Page 82 of Progeny of the Cursed Egg
“We need to fly to my nest,” I whisper near his ear, my lips brushingagainst the sensitive skin there. I feel him shiver in response, his arms tightening around me momentarily.
Reluctantly, he lowers me down his body until my feet hit the ground, the friction between us sending sparks of electricity dancing across my skin. The earth feels cool and solid beneath my boots after the warmth of his embrace.
“I need to mark you, mate,” Thauglor rumbles as he kisses my jaw, his voice vibrating through me like distant thunder. His lips are surprisingly soft against my skin. A gentle contrast to the power I can feel coiled within him, ready to strike.
I roll my head to the side, baring the left side of my throat to him, the skin there tingling in anticipation. My pulse quickens, fluttering visibly beneath the surface. My eyes lock on Klauth as I wait for Thauglor to mark me, seeking reassurance from my established mate. The air between us feels charged, heavy with unspoken promises.
“You bear many bites, mate,” Thauglor rumbles as he kisses my throat where he intends to bite me, his breath hot against my skin. His finger traces the scars left by my other mates, each touch sending a shiver down my spine.
“Our mate has built herself a powerful nest. Offensively and defensively, it’s extremely well thought out,” Klauth says as he moves closer, his footsteps barely audible on the soft earth. The familiar scent of him—smoke and cinnamon—mingles with Thauglor’s, creating a heady mixture that makes my head swim. Klauth’s hand threads up and into my hair until he can grab one of my horns. The sensitive base sends a jolt of pleasure through my body at his touch. A deep purr escapes my lips as I stare into his crimson-flecked amber eyes, the gold, and red dancing like flames in the fading light.
“I can taste her power for one so young. We are lucky,” Thauglor murmurs, his voice laced with reverence and hunger. Withoutfurther warning, he sinks his teeth into my throat, and I feel his strength bleeding into me, hot and electric. My body arches in his arms as his teeth dig into my flesh, the sharp pain giving way to waves of pleasure that radiate outward from the point of contact. Every moment he holds onto me, the more his power flows into me, filling every space within me. It feels as if every synapse is firing faster than a lightning strike, my skin buzzing with energy. When he releases me, I’m breathless, trying to find my footing. My head swims from the feeling of being remade, colors more vibrant, sounds sharper, scents richer than before.
“You need to bite me as well, mate,” Thauglor says, his voice low, oozing of sex and bad decisions. The timbre of it slides over my skin like dark silk, a tangible caress. If there was a type that my mother would have warned me to steer clear of, it definitely would be Thauglor. His blue eyes have darkened to the color of a storm-tossed ocean, pupils dilated with desire.
“I do...” I sound breathy, almost attention-starved, my voice unrecognizable to my own ears. His fingers thread through my hair, replacing Klauth’s grip on me, the slight tug sending shivers of anticipation down my spine. He directs me to the left side of his throat, the bronze skin there smooth and unmarked, pulsing with the rhythm of his heart.
I bite him without hesitation, my teeth breaking through his skin with a satisfying give. My heart thunders in my chest, the sound filling my ears as his ichor fills my mouth, bursting on my tongue with the mixed flavor of iron and copper, with undertones of something ancient and powerful. I swallow down every gulp until every cell in my body feels supercharged, my limbs tingling with newfound strength. Carefully, I withdraw my teeth and lick the wound clean. The taste of him lingering on my tongue before pulling away. A thin string of saliva and blood connects us briefly before breaking, a crimson testament to our new bond.
Before he can say anything, I dart off and shift seamlessly into my dragon form, bones cracking and reforming, skin stretching and hardening into scales with a sensation like thousands of tiny needles pricking from within. My emerald and silver scales reflect the waning light of the setting sun. The wind rushes past as I launch myself into the air, each powerful beat of my wings carrying me higher, closer to home. The loud sound of massive ancient wings beating behind me fills the air, the rhythmic whoosh creating currents I can feel buffeting my tail.
I glance over my shoulder and see Klauth and Thauglor flying side by side, their massive forms blocking out portions of the sky. Klauth’s scales gleam like fresh-spilled blood in the sunset, while Thauglor’s absorb the light, seeming to create a void in the sky. These two are going to be trouble, I just know it. The way they move in tandem, anticipating each other’s movements without communication, speaks of their long history. They’ve fought together, shared a border between their territories. They have a history that I bet the books got wrong, just like everything else they warned us about.
