Page 92 of Cruelly Fated
“Why the rush?” I asked, wrapping my arms around his neck.
“Valor needs to hack into that livestream before they wipe all the IPs. I want to hunt down every bastard who bet to watch. And my mother…she deserves to know her son is dead.” His jaw tensed. “Promise me you’ll keep Torian’s part in it to yourself. It’ll destroy her. His death alone will break her.”
His pain tightened around my chest like a vice. “Actually, I didn’t get a chance to look at my kidnapper," I whispered.
When he gazed at me, warmth flickered in his eyes. He gave my side a gentle squeeze.
Cool mountain air whooshed through an open, window-like slit carved into the cliffside. Kyon hunched beneath the descending ceiling, then paused at the ledge. I stepped beside him and peered down. Fog masked the pit between the jagged peaks and the rolling, lush hills surrounding Avari. My stomach bottomed out. I had a sinking feeling there was only one way out—and it didn’t involve stairs.
I pressed myself closer to him, and he let out a slow chuckle.
“This won’t work,” he said. “You’d better climb onto my back. You’re about to ride my dragon.”
He set me gently on my feet, and I circled behind him, pulse thudding in my ears.
“Once I shift, lie flat,” he said.
“Can’t I grip one of your horns?” I asked. This girl needed something to hold onto.
“Baby steps, sweetheart,” he said with a smirk. “My dragon isn’t used to having a rider.”
Blowing a raspberry, I climbed onto his back, wrapped my arms around his neck and locked my thighs around his waist. “I thought you gave rides regularly,” I whispered, trying to lighten the moment and distract myself from the fact that we were about to plummet off a mountain.
Kyon huffed, and the sound rumbled with something not entirely human. “You’re the first—and only—fae I’ll ever allow to ride me.”
Without a warning, he stepped off the edge. I squeezed my eyes shut, forehead pressed to the solid heat of his back. His body burst beneath me. His neck elongated, wings cracking from his shoulder blades with the sound of thunder. In seconds, I could no longer straddle him. My body flattened across his scaly form, clinging to the rising heat that poured from him like steam over hot stone.
The dragon bellowed, the sound tearing into the air like a nightmare. He circled above the fields in easy, sweeping arcs, giving me time to adjust. I lifted my head. The city glittered below us like stardust flung across a velvet canvas, its winding lights glowing soft and golden beneath the mountain haze. I tapped my fingers against Kyon’s scales, a subconscious motion of sketching the view.
As we neared the Voltaire estate, the dragon began huffing, the heat radiating stronger beneath me. I ran a palm along his scales, and he let out a strained whine, half-exhaustion, half-relief. His talons clattered softly as he touched down on a sprawling balcony that opened into a bedroom.
I slid down his side, but before my feet met the ground, Kyon shifted mid-motion. His strong arms caught my waist, slowing my descent.
Then, he vanished into a walk-in closet the size of a studio apartment.
I padded forward, bare feet brushing the cool, polished hardwood. The space stretched wide, more mansion than bedroom. A canopy bed stood against the far wall, its onyx-carved postsgleaming like mined graphite between two towering windows. A flat-screen TV dominated the opposite wall, with storage below. I squinted at the rare color in this space tucked into a navy basket.
I feathered my fingertips over book spines and a few collectibles: comic books, bobbleheads, and a decent stack of video games. It was strange, imagining Kyon as a kid growing up in this cold, cavernous palace. But at least here, in this room, there had been flashes of joy. Something normal and real.
He reappeared with a phone to his ear, one hand braced on the terrace frame as he leaned forward, voice low and intense. He related details such as the stream location, number of viewers, and more. Valor had to be on the other side of the call.
I resumed perusing his childhood treasures. Strong arms wrapped around me from behind, tucking me gently against the planes of his chest. I let myself melt into him as his chin settled on top of my head.
“I see you found my shit,” he said, his voice a soft rumble in my ear.
“I expected more weapons,” I teased, holding a miniature sword from a scene building set.
He hissed. “You haven’t seen my private training room…”
Tiny sword in my grasp, I stabbed his forearm playfully.
“I have proof now you’re not all razor teeth and sharp talons,” I said.
“Oh? So I’m not astupid dragonanymore?”
I coughed out a giggle. “Guess I should burn all the drawings I made of you.”
“Guess I should erase the words I wrote in my diary.”
