Page 46 of Guardian of the Cursed Egg (Dragonis Academy #2)

Mina

The guys are hiding something from me. The air tastes stale—heavy with an undercurrent of tension that sets my teeth on edge.

Vaughn’s movements are stiff as he paces near the kitchen island.

His gaze flicking toward me the same way Leander does when he senses my temper rising.

Ziggy, normally a chatterbox while he cooks, stands at the stove with his back to me.

The sizzle of frying eggplant crackles in the pan, but instead of discussing spices and technique like he usually does, he’s silent.

I hum a little tune under my breath, directing it at the eggs that are sitting in my lap.

A loud bang from behind startles me, and Abraxis barrels into the room.

The door smacks against the wall, sending vibrations through my feet.

I spin around in time to see him freeze mid-step, chest heaving.

His phone is clutched in a death grip, the plastic casing creaking from the pressure.

My gaze drifts to the scales creeping over his neck and forearms—dark and glistening in the overhead light.

His drake is dangerously close to surfacing .

I don’t move, just wait, heart pounding. The room seems to hold its breath. Abraxis inhales, deep and purposeful, and I watch the scales recede inch by inch. A faint scraping sound accompanies their withdrawal, like sandpaper against stone.

“How’s dinner coming along?” His voice comes out tight, and he shoves his phone into his pocket like it’s offended him.

“Just waiting for the others to throw the steaks on,” Ziggy replies. The smell of sizzling oil momentarily overwhelms my senses. He forces a smile, but it’s empty, and his hand trembles on the wooden spatula. Whatever’s happening is bad, and they’re all trying to keep me calm.

Abraxis crosses the living area, picking up stray pillows and bits of cloth from our recent sexual exploits.

The faint odor of our sweat and adrenaline still lingers, mingling with the fried eggplant.

I snort softly when Abraxis pulls my underwear from between the couch cushions.

He hastily stuffs the black lace into his front pocket, his cheeks darkening.

Ziggy catches the movement and raises a brow at me.

I shrug, forcing a casual grin I don’t really feel.

Callan, Leander, and Balor arrive almost thirty minutes later. Balor clutches a small box in his hands, the cardboard edges worn. He glances at Abraxis, who nods back—some silent exchange that makes my stomach knot. The weight of dread settles over us like a thick fog.

“I’m sorry, Mina,” Balor murmurs. His face is grim, gaze flicking to the box as he hands it to me.

Instantly, I tug on the tether of my bond with Iris, relief flooding me when she comes fluttering from the bedroom.

At least it’s not her. The cardboard feels heavier than it should when I rest it on my thigh.

My pulse thrums in my ears as I lift the lid.

The stench of decay slams into my nose, acrid and suffocating.

My stomach churns, and I snap the lid shut, the echo of the cardboard thud rattling through my skull .

But beneath that horrific smell, there’s something else—something heartbreakingly familiar.

My heart seizes. I yank the lid off again, my hand shaking, and stare in shock at a pair of severed women’s hands.

A whimper escapes me, my bottom lip trembling.

I know those hands; the shape of the nails, the delicate bones.

Gently, I replace the lid, forcing my breathing to steady as I hand the box back to Balor.

“My mom…” My voice is a husky whisper. “By the scent of it, my father found her. His scent is there, too.” Numbness spreads through my limbs as I look down at the eggs. My vision blurs with tears I refuse to shed just yet. Dad is hunting us. And he’s very close.

I gather the cursed eggs in my arms, feeling their subtle warmth through the thin fabric of my shirt.

Each one seems to throb with a quiet pulse.

The smooth shells send a shiver up my arms as they nestle against me.

My bare feet brush across the cold stone floor, and I note how the musty smell of old books and damp corridors seems to cling to the walls of this makeshift living space.

My heart thuds heavily in my chest with each step, the sound echoing in my ears as I pace.

I stop dead in front of Balor, close enough to catch a faint whiff of leather and steel from his clothing.

“You need to move and hide my sister. She may not want to see me because of who my father is, but she’s still my sister.

” My voice trembles with the weight of unspoken fears.

Balor raises a gloved hand and, in a gesture both tender and hesitant, caresses my cheek.

The rough texture of his glove sends a quiver through me, and I inhale the faint scent of sweat and scales.

He pulls me close, and for a fleeting moment, his breath warms my skin before he changes his mind and presses a soft kiss to my forehead.

Then he’s gone, leaving only the echo of his footsteps behind.

My eyes remain locked on the door for several beats too long, my heart still pounding.

The room feels unbearably quiet, and I’m oddly aware of the low hum of electricity in the overhead lights.

Shaking my head, I turn to face the others.

Ziggy’s gaze is full of compassion, and I can almost taste the tension in the air—stale, heavy, like a storm about to break. He knows what I’m struggling with.

I lower my eyes and sigh, moving back into the main sitting area.

Leander is on the couch and I climb into his lap, curling up as I hold the eggs protectively against my chest. There’s a faint floral scent from Leander’s shampoo, mixing oddly with the raw tang of fear I can’t shake.

