26. Mina
Mina
So my first instinct with Callan was correct. He’s a mate of mine, and I need to protect him. It’s a feeling that thrums through my entire being, driving me forward like a force of nature. I tuck the egg back into its carrier with careful hands, feeling the weight of it before I follow closely behind him. The air between us is tense—like a live wire ready to snap. We move up the stairs to his third-floor office, each step echoing like a drumbeat in the quiet corridor.
Once inside, I take a seat in the recliner where I can see the entire room—every entrance, every exit, every vulnerable spot. I’m aware of each person as they file in, their presence as familiar and comforting as the hum of energy that buzzes beneath my skin. Abraxis shifts behind me, his reassuring presence at my back as I cradle the egg. The weight of their gazes falls on me, but it’s Callan’s—sharp and wary—that I feel the most. He might be reluctant, but he’s mine.
“Abraxis and I are being moved to the Malivore Campus,” I say, the words coming out steady, though the decision leaves an acidic taste in my mouth. I take a deep breath, letting the air fill my lungs as I look around at these men who have become like a second family to me. I save Callan for last—my reluctant mate. He’s the male who both fascinates and frustrates me in equal measure. “I’m building my nest, and I want you four with me.”
The air shifts, crackling with energy as I turn my gaze to Balor. “Besides me, you’re a very gifted poison master. I’m not able to be everywhere at once, and knowing you’re watching out for me and everyone here would mean the world to me.” My voice is firm but soft, like I’m handling something precious.
Balor’s eyes flick up to Abraxis, then back down to me. He gives a single nod. “I accept.” No hesitation, no questions. Just acceptance. The moment the words leave his lips, he turns on his heels and leaves the room. Heading off to pack whatever he needs for the move.
I shift my attention to Ziggy and offer him a smile. “Who else is going to help me escape if it’s my only option?” I raise a brow, letting a hint of amusement curl my lips. “That, and you’re the best candidate to be spymaster for my nest. If you accept.” Abraxis’s hand tightens on my shoulder, a subtle show of support.
Ziggy smirks, not even bothering to look at Abraxis for permission. “Sounds like a fun time. I’m in.” He winks before vanishing from the room, leaving only the faint scent of his cologne behind.
“Lee…” I chuckle softly, feeling the tension in the room lighten for a heartbeat. “You can read anyone like an open book, and that’s an extremely valuable tool to keep the nest safe. Will you join us?” I tilt my head, my dragon’s influence bleeding into my voice as I hold his gaze.
Leander studies me for a moment, then shakes his head with a huff. “How can I say no? Besides, I’ve gotten tired of staring at your mate’s face for the last fifteen years. The scenery has vastly improved.” He flashes a grin and turns, leaving only Callan with us in the room.
The door clicks shut behind him, and silence settles like a shroud. I rise slowly from the recliner, closing the distance between us in a few strides. He stiffens, his posture rigid, and I can practically feel the battle waging inside him.
“I know the look of a man battling demons,” I murmur, my voice low and intimate. His eye narrows, but he doesn’t move away. My own eyes shift to the molten gold of my dragon as I keep my gaze locked on his. “My demons are the voices in my head that my father put there. Telling me no matter how hard I fight, how dangerous I become, I will be nothing other than property and a breeder.”
The words are bitter on my tongue, each one laced with the venom of past wounds. I tilt my head, feeling my scales ripple across my skin, a reminder of the beast beneath my flesh. Callan’s breath hitches, and he opens his mouth to speak, but I press a finger against his lips, silencing him.
“Demons only have power if we give it to them.” The truth of it settles like a stone between us. I reach up and slowly peel off his eyepatch, revealing the hollow socket beneath. His breath shudders, and I can see the fear lurking there, like a beast ready to tear him apart.
“Do you want to know what I see?” I ask softly, my voice barely a whisper. I wait, watching the war of emotions flicker over his features.
“I’m scared to,” he admits, his voice broken and fragile in a way that makes something inside me ache. This man, so powerful and sure, brought to his knees by his own pain.
“I see a male who has forgotten that he’s brilliant.” I breathe, leaning in so close I can feel the warmth of his skin. “So brilliant that he was given control of an entire campus full of hot-headed, egotistical students with god complexes.”
He flinches, but I don’t let him look away. “You’re my mate,” I say, putting all the force I can muster behind those three words. “I am not meant for a weak or broken male.” His chin jerks in protest, but I grip it firmly, refusing to let him retreat.
“Do you know what that means?” I murmur, our breaths mingling. “You are not weak or broken, not to me.” I close the last inch between us and press my lips to his, pouring every ounce of reassurance I have into the kiss. He tastes like regret and fire and everything I want to save.
When I pull back, his gaze is glassy with unshed tears. I don’t give him time to respond—I turn on my heel and head for the door, my heart pounding in my chest like a drum.
“Pack or don’t pack,” I say, my voice steady even as my emotions churn beneath the surface. “There’s a room waiting for you in my suite at Malivore.” I don’t look back as I leave, the door closing behind me with a finality that makes my chest tighten. There’s no turning back now. Not for either of us.
