Chapter Thirteen Zara

"Easy on the alpha there, big guy." I pull in a lungful of our dragon's mating scent that reeks of leather and brimstone.

Fuck. That shit is potent.

Then I rub a soothing hand along the flex of Max's naked ass (because rubbing his scarred back, which is a total trigger due to his fucked-up family history, would really launch him into orbit).

Without giving me an inch of freedom, Max twists around to eye our new arrival with open suspicion and rips out a vicious snarl.

"Hey, I mean it." Knowing where my alpha's coming from keeps my impatience in check and my voice gentle. "You gotta throttle all that rutting dragon shit back a little, okay?"

"Why should I not act like a rutting dragon when I am one?" Guttural with mating instinct, Max smothers my face protectively in his naked chest. His excited heartbeat thunders in my ear.

I'm pretty excited myself, my pulse is racing and my fingers are sparking and my whole body is tingling, which makes it super hard to stay patient and speak calmly to my overprotective dragon. Needless to say, I could summon various aspects of my witchy superpowers and liberate myself that way. But I've dealt with Max enough when he's like this to know if I try to push him while he's all worked up, I'll trigger him.

Next stop for the Max train after triggered is violent.

Of course, that homicidal streak he's packing won't be aimed at me.

If I'm being honest, he's never exactly been Team Zephyr. This open animosity he's rocking for the Dark Fae who kidnapped me last spring? That's been looming since Day One.

But I don't wanna make it worse .

I can't even see Zephyr—to my total frustration—with my face crushed into Max's chest. Still, my initial rush of elation and relief at seeing my Fae ambulatory and breathing is eroded by an undertow of resentment.

Now that I know he's not dead and lying in a tomb or wherever the Unseelie bury the bodies, I'm twitchy with a mounting prickle of anger.

That fucking Fae is weeks late showing up here. Plus he hasn't said a goddamn word. Even now. He was apparently totally content sneaking past Lucius' extremely strong wards (somehow) and watching us all sleep like a creeper.

Long story short? Mr. Johnny Come Lately's got some explaining to do.

But, fuck, I'm glad to see him.

Or I will be, once I can coax this overprotective dragon of mine to ease up.

I raise my voice a notch to connect with my other alpha, whose baritone growl rumbles steadily from somewhere near my feet.

"Hey, Lucius? Could use a little help with Max here, Teach."

Lucius' rumbly warning rolls on without a hitch.

My inner dragon gives a chirp of annoyance. She, too, is bating her wings and demanding to see our Unseelie mate and his dragon (who's way too big to fit in my bedroom, but Xhevith's gotta be looming around here somewhere).

My queen wants to see both of them, like, now.

Of course, I've got a dominant alpha, that's Vasili, who's supposed to help me deal with all kinds of shit in our bed and our polycule and basically rule the witching world at my side.

But right now that snake's not even helping me settle our unsettled mates, and I don't bother asking.

Vasili—also not a card-carrying fan of Team Zephyr—will literally be no help. Sure, he's not out of control losing it like my other alphas, he's way too sly to show his hand like that.

But he's still the most dangerous.

I can't even see V with my face smushed into the hot plane of Max's chest.

But his Goblin King aggression skulks in our mating bond like a serial killer lurking in the basement .

"For shit's sake," Ronin mutters to the room in general. "Bloke's not here to do that Hades-Persephone thing this time, is he? Zara's safe as houses. Just… don't be an arse, okay, Zeph?"

Of course, Zephyr says nothing.

Meanwhile, my Brit's scrunched up against the headboard to my right, scrubbing his face with his hands like he's trying to claw his own skin off.

Underneath all this hostility that's roiling the quiet morning air like a spaghetti pot at a lively boil, Ronin's mental anguish tears at me like claws.

For his sake, too, I gotta regain control of this volatile sitch.

I gotta.

With a sigh, I summon up my queen voice. "Maxim Rasputin—"

"Hey, Max, take it easy, buddy, okay?" Neo's also pinned under the press of protective dragon to my left, but he's managed to park his glasses on his nose. Plus he's got enough wiggle room to loop an arm around Max's neck and nuzzle his cheek. "You're smooshing Zara."

"Truly, darlings, why blame Max?" Of course that's my snake Vasili, all wicked with spite. "He's seen firsthand what the Dark Fae do . What they covet, they steal. Max is afraid this Unseelie tyrant will steal our mate. After all, he's done it before."

