34. Mina
Mina
I wake up with a start, just like I do most nights lately. Heart racing, pulse pounding in my ears, I struggle to separate dream from reality. Shattered images dance behind my eyes, haunting me with shadows of violence and loss. Am I losing my mind? The vivid scenes of war and bloodshed feel so real that I almost expect to find the scent of iron lingering in the air.
Carefully, I slip out from between Abraxis and Callan, their warmth grounding me even as I force myself to move away. I need to see Iris. My bare feet barely make a sound as I pad across the room, each step careful and quiet. A soft glow emanates from the corner of the room where my little faerie dragon, Iris, curls protectively around the red egg. Her iridescent wings shimmer softly in the low light, a living shield. She stirs slightly as I approach, but doesn’t wake—her soft snore filling the silence like a comforting lullaby.
My mates did everything they could to exhaust me before bed. But it didn’t help. Their touches and whispers were a temporary solace against the storm brewing in my mind. I still dreamed of blood, of betrayal, of him . A shudder runs through me, and I quickly grab a robe, slipping it on to ward off the chill that has nothing to do with the temperature.
The suite is cloaked in silence. I cross the room and notice the familiar sight of one of the guys asleep on the couch, like always. Tonight it’s Balor, his broad frame taking up most of the cushions as he sprawls awkwardly. His brow furrows even in sleep, a look of concern etched deep. I bite back a sigh. Why are they so afraid? What aren’t they telling me? Every night, one of them insists on keeping vigil outside my door, like they’re expecting someone—or something—to come for me. But they won’t tell me what has them so spooked.
I make my way to the small kitchenette, the soft hum of the fridge and the faint ticking of a clock the only sounds in the quiet. I pour water into a kettle and set it to heat, grabbing a handful of dried herbs to steep into a tea that I hope will soothe my restless mind. Maybe tonight I’ll actually get some sleep, but I doubt it. I’m not even sure I want to sleep anymore. Not if it means seeing those things again.
Why am I seeing them? The images, the flashes of things I shouldn’t know, events that haven’t happened yet. My fingers tighten on the edge of the counter as I stare blankly at the steam rising from the cup. I haven’t told the guys about the assassination attempt I saw before it happened. At first, I thought I was insane—seeing myself being attacked in vivid detail. Or when I knew which eggs would light up for me before it actually happened. That’s not normal. But then again, what about us is normal?
From everything I’ve read, mates are supposed to grant each other gifts with their bites. But what did Callan and Abraxis get from me? I sip at the tea absently, barely feeling the heat on my tongue. Did I pass this curse onto them? Did my mind-shattering visions somehow infect them? A low growl of frustration vibrates in my throat as I head to the recliner across from Balor, curling into its soft embrace. His chest rises and falls steadily, a comforting reminder he’s here. They’re all here. I should feel safe. I do feel safe … from everything but my own mind.
I summon my scales out of habit, feeling them ripple across my neck and ribcage, adding a layer of protection that has nothing to do with trust. It’s not that I don’t trust my guys—I do. It’s everyone else I don’t trust. Arista and her nest don’t respect the accords, not like they should. Once an egg chooses someone, they’re not supposed to be attacked until it either hatches or goes dormant. But that didn’t stop Arista’s nest from breaking the accords multiple times. Lysander fined them and their parents heavily, but it doesn’t feel like enough. It’s never enough.
A soft yawn escapes my lips, the tea’s warmth finally seeping into my bones. I close my eyes briefly, sending a silent prayer up to Bahamut. Please let me sleep and not dream. But even as I say it, I know it’s futile. Those dreams are a warning, a grim glimpse into the future. And if I don’t figure out what they mean, the blood I see in my nightmares might become a reality none of us can escape.
Cora’s voice slices through the peaceful fog of sleep, grating on my last nerve. “Come on, Mina. Time to wake up. We have a math test today.”
Ugh. I groan, burying myself deeper beneath the blankets. But it’s a futile effort. Her persistent voice digs into my skull like a drill, and I can practically see her standing by the door with that insufferably cheerful smile on her face .
“It’s pointless to go,” I mutter, tugging the covers over my head. “I’m going to get another hundred and five because of the bonus question, and you’re getting an eighty-seven.”
Silence. For a blissful second, I think I’ve won, but then— whoosh —the blanket disappears in one swift yank, exposing me to the chilly morning air. I shiver and scowl at her.
“Wanna bet on it?” she teases, her voice dripping with mischief.
I crack an eye open and glare at her. “What’s the point?”
Just as I’m considering snatching my blanket back, I hear Leander’s door creak open. “Bet on what?” he asks, strolling out of his room, shirtless and barely awake. His hair is a mess of wild curls, and he blinks sleepily at us before making a beeline for the kitchenette.
“Mina thinks she can predict test scores,” Cora chimes in, practically bouncing on her heels.
“What’s the scores?” he asks, his voice still husky as he reaches for the coffeepot. I can hear the steady drip of his morning addiction as it fills the room with its rich aroma.
“A hundred and five for her and eighty-seven for me,” she replies smugly. I don’t need to see her face to know she’s smiling.
A floorboard creaks, and then I hear more doors opening—Abraxis and Callan coming out of my room. My gut twists. I know what’s coming next. Before I can even react, muscular arms wrap around me, and I’m suddenly airborne.
