12. Abraxis
Abraxis
“Yes, you did, and you’re alive because of it,” I say, my voice steady, though my chest tightens as I watch her. Her hands tremble, her fingers splayed like they don’t belong to her anymore. The way she stares at them, unblinking, tells me everything I need to know. She’s in shock.
“Zig, get my sister and tell her to bring clean clothes. Balor, grab her backpack.”
I don’t wait for them to move before I scoop her up in my arms, the weight of her body pressing against my chest. Protocol can go to hell right now. In two weeks, I’ll reveal myself as her mate and her betrothed. She won’t have to wait until her fourth year like the others. My claim as her mate outranks any betrothal, as long as no bites have been exchanged between her and anyone else. A vicious protectiveness rises in me, pushing away the nagging reminder of the centuries-old war between our species. It doesn’t matter. Not now. Not with her in my arms, so pale, so broken.
I carry her into the room, the scent of her fear lingering like a heavy fog around us. Gently, I lower her onto the couch, where Balor’s already laid down a blanket to keep the material clean. The blanket feels unnecessary, trivial compared to the storm raging inside her. Balor slips away to start the shower for her. Steam clouds the edges of the mirror, though the warmth doesn’t reach her cold, distant stare.
“What do you need me to do?” Callan’s voice is softer than I’ve ever heard it. He kneels beside her, looking up into those hollow eyes, eyes that once shone with so much life.
“Stay with her.” The words come out harder than I intend. My focus shifts to the desk. I grab a pen, my hand moving swiftly as I scroll a quick message to Lysander. The ink smudges slightly under my fingers, but I don’t care. There’s no time for neatness. With a sharp, high-pitched whistle, I summon my familiar, Rebel. The massive bird swoops down from the rafters, his eyes glinting with intelligence.
“Take this to the headmaster immediately.”
Rebel clutches the note in his talons, giving me a sharp nod before taking off, wings beating fast and hard. If it weren’t for him, watching over Mina like he always does, we never would have known about the attack. The thought tightens my grip on the edge of the desk, my knuckles turning white. The air feels charged, thick with unspoken dread, as I wait for the next move. For something—anything—to break the silence that’s swallowing us whole.
Several minutes pass, and I realize I’m sitting on the couch with an arm wrapped around Mina, holding her close. How long have we been like this? I blink, trying to piece together when I got here. My eyes drift down to her bloodstained hands, still trembling in her lap. She’s staring at them like they hold all the answers to her torment. I can’t stand seeing her like this. Slowly, I place one of my hands over hers, hoping to break through whatever dark thoughts are swirling in her mind.
She draws in a deep breath, her chest rising against my side, and finally looks up at me. Her eyes, filled with an ocean of emotion, search mine—desperation, fear, something else I can’t quite place. Her lips part as if she’s about to speak, but the words never come. Instead, her body shifts slightly, inching toward me. There’s a flicker of intent in her eyes, her gaze still locked on mine. Is she … about to kiss me?
My heart pounds, anticipation curling in my chest. Her breath brushes against my skin, so close now. But before her lips can meet mine?—
“Mina!” My sister’s voice slices through the air like a whip, shattering the fragile moment between us.
Mina jerks back as though she’s been shocked, a growl rumbling low in her throat. The dragon in her stirs, and I watch as the familiar slits in her eyes form, eclipsing the softness of her human gaze. Her head snaps toward Cora, the anger in her rising like a tidal wave.
Cora steps back, eyes wide in surprise, her mouth parting slightly. It’s enough to snap Mina out of whatever trance she had fallen into.
“Cora...” Mina stands abruptly, but her legs wobble beneath her, and I’m quick to place a steady hand on her lower back, feeling the tension coil beneath her skin.
“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Cora says, her voice softer now, guilt written all over her face. “You can tell me what happened.” She wraps an arm around Mina’s waist, pulling her gently away from me, but not before mouthing a quick, sorry in my direction.
I nod, but the frustration gnaws at me. So close?—
Between the crying and screaming in the bathroom, my nerves are shot. Each shrill sob that echoes through the barracks grates against my patience, like nails dragging down my spine. I’m standing, fists clenched, ready to storm the door for the fourth time, when Mina’s soul-crushing wail hits me again. My drake surges beneath my skin, snarling, demanding action. Before I can take a single step, Lysander strides into the room, his gaze sharp and focused.
“Who killed Devax?” His eyes lock onto mine, cold and searching. His posture stiffens as Mina cries out again, and I jerk my thumb over my shoulder, more irritated than I should be.
“She defended herself from an assassination attempt ordered by Arista.” My voice comes out flat, bored. I’ve grown tired of this—this constant cycle of near misses and emotional chaos. Mina’s screams are clawing at the edges of my sanity, but Lysander doesn’t flinch.
He glances toward the open door, taking in the bloody carnage outside, then shifts his attention to the now-silent bathroom door. “An unshifted female destroyed an ambush drake?” His mouth falls open, disbelief painted across his features.
I nod, unbothered. “Yeah, her dragon’s near the surface. I can only hope Abaddon’s got her birthdate right, or we’ll have an angry dragoness on our hands sooner than expected.” I strip the bloodstained blanket off the couch and toss it in the corner. The stench of iron hangs heavy in the air, mingling with my frustration.