Max's growl deepens to a brassy rumble. His whole body quivers with intensity. Our mating bond floods with his dragon's need to rend and ravage and burn.

Mine she is mine we will breed I will kill—

Cheese on toast. If that flying Godzilla loses his shit and shifts, he'll bring down this whole domus .

"Don't be a dick, Goblin King." I huff out a breath. "I mean it. I know what you're doing. Stop setting Max off."

"But he makes it so easy," Vasili murmurs, sharp with spite. I swear, that villain's practically rubbing his hands with glee.

In our mating bond, Lucius' wolf mutters and paces.

Dropping my own exasperated F bomb, I squirm against Max's lean hot body and wiggle through the sheets like an eel till I can peer over Max's protective shoulder at my pacing headmaster.

"Lucius," I say firmly, "don't you dare wolf out. I need you to start adulting and help me defuse this situation. "

Lucius shoots me a guarded look over one shoulder. His eyes are blood red and he's sporting fangs like Nosferatu. But his fiery gaze drops to Max's bristling body and softens. He stops pacing and gentles his warning snarl from aggression to a protective rumble.

"Precious boy," my headmaster says through his canines. "Maxim, king of dragons. Do not fear him. I will help you protect our queen."

I don't need protecting, especially from one of my own mates. Still, that gruff wolfish promise turns my heart all melty.

These two—I mean Max and Lucius—are still a really new thing, they haven't even fucked yet. But I can't deny our headmaster gets our fatherless dragon in a really deep way.

Lucius is getting through to him in a way Neo and I haven't.

Maxim stops growling and pulls in a long shuddery breath. Then he rubs his bristly face into my neck to scent me and rolls off.

(Finally!)

"Good dragon." With a sigh of relief, I pop up to sit next to him and sweep my wild mane out of my face.

And, yeah, I sneak a peek at myself in the big vanity mirror.

Which is, like, a massive mistake.

For a sec, I flounder in a surge of self-conscious dismay. After last night's fuckfest, I'm literally a hot mess. Hair everywhere, lower lip swollen and bruised from Vasili's savage nip the last time he fucked me, neck all abraded from Max continual whiskery scenting, and the violet bruise of a hicky Ronin gave me clearly visible on my tit.

Not to mention what the mirror thankfully isn't showing.

My hidden girly parts. All tender and stretched and overridden from being stuffed by Lucius' knot.

I mean, dayum.

He and V and Max—all three of them—were sex machines.

For real.

Even my snake, despite his well-known daddy aversion, barely pulled out of me all night. Apparently just the suggestion that I might be willing to move up the timeline—and, you know, hang out the vacancy sign on my uterus—triggered some genetic shifter instinct in those guys that's powerful as fuck.

Good thing I heal up shifty-swifty myself, thanks to those biochemicals in my own witchy DNA .

Still, there's no hiding how much I smell like sex. I'm literally dripping with alpha shifter spunk.

But why should I hide it?

I own that shit.

That's what it means to be queen.

I straighten my shoulders, lift my chin, and look straight into the alien face of the Dark Fae King.

Across the width of the room that yawns like a chasm between us, Zephyr's cold jade gaze burns into me. Framed in a sleek curtain of mossy hair, divided by the green slash of his eyepatch, his cold perfect face is so remote and inscrutable he could be chiseled from alabaster. His lithe frame looks invulnerable in his dragonscale armor and boots and gauntlets.

My sparkly antique crown looks fragile perched in his casual grip.

With his arrogant legs crossed on my desk, he literally hasn't even gotten up. In fact, he's sprawled in my chair like it's his goddamn throne.

That air of aloof entitlement he's packing pisses me right off.

Same as always.

He's literally ten weeks late showing up at Icarus. And he's been ignoring all Ronin's pings through the scrying glass.

I mean, would it kill the guy to say hey, sorry I was held up, you must've been worried?

Would it kill him to say he missed me?

"Busy social schedule at court, Your Radiance?" I work hard to keep it casual, because there's no point hiring a blimp to broadcast for the entire island my hidden uncertainty and achy hurt.

Or my lurking fear of rejection.

Zephyr's no mind-reader, but he's perceptive as fuck. He actually does answer to that la-dee-dah title—Your Radiance—at the Unseelie court.

But he doesn't like the way I'm saying it.

Hearing the anger and heartache that edges my tone, his eye narrows and his brow lifts.

