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CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

CJ

My reflection fragments and multiplies in the full-length mirror as my control slips. Shadows lengthen around me, responding to the turmoil churning around my guts like a wildfire. The dragon part of me is restless, scales rippling beneath my skin in waves I can barely suppress.

The events in Blackridge’s secret room have unsettled me more than I care to admit. The Collectors. Living grimoires. Isolde’s terror when she realised what they wanted to do to her. Being hunted. I get that part more than most.

My gaze drifts to the mirror again. With minimal effort, I could shift its focus and bend it to show me Isolde’s room. I could check that she’s safe and make sure that the ghost bastard isn’t taking advantage of her vulnerability .

My fingers trace the ornate silver frame, power humming through the contact. Just a whisper of will, and I could see her. Watch over her. Protect her.

But I can’t. She has let it slide for now, but it will be a conversation to be had when she is ready to confront my invasion of her privacy.

I collapse onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. The dragon is so close to the surface now, wanting to emerge, to stretch its wings in this realm where dragons are myth rather than reality. The pressure builds behind my sternum, an ache that never quite subsides.

What the fuck am I even doing here?

Not here at SilverGate, specifically. I know why I’m at this bizarre academy of monsters. My parents made that abundantly clear when they shoved me through the dimensional portal with barely enough time to pack a bag.

The fucking Hunters. I loathe them with every fibre of my being. They captured and tortured my mother a while ago, before I was born. Killed her charge in front of her, made her suffer in ways that sicken me, all while they laughed and joked.

Sometimes I hate my sister for making me read about our mother’s life. In over a thousand years, there is too much pain, too much torment. Too much everything. It is my parents’ worst fear come to life, that they resurfaced. Half vampire, half dragon. Not the first of my kind back in my own realm, my mother is one, after all, but they clearly didn’t learn their lesson never to touch an Aquila again. My dad ripped them apart limb from limb, sent them underground for decades.

And yet.

There they are, and my parents weren’t taking any chances. So here I am. In a realm that never sees the sun, is cold, dank, less luxurious than I’m used to and filled with creatures who just want to fight the entire time.

I sit up, rolling my shoulders to ease the tension of trying not to shift and give myself away. It would be the first time, and I hear it’s not pleasant until you get used to it. Bones shatter, skin rips, muscles split and reform.

Fun.

Or the opposite of, anyway.

But I’m showing my hand to Isolde. She probably doesn’t suspect what I am. She would have no basis to think ‘dragon’ when, to her, that is a creature from a book.

But she’s too perceptive not to notice the inconsistencies. The teleportation. The mirror manipulation. The moments when my eyes shift to amber as the dragon surfaces. She’s cataloguing these anomalies, building a picture that doesn’t quite fit the vampire mould .

And what happens when she puts it all together? When she realises that I’m not just another arrogant vampire, but something from beyond this dimension entirely?

Somewhere along the way, Isolde Morvoren became important to me, and that complicates everything. I will be forced to tell her, and then what?

The Hunters who drove me from my home would find her fascinating, too. A female twin vampire with unique defensive magic. They’d dissect her to understand her powers, just as eagerly as The Collectors would flay her for their grimoires.

I’m surrounded by collectors of rare creatures.

My reflection in the mirror ripples, responding to my agitation. I need to get a grip before I shatter every reflective surface in the room.

Sleep. I need sleep. Tomorrow, I can figure out what to do about Isolde, about The Collectors, and about my own increasingly precarious position at SilverGate.

I strip off my shirt, revealing the intricate tattoos that map across my torso, chest, arms and neck. To most observers, they appear decorative, but they’re actually royal dragon markings. I wasn’t born with them, but they appeared when I grew older, showing my dragon nature.

The marks move slightly, responding to my unease .

I close my eyes and force my breathing to slow as I move my body in the art of Tai Chi. My mother taught it to me years ago, and I find it helpful at times like this.

Just as the tension begins to ease from my body, a sharp spike of fear lances through me. Something external, foreign, yet intimately familiar.

Isolde.

My eyes snap open, every sense suddenly hyperalert. The fear intensifies, a beacon calling to me across the academy. Without conscious thought, I lock onto the sensation and teleport, the world blurring and reforming around me.

I materialise in Isolde’s bathroom, immediately assaulted by the overwhelming scent of blood. Not hers, but something tainted, corrupted. The metallic tang carries notes of unfamiliar magic and malice.

Isolde stands naked in the bathroom as blood streams out of the showerhead. The crimson liquid seems alive, hissing and steaming where it coats her skin, leaving angry welts in its wake. Her eyes are wide with terror, her mouth open in a silent scream.

