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He was clad only in a pair of animal skin pants that were a deep brown, his feet and chest bare. He was a true behemoth, all hard muscle. Across his skin were markings much like tattoos. Each one was a name. I knew from my studies that they represented every single being whom he’d murdered. There were so many, all over his mammoth torso.

I caught sight of his infamous sword with the Hellfire gem in the center resting against a stone table beside him.

His eyes flamed a moment before I saw him register a presence.

“You’re late,” he uttered, his voice low and dangerous, a gravely aspect to it.

“I ran into some complications that required unfortunate action to be taken,” another voice rang out, this one a lot smoother. “Our meetings have been met with suspicion. I had to cut that poison out.”

“You killed your own,” Draco spoke, not as a question, nor as a judgment. It was him knowing the answer already. Knowing the visitor well.

“Three of them.”

The other being came into view, and I choked at the sight of Malrik Titanus standing there talking with the Beast.

My grandfather.

His hair was a deep black, not wild like mine, but tied back neatly with an iron clasp that resembled a dragon’s jaw. His eyes were a deep amber-gold. He was towering like me, built like a musclebound general, but he didn’t carry himself with the grace of a fighter, his movements were more rigid, on edge and tense.

He was dressed in battle leathers layered over dark crimson robes.

“Next time, bring them to me. I will turn them. Dragon kind is not in abundance. You cannot afford to lose more.”

“I will keep it in mind.”

Draco raised a sharp eyebrow. “You enjoyed the bloodshed.”

“I… you said you had something to show me. It’s why you summoned me here, yes?”

In a flash, Draco was there, his hand grasping Malrik’s jaw harshly. “Answer me.”

Malrik swallowed against his brutal grip. “Not just the bloodshed.” His eyes narrowed with undeniable cruelty, his lips lifting in a sadistic smirk. “Taking their lives. The lives of fools who cannot see beyond the immediate, who cannot comprehend the gravity of what you and I aim to achieve.”

Seemingly satisfied by his response, Draco released him.

That lack of contact only lasted but a moment, though, before Draco thrust a single palm into his chest that sent Malrik crashing into the stone table several feet across the chamber. It was utterly decimated under the impact.

Draco was there then, wrenching him around, then smashing Malrik’s face into the crushed stone several times over until he weakened in his hold.

He was then driven into one of the chamber walls with Draco holding him up with a single hand around his throat, his eyes on fire as he took in Malrik’s bloodied state.

As Malrik focused his gaze, I was shocked to see not fear or indignation there, but unadulterated lust and heat.

No. No. No.

Even though Cornelius had already told me they’d been together, I’d hoped he’d somehow been wrong, I’d hoped that there’d been more to it.

“Mmm… you were made to be one with me,” Draco rumbled at his ear.

He slicked two fingers in the blood drenching Malrik’s face, then swept it over his lips.

As Malrik’s tongue darted out and he groaned, Draco drove them into his mouth, sliding over his tongue and deep down, making him splutter.

He didn’t stop, watching with sadistic fascination as Malrik struggled.

Struggled for him.

When he wrenched them out and Malrik lurched and choked, Draco slid his hand down over his armor. A brush of his onyx magic was all it took to cut through it, and then he was grasping Malrik’s cock in a brutal grip that had him hissing.