"Busy? You might say so. I've been quashing a rebellion in Avalon." His voice is the same, cool water trickling over river-smooth stone.

Even while his glacial tone gives my heart a painful ping .

"Another rebellion? My, my." Vasili slithers up next to Ronin and drapes a possessive arm around his boyfriend's neck. "Never tell me your enslaved subjects are chafing under your tyrannical rule."

Zephyr's cruel mouth turns down in a frown.

"No one in Avalon is enslaved. My late mother's former faction at the royal court has always been treacherous. Now they've turned outright… treasonous." He's answering Vasili, but his stare stays locked on me. "That faction has declared they will never accept a witching world queen on the Unseelie throne."

Great.

Guess that's another throne I'm not worthy of claiming.

But the blow of that rejection's dwarfed by the one I weathered last night, when my own realm rejected me.

Not to mention the personal pain of his rejection.

My Unseelie mate.

I mean, not to sound like a broken record. But it's been. Ten. Weeks.

Goddamn guy couldn't even send the Unseelie equivalent of a Hogwarts owl?

Anger burns in my chest like heartburn. I make my voice hard and callous. "I'm not on the Unseelie throne. I was never crowned, remember? Sure, we did that whole ritual fuck practically in public, specifically to break the infertility curse and rescue your whole race from extinction. How's that working out for you, by the way?"

One corner of Zephyr's feral mouth curls up in satisfaction.

"The magic we wrought through our mating ritual has ripened. The curse is clearly broken. More than half the Unseelie females of breeding age in Avalon are with child."

Hearing that news, my heart gives a good hard kick. I suck in a breath and hug my knees to my chest. No matter what else is going down in our polycule, I'm so happy we shattered that curse and saved his dying race.

And if we could do that shit there, why can't we do it here? To save the witching world?

"Just what the world needs." Vasili jeers. "Playpens and pacifiers and pointy-eared Unseelie brats crawling through the wards."

Sweet Jesus, he's horrible.

That comes with the whole Goblin King package .

But I forgive him, because he's managed to coax Ronin to stop clawing at his own face. He's captured Ronin's restless hands and he's stroking Ronin's sleep-tangled black mane in a way that broadcasts a possessive hands off message that's aimed straight at Zephyr.

My Unseelie—assuming he's still my Unseelie—drinks us all in with his inscrutable stare.

Lucius has taken his wolf firmly in hand. Now my headmaster's quietly and efficiently tucking himself into his lord of the manor Downton Abbey pajamas and smoking jacket.

Maxim is looming over me, no longer audibly snarling, but still bristling suspiciously at Zephyr. He unbends enough to accept the ripped jeans Lucius passes him and, after another suspicious look at Zephyr, shoves his legs into the pants.

Ronin tucks into Vasili's side and stares at Zephyr with his topaz eyes all haunted.

Every time their gazes lock, I swear, the air between those two exes is so superheated the atmosphere practically combusts.

Like someone's turned on the gas in here and left it running.

All we need is a single spark to blow us all to Kingdom Come.

Vasili sits straight in our bed like a queen, with the blankets draped gracefully around his slim hips, an unpleasant smirk lurking around his lips, his sex-smudged mascara and smoky liner adding a disreputable dash of rock-star glam, and his tousled shag of gilded hair skimming his shoulders.

Geez, his hair must've grown like four inches overnight, and probably literally while he was fucking me. (That's a shifter thing, and he'll be annoyed he has to cut it again.)

Me?

I hug my knees to my chest, pull the rumpled sheets over my naked snatch and boobs so I don't feel quite so exposed and therefore vulnerable, and wonder why Zephyr's even here.

He hasn't really talked to me, he hasn't made any move to kiss me, and God knows I'm not initiating that shit.

I'm half pissed, half worried, and increasingly suspicious over everything Mr. Taciturn over there isn't saying.

Zephyr's cool gaze drifts over my wary huddle, pauses over my various private parts all covered up thanks to my mounting suspicions, then narrows on my guarded face .

I tilt my head and give him a look. "Okay, Your Radiance. Time to spill."

Nothing.

Nofuckingthing.

Of course.

"Look," I say through gritted teeth. "If you're thinking about pulling that cat-got-your-tongue uncommunicative act again, now is not the time. You and Ash were supposed to follow me right back here. Instead you've been MIA for weeks. What aren't you telling us?"

A small sigh whispers past his tight lips.