Within the Malivore suite.
The suite is enormous, its sheer size almost intimidating. There are six individual bedrooms branching off the main space, each one more lavish than the last. A cozy common sitting room sits at the heart of it all, inviting yet somehow too quiet. A seventh room, a dedicated bathing chamber, promises the comfort of a hot soak, but it’s not what holds my attention. My eyes are locked on the central fire pit, where flames dance and crackle softly, their shadows flickering against the polished stone walls.
Everyone’s here, except for Callan. The absence of his presence claws at me, a nagging itch just beneath my skin. The urge to go find him thrums through me, but I force myself to stay put, my fingers twisting in my lap.
Balor settles beside me, his weight sinking into the cushion slightly, and I look up just as he nudges me playfully with a pillow. “He’ll come,” he murmurs with quiet confidence. “You acknowledged him. His gryphon won’t allow him to be far from you now.” He punctuates his statement by waving a bag of marshmallows in front of me, the crinkling plastic breaking through the silence. He holds out a stick, a smile tugging at his lips. “Want to try?”
“What are we, five?” I glance at him sideways, unable to completely squash the amusement that bubbles up despite the nerves twisting in my gut.
“Maybe.” He shrugs, impaling a marshmallow on his stick and holding it above the fire. “My brothers and I used to do this when something was bothering us. It made us feel better.”
The flames lick at the marshmallow, turning the white puff into a molten, caramel-brown treat. I watch as it bubbles, the sweet scent teasing my senses. “I would be sent to run the gauntlet or fight with bamboo sticks,” I murmur, staring at the marshmallow and the stick he offers me. The memory of sore muscles and bruises itches at the back of my mind. I find myself unsure of what to do with the seemingly simple act of toasting a marshmallow.
“That doesn’t sound like much fun,” he says softly, his voice pulling me out of the memory’s grip. He finishes toasting his marshmallow and hands me the stick. Taking mine, he preps it with another fluffy puff before switching back.
I stare at the marshmallow for a beat longer and then tentatively lower it over the flames, mimicking his slow, steady movements. Everything seems to go fine—until it isn’t. The marshmallow ignites in a sudden burst of fire, and I yelp, flailing as I launch it across the room. It smacks against Leander’s book with a wet splat; the flames sizzling out as it sticks to the cover like a melted, sugary parasite.
“Sorry!” I blurt, cheeks heating with more than just the fire’s warmth. I curl in on myself, watching as Leander’s brow furrows, and he frowns down at his book, muttering something unintelligible under his breath.
“Okay, so no fire for you then,” Balor laughs softly, his eyes twinkling with amusement. He plucks the toasted marshmallow off the stick and offers it to me. “Maybe we should skip to the part where you eat it.”
The outer shell is crispy, crumbling slightly as I take a hesitant bite. But the inside—oh, the inside—is soft and gooey, melting on my tongue like a sugary cloud. A surprised moan of delight escapes me, and I chew slowly, savoring the unexpected bliss. “This is amazing.”
Balor grins, clearly pleased with my reaction. Just as I’m about to try roasting another marshmallow myself—against Leander’s wishes—the doors swing open with a creak, and I look up to see Abraxis striding in, Callan at his side. Relief floods through me, warm and heavy, and I can’t help the wide grin that splits my face .
“Look who I found wandering the halls,” Abraxis announces, his voice carrying an edge of teasing. Callan’s gaze meets mine, and the tension that’s been coiled in my chest loosens just a fraction.
“Glad you could make it,” I say around a mouthful of marshmallow, my words sticking together as the sugary treat cements my lips. I probably look ridiculous, but I don’t care. He’s here, and that’s all that matters.
“Mina’s never had marshmallows before,” Balor informs them, his tone almost conspiratorial. He points to the sad, sticky mess still clinging to Leander’s book. “Her first one... well, it didn’t quite make it.”
“Really?” Callan’s eyebrows shoot up as he glances at me, his lips twitching with the hint of a smile. I give a sheepish shrug in response.
“The one she’s eating is the first one she made herself,” Balor continues, his voice laced with amusement. He doesn’t mention that I didn’t really make it—I just kept it from becoming a second charred projectile.
Rolling my eyes, I grab a second stick, determined to get it right this time. I carefully balance two marshmallows on the ends and hover them over the fire, turning them slowly as Balor continues to feed me the ones he’s toasting. By the time I have two perfectly golden marshmallows, I’m practically vibrating with excitement. I rush over to where Abraxis and Callan are deep in conversation and shove a stick into each of their hands.
“Here!” I say triumphantly, like I’ve just handed them the finest delicacy in the world. They glance at the marshmallows, then back at me, the confusion plain on their faces .
Without waiting for a response, I turn on my heel and head back to the fire. Who knew a little ball of sugar could bring me so much happiness? Well, that and having my friends and both of my mates close to me. I settle back beside Balor, a sense of contentment settling over me. This—this moment right here—is worth all the sticky fingers and burned marshmallows in the world.