My mind reels with possibilities. I don’t know if my mother is dead or simply suffering somewhere without her hands.

I don’t know if my sister is safe or in my father’s clutches.

Klauth’s presence thrums through the eggs, a low vibration that rolls through my arms and settles in my chest. It soothes me like a low purr, but it also draws Leander’s attention. He shifts beneath me, his breath tickling my ear.

“He’s trying to make you feel better,” Leander whispers, his warm breath brushing the sensitive skin of my neck.

“He does that,” I reply softly, letting my gaze wander to the shadows clinging to the corners of the room. “He’s worried about me. Worried about not being there in time when I need him most.”

“He knows about the vision?” Abraxis asks as he kneels before us, his hands resting gently on my legs. There’s a faint smell of fire clinging to him, the residue of whatever darkness coils in this academy.

“I told him. Told them both. Thauglor is pissed he’s not able to hatch yet to help.

” My fingers brush against the eggshells, and I feel the delicate vibrations of the life inside.

“We’ve already been talking about the nest structure.

” I lock eyes with Abraxis. “They agree to leave things as they are unless we travel to places where their influence is stronger. Then they would expect you to defer power to them at that time.” I watch a muscle twitch in Abraxis’s jaw.

“That is very reasonable. I accept.” His voice resonates in the hush, and when he places his hands on the eggs, I sense the slight rise in temperature. “We will do whatever is best for the nest and Mina, first and foremost.”

The eggs grow warmer in my lap, and a faint glow seeps through the shells. I press my lips together, feeling my pulse quicken at the reaction.

“Wow … I heard them,” Abraxis says, pulling his hands away. The glow fades, leaving a fleeting after-image in my vision.

“They seem very calm,” Ziggy observes, and the soft sizzle of Vaughn placing a steak on the griddle reaches my ears. The savory aroma of cooking meat fills the air, momentarily distracting me from my fear.

I look down at the eggs and let out a long, slow breath.

“They have me. I temper their rage.” The pulses beneath my fingertips slowly, each throb becoming gentler.

“Speaking to Abraxis made them tired.” Carefully, I push myself off Leander’s lap and head to my room, the corridor slightly cooler against my skin.

Once inside, I nestle the eggs among my pillows, making sure each one is cradled securely.

Iris slithers in, her scales rasping on the floor.

She settles beside the eggs, coiling her lithe body around them.

I can hear her low, hissing breath as she adjusts, and the tension in my shoulders releases just a little.

“Thank you for everything,” I whisper to Iris and the eggs.

The comforting silence of my room wraps around me, and for a moment, I can almost pretend all is well.

Dinner feels heavier than it should, despite the brightness of the dining room.

The overhead chandeliers cast a clean, steady light across the polished oak table, their golden glow illuminating every detail.

The gleam of cutlery, the crimson juices pooling beneath thick slices of steak, and the faint steam rising from untouched plates.

Even the slightest movement seems sharp and exposed under the relentless clarity.

My nerves are frayed, my focus glued to the door, jumping at every faint creak in the building.

Any second now, Balor could walk through the front door.

“I should have gone with him…” I mutter, the frustration in my voice barely contained.

Callan moves behind me, his arms draping loosely over my shoulders as he leans in.

His touch is warm, grounding, and his familiar scent—a mixture of pine and feathers—briefly pulls me back from the edge.

“Wherever he hid her, it may not be safe for you to follow,” he says, his voice calm and steady.

“I’m a flying fortress with lightning. I think I’ll be okay,” I reply, tilting my head to glance at him with a faint smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes.

Across the table, Abraxis puts his fork down with a deliberate click, the sound cutting through the silence like a blade.

His golden gaze locks onto mine, unyielding.

“Even with that as a factor,” he says slowly, his words weighted, “I won’t risk you over a female who stopped talking to you for something that isn’t your fault. ”

I shake my head, irritation flaring like embers catching fire.

“She’s still my sister. My mom is still my mom, even after everything that’s happened.

” I spear the last piece of steak, savoring the richness of it as I chew, but even the burst of flavor feels hollow.

When the plate is empty, I shove it away, the sound harsh against the quiet tension in the room.

“I need to go to my classes tomorrow,” I say, my voice firmer, “and then back to training. I need to get faster.”

Ziggy reaches across the table, his gloved hand sliding over mine.

The leather is cool against the heat of my skin.

His grip is light yet intentional as his fingers press gently over the knife I hadn’t realized I was still holding.

“If you use the kendo sticks, I’ll shift, and you can try to avoid my tentacles,” he offers with a faint, teasing grin.

“I’ll retract the barbs so I only slap you instead of ripping your skin off. ”

I stare at his hand for a moment, his words barely registering as the weight of my thoughts grows heavier.

The dragoness within me stirs, restless and impatient.

A part of me—a selfish, primal part—wants to take everyone in the nest as a mate, to bind us all together, to strengthen us.

Callan and Vaughn haven’t noticed their increased strength yet, but Leander picked up on it the other day.

I need to talk to Callan about it, but not when Abraxis is around.

Strategically, it’s sound. But do I really need eight mates?