Then he places my crown delicately on my desk, right over my half-written essay for History of Witchcraft class, and flexes his green-and-gold gauntlets in a way that hints at all that tension he's carrying.

"The curse is well and truly broken, Zarina Selene Gemini," he murmurs, so quiet I need my special shifty senses to hear. "Despite the fact you are not crowned queen on the Avalon throne. Still, my late mother's faction is… dangerously discontent. They tried to proclaim this one—my moon-cursed cousin Lothian—to be king in my place."

With his booted toe, he gives Cousin Lothian's severed head on my desk a dismissive nudge. "Well. He'll rule among the rats and the carrion crows."

"Dude." Neo pushes his glasses up his nose, scoots up to sit next to me, and looks scandalized. "Are you telling us you killed your own cousin? That's messed up."

Zephyr knows Neo and likes him, so he spares my bookworm a narrow grin that shows a sliver of sexy fang.

"He's only a second cousin." Zephyr gives a shrug that makes his supple dragonscale glitter. "Regrettably, he has a twin—Mordred—who is by far the more troublesome of the two. That one is still breathing. The rebels' treasonous hopes must now shift to him."

"Ooh, translation: trouble in paradise," Vasili says, so coyly even I wanna slap him. "Truly, darling, what a shame."

My fingers drum an impatient tattoo on my bent knees. "And someone broke your scrying mirror too, I guess, huh?"

Zephyr's gaze shifts to Ronin, who's knotting his fists in the sheets, and turns even more inscrutable. "I'm not a demon to be summoned with a magical word. "

(Wait, are there demons? Or was that, like, a figure of speech?)

"That's pretty fucking obvi, isn't it, mate?" Ronin slants him a sullen look.

Abruptly Zephyr lowers his booted legs and flows to his feet, with that eerie grace all Fae possess. He's not tall, he's literally my height and I'm petite. But he manages to command the room without effort like the Dark Fae King he is.

The Fae prowls toward our bed with a deliberate intent that makes Max growl and even Lucius bristle, though my headmaster tamps that shit right down and signals Max with a subtle gesture to hold his peace.

While Lucius lingers anxiously nearby, Zephyr halts beside the bed and levels his broody stare into my cautious gaze.

Now that he's close enough to touch (if I wanted that) his rich perfume of burnt amber and sun-warmed dragonscale makes my inner dragon purr with interest.

I pull in a long breath and let my gaze drift over him. My chest swells with a powerful longing. A longing to bridge the awkward gap these long awful weeks of silence and distance have opened between us.

To make him mine again.

I know exactly how sleek and supple that green dragonscale would feel if I slid a hand down the hard plane of his chest. I know exactly how he would feel underneath if I caressed the tight flexing ripple of his abs. I know exactly how his eye would narrow and his breath would hitch if I leaned forward to graze the bulge of his codpiece with my lips—

"I am here now, am I not?" he says softly. My gaze veers from his codpiece to his smoldering face. "Zara the Moon-Blessed, Queen of Dragons, Lady of Lightning. The unrest in Avalon will subside once I have crowned my wild Gemini queen. I brought you my cousin's head as a bridal gift."

My heart jumps so hard it lodges in my throat. Dragonflies cartwheel through my tummy. Heat races into my face and a complex tangle of emotion crowds my chest.

He's still claiming me then.

As his mate. And his queen.

He hasn't changed his mind.

I was supposed to be just his consort, his lover, with no political power to rule in his parallel world (at least in that original let's kidnap Zara and just take what I want like an asshole scenario he had going). That was before we got so tangled up in each other.

Before I basically fell in love with him.

Before he started feeling… whatever he feels… for me.

The thing is, I still don't know what he feels for me. Not exactly. Like I said before, he's closemouthed and secretive as fuck. Plus he's no telepath—at least, he's not my kind of telepath, I can't read him—and he's never allowed or offered a mating bite.

So we don't have the same kinda intimate, immersive, no-holds-barred mating bond that connects me with my warlocks.

But clearly, bond or no bond, he intends to park my mortal Gemini ass on the Dark Fae throne right next to his royal Unseelie rump.

I'm just not sure how I feel about that.

You know, given all this unresolved baggage between him and my guys.