Lysander’s brow arches, his eyes calculating. “For everyone’s safety, I scheduled the dance on her birthday. Abaddon mentioned how females of his species get when they sense their mates before they can shift.” There’s a knowing glint in his eyes—he knows exactly what I’ve been doing. Strengthening the bond, keeping her dragoness calm without her realizing it. My drake paces inside me, steady but restless. The bond is the only thing keeping him from losing control.
Just then, the bathroom door creaks open, and Cora steps out with Mina clinging to her side. Relief washes through me—Mina’s color has improved. Her cheeks aren’t as pale, and there’s a steadiness in her steps.
“Oh, headmaster,” Mina whispers, stopping dead in her tracks when she spots Lysander. Her wide eyes dart between me, Balor, and then Ziggy, clearly seeking an escape route. I suppress a grin—smart mate, looking to the displacer beast for a way out. Always thinking ahead.
Lysander raises his hands, palms out, in a placating gesture. “You’re not in trouble, Mina,” he says softly. “I’m here to make sure you’re okay.”
Something shifts in her posture, a tension releasing as she nods, her head dropping as she clings tighter to Cora. “Thank you for checking on me,” she murmurs, her voice small but grateful.
“I think for tonight, it might be safer for you to sleep here in the barracks,” Lysander continues, his tone gentle. “My top warriors have rooms here. If that makes you feel better.” He gives her a reassuring smile, but my drake still watches her closely, coiled tight, ready to react.
“Thank you.” Mina lowers her eyes again, her voice quieter, and then turns down the hallway toward the bedroom.
I narrow my eyes, muttering under my breath, “That was too easy.” I was expecting more resistance, maybe even a war. Something isn’t sitting right in my gut, and I can’t help but feel like the quiet before a storm is brewing.
When Cora steps into the room and softly announces that Mina has finally fallen asleep, the tension in my chest loosens just a fraction. My mate is safe, resting. Ziggy offers to take my sister back to her dorm, and she leaves with him. I turn to Balor and Leander.
“I’m going to crash on the couch,” I mutter, already rummaging through the closet for a pillow and blanket. The guys exchange a glance, but they only offer quick goodnights before heading out. I settle onto the most uncomfortable couch known to man, every spring digging into my back like it’s out for vengeance.
Sleep? Not likely. Every little sound keeps pulling me back from the edge—Mina’s soft breaths, the rustling of her blankets, even the wind against the window. My senses are too sharp, too attuned to her, and every time I stir, it’s to check if she’s alright.
It feels like minutes, but somewhere in the early morning, a blood-curdling scream shatters the silence. My heart slams in my chest as I jolt awake, tangled in the damn blankets. I’m on the floor before I can free myself, but the second I’m loose, I’m sprinting down the hall toward the bedroom. The sound of her cries fuels my panic.
I burst through the door to find Mina thrashing in her bed; her sheets a trap, her arms pinned. The blanket twisted around her neck, choking her. I waste no time tearing the sheets away, freeing her from their strangling grip .
“Mina,” I whisper, my voice rough as I gather her trembling body against mine. “Shhh... I’m here. You’re safe.” She’s so small compared to me, fragile, shaking like a leaf caught in a storm. Her face finds my chest, pressing into the solid planes as if seeking shelter, and I freeze.
I’ve imagined her like this, countless times—her skin against mine, her warmth so close, but always with a far different outcome. My body reacts to the intimacy of the moment, to the memory of all those mornings in the shower where I’d fantasized about what would happen next. My hips shift back, trying to hide the hardness against me. The last thing she needs is to feel that.
“He... tried to kill me...” she whispers, her words a broken murmur against my skin as her body relaxes in my arms.
“I won’t let anyone hurt you. Ever.” My voice is low as I press a soft kiss to her forehead, pulling her closer before gently lowering her back down. But the mistake becomes clear as I hover over her, my weight on my arms, her slitted gaze on me. My drake pushes at the surface, desperate to claim her now. Here.
I try to pull away, but her hand shoots out, grabbing my wrist. “Don’t leave me,” she pleads, her voice breathy and fragile, making my heart stutter.
“You’re not awake enough to make that decision,” I rasp, trying to convince myself more than her.
Her golden eyes blink wide open, locking onto mine. She bites her bottom lip, staring up at me with a vulnerability that crushes me. “It might be a mistake for both of us... might even break my heart,” she whispers. “But please, stay. I don’t want to be alone.” A single tear escapes, rolling down her cheek, and I brush it away with my thumb .
“As you wish.” The words feel heavy, like a promise I’m not sure I can keep. I grab the extra blanket from the foot of the bed and lay on top of the covers beside her, rolling onto my side to face the door. My body is on fire, every muscle tight, my arousal painfully obvious beneath the thin fabric. Tiamat help me if she notices the raging hard-on in my pants. I yank the blanket higher, trying to bury myself in it.
“Thank you,” she whispers, her lips brushing against my bare shoulder blade before she presses herself to my back. Her body, soft and warm, fits perfectly against me, and I can hear the moment she falls asleep—her breathing evening out, the tension leaving her body.
But me? I’m wide awake, with an aching boner and my mate nestled against me like some cruel torture. My need to touch her, to claim her, to make her mine is a raging fire, but I can’t. Not like this. Not now. And I sure as hell can’t relieve myself without waking her up.
I’m officially in my own private hell.