Page 48 of Destiny of the Dragons

The man shook his head. “One of the Caravaggio witches. That was a family I wasn’t sorry to see lose power.”

Smoke froze. “Who?”

The man frowned. “I don’t remember—“

“Who?”

Smoke tensed, his entire body waiting for the answer. His entire life hung in the balance of what this loathsome man was about to say.

The troll took a big step back. “The younger daughter of the matriarch. Mia.”

Smoke froze his emotions in free fall. It was flying through the air and having his wings ripped away from him.

The man gave him a look. “You okay?”

Smoke locked his feelings away, deep inside where they couldn’t hurt him. “Yes.”

“I will see you next month.” Smoke left the man standing there, puzzled.

His mate, his jewel, was engaged to be married to someone else.

Not just someone else.

A sociopath who left a string of dead bodies in his wake.

He was out of time. He just hoped he was dragon enough to do what had to be done.

Mia stared at the spell components in front of her. She should be focusing on how to put together another Dead Man’s Hand, but her thoughts went away.

The severed hand sat on the countertop in the back room of her family’s antique shop. The front part of the shop was decorated for customers, with shelves of beautiful antiques and whimsical curios among magical bowls, goblets, and other magical paraphernalia.

The backroom was where she prepared the ingredients, hidden away from people who didn’t want to know the lengths Mia’s family went to. Some magic components were simple: lavender, sage, and belladonna.

But on the shelf next to the mandrake root were darker items. Heart-of-woe, in glass jars so the heart wouldn’t decay before it was time. Locks of hair pinned to moldering velvet boxes, and cursed amulets.

And Dead Man’s Hand. Mia insisted her customer provide the hand for her preparation. She pretended like it was because the Hand would be more powerful, but really, she’d had enough graverobbing for one month. She already made three Dead Man’s Hands and she was tired of the stench of death.

Mia muttered the spell over the severed hand, and magic sparked to life. The skin turned from white to grayish-green, a sign the spell took hold.

Mia’s magic coiled inside her, ready for more. She turned to the side and pulled some magic out of bogwater, to be used in fairy ointments. Not that the fey were around much these days, but it didn’t stop people from buying them.

Mia pressed her hand against her breastbone.

Almost ten months. Ten months after a brief but intense fling with two dragons and her magic hadn’t been the same since.

It was stronger, more powerful, but harder to control.

It should have faded by now. She’d never connected with someone like that before, and it wasn’t just one person, but two.

Grief washed over her, as fresh as it was since the day they left. She needed to get over them. Jace chose his clan over her and Smoke left instead of overcoming his issues about being in a relationship.

They’d convinced her they wanted forever. Asked her to be part of their Treasure.

But in the end, it wasn’t enough.

Love was a lie people hurt you with.

Tikka butted her hand with her head. The mini griffin chirped and searched her hand for food.

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