Page 53 of Her Tortured Beasts

The celebrant finishes the ceremony as if nothing happened, and I feel like I’m the only one who knows we’d been moments from disaster.

Damn my conscience. I should have let his bloody berserker genes, or whatever Savage called them, out into the open so everyone could see what a monster this dragon is.

Scratch that thought; he’d probably come for me first. Those black eyes were actually terrifying to see.

A hiss of pain drags me back to the present, just in time to see two coils of flame fastened around both Xander’s and Francesca’s arms where they’re grasping each other at the wrists.

The scent of burning flesh fills the air as the bride and groom stare into each other’s eyes. Sweat freely drops from Francesca’s neck as the morbid hand-fastening is displayed to everyone until Xander smiles at her and they both drop their powers, flames going out with a puff.

Xander’s left hand reaches for Francesca’s burnt one, her forced smile almost breaking as Xander hovers his palm over the inflamed flesh and the angry red burn smooths itself away, healed. She quickly does the same to him and I have to look away.

Something in my periphery catches my attention and I find Lady Drakos, seated in her front-row seat, not looking at her son, but me, her expression infinitely sad, her golden eyes glistening. Her shoulders move on a sigh, but she holds my gaze.

I’m sorry, she seems to say.

A polite, subdued round of applause lets us both know the ceremony is done and Lady Drakos tears her eyes off mine and rises to her feet as Xander and Francesca smile at their audience and make their way down the aisle, hand in fucking hand.

“Does she have to be here?” Francesca asks rudely, the corners of her mouth turned down as she tries not to look at me. “I feel as if she’s staring at me.”

“Pardon?” Xander seems distracted as he undoes his tie. But he’s been distracted all night. As if only half his mind is in the present in the room.

After a subdued reception and dinner, in which I had to crouch by Flores Drakos’ knee the entire time—at least I was hidden by the table—we’ve returned to Xander’s room for the night. All three of us. A happy family.

My skin hurts, my temples ache, and the lights are burning my eyes. A jittery sensation has taken over my body and I have to hold my hands together to stop their trembling. From where I stand at the cage door, finally clothed in my black dress uniform, I say, “The Old Laws dictate that the bride should return to her natal home for instruction after the wedding. She’s supposed to return the next day.” That’s what happened after my wedding to Halfeather.

“Maybe foryourkind,” Francesca retorts. “But not for ours. Send it away, husband.”

“Get into your cage,” Xander says without looking at me. “Pull the covers down.”

I crawl into my cage as slowly as possible and pet a waiting Eugene. A venom captures my heart as I turn around and catch sight of the married couple.

“Will you help me with this?” Francesca’s voice purrs.

“Of course.”

Nausea roils in my stomach as Xander helps her unlace her corset and extracts her veil from her high-set bun. Quickly, I flick down my blackout covering, but that doesn’t remove the sound of fabric or the low voices. Just when I think I’ll need to sink my fangs into my own arm, Xander says absently, “I need a shower.” The sound of him moving into the bathroom follows, and Francesca is left alone in the room.

Well, not completely alone, and I’m really glad she has no privacy. Eugene and I creep up to the bars, up to the crack in the covering and we peer at the dragon bride with interest. She sits on the bed in her sheer white slip, the glow of her phone illuminating the fact that she’s chewing a fingernail.

That’s a bad habit.

I sigh and curl up on the blankets with Eugene, and we wait in awful anticipation as Xander returns after his shower. I hold my breath, but instead of getting into bed?—

“I need to speak with my father,” Xander says tersely. “I’ll be back shortly.”

“What, right now?” Francesca protests. “Can’t it wait?”

“No,” Xander says firmly, already making his way to the door.

“You can’t do that!” she cries. “This is our wedding night! We have to consummate the marriage.”

“Later, Francesca,” Xander sighs irritably.

She makes an affronted noise. “My father will hear about this!”

“You speak with your father about having sex?” Xander says in a bored voice.

The door clicks shut before she can reply.

---