Chapter 16
Flint
We step into the portal quickly—the last thing we need is for Rowena to demand an explanation we’re not up for giving. It spits us out on a beach in San Diego a couple of minutes later.
I try to get my bearings, to figure out exactly where we are and how to get to where we need to be—the diner where we’re meeting Grace and the others. A quick glance at my phone tells me it’s only a few minutes away, so I head toward the road without telling Jaxon what I’m doing.
I don’t look at him, don’t have a clue if he’s following me. And right now I don’t even give a shit. How can I when the fight—the breakup—we had earlier throbs inside me like a huge, angry bruise?
I’m tired of being chosen last by him, tired of waiting around for him to see me. Or worse, begging him to choose me when I know he won’t. And when I have always, always chosen him—against my parents, against the clans, against everyone.
I’d pick Jaxon a million times over if he would just pick me—really pick me—even once.
I glance down at the Pacific Ocean below us and try not to think about how much it reminds me of Jaxon—deep, cold, dark, unyielding. Cliffs and beaches all over the world try to stand against this ocean, but it always wears them down.
My relationship with Jaxon feels like that—me fighting for both of us, making a stand against the world. And Jaxon wearing me down, over and over, again and again, until I’m just a tiny, craggy piece of the person I used to be.
My resentment only grows through the next few hours. I don’t let it show—not at the diner when I tease Grace and call her New Girl, just like I always do.
Not when we try to make up a plan to save Mekhi once and for all and Jaxon makes my every contribution feel silly and superfluous.
And not even a couple of hours later, when we portal to the Gargoyle Court and he and Grace walk on the beach deep in conversation, heads together, bodies leaning toward each other.
I know it means nothing—they’re former mates turned best friends.
Plus, Grace is three thousand percent in love with Hudson, and nothing will ever change that.
That doesn’t stop me from wanting the same easy closeness with Jaxon that she has.
The same guarantee that he’ll laugh at her ridiculous jokes or return her hugs or actually let the mating bond snap into place—even when it’s manufactured.
Jaxon and I have been friends for years—years—and lovers for the last six months. And we’ve never had that same easiness between us. But, damn it, I still thought it was real.
Of course, we’ve also never had a mating bond, but that is territory I have no intention of going over again.
I know when I’m beating a dead dragon. Besides, we broke up, even though he hasn’t told anyone about it.
Any chance we had for a mating bond has completely passed us by—and not just because of Jaxon.
There’s no way I’d let that happen, now.
No fucking way.
But knowing that doesn’t keep me from brooding over the next couple of hours, though I try hard not to let anyone see.
I even shoo that damn pigeon off of Jaxon’s head when Jikan freezes him, which I pretty much consider superhuman control on my part.
Especially since I kind of wanted to leave it there to shit all over him—it’s nothing more than he deserves, after all.
But I didn’t, and now we’re stuck sharing a room at Grace’s court because everyone thinks we’re still a couple.
Fuck my life.
Jaxon tries to talk to me several times, but I’ve got nothing to say to him. So when he finally gives up and goes to take a shower, I head back downstairs. Is it cowardly? Sure. But it’s also self-preservation, and right now that has to come first.
Not sure where else to go in the huge stone castle that currently serves as the Gargoyle Court, I head to the training room. Maybe an hour working out with some very pointy weapons will put me in a better mood.
Except the minute I walk in, I realize I’ve made a mistake. Because Hudson Vega is already there, holding a huge broadsword in his hands. So much for privacy.
I start to back out of the room, but the only people with better hearing than dragon shifters are vampires. Hudson’s head came up the second I walked in the room, and he turns to watch me before I take one backward step.
“Looks like I’m not the only restless one,” he says in that damn upper-crust British accent of his that makes me want to smash my fist into his face every damn time I hear it.
Although I’m pretty sure my current urge has more to do with him abandoning his duty to take the vampire throne—and leaving Jaxon to take it—than it does any of our old baggage. We left that shit behind a long time ago.
Or at least, I think we did.
“I thought you’d be upstairs, pining for Grace,” I sneer as I walk up to the massive wall of weapons directly in front of me.
Hudson raises one dark brow—the same damn brow Jaxon raises when he’s annoyed and trying not to show it. “And I thought you’d be upstairs fucking my brother. Looks like we’re both wrong.”
