Page 64 of Betrayed By Dragons

"Save your blubbering," his father sneers, burying his gaze in his laptop once more. It's as effective of a dismissal as I could imagine. "Go find a bottle to drown your sorrows in. Just like you always do."

Chapter Sixteen

RAFE

Well, the good news is that at least my father can't accuse me of not following orders.

I saunter through the lounge that evening, past my brothers and sister and all their friends. I feel bad for the castle staff. They hadn't even finished cleaning up from Keyrie's party last night, and now here I am, waltzing back into town and throwing one of my own.

It's pathetic to even call it a party. It's just a bunch of people drinking and snorting and smoking everything available to them. I'm sticking to alcohol, personally--wouldn't want to disobey Daddy, now would I?

His words echo in my head, poison flowing in my veins. Go drown yourself in a bottle. That's all you're good for.

I lift said bottle to my lips. The vodka burns as it goes down, and that's good. That's great.

And really. It's not as if I didn't know what my father thought of me. He's raked me across the coals enough times in my life.

This was different, though. I was trying to do something right for once. I thought I was making progress. Helping dragonkind.

Ember was proud of me.

Ha.

My father tore me a new one in front of my best friend and my mate. I felt like my dragon was going to burst out of my skin and roast him alive. Not that I could have. My father's fire magic is like nothing the kingdom has ever seen before. His power was a burning scent on the air. I don't know what he's been up to while I've been gone, but his magic has a wild energy to it that's new. Stronger. Darker.

If I'd let my dragon out? I have no doubt. I would have been the one engulfed in flames.

I take another glug from the bottle before lifting it to glance at the level of the liquid inside. It takes a lot for a shifter to get drunk, but I haven't been holding back. I'm loose in my limbs, my thoughts fuzzy.

But the booze hasn't done a fucking thing for the burning in my gut. The useless, impotent rage, and the hatred eating me alive. For my father, for my worthless siblings, for this kingdom and the war it's chasing.

For myself.

Out of nowhere, a soft warmth brushes up against my consciousness, and I have to squeeze my eyes shut tight. I love being bonded to Ember. She's the best thing to ever happen to me. Her kindness is more than I could ever deserve.

But she can feel all the shit I'm feeling, even the dark, miserable, self-destructive parts.

I've been pushing her away all afternoon, and for the most part, she's let me. Whenever my thoughts start to spiral too far down into the abyss, she's always there, though. Always pushing her fucking light and brilliance and sheer freaking goodness into our connection, and I'm so grateful, my vision swims.

I also hate it. Can't she let me immolate in peace?

Because I'm a self-sabotaging ass, I allow myself to glance in her direction.

She's sitting in a corner with Amy, Grace, Jett and Jianyu, all talking quietly while nursing a set of cocktails Keyrie forced on them an hour ago. She changed out of the dress she was wearing earlier at some point, opting for a basic black T-shirt and wide-legged jeans instead, and she's still so gorgeous I can scarcely breathe. Jianyu knows it, too; he has his arm draped across her shoulder. The bile in the back of my throat tastes bitter. But it's good. I'm glad she has someone. That she's not alone while I'm being an absolute piece of shit.

Of course, she can basically feel me thinking that. Her gaze lifts, and the next thing I know I'm staring straight into her perfect eyes. She can see through me, clear to the rotten core.

I glance away and lift the bottle to my lips again, but it's too late. I can feel her eyes following me as I make my way across the room. I step out onto a veranda overlooking the Crimson City. A couple are getting cozy in the corner, but I clear my throat and glare. They scurry off, ceding me the territory. I put my hands on the railing and look out over the empire that isn't mine--that will never be mine and that was never meant to be.

The ninth son of a king. Did I ever imagine any differently?

It's not even that I want to rule, I just want...

What the fuck do I want?

I still haven't figured it out when a soft presence behind me jolts me out of my navel-gazing. Ember's approach isn't a surprise, but my brain is muddled enough that she still catches me unaware.

She comes to stand beside me. She gives off so much fucking warmth. It's a stark contrast to the fire coming off of me. Like cool water on hot stone, but all I feel is the burn of the steam.

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