Page 51 of Guardian of the Cursed Egg (Dragonis Academy #2)
Mina
Balor has been my mate longer than Callan, if my math is correct, and he hid it.
I don’t know how I feel about that if I’m being honest with myself.
Part of me feels betrayed he didn’t trust me enough to accept him.
But then again, my father would have hunted him to the ends of the continent without question.
I sigh, the fabric of my favorite leggings cool against my skin as I slip them on, followed by the soft cotton of my tank top.
The familiar texture comforts me before the tension of tonight’s conversation.
The faint scent of lavender from my laundry fills the air as I move quietly, careful not to disturb the stillness of my room.
I open my door quietly; the hinges whispering a soft creak that barely breaks the silence.
Outside, the aroma of the evening meal wafts through the air, mingling with the crisp scent of the night.
I catch the tail end of what Abraxis is saying about being called back soon.
My eyes slide from Leander’s stoic expression, the dim light reflecting off his sharp features.
To Callan’s guarded stance, and finally to Abraxis’s retreating back, the fabric of his jacket rustling softly as he moves.
The pull to the dragon in the bond is undeniably strong, a magnetic force that tugs at my very being.
But what about Balor? He’s a basilisk, and they are part of the dragon family.
The thought sends a shiver down my spine, a mix of anticipation and unease.
I glance over my shoulder once more at Iris, curled up around the two cursed eggs on the pillow on my dresser.
The soft rustle of her scales against the fabric is a comforting sound in the otherwise tense room.
One day, I’ll have eggs of my own and have to worry about Abraxis leaving his clutch behind.
Then there’s Klauth and Thauglor, the two ancients in the nest. I can only hope they are as patient as Abraxis, their presence a silent strength amidst the chaos.
Shaking my head, I step out into the common area, the cool hardwood floors creaking softly under my feet.
The room is dimly lit, shadows dancing on the walls as the overhead lights cast a warm glow.
I wait for Balor to emerge, the scent of aged wood and leather filling my nostrils.
“He takes longer than a woman to get ready sometimes, I swear,” Ziggy says, his voice light and teasing as he swoops in to steal another hug from me.
His warmth envelops me, the familiar scent of his cologne a comforting presence.
He brushes a sweet kiss across my lips, leaving a lingering taste of peppermint.
Ziggy is so full of life and happiness, it’s amazing.
He’s like a puppy, excited every time their person looks at them.
“We shouldn’t be gone long,” I reply, pressing my lips against his again, feeling the softness of his mouth and the slight chill of the evening air on his breath.
I can’t help but smile and laugh a little, the sound bubbling up effortlessly.
“Are you ready?” Balor’s voice catches me off guard, deep and resonant, pulling my attention toward the front door.
He’s standing there in a simple t-shirt and jeans, sturdy boots grounding him.
I’ve never seen him in anything other than his leathers, the rough texture of the material contrasting with the casual outfit he now wears.
“So there wasn’t any padding in the leather…
” I smile at him, my eyes tracing the broad expanse of his chest and shoulders, the way the fabric stretches slightly over his defined muscles.
Abraxis and Vaughn have broad shoulders and chests, but Balor’s are more defined, each muscle standing out beneath his skin, making him look irresistibly strong.
“You look like you’re sizing me up for dinner.” He arches a brow, his gaze intense as he looks down at me, then brushes some rogue hairs from his face. His hair catches the light, shimmering like an oil slick, colors shifting and dancing with every movement, much like his scales do.
“I’ve never seen you in anything other than fighting leathers,” I tease, letting my eyes roam over his body, slowly taking in every inch of him.
He’s as tall as Abraxis, easily over six feet, maybe even six-six.
His shoulders are broad and defined, his arms strong and muscular, every movement revealing the power beneath his skin.
His fingers snap in front of my face, startling me, and I blink, looking up at him with a mix of admiration and desire.
“Let’s go for our walk. Your dragon is showing, and I think the cool night air may help some.
” Balor offers me his bare hand, the warmth of his touch sending a flush through me.
I stare at it for several seconds, marveling at the contrast between his strong, calloused palm and my delicate fingers, before finally taking it.
The connection feels right, grounding me amidst the swirling emotions.
“We’ll be back,” Balor calls over his shoulder as we step out into the halls of Malivore .
We walk in comfortable silence, the soft echo of our footsteps mingling with the distant hum of the academy.
The air is cool against my skin, a gentle breeze rustling the leaves outside the window.
“Where do you want to go?” I tilt my head, looking up at him, the soft glow of the lights casting shadows on his face.
“There’s someplace I want to take you. I’m going to shift and take you there.
” He points between his neck and shoulder, his fingers tracing a path as if drawing the location in the air.
“When I shift, there should be a dished scale right about here. That’s where you sit.
Hold on to the spikes in front of you.” A huffed-out laugh escapes his lips, warm and genuine, as we move further from the building.
“You’re the only person who’s been allowed to ride my basilisk.
” He rubs the back of his neck, his free hand stopping me from moving too quickly.
His body shifts, muscles, and bones rearranging seamlessly.
I watch in awe as the man I know transforms into an enormous basilisk, the scales shimmering under the night sky, their colors like spilled oil.
The transformation is both terrifying and beautiful, the hiss of his shifting body blending with the sounds of the night.
The ground beneath us feels solid, the coolness of the stone path ways replaced by the earthy scent of the outside world.
As the basilisk stands before me, powerful and majestic, I feel a mix of fear and exhilaration, the night air filled with the promise of the unknown.
