2. Xander
Chapter 2
Xander
Home – Bebe Rexha, Machine Gun Kelly
I have dreamt of this moment for so damn long that now reality seems like the dream.
My father leads the way into our family home, straight into the majestic black and gold tiled entrance hall with the old obsidian stone dragon guards. I smile faintly at their intimidating presence and the memories I have of my child self, scrambling up their mighty bodies and perching myself on a big head, crying out to my sister to look at me.
The bittersweet scent of cinders and magic is familiar and comforting in its power. It prickles my skin, letting me know it sees me, that it recognises me. Warmth spreads through my every pore as my own power greets the ancient forces.
Tonight, after eight years of exile, I am welcomed home. Tonight, I am reinstated as heir to my family’s royal seat.
For the first time in a long time, I feel good .
The price was supposed to be dear, but I paid it gladly and with the honour of my family behind me. I feel…more powerful than ever before. More ready to face the world as the dragon I’m supposed to be. I am forged strong by what I did, and whatever anyone thinks about it, I made myself invincible.
The only stain upon my grand return is the slithering scum my father has allowed to take up residence here. And the worst stain of all being Serpent Spawn, who just had to follow me home like one of Scythe’s apparitions. If she hadn’t burned down her own family home, she’d be far away from here. As it is, she is human capital that must not be stolen from us, and I plan to collect any and all interest from my investment.
My hand reflexively reaches for the right side of my neck, but I drop it almost immediately. It’s strange not feeling Savage’s chaotic energy or Scythe’s cold presence in my head, and more recently, Lyle’s leashed rabid power.
My eyes fall upon the golden archway that leads to the rest of the Estate and warmth like a welcoming hearth filters through my chest. My ex-brothers will be furious with me right now, even raging mad, but eventually, they will come to terms with the truth.
That I was never meant to be a part of their pack.
That I was meant to be free.
And within that freedom is true power.
Ghoul leads Serpent Spawn by the arm behind us as we turn the corner to find a group of Mace’s scientists waiting with barely restrained glee.
There’s eight of them, all serpents, with a steel table laden with sterile equipment, packets, and collection tubes. Every single one of the so-called team has a black serpent covenant etched for all to see on the back of their right hand.
“This couldn’t wait until the morning?” my father drawls.
The lead scientist, a middle-aged bald male, immediately breaks out into a sweat, his fear perfuming the space between us. “If it pleases, Your Majesty, we have waited so very?—”
“Get the initial samples done now,” Mace Naga says in his ever so smooth, curated politician’s voice. “And then I’m sure everyone would like to go to bed.”
“Indeed,” my father drones. “You’ll have plenty of time with her tomorrow.”
I supervise as Spawn is brought forward by the basilisk lord, her beady eyes darting around at each of the new faces and what they hold in their hands.
Each beast in the room observes her every movement as if she’s a prize sow.
We all see it—the fire inside of her. Still, despite a severed mate bond. Despite being a captive and ordering her own mates not to come after her.
Lesser beasts are struck dead by a rejection of a mate bond. Strong beasts are rendered catatonic. But Spawn stares us down like a knight readying for battle.
I exhale the burning irritation through my nose.
No longer will she haunt my nightmares. No longer will I be subject to her powers, seductive or otherwise.
Ghoul shoots me a sideways glance and I swear he’s gloating under that ridiculous skeleton mask. Fucking psychopath. I thought I had it bad wrangling Savage and Scythe, but this basilisk? He will have to be watched carefully.
Two scientists hurry forward with clipboards, a set of scales, and measuring tape, muttering their plans to each other.
Spawn has the audacity to put up her hand, and sets her eyes on Mace Naga. “I want surety that my surrender ”—she glares at me—“means that my friends and mates are out of bounds. Those were the conditions.” She glances at Ghoul.
“Yes, yes,” my father says dismissively. “We have no need for the others.”
Mace levels Spawn with an unimpressed gaze. “Let go of any idea that you are some martyr, Aurelia. Comply, and I have no need to pursue your beloved friends.”
A vague statement, no doubt meant to unsettle. Sure enough, a small crease forms between her dark brows, but she turns to the scientists and nods at them as if she’s in charge here.
She’ll learn soon enough.
Height and weight are taken first, followed by a cutting of some of her dark hair, a clipping of her fingernail. She is made to sit down on a metal chair as they draw six vials of blood. They swab her mouth and cheek multiple times, for both saliva and DNA.
I can’t fucking believe my father is entertaining this.
My dragon twitches in his slumber. He’s been asleep since the bond-breaking and since I don’t have any knowledge about dragon-bonds, I can only assume he’s recovering from the shock of it and will come to when he is ready.
Spawn shifts in the chair, squeezing her knees together like she needs to pee. I won’t have her urinating on my floor.
“That’s enough,” I command.
The serpent about to take fingerprints from Spawn jumps a foot into the air. Ghoul and Mace turn to look at me. The barest hint of a frown forms on Mace’s pallid face, and it satisfies me to no end.
I wave a dismissive hand at the reptiles. “You’re done.”
They all bow and begin backing away, leaving Spawn rigid, clutching the sides of the chair.
My father turns to me, clasping me by the shoulder, and I don’t ever think I’ll get used to this feeling. “I took the liberty of having this made for you, my heir.” The faint chink of gold sounds as he raises his other hand. I blink at the gold collar and chain for a singular moment of confusion before my instincts kick in and I reach for them.
My steps are automatic as I stride towards Spawn, and before she can complain, as she no doubt will, I sweep her tangled mane of black hair aside and clasp the golden collar around her neck, securing it with my power so it seals shut without a seam. A dragon-lock.
It makes no physical sound at all, but there’s an air of finality around us like the resounding thud of the final nail in a coffin.
I hold the other end of the chain in a tight fist.
Spawn’s face, upturned and pale, fixes her heinous gaze upon me. Not her, but It , I realise.
“What is this?” Ghoul asks, flicking at the 24-carat dragon-enforced chain with a gloved finger.
“She is my captive,” I say, tugging on the chain.
Spawn gapes at me before she’s forced to rise from the chair.
“Indeed,” my father says haughtily. “Dragons of old kept chosen pets close by, and we’ve taken up the tradition. Sometimes, I tote my human slaves around if I have need for it.”
Ghoul clucks his tongue as if this is exactly what he expected from dragons.
I can’t see Mace’s reaction, for I’m choosing to ignore the worm. In fact, pretending neither reptiles are here will be for the best. If the king of worms thought he’d be in control of this situation, he has another thing coming. The investment is here because of me. Not him.
My father makes an amused sound in his throat. “We will speak in the morning, my son.”
Hearing those words from his mouth makes my chest go tight. “Of course, Father.” I incline my head. “My thanks to you.”
He pats me on the shoulder twice before turning around, nodding to Mace and sweeping away to his rooms.
I too turn my back upon the weevils, tugging Spawn along. She trips on her own feet before scuttling in my wake.
Not her. Not she. It. I must never forget that.