"We're not actually married," I point out. I've always denied it, no matter what's written in Unseelie lore, even if that ritual first fuck we shared on the night of the new moon equinox did break the Unseelie curse. "You know I'm true poly, like all the witching world queens. If you and I tie the knot, we're gonna do it together with all these guys—plus Ash I guess, if he still wants to—like I said from Day One."

Ronin makes a strangled sound, like the thought of him and Zephyr getting hitched just hit him in the feels.

And maybe not in a good way.

Ronin's psychic barriers are sky high, but I don't need telepathy to know he's a mess.

I shoot Ronin's stricken expression an apologetic look, then give Zephyr the stink eye. "Besides, even if we were married, Your Radiance, pretty sure a fucking dead Fae head would not be on my bridal registry."

For a fleeting moment, Zephyr's smooth brow puckers. He actually looks puzzled by my totally unpuzzling reaction. "It's a trophy. A token of my devotion to my bride."

"Yeah, but I'm not your bride—" I figure the point bears repeating.

"For moon's sake," he hisses. His fists clench at his sides. "The moment you set foot in Avalon for your coronation ritual, my cousin Lothian would have killed you. Now it will demand all my wit and all my vigilance to ensure his demonic twin doesn't finish the deed. "

Shock reverberates through our mating bond.

Yeah. That's the electric jolt of all my mates reacting to this latest threat against my life.

All on its own, my hand shoots out to clamp around Max's wrist before he can launch for Zephyr's throat.

"Cheese on toast. You telling me someone else wants me dead now?" Bitterness bubbles up and seethes in my chest in a witch's cauldron of anger. "What, like getting dethroned and betrayed by my ex-boyfriend and my ex-BFF, plus humiliated on live TV, wasn't good enough?"

The furrow between Zephyr's green brows deepens.

Reminding myself of everything he doesn't know (because they don't have TV or even electricity in Avalon), I pull my shit together and dial down the volume.

"Afraid your cousin's gonna have to stand in line, Your Radiance. I mean, if he wants a piece of me." I share a grim look with Lucius. "We've got our own rebellion going on right here at Icarus."

Zephyr's lips part and his eye widens.

While he's processing this newsflash, Lucius calmly intervenes to pass Neo his neatly folded sweats.

"Neo, sweet boy, would you mind terribly brewing us all a pot of coffee downstairs, and perhaps scrambling a few eggs?" Lucius says. "His, er, Radiance must have been flying half the night and is probably quite hungry. And the rest of you are due in class in an hour. It's final examination week. You all need to prioritize your studies."

He's chosen exactly the right angle and the right man for the mission. Our bookworm readily accepts both the clothes and the chore without complaint.

"Sure, I'll whip up eggs and toast and coffee for everyone before class," Neo says happily. "Including the girls, so Racetrack doesn't have to cook while her head hurts. Plus bacon for you, Lucius. You know your wolf always wants it."

Lucius licks his lips and looks hungry.

My fated mate wrestles his Academy sweatshirt over his curly head, then hesitates. Behind his spectacles, his cautious eyes veer from Lucius to Zephyr to Vasili.

Neo clears his throat. "Just, um, keep these guys from killing each other up here while I'm gone, okay, Lucius? "

"You may rest assured I'll tolerate no homicide beneath this roof. Manslaughter is a violation of the Academy Codex," Lucius says wryly. His whiskey-colored eyes linger on Ronin. "Why don't you help Neo in the kitchen, my dear one?"

Our headmaster's tone is so tender it makes my eyes sting. Lucius is very clearly feeling extra protective over Ronin since he knotted our guy last night, I can feel all that broody tenderness through our bond, so it's actually hard for him to let Ronin out of his sight.

Ronin pushes out a breath and rolls away, scrambling lithely out of bed with an alacrity that gives our collective an electrifying flash of his tight ass, all tawny skin and flexing glutes, before he's dragging his abandoned leather pants over his hips.

Vasili hums with approval.

Even Zephyr's unreadable gaze sneaks over to check out the view.

Ronin flings someone's shirt around his muscled shoulders—looks like one of Lucius' Oxford button-downs, infused with our headmaster's comforting scent—then hightails it after Neo out the door without looking back.

It hurts me that Ronin looks and feels so profoundly relieved to leave.

And even though I don't have a mating bond with Zephyr, I've got a feeling it hurts him too.

With a sigh, I pass Max a tee shirt so he can cover up his back, because he won't want Zephyr staring at his scars. Then I reach for my own bathrobe on its hook beside the bed.

