Chapter 22
Masks
TITUS
After the feast, I tossed in my bed, unable to sleep—but what else was new? I could never fucking sleep. I kept replaying the events of the night in my mind, and I just wanted to shut my brain off. I could incinerate entire forests and melt solid stone, but I couldn’t quiet my own damn thoughts.
I sat up, tossed my blankets aside, and let out a frustrated groan. Everything was so fucked. So utterly and completely fucked.
My General—once a rabid dog—had turned into a lovesick puppy, and my Master of Dragons was completely obsessed with my mate and being disobedient.
I could no longer ignore it. He wanted her, and our Fae nature was bringing out the possessiveness in him.
That stunt with the rose had been such a disgusting display of affection, and she ate it up like she’d been starving for attention. I hated the way her face lit up.
What I hated more was how hard it was for me to be mean to her.
But I needed her to hate me. It was the only way I could control the situation—and ultimately, control her. I only had to wear this villain mask for a little while longer, and then she would be gone.
When she interrupted my conversation with the captains, yes, I had been annoyed. But I took it as an opportunity to tell her what I needed her to believe. Did I go too far? You are nothing to me. I told her that—along with a bunch of other mean shit I couldn’t even recall right now.
I was still in a daze. Prisca’s death loomed over me like a thick fog.
Even in death, my sister still plagued me.
Because of her actions, she had left me with no choice.
I didn’t grieve for her. The only thing I would miss were her lime-green eyes—they were my mother’s, a rarity among fire kind.
I wished I could have inherited more of my mother’s traits, but instead I was the spitting image of my damn father.
There hadn’t been a single day in our childhood when Prisca loved me. Not even liked me. She had hated me from the moment I was born—detested my very existence. It was her hatred that prevented her from ever getting to know me.
I despised being judged. I hated when opinions were made about me based on how I looked and what my aura and power suggested.
If everyone was just going to assume that I was a monster, then there was no point trying to convince them otherwise.
I would be the monster. It was just another mask to add to the collection.
But there was one thing that didn’t add up—and it was the thought that had kept me up all night.
If I was such a monster… then why had Delilah warned me? She saved me. Why save a monster?
After Draxxinar devoured my sister, the world went black—like an out-of-body experience.
I couldn’t see or hear anything. It was like dreaming while submerged in a pool of darkness.
Then, out of nowhere, I heard Delilah’s voice shout my name.
The panic in her cadence reached down into the dark and ripped me out of that conscious dream with a clenched fist.
I immediately sensed a threat, but I was disoriented.
I couldn’t tell from where—or from which direction.
Instinctively, I shoved my power into the ground and blocked it from all sides.
That’s when I realized she was too close.
She had taken the brunt of the shockwave, and her mortal body sustained real damage.
I mind-linked Gleeda and told her to go to Delilah first. Then I took Delilah’s pain away before she could even feel the bulk of it. It was the least I could do.
I’d been so cruel to her, and she had still warned me. But why?
What was wrong with this stupid human woman?
Why couldn’t she just fucking hate me? Things would be so much easier if she would just fucking hate me.
My mind would be clearer. My senses would be sharper.
I had been so focused on her that I foolishly hadn’t even looked at who—or what—had tried to attack me.
I just left.
I was ashamed that I had hurt her. Ashamed that I cared about her so much that I lost my mind and commanded my dragon to eat my sister. In front of everyone, I had revealed a weakness.
And that weakness was a five-foot-three blonde mortal with angelic blue eyes.
I focused on the fire burning in the fireplace in my room. It was an unusually chilly night, and I wondered if she had her fire lit. I told myself I wasn’t going to fire-gaze into her room anymore, but I worried she’d be too cold and purposely refuse to light her fires just because of me.
So, like a pathetically weak male, I gazed into her room.
To my surprise, her fire was lit. But she had a sheet strung up across the mantel, held taut to the floor by books, blocking my view. The sight made me laugh—an emotion so unusual for me that it startled even me.
She thought she was so smart. But she forgot the one in the washroom, and the door was cracked just enough for me to see her tossing and turning in her bed.
Something in me ached. She was restless, just like me. I couldn’t blame her. I was sure she was traumatized after tonight. How could she not be? This wasn’t her world, and she wasn’t used to the brutality that came with magic.
I felt this overwhelming urge to go to her room and… do what? I wasn’t exactly sure. Comfort her? Fuck her? Apologize? Thank her? Make her hate me more? All of it sounded pleasing right now.
Especially the fucking part.
Out of all the warm-toned gowns in her wardrobe, she always selected slinky black ones—as if to taunt me. Like she was unwilling to conform to my colors. As if she were challenging me, egging me on to claim her, to make her my queen.
Then—and only then—would she wear my colors with pride. Then I remembered the strappy leather bodysuit she wore to train in. That shit broke me.
A single sexy garment undid everything I’d been trying to do
since she arrived. I was glad I burned it, because if she wore that again and asked me to give her my crown, I might actually consider it.
I wondered how many other outfits she had like it—courtesy of
her handmaid.
This was not going to work. If I had to be alone with her, secluded in a mine, pretending to hate her, she could not wear that. Absolutely not.
I summoned my assistant and assigned him a task I needed completed by morning. Feeling accomplished, I managed to drift off and get almost an hour of sleep.