I move without thinking, reaching for her. She falls against me, her skin slick and burning hot. The blood that transfers to my arms sizzles like acid, but I ignore the pain, focusing only on her as I turn her in my arms and cradle the back of her head. She presses her cheek to my bare chest and the dragon markings jump to life at her touch.

“William,” she gasps, her voice raw.

“Where is he?” I demand, scanning the room for the ghost.

“Gone,” she chokes out. “He lost control when he realised what happened. The sigil…”

She gestures weakly to her chest. Below her collarbone, a complex sigil glows.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know.” She shakes her head. “William and I were in the shower, and suddenly, he could touch me again. The water was infused with water magic, dampening the barriers between life and death. But it was a trap. It was draining him, using our connection somehow.”

I study the sigil more closely. The pattern is intricate, definitely not something that appeared naturally. Someone placed this on her, and recently. “This isn’t random,” I murmur, tracing the air above the glowing mark without touching it. “Someone marked you.”

“When?” she whispers, her body trembling against mine.

“Could have been any time since you arrived. A touch, a brush against your skin, even contact with an enchanted object.” My jaw clenches as I consider the possibilities. “The question is who had access to you.”

The blood continues to pour from the showerhead, pooling on the floor around us. The scent is making my vampire side restless.

“We need to get you away from this,” I say, lifting her easily. Her wet skin slides against my chest, and I feel my tattoos respond to her proximity, warming beneath her touch.

I carry her into the bedroom, grabbing a towel to wrap around her. The moment we’re away from the bathroom, the blood stops flowing. The sudden silence is almost worse than the sound of the torrent.

“It was meant to trigger when William became corporeal,” she says, her voice steadier now. “Someone wanted to drain him through me.”

“Or drain you through him,” I counter grimly. “The sigil could work both ways.”

She looks down at the mark on her chest, which has faded to a dull grey. “I didn’t think of that.” Her gaze meets mine. “Shit.”

“Yeah. Where is he now?”

“He was fuming. He left.”

“I should find him.”

“No, stay with me,” she murmurs, pulling me down to the bed. “Stay with me, please.”

There isn’t a single event or creature that could stop me from crawling onto the bed with her and gathering her in my arms.

She curls against me, her head on my chest. The dragon markings respond to her presence in ways I’ve never experienced before, almost like they’re recognising something in her.

“Your tattoos are moving,” she whispers, her fingertip tracing one of the intricate patterns across my ribs.

I tense. “Isolde?—”

“They’re not just tattoos, are they?” Her voice is soft, curious rather than accusatory. “They’re alive somehow. Connected to whatever side of you that you are keeping a secret.”

I stare down into her eyes. “It’s not important, right now.”

The marking under her finger flares with golden light, and she gasps, pulling her hand back. But instead of fear, I see wonder in her eyes. Her lips part and she trails her hand down my chest, over the ridged muscles of my abs, and quickly undoes the button on my pants.

“Isolde.”

“Now, CJ. I want this now.”

“Why?”

She blinks. “Why?”

“Why now? Why with me?” I need to know, even if the answers kill me.

“I want you. This is inevitable. We are inextricably linked by fate somehow. I wish I had all the answers you want, but that will have to do for now.”

“Once I take your virginity, Isolde, I can’t give it back. Are you sure you want it to be me and not one of them?” I gesture vaguely to the window.

Her hand stills on my chest, and she looks up at me with those piercing blue eyes. “I want it to be you because when I’m with you, I feel alive in a way I never have before. Because you make me feel powerful and protected at the same time. Because even when you’re being an arrogant arse, you see me as more than just a rare creature to be collected.”

Her words hit me hard. The dragon markings pulse beneath her touch, responding to the raw honesty in her voice.

“And because,” she continues, her voice dropping to a whisper, “when I thought about dying today, about becoming one of those living grimoires, the thing that terrified me most wasn’t the pain, or the consciousness trapped forever. It was the thought that I’d never get to experience this. Never get to choose who I give myself to. Never getting to experience you.”

I cup her face in my hands, my thumbs brushing over her cheekbones. “Isolde?—”

“Don’t you dare try to talk me out of this,” she interrupts. “I’ve had enough people making choices for me. This is mine to make.”

The fierce determination in her voice brings something primal to life inside me, something deep, something that recognises her as mine on every level that matters .

I don’t wait for her to give me her consent again. With a low growl, I cover her body with mine and rip the towel from her. She is still covered in blood, but that just makes this even sweeter.

“Mine,” I say before I kiss her with a savage intensity that she returns, running her hands over my back.

She digs her nails into my skin, drawing a growl from deep within my chest. Her legs wrap around my waist, pulling me closer. With a single thought, I’m naked. More of my mother’s magic passed down to me.

