Page 109 of Destined By Dragonblood
A sob caught in Ashley’s throat as she covered her face with her hands, the bloody shirt falling to the floor at her knees.
My dragon roared like a thousand knives stabbed into my heart, my soul. My claws shimmered, and the yearning to shift, explode into my full strength and size, shook my body. I gripped my head in my hands, desperate for the war to stop, begging Father’s voice echoing in my mind to ease, to give me peace and allow me to accept my destiny.
Another sob from Ashley, and I lit from the room, dragon speed taking me through the caverns leading to freedom faster than any mere human could travel on foot.
Tiggy raced after me, and I mourned the poor beast had been forgotten in the library and doubtless seen our fight. Ever loyal, he followed as fast as he could to the front door. I paused to allow him time to catch up, swallowed hard, and bent to throw my arms around him.
“Be a good boy and watch over my mates—I promise I’ll be back.”
He licked my face and sat on his haunches.
I stood without looking into his big brown eyes. A blast of freezing air slammed into my body as I threw open the front door, but I ran and leaped off the veranda, my jeans shredding as my dragon rushed to take over my human-like body.
Tears swept across my scaled face as I shot forward, my wings shooting me beyond my mates’ hurt—but not far enough to ease mine.
I continued onward, seeking refuge from the emotions, the pain, the torn desires wracking my brain, but I doubted I would find solace anywhere but in their arms.
With every flap on my sinewy wings, I sped eastward, the miles disappearing beneath me at a rapid pace. Rage continued to roil inside me.
I needed something.
An outlet.
A way to release the pent up frustration, anger, and disappointment in myself.
Being tied down and feeling the bite of Vanni’s cane sounded divine, and my inner beast begged for me to return for the release we were desperate to experience.
But Father’s voice continued to whisper in my head, centuries of his indoctrination still holding onto the reins of my mind.
Pastor—Jonestown.
My eyesight sharpened on the horizon rather than my internal strife at my beast’s second suggestion.
Yessss.
I banked slightly, my heart racing in anticipation. Recalling all Ashley had told me, and the bit of investigation I’d done on my own into the man, led me toward a small town I’d studied but had never visited.
I’d promised myself revenge and had planned for it at some point in time.
Tonight, I would avenge my female, and hopefully, calm some of the storm raging inside me.
My insides still simmered hours later when I stood cloaked outside a single-story home alongside a white, clapboard church.
Jonestown Independent Bible, the sign along the road read.
The man moving about the house’s interior was a mere wisp of a human. Stoop-shouldered and bald, he reminded me of a weasel, exactly as I’d thought upon seeing his professional headshot online. He disappeared down a hallway, and I tried his front door, pleased when the handle turned beneath my firm grip.
Ignorant redneck fool thought he was safe at his home in the middle of no-man’s-land USA.
Huffing a silent snort, I let myself into his home. The house as a whole was neat and tidy, and the only indication of a mess was a stack of papers on the kitchen table to my right. A door beyond suggested a basement. It was locked, a key required to open the damned thing.
Sounds of clicking on a keyboard suggested the pastor busied himself for the time being.
A single flame of dragon fire melted the lock before me. Stairs led into darkness.
Teeth gritted, I descended into darkness.
The low ceiling demanded I bend slightly, and I glanced around, my enhanced sight allowing me to take in the boxes and crates. A wall of shelves held dozens of canned goods. Stackable washer and dryer units—two of them—stood against the opposite wall. A door nestled in between—also locked.