“And whose fault is that?” I demand as I try to figure out what weapon to use.
Now both brows are up. “I’m fairly certain your sex life, or lack thereof, has nothing to do with me or mine.”
There’s a warning tone in his voice now, one that tells me to tread lightly if I’ve got anything to say about Grace. Which I don’t. The shit I want to talk about has nothing to do with one of my closest friends and everything to do with the smug bastard standing in front of me.
I don’t say that, though. Not yet. Instead, I take my time deciding on a weapon. I think about choosing a mace or a hammer—they’re my preferred choice in video games—but in the end, I pick a sword because that’s what Hudson is carrying.
It’s heavy, solid, and exactly what I need—something that can cause damage and tire me out all at the same time.
Hudson watches me with that irritating calm of his, face set in the same sardonic expression as he gestures to the open sparring circle in the middle of the room. “Care to work off some of that anger you’re trying to pretend doesn’t exist?”
“You offering to be my punching bag?” I ask, rolling my shoulders. I definitely wouldn’t mind getting in a few good licks.
“I’m offering you the fight you’re so clearly spoiling for,” he answers. “Although, perhaps that’s the problem. Perhaps you’re already in one.”
Damn it. Why do I always forget just how much Hudson sees? And how his usual quiet, superior attitude has more to do with watching everyone and making judgments than it does any real feeling of superiority.
I don’t bother responding—no need to give the bastard more ammunition. Instead, I grip the sword tighter as I step into the ring and swing.
Hard.
Hudson blocks, of course—he’s infuriatingly good at this. But I’m stronger and a lot more pissed off, so I use a little of my dragon strength to press harder, longer. I end up pushing him back three steps before he pivots, redirecting my momentum and forcing me to stumble to the side.
“So, is this how dragons declare emotional distress these days?” he asks, voice dry. “Bludgeon first, talk later? If so, I have to say, it’s not very subtle.”
I growl and lunge again, blade sweeping high. Hudson ducks, slicing low, and I barely avoid the hit.
“So what now?” I snap, breathing hard but refusing to give an inch as I swing again. “You walk away from the vampire throne, and Jaxon’s just supposed to step in and take it? Give up his life so you can have yours?”
“No one’s forcing Jaxon to do anything.” Hudson parries, then presses forward, his vampire strength on full display as our swords lock together.
I twist away, strike again. “Oh, yeah? Then explain to me why he’s currently being torn apart? He’s not just a vampire now. He’s half dragon, too. You can’t just expect him to—”
“I don’t expect anything from him.” Hudson counters my strike in a move that’s so smooth and calculated that it pisses me off all over again.
The asshole isn’t even breathing heavy, while air is currently bellowing in and out of my lungs like a damn engine overheating before the race even starts. “You don’t have to. He expects it from himself. Royalty isn’t just the perks and privileges. It’s the duty, too.”
“You’re going to lecture me about the perks and privileges of being royal?” For the first time, a snap of anger flashes in Hudson’s eyes. “Seriously?”
I take advantage of the distraction to come in hard and fast. Surprisingly, it works, and I manage to knock Hudson off-balance enough that he retreats a few steps.
Maybe I should feel bad. I know Hudson’s had it a lot rougher than the rest of us—I saw that damn crypt in the Vampire Court. I know what Cyrus did to him.
But right now, I don’t care about the past. I don’t care about what happened to Hudson or what he did to decimate my family or any of the other events that led us to this moment. All I care about is Jaxon and a future we’ll never be able to have if Hudson doesn’t man the fuck up.
My dragon ripples under my skin, his flame burning in my gut and sizzling through my veins.
“He should have a choice about his future,” I growl, bringing the sword down as hard as I can.
Hudson’s sword flashes up to meet mine. “He does have a choice. The problem is he doesn’t believe that.”
“Because of you!” I slam my sword down with enough force to make my shoulders ache. “You handed him the crown, whether you meant to or not.”
Hudson catches the blow with his blade. Sparks crackle where steel meets steel. “I stepped aside so I could be the partner my mate deserves.”
“Is that a slam at me after you killed my brother and took away any chance I had of stepping aside? Or a slam at Jaxon for not running away like you did?” I whirl around, bringing the sword with me.
“It’s not a slam at anyone,” he snarls as he lifts his sword, eyes watchful as he waits for my next blow. “It’s the truth. I walked away. He can, too.”