Page 112 of The Exiled Dragon

Creed’s body, just like a lizard, showing himself to be bigger, stronger than his opponent, puffed out his chest, his scales ripping in and out of his skin when he stood in front of the Duke. His unconscious body, still riddled with cuts, bruises, and blood, had Creed demanding more. His Dragon growled externally, making the entire dungeon shake, causing small pebbles to fall inside the cell.

“He should be awake any moment now.” Alaneo stood by the King along with several Fae warriors. The entire room was tense, waiting for the Duke to stir. “I caught him myself. He didn’t realize what hit him once our warriors stormed the house.”

Alaneo and his special team of Faes, with powers unimaginable in stealth, infiltrated a cabin in the woods south of the Kingdom. The overgrown trees, and the lack of animals, were a sure sign that either black magic or powerful predators were in the area. Once they turned on the powers given to them gifted by the gods, they could sneak up on the cabin inhabited by fifty Vampires, all idling their time. Several twiddled with their knives, some cooking over an open flame and the Witches drying leaves and leather in the sun.

Once they snuck behind each one, their blood spilled. Slit throats, missing body parts, the screams of terror from the rogues bled through the trees. Alaneo, being the leader of his band of Faes, broke down the door to the hut-like cottage, finding the Duke lying in bed. The ring that glowed with his status caught his eye as Alaneo, with an evil smirk, plunged his dagger towards his heart.

It was a quick victory for the band of Faes, their mission accomplished. They cut the body up into pieces before his body tried to reassemble, taking the pieces and putting them in six different satchels and taking him home. It was a mission that would certainly be written in the textbooks. Alaneo was proud to have brought his King the infamous Duke Mortus, second in command of the Rogue army against the kingdoms.

Osirus continued to play with the silver ring with a skull and blood-red ruby gem eyes. The fangs that hung tightly on the ring made of pure gold, the sign of the Duke’s house, and one where his family will now be erased from the history books for his murderous ways.

Groaning from inside the cell had the group stiffen. Amora clung to Nicholas as she looked on. Amora felt sorry for Odessa, to be brought into this beautiful world in such a way. To become a blood bag and have nightmares for the rest of her days until the life of this Vampire was taken.

Creed wouldn’t have it any other way, to watch the rest of the blood spill from the Duke’s body trickle down into the blackened soil only to be eaten away by the demons of the Underworld. He would pay not only in this life but the next. Taking away mates was high treason in all realms, and they deserved to be punished.

Creed’s jaw lengthened, his fangs protruding from his mouth, gripping the iron bars, and watching the UV light reign down on the moving body that had stirred his Dragon. ‘He should be lifeless for hurting our mate. We will make him pay.’Creed’s own self could only agree. The pain he will cause on this Vampire will be like any other. Taking his claw, ripping each tendon carefully and slowly, pulling each fang from his skull, and slowly watching him suffer. Taking away his right to feed and watch him starve, as he turned into nothing but a hollow husk as his body sipped his own blood to survive.

Creed’s smile turned manic, ready to be given the word.

Duke Mortus groaned, rolling over and coughing frantically. The black hair covered his face as he reached his full height with great difficulty. The blood-red eyes were dull. Blackness only filled them as the full frontal of his naked body stood in front of the band of justice seekers.

“Who is in charge of the rebellion?” King Osirus’ words rang out through the cell. The bright UV lights on Duke Mortus had him holding up his hand to push away the heat.

“What?” he rasped, continuing to cough drops of blood on the prison floor. Creed’s Dragon became impatient, his roar so loud it echoed through the dungeon to having the servants fall onto the main floor of the palace.

“Who is in charge of the rebellion, Duke Mortus? We don’t have time for games.” The Vampire shook his head, coughing again. Flinging his hair back, he stared into the light, unable to see who questioned him.

“Who? Who do you speak of? I am Dallin.” Creed’s claws reached through the barricade of bars into the unsuspecting victim. His claws raked down his chest, causing a shriek of pain to run through the iron bars. Falling backward, the Vampire leaned against the wall, far away from where the claw originated.

