Page 17 of O Holy Spite

“I…”

My dragon darts forward, tugging me close. His lips are warm and his skin is even warmer as he kisses me deeply. When we part to breathe, his gaze is soft. “I can’t focus when you’re being cute. It makes the dragon—and me—go a little crazy.”

Flushing at his words, I smack his bicep, sniffing haughtily. “That doesn’t mean you don’t have to answer me, Lord Draconis. I’m not just any fluffy cute thing bouncing around your big ass lair.”

His big hands cup my face and he looks at me seriously. “You most certainly are not. Aside from Rennie, you are the only other person I’ve ever brought to this particular castle, Peaches.”

My hand comes up to rub my temple at the nickname and I groan. “I walked right into that one, didn’t I?”

“Indeed.” He kisses me lightly then pulls back. “To answer your questions, dragons and wyverns have their own ruling bodies they elect and shift from time to time. They may pretend to have allegiance to the Council, but our own royals and agreements trump theirs. I suspect many mythical shifter groups have similar systems; it’s just not smart to have too many of us in any place simultaneously.”

“Why?”

“Chaos theory. Human curiosity. Hunters. Fear mongering. Take your pick, lunchable.” Aubrey brushes a hair off of my face and shrugs. “Much like your emergence and immediate punishment, things that are different and powerful are not welcomed in the normal shifter world.”

Thinking about that for a minute, I ponder why the mythicals don’t worry about the Council finding out. Because no one tells them, dummy, and now you know. I swallow hard, realizing I’m now an even bigger target because I know things I shouldn’t. Maybe the damn magic rebels aren’t so far off with their demands. This whole pred vs. prey system is bullshit and it definitely puts all the power in the hands of lesser beings. No wonder the mythicals avoid the Council like the plague—they rule because they’ve been allowed to do so.

“As for how I got it, it’s a family heirloom. It belonged to my mother.”

Annnnd now I’m going to die of shame.

“Why. Didn’t. You. Tell. Me. That!” I hiss at him, thumping his chest in fury. He doesn’t get why I’m so irritable, but I definitely would have treated a precious crown from his freaking mother the Empress differently than some random expensive thing. I mean, I didn’t do anything stupid with the crown, but I didn’t treat it like a priceless artifact, either.

Aubrey blinks, tilting his head. “I said it was a dragon crown.”

“But not a bazillion year old treasure that belonged to your mom. I might despise my evil, martini swilling egg donor, but you’ve never even mentioned her, so I assume she wasn’t horrid!”

His hands catch my fists, holding them between us as he leans forward with a smirk. “Isn’t. She isn’t horrid, bite size. She’s just… very old school. And retired, obviously.”

My head is going to explode; I’m sure of it. Men are so fucking incapable as a gender.

I suck in a deep breath, trying not to panic. Chess’ parents are dead, so sadly, no worries about them. Fitz and Felix’s father is a psychopath like Lucille. For some reason, I assumed Aubrey and Rennie were far too old to have parents to worry about. They never talk about their families, even when we discuss their exile, and I didn’t consider for a second that they might still be walking around ignoring their damn children. I have to get my shit together; he’s looking at me like I’m ready for a grippy sock vacation.

“Aubrey…” I begin on a slow breath. “You have to tell me things like this. Out of everyone, you and Rennie hold the most back. I know you’re used to sharing what little shit you talk about with only each other but… I was photographed by major media outlets wearing the former Dragon Empress’ crown! She probably saw those damn pictures.”

He thinks about that for a moment and nods. “She loves a good gossip rag, so you’re probably right. I didn’t think it mattered, Dolly. You’ve been wearing a piece of the Laveaux royal jewels for over a year. People had to have taken your picture in it. And… you wore a Khan tiara on New Year’s Eve.”

I’m wearing a what?!

Burying my face in my hands, I groan. The Khan tiara was a middle finger at the Raj and my mother. He and Renard didn’t think to tell me I’ve painted an even bigger target on myself by strutting around in their royal bullshit, too. I’m in no way prepared to be invited to meet the people who sent my caring, intelligent winged mates off on their own because of some bullshit traditions. At least I know The Raj is a fucking asshole; these people were just cowards, in my opinion.

“Fuuuuuck,” I mutter as I lean into him. “We’re on borrowed time with this, aren’t we?”

“Maybe?” The dragon pulls my face out of my hands, looking at me seriously. “They kicked me out of the line of succession, bite size. I don’t have to come when they crook their finger, and neither does Rennie. Unlike the cats, our parents were simply following traditions without questioning why. They’re not stalking us or working to keep us under their thumbs.”

“Goddess, I hope not. We have way too much on our plates to get some sort of royal summons.”

His lips quirk as I calm a little and he arches a brow. “Does that mean you’ll refuse something sparkly for the road? Might as well be all in now.”

I elbow him in the ribs, but I don’t say ‘no’ when he starts the tour. After all, he’s right.

In for a penny, in for a pound.

Baby, It’s Cold Outside

Aubrey

Dolly’s tantrum subsides once we finish touring the first floor. We have to stop so she can unzip her snowsuit on the next floor, which makes finally pulling on my clothes absolutely necessary. I’m not averse to bending her over one of the huge brocade chairs of the music salon, but her joy at playing with the various instruments and equipment I’ve collected over the years is infectious. I’m enjoying her glee almost as much as I would her ragged screams.

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