She gasps, and I trail kisses down her neck, tasting the lingering blood on her skin. My fangs ache to sink into her, to claim her in the most primal way, but I hold back. This moment is about her, about giving her what she’s chosen. The markings on my body flare with golden light, casting flickering shadows across the room as I move lower, tracing the curve of her breast with my tongue.

Isolde bucks against me, a guttural groan tearing from her lips as I claim one nipple, savaging it with my teeth. Her hands yank at my hair, demanding more as I ravage her. The scent of her arousal fills the air, and the coppery tang of blood that sends my head reeling.

Descending, I carve a path down her stomach with my mouth and tongue until I reach her pussy. I spread her wide, needing to see that innocent cunt that will soon be torn and mine. I pause, taking in the raw, primal sight before diving in to devour her.

A scream tears from her throat as my tongue flicks her clit, circling brutally before grinding down hard. Her hips buck against my face, but I pin her down, feasting on her like a starving man. Her taste is intoxicating, driving me wild. I could devour her forever, listening to her screams and feeling her body convulse as her climax hits her hard.

“CJ,” she whispers. “Please...”

“Before I do this, before I take your virginity, know this, Isolde. This is forever. I come from a very short line of possessive and obsessive men who will burn the world down for their woman and any other world that threatens her. I will protect you with my last breath if it comes to it. You don’t ever have to worry about how I feel, because I am an open book for you. If you want to know anything, just ask. I will make you mine, make you my wife when you are ready to say yes. I will give you my last name, knowing you will scream my first for eternity when I pleasure you, love you, fuck you and claim you in every way that matters. You will be mine, body and soul, for as long as we both exist.” Her eyes widen at the intensity of my words, the raw honesty that I’ve never shared with another soul. But I’m not done yet. “I will stand by your side against The Collectors, against anyone who threatens you. I will allow you to have your relationship with the angel, but once I do this, there’s no going back. You’re mine, and I’m yours. Forever. Do you understand what you’re agreeing to?”

“Yes,” she breathes, her voice steady despite the magnitude of what I’ve just laid bare. “I understand. And I want it. I want you, CJ. All of you, whatever you are.”

The last thread of my restraint snaps.

I guide my cock to her pussy, sliding the head over her slippery clit, feeling her heat against me. “Look at me, Isolde. I want to see your eyes when I make you mine.”

She meets my gaze, trust and desire warring in those brilliant blue depths. I push forward into her slowly, feeling her body resist, then yield. She gasps, her claws digging into my back as I breach her, and her vampire comes out to play.

“Breathe,” I murmur against her ear, holding perfectly still as her body adjusts. “Just breathe, my sweet.”

When she nods, I move, edging deeper inside her as she whimpers from the invasion.

I thrust gently, and she cries out, her body tensing as pain mingles with pleasure. I hold myself completely still, letting her adjust to the invasion, fighting every primal urge to claim her roughly.

“You’re perfect,” I whisper against her neck, scraping my fangs over her heated skin. “So fucking perfect, Isolde.”

Her breathing gradually slows, and she shifts beneath me experimentally. The small movement sends shockwaves through my control. “More,” she breathes, her voice rough with need.

I withdraw slightly, then push back in, deeper this time. She moans and arches her back.

“Mine,” I growl against her throat. “Say it, Isolde. Tell me you’re mine.”

“Yours,” she gasps as I establish a rhythm, slow and deep. “I’m yours, CJ.”

The words shatter the last of my restraint. I thrust deeper, faster, claiming her with each thrust as she meets me stroke for stroke. Her claws rake down my back, deliciously painful. I bite down on her, sinking my fangs into her flesh with a low groan of sheer ecstasy.

Her blood floods my mouth, rich and intoxicating, carrying flavours I’ve never tasted before.

Isolde screams, her body convulsing around me as another climax tears through her, this one feral from the feeling of being fucked and fed from at the same time. The sensation of her tightening around my cock as her blood flows down my throat pushes me to the very edge of madness.

“Fuck, Isolde,” I snarl against her throat, my hips driving into her with increasing desperation. The bed frame groans beneath us, the ancient wood protesting our savage joining.

Her hands fist in my hair, pulling my head back so she can look into my eyes. “I want to taste you too,” she pants, her fangs fully extended.

Without hesitation, I offer her my throat. The moment her fangs pierce my skin, the world explodes around us. The dragon markings on my body ignite like fire, and I feel something fundamental shift between us. This isn’t just sex, it isn’t just feeding. This is a blood bond forming, ancient magic recognising its match.

My climax hits like a lightning strike, tearing through every nerve as I stiffen and unload inside her with a rabid snarl. Isolde cries out against my throat, her body milking every drop from me as another orgasm crashes over her.

I’ve had some epic nights in my short life, nights I will never forget, but this… this right here will be the memory I cherish for eternity with her by my side.