Alaneo growled, ripping the cell open, and pulling the bleeding Vampire up by his neck. “Don’t toy with us. You have the ring!” The Vampire coughed again, gurgling on blood that sat at the back of his parched throat. Upon further inspection, he noticed this Vampire was gaunt, not plump, and healthy like a noble would normally be.

Alaneo gritted his teeth, dropping him to the ground. “Are you Duke Mortus?” Dallin frantically shook his head, grabbing his throat.

“No! I swear on the Moon Goddess herself; I was captured from a small village on the outskirts of Vermillion, taken from my mate and child. They dressed me in clothing, threw me in the cabin, and stood guard!”

Alaneo, more upset with himself for being deceived, took the chair that sat in the cell, throwing it next to the wet wall of sludge. Pulling at his hair, he screamed a blood-curdling ‘no,’ getting a reaction from Melina to enter the prison cell. She tugged on his arm to comfort her friend and pull him away from the Vampire.

Osirus, being the ever stoic King he was when it came to times of war and persecution, entered the cell, Creed growling behind him, unsatisfied with the results. As Osirus questioned him, Creed’s thoughts went to his mate. She was safe behind the palace walls, but the aching in his heart couldn’t help but make him wonder.

This was a ruse, wicked deceit for all to put their guards down, and his mate stood outside. What if there was a flying Shifter that took to the skies, a rogue that was working for the Duke and tried to snatch his mate away? His Dragon took over, and his claws descended from his fingers, the feathers on his back protruded from his skin. Nicholas, coming to the same conclusion as Creed, raced up the dungeon stairways as they went to find Odessa.

A strange feeling arose in his chest, a feeling that wasn’t normal. It was frightening, pulling his heart at the helplessness he could feel. A sharp pain in the back of his head told him that something was a mistake. His Odessa was in danger. Halfway up the dungeon stairways, where the hall became larger, his Dragon automatically shifted to his full form. Roaring up the stairs, the servants opened the door leading to the foyer.

The Black Dragon arose in the brightly lit palace, the chandelier coming straight up to his head. It wobbled, breaking from the thin ropes that held the massive decorative structure in place. Crystals of the magnificent chandelier fell to the floor like a mirror shattering into a thousand pieces. Creed pushed through the main doors of the palace, flying quickly to the walls of the place where he left his beloved mate.

His heart racing in his chest, he clawed at every tree and shrub, leaving a path a tornado could have easily caused. The female Dragon Shifters sat in a circle, petrified that the Alpha would be in full form, breathing heavy black smoke with fire tickling on his tongue. “Where is Odessa?” he commanded. The woman looked at a girl named Amira. She pointed to the spot in front of her only to see she was not there.

“She was here. I was braiding her hair!” she cried, shivering at Creed’s hovering. “I swear to you, Alpha.” Her neck bore in submission. He smelled and felt no lie in her heart. She was petrified, but the truth rang true. Slithering his neck to where he and Odessa sat, confessing to her his intentions once this war was over, to go home and be free of all the dangers that plagued him, he saw Leaf struggling to breathe on the ground.

Nicholas, already in human form, ran to Leaf, covering the wound with his hand. “I cannot smell her,” Nicholas called up to the Black Dragon’s mighty form. Creed’s tongue smelled the air. He smelled his mate. Why could Nicholas not? It smelled of utter fear that he had not smelt of her since the day he found her hiding in a broken tree stump.

“Gather the warriors. I am going to find my mate.” Creed smelled the back wall where they had emerged from the secret passageway. It smelled rotten, rotting flesh and hints of memory powder dusted the bushes. Growling, Creed pushed his wings harshly, shooting him up from the wild garden to get above the highest of trees.

The pain of his soul wrecked Creed’s body. He had failed to protect her; he thought she was safe within the palace walls. A promise that Osirus had given him was broken. The black magic proved very strong, stronger than that of light magic. How was the war to be won if no one could protect the one person he loved? The bond that he and Odessa shared was deeper than any other supernatural. Falling in love before a bond could take place given by the goddess herself was a miracle.

His heart pulled him, pulled him toward Vermillion. Surely the Duke wouldn’t be so stupid to take her back there. Then again, he dared to take his mate, making him the center of all of Creed’s anger.

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