Page 9 of Cruelly Fated (Princes of Avari #1)

Eight

KYON

T he metal gate groaned with a prolonged, bone-deep shriek that made every inmate in the courtyard lift their head. Even the wind seemed to pause, holding its breath as five new inmates filed in, flanked by a pair of half-bored guards.

The scent hit me first—fresh sweat, too-clean laundry soap, and a faint trace of cologne that hadn’t yet been beaten out of them. New blood .

I stayed where I was, posted on the bottom bench near the east wall, my back against stone, elbows stretched wide along the metal rail like I owned the place. Because I did, the other gangs may have had numbers, but I had fire licking my veins.

Boots stomped in the dirt, then crossed the artificial court padding, coming for me. Here we go again.

“Voltaire?” one of them spat the name like a challenge, his voice coated in bravado.

I didn’t give them the satisfaction of peering up, my gaze on the pickup game. “No. I’m the fucking janitor.”

Their leader sneered.

I cocked an eyebrow, my gaze dragging over the five of them. Broad shoulders, bright jumpsuits that hadn’t faded from wash or blood stains yet, and curled lips, flashing too-white teeth. They wanted to make a name for themselves. And someone told them putting the dragon prince down would do it.

The first henchman lunged.

I let him think he had the upper hand as he closed the distance, breath huffing, muscles coiling for a strike.

The moment his hand brushed my collar, I reacted.

In one fluid twist, my elbow cracked against his jaw.

The crisp sound, like a branch snapping, made me shudder, feeding the savage beast inside me.

The dragon paced restlessly within the confines of my mind.

As the first fae folded and crashed to the ground, writhing, a second attacker roared behind me.

I pivoted, caught his wrist mid-swing, and bent it backward until the bone splintered. He howled with a high pitch. I silenced him with a knee to the solar plexus. Then, I lifted him off the ground and tossed him into his friend. They both tumbled into the dust, groaning.

The third came with a dull shank. I blocked the swing with my forearm, letting it slash my skin just enough to fuel my fury, then grabbed him by the throat and slammed him face-first into the courtyard’s wall. Blood bloomed on impact, streaking down the stone like wine.

Another pair flanked me.

I ducked low, feeling their body heat as they passed over me, then I shot up between them, fists flying. One took a hit to the kidney, the other to the throat. They dropped like puppets with cut strings, wheezing and gagging, while they rolled in the dust.

The air shifted from the fight-induced adrenaline to a question of what’s next.

I straightened and cracked my neck. Inmates watched from the edges like wolves afraid to commit.

“TAKE HIM DOWN!” The command came from the open gate.

Boots thundered across the court. I counted six guards rushing me from both sides. I caught the first by the baton, turned his momentum, and threw him into the next one. They skidded into the mess hall wall with twin thuds.

A sizzling jolt of electricity shot through my spine.

My muscles seized. I roared in excruciating pain from my nerve endings getting fried.

These weapons were made to burn shifters alive.

Another jab. Then another. My vision blurred with rage I couldn’t act as they took turns stunning me.

Each contact with their Tasers crippled me further.

Not able to withstand any more, I dropped like log to the ground. My cheek slammed into the dirt. Hands pinned my wrists. A boot crashed between my shoulder blades. The weight of their bodies pressed me into the ground like they tried to bury me already.

Someone slammed a Taser against the base of my spine, and lightning flashed behind my eyelids. And still—I laughed. Because I knew who had sent the new inmates in.

Father.

The dragon king didn’t dabble in warnings. But he lost today and would have to content himself with one hefty disappointment.

I guffawed like a madman when the guards shoved me into isolation. A genuine chuckle—the kind that told them they hadn’t broken me, not even close.

No windows. Just steel walls, a stone floor that reeked of old blood and piss, and a reinforced ceiling that even my dragon would have trouble clawing through. Impenetrable. A tomb without the dignity of death .

So this was Father’s follow-up move.

Five thugs. All trained shifters. All sent to drag me down in front of the yard. My brother had warned me last week. Told me not to underestimate our father’s reach. I didn’t want to believe it. A dragon king doesn’t turn on his blood…right?

Wrong. The dragon king shows no mercy. You cross him, you bleed.

Still, a part of me had clung to the hope that I mattered more to him than a discarded pawn in his power games. That maybe I wasn’t so easy to cast aside. But I guess betrayal runs thicker than blood in the Voltaire clan.

But why now, after all this time?

Maybe he waited because of Mother—because her mind shattered the day I was arrested, and he didn’t want to finish the job. Or perhaps the bastard just enjoyed watching me sweat in the shadows, wondering when the axe would fall.

Didn’t matter now.

The last guard exiting turned around and with a sneer pressed the Taser into the base of my back. The voltage skittered across my ribcage and shocked my heart. I roared and seized.

Some time later, I woke in a puddle of blood and drool, cheek glued to freezing steel. My vision swam. My limbs trembled from exhaustion. Crawling to the bare cot in the corner felt like dragging my body through broken glass.

They had gotten a few solid hits in this time. Deep cuts—ribs, thigh, just under my collarbone. All shallow enough to keep me breathing. Deep enough to make me wish I wasn’t .

And still…no fucking medical attention.

Shifters don’t get it here.

Not unless they want you to survive.

But I could’ve handled the pain. I would’ve healed by now—if not for the damn ankle bracelet. Cold iron, laced with enchantments that hummed with a white noise. It smothered the dragon in me, muffled my strength, choked off my natural healing like a noose around the neck of a beast.

Steam hissed from my pores. I struggled to contain it.

The dragon stirred—twisting, snarling beneath my skin.

My nostrils flared. My jaw clenched. I growl-huffed and slammed the back of my head against the cell wall, forcing the beast to back down.

Because if it didn’t, the guards would come.

With a suppressant shot meant for sedating monsters.

And they’d love to jab me with it. They called it protocol, but really, it was personal.

No fucking way.

I ground my teeth and yanked the leash tighter.

Focus.

Think of her.

That girl with starlight in her eyes and peaches on her skin.

Her soft voice. Her trembling fingers when she pressed her illusion into me like a whispered kiss.

The way her mind wrapped around mine, reckless and sweet.

How she didn’t even know what she was doing—and still brought my dragon to his damn knees .

I pictured her again—her mouth parted, breath catching like she wanted to be bad but didn’t know how yet. I’d teach her. The dragon rumbled, low and pleased, curling up like a beast resting on ancient gold.

She’s different.

She didn’t beg. She didn’t flinch. She offered . With every glance, every word, every delicious flicker of hesitation, she gave more than any other woman ever dared.

And fuck me, I wanted her to do it again.

I closed my eyes and imagined her straddling my lap, her maddening scent flooding my senses. Heat pooled low. I readjusted with a hiss.

The dragon stirred again, this time not in rage but in need.

“ Make her ours ,” it hissed.

The wounds throbbed as the healing process began. The shifter-suppressing bracelet slowed my recovery, magnifying the discomfort and draining me energetically. I convulsed. My skin pressurized and began knitting itself. Gritting my teeth, I exhaled with force.

“Not yet,” I whispered through clenched teeth. “But soon.”

Five days until I saw her again…