of my tunic, denting the flesh beneath.
A fine tremor ran through his body, though he fought to conceal it.
This was not a simple aversion, but a visceral dread for this male who was a stranger to him.
“Was he… close to Evan?” His sweet cadence fractured into something rough and strained.
“No.” I bit out the denial.
I couldn’t tell him that Alaric had coveted the omega I had neglected.
I couldn’t explain that the other Evan, failed by his own mate, had gone to the healer for a relief that should have come from me.
The shame of it branded my soul. My sweet Evan from another world was beginning to accept every part of me, and I wouldn’t let my past failures poison that.
Alaric turned toward Lyra, his head cocking to one side. A frown creased his brow. Lyra bowed low, seeking my support before addressing him. “Master Alaric, Evan is not himself right now.”
The healer’s body tensed, his posture becoming defensive. His focus snapped to me, loaded with pure hatred, before his attention latched onto Evan. My mate flinched and tried to retreat further behind me.
Alaric peered down his nose at Lyra. “What do you mean by that?”
His condescending words and his dismissal of her concern grated on me. “We can discuss this another time, Alaric,” I sneered.
He returned my glare for a moment, challenge blazing in his eyes.
His nostrils flared, and all the color drained from his face.
I’d claimed Evan thoroughly, and the proof was written in scent across every inch of him.
He hurried past Lyra, stopping just before us.
“Evan,” he begged, his hand outstretched.
“Don’t tell me you made the mistake of accepting the bond with this monster? ”
He dared address my mate as if I were not even there? A red haze painted the edges of my vision as my canines lengthened, and my nails grew into claws. I wouldn’t let him disrespect me, not in front of him. Evan’s own discomfort with the healer was all the fuel I needed.
Heat radiated from me, my dragon fire instantly wilting the flowers nearby. The village fell silent as farmers backed away, some shielding themselves with their own magic as mothers hid their children. They were witnessing me protect what I cared about and had every right to be nervous.
Evan sank his nails deeper into my arm. He tugged, but my will was fixed on the threat. Then, he lifted his free arm and brushed his delicate fingertips against my jaw before taking my chin and guiding my face down. His eyes were glazed, but his focus was absolute. “Let me handle this. Please.”
I cursed under my breath, the anger warring with his plea. I craned my neck back, making myself study a sky that was now too bright, and exhaled a long, controlled breath. The ambient heat dissipated, the red haze receding from my vision. I met his eyes again and managed a strained, “Okay.”
He curved his mouth into a small, grateful smile and stepped away from my side, positioning himself in front of me with his back just a breath’s length from my torso.
He was using me as a wall, a shield, but he was facing the threat himself.
Lyra hurried to stand beside me. She looked up at me and gave a slight dip of her head—a silent vow that she was ready to fight with us.
With fingers clasped before him, Evan gave Alaric a slight bow. His face remained placid, his posture relaxed in a way that was entirely out of place. “I must apologize. I don’t recognize you. I have lost my memory and have no recollection of who you are.”
The lie flowed so easily from his tongue, a flawless deception that surprised even me. He could have questioned the man, demanded answers for the familiarity, but instead, he chose to hide the truth.
Emptiness replaced the fury in Alaric’s face.
He advanced, invading Evan’s space far too much for my liking.
Evan pressed back against me, and the healer dropped to one knee before him.
“He is forcing you to say this.” Alaric whipped his head toward me, accusation blazing in his gaze. “He has threatened you.”
I growled softly but said nothing, allowing my mate to handle it as he requested.
He offered his hand to Evan, his palm open in supplication. “Take it, Evan. Don’t be afraid. I will save you from the same deadly fate as the Saintess. I will save you from the Unholy Alpha.”
Evan tilted his chin upward to meet my eyes, a question formed in the deep frown on his brow, but it was his confusion that broke me.
Why? Why did Alaric have to bring that name here?
Why did he have to remind me of that when I was in front of my mate?
In front of the people who had given me a peace I hadn’t known was possible?
The title—Unholy Alpha—burned me like a brand of shame, erasing the one I’d failed to earn, Dragon Lord.
Not the one meant to stand as the fulcrum between the warring goddesses, the keeper of the sacred balance.
No, I was the Unholy Alpha, a name that marked me as a force of pure destruction, a monster who had broken that very balance himself.
The last thread of my control snapped, and fire erupted along my arms, the flesh cracking to reveal the dragon’s molten heart.
Lava, thick and glowing, dripped from my fists and sizzled on the cobblestones.
Defensive barriers of bramble and snarled root systems erupted from between the stones as villagers joined their forces, creating a living fortress of thorns and vines.
The heat radiating from me intensified. It rolled off my chest in waves, an invisible wall of scorching pressure.
