Still in rut then, obvi. Probably will be for days.
Next to her, Neo’s rubbing his sleepy peepers and fumbling for his glasses and generally trying to wake up.
With a ferocious snarl, a naked Lucius—also clearly still in rut—leaps into a protective crouch beside our bed. He plants his bristling body between us and the intruder, guarding the shit out of his mates and fighting not to wolf out and just rip Zephyr’s blooming throat out.
That leaves center stage to Vasili, who uncoils from our sea of blankets like a cobra rising from a basket.
“Well, well.” My boyfriend’s malicious murmur drips into the riveted silence like acid. “Look what the cat dragged in. Posed like an artistic composition from the Surrealist period titled Missing Fae with Severed Head.”
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.