“Hey! Put me down!” I shriek, flailing as Abraxis hoists me up like I weigh nothing at all.
He grins down at me, his golden eyes twinkling with amusement. “Nope. Time to get up, sleepyhead. ”
I’m carried out of the room like some helpless damsel and dumped onto the bed. Abraxis keeps a firm grip on the blanket as I make a grab for it, holding it just out of reach. I scowl up at him, but he only chuckles. “You need to get dressed.”
“Really?” I grumble, standing up slowly, still glaring daggers at him. Then, an idea forms. If he wants me to get up, I’ll get up. I untie my robe with deliberate slowness, letting it slip off my shoulders and drop to the floor.
He inhales sharply, eyes darkening as his gaze roves over me. “You’re playing dirty, Mrs. Havock.”
I raise an eyebrow and smirk, crossing my arms. “I’m not the one teasing me with his last name.” I lean in and gently boop him on the nose before sauntering over to the closet. His eyes follow my every move, his expression torn between frustration and admiration.
“Touché,” he murmurs with a crooked smile.
I slip into the dreaded school uniform, adjusting the stiff fabric as it clings uncomfortably. Once I’m fully dressed, I press a quick kiss to his lips and dart out of the room, feeling his gaze linger on me.
“Good luck today,” Abraxis calls after me, voice laced with something warmer than just playfulness.
I turn, giving him a small smile. “I’ll need it.”
Callan is already in the hallway, leaning against the wall with a faint smirk on his face. He straightens up as I approach, pulling me in for a quick hug. “Cora said you were being a brat again,” he teases, his breath warm against my ear.
“She started it,” I grumble half-heartedly, burying my face in his chest for a brief second before stepping back.
Just as I predicted, the test is boring as all hell. I fly through the questions, my mind disengaging before I even reach the end. Sighing, I push the paper away, knowing I’m finished well ahead of everyone else. The student teacher arches a brow, and I nod, handing it over before retreating to my usual spot against the wall. It’s the same drill every time: hand in the test, wait for what feels like hours, and try not to look too smug about it.
The clock ticks by slowly, dragging out each second, until—finally—the student teacher calls time and starts collecting the remaining papers. I let my gaze wander, expecting to see nothing but the usual scene of students shuffling and stretching after being hunched over desks. But something—or rather, someone —catches my eye.
Callan. He’s standing at the back of the classroom, leaning casually against the wall, but his eye is anything but relaxed. It scans the room, lingering on every face, every movement. His presence sends a ripple of unease down my spine. What in the world is going on with the guys lately? First, it was their sudden appearances in my free periods, and now they’re invading my classes?
Before I can dwell on it, the bell rings. I grab my bag and sling it over my shoulder, keeping Callan in my peripheral vision as I move toward the door. The student teacher intercepts me, holding out my test with a knowing smile.
“Great job, as usual, Mina.”
I glance at the score. A perfect hundred and five. No surprises there. “Thanks.” I walk past him, already feeling the weight of eyes on me again.
“How in the bloody hell did you know I’d get an eighty-seven?” Cora’s voice pulls me back. She grabs my test and waves it around like it’s a magic wand, her jaw dropping when she sees the score. “This is freaky as all hell.”
“What’s freaky?” Callan’s voice comes from nowhere, sliding up alongside us like a shadow. His proximity is a wall of warmth against the slight chill in the hallway. “What’s going on?”
“Mina knew what we were going to get as scores,” Cora pouts, shaking her head like it’ll dispel whatever weird magic she thinks I’m working. “Ooh, do you know who my mate is?”
The question hits me like a physical blow. I turn to look at her, searching for … something. But there’s nothing. Just empty space where there should be something—a pull, a whisper, a flicker of light … It’s not like I can just make it happen on command. My chest tightens. “It doesn’t work that way,” I say softly, my voice laced with a frustration that Cora, thankfully, misses.
“Not here,” Callan interjects, his tone cryptic as ever. He scans the hallway before nudging us forward. “Come on, both of you. We need to talk.”
My pulse spikes as we take the stairs up to the next floor, every echo of our footsteps sounding sharper, heavier. He steers us into the teacher’s lounge, the deserted room quiet except for the faint hum of the vending machine. His grip on my arm tightens, pulling me away from the windows.
“Abraxis and I … we suspect you’re a seer.” He delivers the words softly, each syllable weighted with unspoken implications. His gaze bores into mine, searching, waiting for the realization to hit. And when it does, it slams into me with the force of a freight train .
Seers are killed on sight.
“Oh crap,” I breathe, voice barely a whisper. My head spins with all the stories I’ve heard—the gruesome tales of what happens when a seer’s visions grow too powerful, too uncontrollable. A thousand scenarios run through my mind, each one ending in blood and fire. “What do we do?” I lean closer, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him down, my lips brushing his ear. “Callan, what the hell do we do?”
“Hide it,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my skin. “And protect you with everything we’ve got.” He says it so simply, like it’s the easiest thing in the world—like it’s no different from tying our shoelaces or breathing.
I swallow hard, my eyes dropping to the egg carrier nestled against my chest. My fingers tremble as I trace the edge of the case. If I really am a seer … Then maybe the red dragon I’ve been seeing isn’t just a figment of my imagination. Maybe … just maybe… it’s Klauth. And if that’s true, then my dad … My dad is in deep shit.