Soon enough, my two great wyrm mates flank me, their wingspans dwarfing mine, creating protective shadows on either side. Klauth with his scales the color of fresh-spilled blood, radiating heat like a forge. Thauglor, whose scales could make the blackest night jealous, carrying the scent of storms and ancient forests. The air between us vibrates with power, three apex predators soaring through the darkening sky. I have two war machines in my nest, and I have never felt safer. The thought brings a rumble of satisfaction from deep within my chest, echoing across the open air as we fly toward home. The last rays of sunlight catching on our scales in a final blaze of glory before night claims the sky.
CHAPTER 47
Abraxis
What’s goingto happen now?
The question pounds in my head like a merciless hammer as Ziggy brings us back to the nest. The familiar scent of leather, pine, and that subtle undertone of ash that permeates our home offers little comfort today. All I can think about is what will happen when they return. By the rights of inheritance, my father’s lands are Thauglor’s. The bitter taste of this reality coats my tongue—our nest will now control almost forty-five percent of the continent. But that territorial shift pales against my deeper fear. My wing may never be strong enough for flight again. The dull, throbbing ache that pulses through the damaged muscle with every heartbeat serves as a constant reminder.
“What’s that face for?” Balor’s deep voice cuts through my thoughts as he casually leans against the back of the couch. The leather creaks beneath his weight, and the faint scent of his spiced cologne drifts toward me.
“What do you think?” I roll my eyes and shake my head, the motionsending a fresh wave of pain down my injured wing I struggle not to wince at.
“Other than Callan having to redo the date night calendar again, nothing. We all knew this was coming.” Balor shrugs as he crosses one ankle over the other, his boots gleaming under the warm lights of our living room. His nonchalance grates against my raw nerves.
Ziggy approaches with quiet footsteps, the cold glass of a beer bottle pressed into my palm. The condensation trickles between my fingers as I finally give voice to the fears that have been clawing at my insides. “Easy for you to say. My father is about to lose our ancestral lands, and I may be flightless.”
“Mina went head to head with a great wyrm that is unbonded. She stood her ground protecting all of us,” Ziggy says confidently, his eyes reflecting absolute faith. “She will not let anything happen to any of us.”
Shaking my head, I knock back the beer, the bitter liquid burning a path down my throat as I finish half of it in one shot. The carbonation bubbles against my tongue, a sharp contrast to the heaviness settling in my chest. “You can still phase everywhere. If I can’t fly...” The words stick in my throat, and I sigh heavily, staring down at the bottle in my hand, watching the amber liquid swirl inside.
“Who cares!” Mina’s voice cuts through the room like a thunderclap. I look up to see her striding into the living room, the floorboards vibrating slightly beneath her purposeful steps. Both ancients follow in her wake, their imposing presence filling the space with a palpable tension that raises the hair on the back of my neck. “Do you think you were chosen as my mate because of your wings? Flightless or not, you are a powerful male, Abraxis.”
Mina closes the distance between us, the scent of lightning and rain clinging to her skin as she grips my leathers. Her fingers are warm through the material, her grip firm enough that I can feel thestrength coiled in her slender hands. “Anyone that challenges you—I already have a game plan for that, right, Balor?” She smiles, looking over her shoulder at the man in question, her eyes flashing with that dangerous glint I’ve come to both fear and adore.
“Anyone of dragon blood within a nest can fight in another’s place,” Balor explains, his voice rumbling with pride. “I can turn my opponent to stone without so much as shifting.” He winks at Mina before grabbing two more beers for the ancients, the caps hissing as he pops them off. “It seems being mated to Mina has made my scales harder, my toxin stronger, and my ability more deadly.”
“Descendant...” Thauglor’s voice echoes in the living room, the bass tones reverberating in my chest as he draws my attention to him. The ancient’s scent is primal—earth and acid and something older than time itself.
“Yes?” I lower my head out of respect for him, fighting the instinct to bare my throat completely.
“Mina shared with me what happened. What you did to ensure our mate and future progeny were safe.” He steps closer, his footfalls heavy against the floor. I watch Mina tensing, her body coiling like a spring as she sizes him up. Her protective stance warms something deep within me.
I rest a hand on her shoulder, feeling the heat of her skin through the thin fabric of her shirt, and ease her out of the way. Her reluctance is evident in the tight muscles beneath my palm.
