Chapter Eleven
Haide
There he is. Legend Deveraux. Youngest King of Rathe.
My fated mate.
Even thinking the words hurts. But I know now, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that that’s who he is. Mine.
Every line of his face is sharpened with fury. His eyes burn like he’s ready to kill—and I am the impending victim.
“Beast.” What is this feeling? Panic? Longing?
“Calm, Little Hellpet.”
“That’s fucking hilarious,” I whisper, and that tiny use of my lungs presses against my bones so hard I’d swear my chest plate is cracking open.
Why am I feeling this? It wasn’t this strong before. I could ignore it and pretend—
“There is no pretending anymore, mate. We’ve entered the next phase in the bonding process. It will only grow from here.”
Like fuck I’ll be walking back into this trap. Fool me once, King Dickship, but you’re not about to go another round.
“Did you trick me, beast?”
He says nothing.
The guards spread out around the space, and then the other asshats of Rathe push through, jerking to a stop beside Legend. London is there, too, her eyes going wide.
Oddly, none of them say a word, shock painted across their features.
Not that they can broadcast that with all their little minions around.
Every single person in this courtyard is watching us. I won’t be giving any of them the satisfaction of making a fool of myself again. Not unless it’s followed by Legend’s death. Then I could be persuaded.
Hellpet, who are you trying to convince?
I straighten and tip my chin up, crossing the courtyard like I meant to arrive this way.
The crowd parts. Not quickly, but it parts.
People step aside in that involuntary way where they don’t decide to move, their bodies making the call for them.
I’ve always liked that. It’s one of the few things that translates the same whether you’re on Exile or standing in the middle of some royal courtyard in front of assholes who hate you.
Legend hasn’t moved.
He watches me close the distance with that unbothered expression still sitting on his face, like he’s got all the time in the world…and I’m the only thing in it worth looking at.
Or ruining it.
Both could be true when he’s in the equation.
I stop a few feet short of him, the royal guards closing in behind me.
He briefly takes in my bloody palms before his jaw locks tight and his glare intensifies. It’s hatred, pure and simple.
Ditto, motherfucker.
My throat swells when I swallow, my mouth dry and my heart beating sluggishly in my chest.
Human emotions are fucking torture.
Now that I can get a better look, I study every inch of him.
Had he been lifting iron the whole time I’ve been gone? He seems different. Wider. Stronger. Hotter.
Images flash through my head of the last time I saw him, squashing all my thirsty thoughts.
“Thirst?” The Nightkin purrs. “That’s a polite way to say fate has you by a leash and you’re fucking his.”
I shake my head because shut the fuck up, Beast.
There’s something missing. Somewhere between those pretty blue eyes and that cold, dead heart, I feel the hollowness of whatever used to beat there. As if it’s the very thing that exists in my own chest.
“Us, little mate. He is missing us.”
I keep my breathing level, even though my pulse is about to make me flatline. “How surprising. Who knew that when you push someone out…they fucking don’t return.”
Arabella materializes at Legend’s side like she owns the space between heartbeats, blond hair pinned up in some royal nightmare, gown clean enough to make me want to wipe my bleeding hands on it.
“Oh my Gods.” A laugh bursts out of her, sharp and mean, bouncing off the valleys behind the royal palace, because nobody else makes a sound. “An exile has escaped!”
She lifts her hand like she’s pointing at roadkill and the gasps follow, panic floating across the space.
“Watch this, Hellpet. They will look to Legend.”
On cue, Knight and Sinner turn to their younger brother. But Creed doesn’t look away from me.
I land back on Legend, just in time to see his features harden. Every muscle in his face has tightened, his shoulders turning rigid.
The space around me shrinks, making it harder to focus. That hollow void throbs once more, a frequency braiding me to him. They want him to control the room, to calm the chaos. But he…can’t.
My rage simmers.
“He has no power?” I ask the Beast.
“Not where it counts. But I do.”
Instantly, the room grows quiet, the Nightkin coming to their aid if only for a bit of fun. Legend’s brows snap together in confusion and Creed pushes forward a single step, like he doesn’t mean to move but caught himself a second too late.
The Nightkin’s chuckle warms my blood. I roll my shoulders again slowly and let my blood shine on my skin.
“Guards, what are you waiting for! Take the trash out!” Arabella orders, as if she has the right to be heard, let alone listened to.
“Keep talking.” I flex my fingers, pain flashing hot through my palms. “I like knowing where to aim.”
