32. Ghoul
Chapter 32
Ghoul
“ Y ou look excited,” says the General Death Adder in great disgust as he takes the wheel of our Serpent Court Jeep.
I chuckle under my breath as I fasten my seatbelt.
Crime lord meetings are sort of like family reunions. There’s food, jealousy, posturing, lively arguments, and someone occasionally loses a body part. I don’t have a family after all, so it’s all in good fun and I quite look forward to them.
This one in particular, I’ve been counting down the days on a special colour-coded calendar on my phone. There are apps for these things.
We arrive at The Jewel of the Jungle in style, as Serpent Court always does, under a pleasant spring sun, the scent of venom and roses in the air. Our noble king is guarded by two generals in his Rolls Royce, one Jeep at the front with me and Mamba and the second Jeep at the back with two other generals.
A family trip. I even packed extra towels.
I leap out of our car, beating Adder to Mace’s door so I can open it. The shorter general flashes a dark look my way and I grin with my fangs.
Mace extracts himself from the car, unfurling to his full height a few inches below me. Today he wears a deep emerald green trench coat over his black shirt and slacks. An unusual bit of colour for a spot of celebration.
“Right on time, Your Majesty,” I pipe. “Ten minutes late.”
He nods absently, his mind on important matters. Some of the others are already here, parking their vehicles, their guards smoking out the front. In daylight, The Jewel loses its glamour only a little bit. After all, it’s who’s sitting inside that makes the place what it is.
Mace lopes inside with three of the others. I stay outside, monitoring who’s coming in by lighting a cigarette and leaning against the wall by the entrance. I flash my fangs at a couple of hyena grunts who scatter away as I approach and take up their spots.
Mentally, I count everyone off. The Clawsons are already here, and I’m kicking myself because I didn’t get to see Titus debut his new hardware. But that’s okay, there’s plenty more fun to be had. Lady Hyena arrived first to ward the area, as she always does, paranoid little thing. The falcons are present by the smell of metal in the air because they’re always loaded with the best weapons, useless as their power is.
The screech of a Ferrari makes me grin, and it’s not long before the Collector sashays in on leopard skin with two muscled roos flanking her. She pauses before me and I tap my cigarette so ash lands just shy of those expensive, heeled boots.
“Careful, Lord Basilisk,” she coos, “or I’ll make you pay for it.”
I offer her a cigarette straight from the packet and she takes one, allowing me to light it. She takes a drag and exhales smoke towards my face.
“I would never pay for it,” I say. “I like free samples. Short on cash, you see.”
She grins, shaking her head on her way inside as if she finds me amusing. I am fairly funny, but not everyone can see it.
Then finally, the moment we’ve all been waiting for. The purr of a new Rolls Royce fills my ears, and I wait in anticipation for the doors to open and close in the carpark.
I frown, because a pair of footsteps, one booted and one bare, pad down the path to us.
They appear around the corner—just the two of them because no dragon needs bodyguards.
My being goes still. Because it’s something I do not expect.
And rarely does something happen that I have not expected.
Xander, his power roiling like black flames about him, leads Aurelia Boneweaver, naked as the day she was born, her hands crossed over her breasts to hide them, the mounds deliciously pushed up. Her cheeks are pink, her blue eyes sparkling with humiliation, and she must be thanking her lucky stars for her own grooming choices because black curls of hair hide her pubic area from the view of every shadow-hearted beast here.
If I hadn’t seen her naked a few times—including her heat when she was greedy for my cock in her mouth, a moment that will go down in history for me—I might have ended up on the ground before The Jewel. She has a body made by the Wild Goddess, perfect for a beast’s tongue and teeth. Perfect for a monster’s dark hands.
There’s a new golden collar around her neck that gleams like the sun. This one is studded with two sapphires, and between them is a single sentence, emblazoned in black, so it’s easy to see from a distance: PROPERTY OF DRAKOS ESTATE. Old blood crusts the edges of it because they’ve seared it into her skin.
Cursed dragon bastard.
Likely, a statement of power after his little meltdown at the wedding. And boy oh boy, is it working.
Mace is not going to like this.
“Ah, it’s the Lady Boneweaver,” I muse.
“You look like you belong in a theme park,” Xander snarls, his power sizzling like a barbeque just over his skin.
Ooh, he’s in a mood. A permanent one, by the looks of it. I can’t wait to see what fun this makes.
“Fancy that!” I say in mock interest. “You’d give an oven a run for its money, mate. Useful on a winter’s night, I bet.” I take a long drag from my cigarette.
Mamba snickers next to me and I grin at him.
“I wondered why you looked familiar,” Xander drawls at him, brushing microscopic lint from his shoulder. “Your son made amusing noises as he died.”
In the blink of an eye, General Mamba lunges towards the nasty dragon. Luckily, I’m faster and I manage to intercept. The serpent general slams into my considerable bicep.
“Now, now, children,” I say reasonably. “Today we come together and put our differences aside. Let the big scary dragon through. We can play later.”
Xander pretends none of the last thirty seconds happened and saunters on inside, his pet trailing miserably behind him. I watch her perfect, round, bare ass leave me.
Mamba glares at me from behind his mask. “You should have let me at him, Ghoul. I deserve blood for my son.”
“And you’ll get it,” I say, placing my ciggie between his lips. “You just have to wait a little longer, that’s all.”
I decide it’s best to leave him outside to calm down, but I head inside, eager to see the show on its way.