Chapter Seventeen #3
Speaking of collars, I glance at the Orion again—or more precisely, his bare neck.
“What happened to your collar?” I ask suspiciously. I’ve never heard of anyone successfully removing it in a way that didn’t include death. A vulnerable look enters his eyes for a second, but it’s gone almost before I catch it, and I wonder if it was just a trick of the light.
He digs into his pocket, then pulls out a slightly tarnished chain. It’s not a necklace, like some are assigned, but a thick choker, done purposely to remind him that he’s nothing more than a dog forced to come to heel.
The skin around his neck is lighter, and my stomach sours when I realize it’s scar tissue.
The silver in the chain has burned into his skin over and over, until a thick layer of scars formed.
From the tight circle, I doubt he was able to stick even a tip of his claw under the necklace.
When I squint a certain way, I swear I can see runes etched into his skin, but I’m distracted when he speaks again.
“It fell off when you hooked it with your claw,” he says, seemingly confused how any such thing was possible.
A snarl twists his lips when he gazes down at it, his hands curling around the links, and it’s obvious he wants nothing more than to throw it as far away from him as possible.
He restrains himself and reluctantly slips it back into his pocket.
His silver eyes latch on to me, his expression serious when he searches my face. “No one else can know that you have this ability.”
Even though he warns me, his distrust wafts off him like he stepped into a pile of shit. I might have freed him, but it’s obvious he doesn’t trust his good luck. I don’t blame him. Kyperian is not a place where anything happens without consequences, usually of the nasty variety.
Determined to use the situation to my advantage, I point out the obvious. “If you go back” —mindful of others listening, I refrain from mentioning anything regarding Kyperian— “without the collar around your neck, they won’t hesitate to kill you.”
I don’t feel an ounce of remorse for his situation. Sure, he might not have killed me when he had the chance, but I didn’t kill him either.
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 together long 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 of crackling 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.
When you think of a dragon, you think of fire. If not for Gramps educating me on the many different species and how to kill them, I would be completely clueless as well. Over and over, the old man continues to save my life with his training, and it still hurts to know he’s gone.
He was my champion, my savior, my hero.
Without him, I feel adrift.
Digging through my memories, I recall what he told me about dragons.
Witches and mages have hunted them to extinction, harvesting their scales, blood, and other body parts as ingredients. Their essence is so strong that any spell created with them is nearly indestructible.
The dragons fought back, which gave the council an excuse to step in. They claimed that dragons were a menace, too powerful to be allowed free without supervision. They are war machines, creatures who could rain down hellfire from the skies.
Fear is a strong motivator.
The council turned the populace against them.
The few dragons who survived the purge were quickly captured by the council and collared. Any who resisted were slaughtered.
No one seemed to get the irony—that the council no longer has anyone to keep them in check. Their reign of terror has been longer and bloodier than all other wars combined.
No other species has killed as many of our people.
The dragons were the only ones who stood a chance of defeating them, which is why they were targeted.
Frost dragons are thought to be myths. While the other dragons are deadly, frost dragons are absolutely lethal.
They are considered planet killers. They’re bigger than average, stronger too, but it’s their ability to freeze the planet that makes them so dangerous.
They can prevent crops from growing, starve out whole populations, and crumble civilizations.
Garth and Dante are grim as they watch the frost force its way into the road, and the ground cracks under the assault. Ice thickens along the chains, coating the links, turning the metal completely white.
With one last impressive flex of his muscles, the chain shatters.
The links crack like the report of a gun.
Pieces no larger than a quarter fly in every direction, shards of metal raining down and pinging to the ground.
I’m dragged backward, out of the blast zone.
I watch with wide eyes as smoke rises from the shattered pieces, like water is being poured over dry ice.
The display of power should be terrifying, but I can only gawk at him in awe.
It’s like learning unicorns are real, and they can shit rainbows and sparkles.
Magic crackles so loudly that my ears pop, and a wave of power ripples through the air.
As soon as the spell is broken, the chains disintegrate.
I immediately tense, waiting for him to knock me out cold and drag me back to Kyperian.
Sure, he offered his word, but Orion are programmed to obey the council by any means necessary. What’s a little lie?
I stare at him defiantly.
Nothing happens for a few heartbeats, but I don’t let down my guard.
Distrust is too ingrained in me.
The dragon inhales deeply, his chest flexing impressively, and my mouth waters in appreciation.
Heat warms my core, and I curse my body for betraying me.
How inconvenient. The last thing I want is to be attracted to any of these men.
It will only complicate things more, which is the last thing we need when on the run.
Even the smallest distraction can be deadly.
The Orion ignores the others, his attention focused solely on me, much like a predator who caught sight of its prey. Instead of retreating, I lift my chin and narrow my eyes. Facing off against a dragon is pure stupidity, especially a frost dragon, but I refuse to bow before anyone else ever again.
I’m not weak, and I won’t pretend to be otherwise.
I spent my whole life hidden away. If this is my only chance at freedom, I’m going to do my damnedest to live it to my fullest.
A tiny smirk curls the dragon’s lips at my lack of fear, his eyes glinting like diamonds in the cold morning air, pure devilry dancing in their silver depths. “If we’re going to be partners, you may call me Bellamy.”