Page 7 of Dragon's Honor

“We should go. Tristian isn’t here.”

Henrik held up his full beer. “We can just turn this night into something fun.”

Ash snorted.

“I know, you don’t know how to have fun. Honor and duty and blah blah blah.” Henrik’s tone was angry.

“What are you pissed about?”

Henrik’s nostrils flared and his eyes grew wider with fury. “You. You’re my brother. I know a shit ton of responsibility fell on your shoulders, but you’re also my best friend and I’m tired of you acting like a fucking asshole all the time. We’re all grieving. We’re all dealing with this shit, but we’re not dealing with it together.”

“What do you want? To sit around and drink and cry about the good old days?”

Henrik downed the rest of his beer. “It would beat the hell out of your revenge fantasy. You should admit to yourself you want to kill Tristian because you want to kill him. Not for justice. You’re pissed he ruined your life and you want to kill him.” He turned to face Ash. “He didn’t ruin your life, by the way. You were always going to be king.”

“Not without a mate.”

Henrik shrugged. “Frankly, I think we should crown Krystana queen and move the fuck on with our lives.”

“She’s not even twenty yet.”

“And you’re a hundred. What the fuck difference does it make?”

Ash pushed off the stool. “Let’s go. I’m done with this conversation and I’m tired of being around all these humans.”

“What about her?”

Ash’s gaze followed his brother’s the dance floor where she was dancing again. Her dark eyes found his, like she was aware of him now too. Fuck, he wanted to put his hands on her wide hips, taste her full lips, pull her against his body and grind against her. His dragon scratched at the walls of his confinement, wanting to claim her, bite her, and fuck her until she was begging him to stop.

He opened his mouth to respond, to say something, though he had no answers, but instead there was one scream, quickly followed by a succession of cries throughout the entire club. And then the very fragrant scent of burnt flesh.

Henrik was by his side in an instant. “What is that?”

Ash started moving before he even made the decision to. He knew Henrik was following closely behind. Together they moved in unison through the crowds. The house lights came on above them. Smoke billowed up between seven different crowds of people. Screams still echoed through the club, not just the horrified screams of the witnesses, but the cries of anguish.

Where was Finley?

He pushed through the circle of spectators and found her kneeling on the ground trying to put out a fire. Tears streamed down her face, smearing her makeup. The person she was trying to save was already dead. The flimsy piece of fabric was singed and smoking. He moved across the floor and picked Finley up off the ground. She let out a small yelp and wrapped her arms around his neck like she thought he would drop her and carried to a secluded part of the club.

She didn’t say anything. She sniffled against his neck.

Ash had planned to set her down in a chair, but instead he sat with her in his lap.

“Are you hurt?” His voice was low and gentle.

Finley pulled her hands down to her lap, palms up. She had a few burns across her skin, but they were just red marks, nothing like peeling skin. He wished he could take the pain from her. He yearned to press gentle kisses across her palms, to ease the fire that burned in his belly. His dragon yearned to rip apart whoever caused her pain.

“She just started coughing up smoke and then fire was coming out of her…from everywhere. How does that happen?” She choked on a sob.

Ash cradled her in his arms as she cried.

Henrik approached with Olivia in tow. Olivia rushed to her sister’s side.

“Fin, are you okay?”

Finley nodded and took the napkins Olivia offered to mop up her face. She cringed at the messy streaks of makeup staining the tiny square napkins.

“She died, didn’t she?”

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