He lays flat to the ground, his scaled body shimmering in the moonlight.
I stand beside him, the cool night air brushing against my skin, and search for that space he mentioned.
When I find it—a dip between the ridges along his massive, sinewy form—I climb into place.
The rough texture of his scales bites faintly against my palms as I adjust myself, resting my feet on spines that jut out like the jagged edges of a cliff .
“Okay, I’m ready,” I call out, my voice steady as I grip the spikes before me. They’re warm, pulsing faintly beneath my touch, a reminder of the powerful creature beneath me.
Balor raises his basilisk’s head, his gleaming red eyes catching the faint shimmer of the Dragon Star above.
Without hesitation, he slithers. The rhythmic sway of his movement reverberates through me, a strange, lulling sensation that contrasts with the ominous whisper of the wind.
When we reach the edge of the Sea of Whispers, I take a sharp breath.
The air here feels alive, tinged with the faint scent of salt and something metallic, almost like blood.
He slips into the inky water, and I feel a momentary jolt of surprise as his massive body remains buoyant.
The water laps at his sides, glinting faintly in the starlight as he pushes toward a small, shadowed island offshore.
The soft sound of his body slicing through the water is hypnotic, broken only by the distant call of some unseen night creature.
When we reach the island, he slithers onto the damp, uneven ground and lays flat again.
I take it as my cue to slide off, the mossy earth cool and springy beneath my boots.
I linger, looking up at the sky. The Dragon Star blazes bright, a silvery beacon against the velvety black. Beside it, the Waxing Crescent moon climbs steadily higher, casting faint, ghostly light over the landscape. My stomach knots. Time is running out; everything could begin any day now.
“I have something I want to show you. Close your eyes,” Balor whispers, his voice low and rough, like stones grinding together.
I laugh softly, the sound almost swallowed by the vastness of the night. “Is it something personal and naughty?” I tease, my gaze flicking to the prominent bulge in his jeans .
He rolls his eyes, a rare glimmer of amusement softening his features. “He has a mind of his own,” he replies, smirking. “No, it’s something else—something we can only see once a year. And tonight is the night.”
Balor offers me his hands, and I take them, his skin rough but warm.
Trusting him, I close my eyes. He leads me slowly across uneven terrain, the ground beneath us shifting from packed earth to something softer, almost spongy.
The faint scent of moss and damp earth fills my nose as he guides me forward.
“Okay,” he says softly, his breath warm against my ear. “Open your eyes.”
When I do, I’m struck silent. A small field of Veoriti flowers stretches before us, their ghostly white petals glowing faintly in the moonlight.
The gentle breeze carries their subtle, honeyed fragrance, making the air feel thick and sweet.
Dozens of blossoms sway in unison, their movements eerily rhythmic, as though they’re breathing.
I drop to my knees near the closest grouping, my fingers trembling as I reach out to caress a delicate bloom.
The petals are impossibly soft, like silk against my skin.
“I’ve only ever seen these in books,” I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper. The moment feels sacred, almost fragile.
Balor crouches beside me, his expression uncharacteristically tender as he hands me several collection bags.
“I noticed the apothecary book open on the kitchen table, the page marked with this flower. These have always grown on the outer islands—places students can’t reach unless they can fly or have scales strong enough to fend off predators.
” He plucks three pods with practiced ease, dropping them into a bag.
“Seeds?” I ask, glancing at him.
He nods. “ Thoughtful, aren’t I?”
A genuine smile pulls at my lips as I gently pluck a few petals, placing them carefully into one of the bags. “You are. Thank you.”
Balor’s gaze darkens, his voice dipping into a near growl. “I meant what I said long ago: I’d do anything to see my mate smile.” He reaches out, his rough fingers cupping my cheek with surprising gentleness. The heat of his touch sears me, making my heart stutter.
I place the collection bag aside, leaning into his hand as he draws me closer.
When our lips meet, the world falls away.
His kiss is patient but fervent, and it feels as though I’m finally able to breathe again.
The tension I’ve carried dissolves, replaced by the magnetic pull of him.
His fingers thread into my hair, anchoring me to him as the kiss deepens.
He leans back, pulling me with him, and I feel the soft moss yield beneath our weight.
My forearms brace on either side of his head, my body aligning with his as our kisses grow hungrier.
His hands slide down, skimming over my curves before settling at my hips.
With a firm but careful motion, he pushes me back, guiding me down over his hardened length.
I gasp, the sensation overwhelming, his size and heat unlike anything I’ve experienced before. He’s thicker than my other mates—thicker even than Leander. Balor’s smirk glints in the moonlight as he whispers over my lips, “We’ll take our time.”
Gently, he rolls me onto my back, his weight a comforting pressure.
His kisses trail lower, his breath hot against my skin as he peels my shirt up, exposing my stomach to the cool night air.
When his fingers hook the edge of my leggings, I lift my hips, letting him slide them and my underwear down in one smooth motion .
A low, rumbling hiss escapes his lips as his serpentine tongue flicks out, tasting the air.
Before I can catch my breath, he lowers his head, his mouth devouring me with feral intensity.
That forked tongue plunges deep, vibrating with each exhalation, the sensation unlike anything I’ve ever felt.
My hands tangle in the moss beneath me, grounding me as I’m consumed by him.
I come undone in record time from the feeling.
His tongue writhes within me, prolonging the pleasure as I hear him fighting with his belt.