Arabella’s stare cuts harder. She turns her head enough to address the gifted around us without looking away from me, like I’ll bolt if she blinks.
“Take the witch.” She snaps her fingers. “Now!”
No one moves. The only thing that fills the silence is the steady sound of water dripping from a gutter somewhere. A few soldiers shift their weight. Their gazes dart from Arabella to Legend before awkwardly settling down on the cobblestones.
Arabella’s lips peel back as she steps forward, skirts whispering over the wet ground.
“Drag her to the cells.” Her voice rises, pitched to carry. “Bind her mouth. Bind her hands. I’m done with the rabid animal.”
“Rabid animals,” the Nightkin purrs, pleased. “Bite.”
A low chuckle slips through me before I can stop it. It comes out rough, ugly, and it makes heads tilt like they’re hearing an unfamiliar language.
Arabella’s eyes narrow at the sound. She looks like she wants to slap it out of me.
“You think this is funny?” She shifts closer to Legend, claiming him with the move. “You think you can show up here after what you did and live?”
My shoulders square, gaze flicking over the courtyard, letting everyone see I count them. Their weapons, their faces, and their potential as a threat. I count how many steps it takes to get to Arabella’s throat.
“I think you’re hilarious.” I rub my thumb across the slick blood on my palm, then wipe it across my other hand. “You know, in that not-at-all-funny-but-extremely-annoying kind of way.”
Arabella jerks like the words hit her in the face. Her fingers curl, magic stirring around her skin in a faint shimmer that doesn’t reach me. It just sits there, decorative.
“You will show respect.” She jabs a finger in my direction, a very safe distance away still. “You—bitch!”
My smile widens.
“You keep saying that.” I shift my stance, knee protesting, and I plant my feet anyway. “You want me gone so bad, come grab me yourself.”
She laughs, thinner this time, as she examines me from head to toe. “Dirty fucking witch.”
My jaw tightens and heat stirs behind my ribs.
“Say ‘witch’ one more time.” I let my hands hang at my sides, fingers twitching, skin stinging with every movement. “I’ll peel your face off in front of all these people, and I’ll wear it until it rots.”
“Guards.” She barks the word. “Take her. Now. I want her executed before nightfall!”
The beast presses forward in my mind, the low rumbled warning like a massage through my every limb.
She expects Legend to seal it. To nod. To give her the weight she’s leaning on.
Legend stands there for a beat too long, shoulders hard, eyes pinned on me like he’s staring at a wound that refuses to close. He doesn’t move or speak fast enough. He lets Arabella’s order hang in the air as if teasing me with it.
It’s bullshit that it stings so much. This stupid bond forces me to think all those dumb girl thoughts I’ve only heard about—why is he doing this to me? How could he not see what we are? Why hasn’t he driven his claws through her eyeballs and torn them from her perfectly shaped skull?
I shouldn’t care.
I don’t want to fucking care.
Yet, here I am, unable to numb myself to the mate who threw me away like trash.
Hellpet. I told you that is not what happened.
I ignore him, not taking my eyes off Legend.
His hands flex. Then, he steps forward.
The space between us shrinks. My body reacts before my brain signs off on it. My lungs tighten. My pulse slams against my throat. The conflict is plain on his face. Like he can’t decide whether he’s pissed or happy to see me.
Finally—
His lip curls. “Lock the witch up.”
The guards move as one, Silver’s father at the front of them.
“Beast…”
“It’s time.”
“For what?” I reach for my dagger on instinct before remembering I don’t have it anymore.
Suddenly, the clouds are torn apart and I swear I sense them before I see them.
Dragons’ wings beat like thunder as one by one they appear in the skies, mouths opening in crooked, warning arcs.
The guards scramble backward as the dragons sweep low, and I laugh. Anyone in my position would fear the arrival of these beasts. They’d be pissing where they stand before falling to their knees.
But these dragons know me. We shared a home all my life.
I’d argue they’re more mine than anyone else’s.
The moment the thought enters my mind, a certainty washes over me, and the jewels in my temples start to heat. In the same breath, so do the tips of my fingers. They burn so hot it’s as if I’m holding them over an open flame.
Taking in my smile, the guards once again assume their fighting stances, magic swirling along their palms.
A pyrite dragon drops low with his wings folded back, the cobblestone cracking beneath its talons and splintering across the courtyard.
The landing shakes the earth with a force that sends the soldiers stumbling sideways.
Settling behind me with a low rumble, the dragon is close enough that the heat rolling off his scales kisses the back of my neck.