Page 50 of Her Tortured Beasts

Pachelbel’s Canon in D

In the week that follows, I am blessedly free of Spawn. Wedding preparations continue with great success, and I only have to deal with the moping Boneweaver in the evenings when I let it out to shower. It’s quiet, maybe slightly reduced to ferality since the fright with the Lunaris wolves. Serves it right for attempting to free Raquel.

The twins have been asking daily for Spawn, Delilah going so far as to cry and stomp her feet at not being able to check on the chest wound. It’s the first time I’ve denied them something, and it feels like shit to not be the perfect, doting uncle. Sissy just stares at me with her arms crossed, and refuses to engage in conversation. I don’t push the matter, knowing that after my wedding, things will change for the better.

The afternoon of the wedding comes quickly, and I efficiently get ready in my room. Olly glances at me with worry as he fixes my bow tie. “Eyes down, butler,” I snarl.

He flinches before kneeling to give my shoes a final polish. I turn and check myself in the mirror.

I’ve never looked finer.

The most expensive tux money could buy, coupled with the most precious gold and jewels from our horde, made an outfit worthy of the heir to one of the most wealthy dragon families in the country. No one really knew who was the wealthiest. After all, we all kept our treasuries secret, allowing rumour and gossip to fuel the eternal debate.

The biggest issue had been what to do with Spawn during the ceremony. It couldn’t be left unattended with so many beasts in the estate, and I hardly wanted to see it while marrying my new fiancée.

A knock at the door brings the solution. Olly opens it and my father steps inside, looking regal in a tuxedo and blood red rose pinned to his lapel. He hands another to Olly, who fixes the flower to my own lapel.

“Hmm,” Father says, surveying Spawn where it sits in its cage. “Out you come, little Boneweaver.” He waves his hand and the cage door swings open.

It crawls out and gets to its feet, spine cracking and popping as it adjusts to being upright. I take the bangle off my wrist and hand it to my father. He smiles as he slips it on and flicks his wrist to let out the chain. It clicks into place.

“Let’s try a tiger,” he says, as if speaking to a sweet child. “Can you do that, pet?”

Spawn inhales as if annoyed before shifting. When it drops onto all fours, it is paws that hit the carpet.

“Amazing,” Father murmurs, reaching out to pet it on its big, furry head. It’s even bigger than Minnie, who’s a sizable tigress. “The unique orange and black pattern is similar to other tigers, but it’s the eyes that give her away.”

Blue. Always those fucking ethereal sapphires that glint like they know something you don’t. Like there are secrets Boneweavers know that other beasts can never hope tounderstand. Even now, silent and depressed, its eyes gleam with vicious intent.

“I’ve had her other forms in mind too,” Father says. “It’ll be a nice surprise for our guests.”

“Are the Hellfires here yet?” I ask, checking the backyard camera feed on my phone. “The guests have started to arrive.”

Father doesn’t take his eyes off Spawn as he speaks. “Just now. The bride is settled in her suite, making final preparations. She is resplendent. I’m glad we chose her instead of Nadine. The Chens are not happy they’ve been overlooked but they’ll get over it in time.”

I haven’t seen Francesca since the night I offered her the ring a week ago, and she was happy enough then even though I didn’t get on one knee. Drakos dragons never kneel for anyone.

A great fuss was made over wedding preparations, but Father had made a point tonotget her everything she wanted. It is a Drakos wedding after all, and she is marrying intomyhousehold.

My collar suddenly irritates me as I head downstairs, nodding at the incoming guests. Mother stands at the entrance doors, greeting them all, her arm on a maid’s for stability. I frown at the sight of her. Beautiful in a gown of magenta, she’s thinner than a dragon of her age should be, more quiet than a lady of the Drakos household should be. I tug at my collar again, glancing around.

“Need a smoke, Xander?” comes a voice from behind me. It’s my Uncle Fabian, handsome in a tux and red rose. He is a forever-bachelor, taking only lovers but no actual mate as far as anyone knows. “There’s no shame in pre-wedding jitters. We can sneak away for a moment.” His gold irises gleam with mischief.

“No thank you, Uncle,” I say, clapping him on the arm. “I’d prefer to be sober for this. We’re about to start.”

He nods and goes to find his place at the aisle as my groomsman as the last guests wander into the back garden.

I tug at my collar yet again as my mother approaches me. “Take a seat, Mother,” I say. “You look tired.”

“Oh,” she beams weakly at me. “I am always tired, Xander. A side effect of old age, I’m afraid.”

“You are hardly old,” I say, stroking her cheek with the back of my index finger. “You’re still a spring hatchling.”

She takes my hand and kisses the back of it, looking up at me. “I want you to be happy, Xander. Are you sure this is really what you want?”

“Of course it is,” I say softly. “We’re all together now.”

Her smile turns sad. “Isthat the most important thing?”

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