When I woke up, I felt the need to check on Delilah again. So, like a complete fucking creep, I did. She was sleeping restlessly. I wondered if she didn’t like her bed. Maybe she’d prefer mine.
Then I started imagining her in my bed.
I stopped myself before I went any further down that rabbit hole and took a very cold shower.
Giving up on sleep, I got dressed and started my day extra early in the castle training room.
I lifted the heaviest weights I could find, over and over, until the pent-up frustration subsided and my mind finally began to clear.
The heavy door clicked, and I saw a certain silver-haired fuck in the reflection of the mounted mirror.
“Titus, we need to talk,” he said.
I didn’t want to talk. I had just burned through my stress, and I knew whatever he needed to tell me at this hour would only agitate me. I racked the bar and sat up, studying his face.
I wondered which mask I needed to wear.
I was trying to determine which version of us was needed for this conversation. Were we going to speak casually—as equals
and friends, like before we had titles? Or did he want me in my crown, formal and sharp with proper decorum?
Normally, with nobody around, I would assume he was Aurelius—my friend. But the energy between us lately had been tense, and he looked stressed. So, it might be Aurelius, the Royal Master of Dragons, requesting an audience with the High Lord.
I let him speak first—even though I knew he was contemplating the same thing. He was deciding which mask would work best in his favor.
He shifted on his feet and still didn’t speak. Whatever he wanted to say, he was nervous.
What did he want?
I gave him an impatient look. He cleared his throat.
“I wanted to set the record straight before you heard any rumors or implications,” he said evenly.
I pulled up my High Lord mask. “Okay. Go on, then.”
“After Draxxinar killed Prisca, you became mentally incapacitated to some degree. Everyone was worried about you. You didn’t move, didn’t speak—you were just…
gone.” He hesitated. “I have never attempted to heal a psychological injury with my healing light before, but I felt compelled to try. So, I sent my light at you from behind, and Delilah thought I was attacking you. She called out to warn you, which possibly gave others the impression that I was attacking you as well.”
He was worried about rumors. I was worried about the truth. “I wanted you to know that I would never cross you… brother,” he explained with a small smile.
That word—brother. He knew exactly what he was doing.
Aurelius’s father was a noble high-born, my father’s most trusted advisor, so he was at the castle often.
Aurelius, only two years younger than me, became the brother I never had.
The brother I always wished for. And he knew using that word would defuse any anger I felt toward him and, fuck, he was right.
He rested his hand on my shoulder and gave me a kind smile.
I just didn’t know how genuine it was. His words and tone seemed authentic, but they were almost too authentic—like he’d rehearsed this conversation several times before coming in here.
His body language was off, too. He was nervous…
but was he nervous because he worried I wouldn’t believe him?
Because our relationship had been shaky with all the possessive tension over Delilah?
Or was he nervous because he was guilty?
I wanted to believe I still had a friend in Aurelius. No matter how complicated things were, we grew up together.
So, against my better judgment, I let him have the lie—because I needed it too.
But just because I’d let it go didn’t mean I wouldn’t keep my eye on him.
My guard was up. He’d been rubbing me the wrong way for a while—ever since she appeared in our realm. His aura pressed against mine whenever we were in the same room. Even if it were subconscious, I could sense it. He’d been challenging me. My power.
He could try all he wanted, but I know him. As soon as she was out of the picture, he’d go back to being the free-spirited dragon rider who avoided responsibility at all costs.
All of this was temporary—our Fae nature, our male instincts, fighting for dominance over Delilah. I just needed to
hurry up and retrieve the crystals so I could get back to preparing her for Mount Orid.
Everything was riding on this. I needed it to work.
I needed the God Dragon, and all my problems would be solved.
I placed my hand on his shoulder, mirroring him. “Thanks, brother. I’ll make sure to correct anyone who suggests otherwise,” I replied simply.
I felt his anxiety dissipate when he let out a sigh of relief. “Safe travels, my friend. I’ll make sure the remaining livestock towns are impenetrable.” He bowed his head, then made our sign of respect— fist over heart.
“By the way,” he added, dropping his royal mask, “have you seen Cercies?”
I lowered mine as well. “No. He’s probably buried in the handmaid somewhere,” I snarked.
Aurelius chuckled. “Do you think they’re really fated mates?”
“I don’t know,” I replied coldly. “I don’t know if I believe in that shit anyway.”
“Yeah, but if it is true…” He smirked. “How ironic that out of all of us, The Dog was the one who found his fated mate.”
I detected a hint of something in his tone—sadness. Or was it jealousy?
I’d almost forgotten the nickname Cercies earned when we were young. Before crowns, titles, and responsibilities, we were young, wealthy, powerful—and most of all, free. All three of us had multiple females in our beds every night. Many of which we shared. And that was a lot of fun.
That night with Delilah in my lounge was the first time we’d attempted sharing again in years. And although things got heated, it felt different with her. For one, none of us ever felt any attachment to the females we fucked.
It was obvious now that Aurelius cared for her a great deal.
Maybe even loved her.
I knew The Dog was only there for a fun time—as was I…I thought.
But everything was complicated now.
I took a breath and broke away from my thoughts. “I’m glad it’s him and not me,” I said. Resisting Delilah’s pull, while also having to be her chosen mate for a “business deal” was hard enough.
Aurelius’s grin turned shallow. He nodded once, then saw himself out.
And the masks went right back up into place as we returned to our responsibilities.