Evan gasped, his back arching as the temperature spiked against his spine.
He stumbled forward, driven away by the furnace I’d become.
He tried to glance over his shoulder, confusion warring with panic, but the heat was already too high.
Lyra’s eyes widened. “No!”
She lunged across my field of vision, her hands glowing as she threw a protective ward over him. She shoved Evan hard, knocking him out of the direct line of my fury. His feet tangled, and he went down, his knees hitting the cobblestones with a sickening crack that forced a cry from his throat.
The refined fabric tore, the pale linen smeared with dirt.
Guilt lanced through me at the sight of the ruined clothes, a gift from Adam’s lost mate, but the sight of Evan on the ground, sent there by my lack of control, overshadowed it.
Even with his hair a wild tangle around his face and his clothes in disarray, he was beautiful—a defiant omega my monstrous nature had brought to his knees.
The villagers’ screams pierced the tense silence, joined by the cries of children from behind the thickening walls of climbing roses and defensive brambles. The very flowers they tended were weaving into impenetrable shields, humming with their magic as they sought to protect what they had built.
Alaric smiled and swept his arm toward the frightened villagers cowering behind their magical defenses.
“Look around you, Gregory! Do you think they’ll keep hailing you as the savior who helped free them from the Empire?
Or will they only know the Unholy Alpha who incinerated thousands of innocents the very same day he murdered the Saintess?
” he jeered, his words ringing with venomous satisfaction.
“You will never be the Dragon Lord who walks side-by-side with the Mother Goddess. You will always be the Unholy Alpha!” He leaned forward, spitting the words. “So, what’s your next move? Will you burn the whole village down? How many more will you ruin?”
His taunt was a distant echo, swallowed by the rage that now consumed me.
My focus narrowed to the man who dared to brand me a monster before the one person I refused to lose.
I was thirsty for his life, for the release of the fire that now begged to break free as the molten rock encasing my fists began to re-form, hardening and lengthening into blades.
Alaric burst into derisive laughter as he took a fighting stance, his fists glowing with golden energy, intricate sigils of his magic swirling over his knuckles.
My transformation was complete. Forged of cooling magma, the blades extending from my forearms were black as night with a deep, red heat at their core, glinting like obsidian shards wreathed in flame.
I stalked forward, raising the blades high, and swung them, ready to bring them down on the healer.
As I started to strike, a desperate hand grabbed my ankle and stopped me. Evan had scrambled across the cobblestones, his arm stretched out, his fingers digging in with all his strength. The world was a muffled roar, and his mouth was silently calling my name.
His terrified face and trembling hand on my ankle snapped me from my rage. What was I doing? No. He could not see this side of me. Not him.
I blinked, pulling back from my monstrous side and forcing the fire down. The blades melted into glowing streams that hissed on the stones. My strength left me, and I dropped to my knees beside him. Dirt smeared across his cheek, and his ribs heaved with each ragged breath.
I stared at his scraped and bleeding palms. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
The villagers slowly lowered their thorny barriers. Mothers hugged their children, fear and worry on their faces. I dropped my chin in shame at the street, still slick with water from the morning’s cleaning.
Out of the corner of my eye, Evan struggled to push himself up on his scraped palms, wincing as he put weight on his injured knees.
In the wet stone’s surface, distorted movement caught my attention—Alaric’s reflection mid-lunge, his golden fist swinging for my skull.
Before the blow could land, a wall of granite shot up between us.
More stones emerged, joining together to form a seamless stone cube that trapped the healer inside.
The firm thump of a cane on the cobblestones cut through the tense silence. Her scent followed—dried lavender and sweet herbs reached me, the very essence of her shop and the village’s heart.
Genevieve loomed over me, one palm resting on a gnarled wood cane.
The high sun illuminated the silver strands woven through the gray hair of her bun, creating a faint halo.
Her simple brown work dress was unassuming, but she held the authority of a council member on her rigid shoulders.
Ignoring the stone cage around Alaric, she pinned me with her eyes, her countenance firm as granite and void of all warmth, leaving only accusation.
She pointed between us. “You promised to bring Evan back to me. Instead, you bring this chaos to our streets?”
Her look left no room for excuses. “Get up, Gregory,” she said, poking my shoulder with the end of her cane. “Enough self-pity. It doesn’t suit you.” She shifted her gaze to Evan and gave him a reassuring smile, nodding to show she had things under control.
Genevieve swiveled toward the stone prison. With two taps of her cane, the granite walls crumbled to dust, revealing an exhausted Alaric inside. The golden glow of his magic was gone, but his hatred was stronger than ever.
The Elder paid him no mind. “Follow me, children.” She spun on her heel to lead the way without a backward glance.