That maneuver flashes my boobs, complete with piercings. And yowsa, the way Zephyr's gaze devours me. Like wildfire ripping through a stand of dry timber, consuming every tree in its path, and leaving a drift of ash.

Speaking of which…

Under the incendiary smolder of his riveted stare, I bundle my warm and tingling body into my Academy bathrobe and clear my throat. "Where's Ash?"

Zephyr blinks and drags his focus from my boobs to my face. "Ash is currently acting as my regent on the Avalon throne. Never fear. You shall soon see him."

Resentment curdles in my tummy and floods my mouth, sharp and astringent as vinegar. "Guess you're taking right off, then? To swap places with him in Avalon? Since you can't leave the throne vacant during a civil war."

His chin dips in a somber nod. "I am indeed returning to Avalon."

Before my heart can totally plummet in free fall, he keeps going. "But I won't be returning alone."

"Oh, yeah?" I level him a suspicious look. "Well, I've got finals this week, we all do. So…?"

"My bride." For the first time since I opened my eyes and found him here, his cold face thaws in a rueful smile that makes my heart skip a beat. "I come to you not empty-handed."

My gaze shoots to the severed head on my desk. "Well, obvi."

He chuffs out a breath. Impatience laced with a subterranean note of humor. "Zarina Gemini, I come bearing more than my cousin's head."

Deftly he plucks an envelope I haven't even noticed from the nightstand and offers it to me with a graceful flourish. Green parchment thick as velvet, embossed with my name in swirly gold letters, rich with the scent of burnt amber and summer roses.

It's dangerous to accept anything from a Fae. That's one of the ways they trap you.

But, you know, either I trust the guy or I don't.

My lips part and I reach—

Quick as a striking rattlesnake, Vasili snatches the envelope from Zephyr's grip. "What's this?"

"Hey." I give Vasili my annoyed queen look. "That's mine."

Zephyr tilts his own chin at a regal angle that's positively glacial. " That is an enchanted invitation—for all of you—to attend the social event of the Avalon season. The Faerie Ball."

"The Faerie Ball?" I gape up at him. "Is that an actual thing?" When his lofty head inclines an inch, I keep going. "So I'd be going as, like, your date?"

"As rather more than that." Zephyr's remote face turns toward Vasili, who's already slit open my invite (of course) with one of his hidden stash of knives to skim the slanting lines of handwritten text inside. "I've proclaimed to all my kingdom that your coronation will take place at the gala, before all the assembled Unseelie Realm—both my allies and my enemies."

My skin tingles with interest and my hair swirls around me in a gust of psychic wind .

"Whoa," I breathe. "Not like that plan sounds risky or anything. But it's ballsy. Gotta give you that."

Lucius is hovering close to listen, his scholarly face intent as he ties back his wild hair in a tidy knot at his nape. That adjustment completes my headmaster's downshift from vicious Vlad the Impaler to clerky Jonathan Harker.

Now the wary ping I get from my wolf through our mating bond reminds me of all those other, non-Fae issues we need to deal with at Icarus.

A surge of resolve rolls through me and lifts my hair right off my shoulders.

I swing my legs out of bed and hop down without using the little rolling stair that comes with our tall medieval bed.

Then I plant my hands on my robed hips and square off with my broody Dark Fae while my wild mane floats around me like a teal cloud. "Uh, is that whole coronation gig supposed to go down before or after finals? Because I gotta be here for those. I need to defend my own throne from that fucking Cleo."

Now Zephyr's standing right next to me, and he's only taller because he's wearing boots and I'm barefoot. As our gazes lock, a painful flicker of longing fractures his face before he can hide it.

Me? My whole body aches with that same longing.

I need to full-on concentrate just to hold myself back from touching him.

"The moon in Avalon is dark in two days' time," he whispers. "That is when I'll crown you. At the Faerie Ball. Then shall you begin your reign as my queen."

Finally, he reaches for me.

And, shit, I'm leaning toward him.

Before we can connect, Max leaps out of bed in a vicious scramble and shoves roughly between us. Golden hair swirling around his shoulders, my alpha looms over Zephyr with flaming eyes and a ferocious scowl.

"You will take Zara from this place of safety over my dead body," Max says in a thick voice that's guttural with dragon. "Her alphas are in rut and my mate is ripe for breeding. She will not leave this domus— neither for your dangerous crowning nor her war with Cleopatra—until her fertile womb is filled with my dragonets."