Page 52 of Her Tortured Beasts (Her Vicious Beasts #4)

Chapter 51

Xander

Creep — Radiohead

I thought I knew all the agonies a person could suffer.

But I was so incredibly wrong.

Because listening from a high window as my niece was being stolen by another dragon, while I was pathetically helpless to stop it, is a new level of pain. My power had been taken away from me, and with it, my autonomy. My authority.

For seemingly eternal moments, I listen to the aftermath. Spawn remains in eagle form, mahogany feathers rustling in the breeze as adrenaline courses through her body and she remains alert for further enemies. Her lungs inflate with air, her beak remains slightly open as her breath sucks in and out.

And somehow, I can just tell that those blue eyes are accusingly staring me down.

You did nothing , she’s thinking. It was me who saved her.

While Emmerson is secured inside, Delilah remains in my sister’s arms, where she’s being squeezed hard but doesn’t care as she sniffs and blubbers her misery.

“Get inside,” I command my sister. The pale dragon might have fled, but there was still a chance he could return.

Sissy’s head snaps up at my words like she’s suddenly remembered we’re still out in the open and she bundles Delilah up and hurries inside. I hardly know why I do it—habit, perhaps—but I flick my wrist and that old golden chain finds its place on Spawn’s collar.

Without another word, I head inside after Sissy and Delilah.

The protections around Drakos Estate are ancient, fortified monthly by my father and again by me when I arrived. There’s no way any dragon could have silently breached the area at all, let alone without me knowing. There is only one explanation.

My sister hurries Delilah towards the kitchen, where Emmerson is nervously waiting. I, however, head downstairs, towards the dungeons.

Spawn has to shift to keep up with my stride, but to my surprise, she chooses her wolf form of midnight fur. Some far away part of me recognises she must be thinking about Savage, but at the forefront of my mind is a single need.

My business shoes hit the flagstones of the dungeon floor, because I’m not bothering to hide that I’m coming.

As expected, neither Ghoul or any of the other serpent generals are anywhere to be heard. There are only the scientists typing on their computers, processing files and samples. Solomon and a few others stop their chatter.

“My lord,” Solomon says, getting to his feet. “We weren’t expecting?—”

I may not have my power. I may not have physical vision, but I have everything else. I stride right up to him, and my hands take the sides of his face and snap it hard to the side.

The rest of them try to run, but a growling wolf at the door blocks their path. I’m on them in an instant, and one by one, they fall, their heads twisted at odd angles.

It doesn’t take me long to find lengths of rope in a storage closet. Once I’ve tied them all up, I fetch one of the heavy-duty trolleys the scientists use for transporting equipment.

Working without my power is annoying, but I can manage just fine. There is more than one way to skin a snake.

There’s a bit of fuss and bother going up the stairs with the trolley, but I manage it in the end, carrying it most of the way. Through it all, I feel Spawn’s eyes on me.

When I get up to the open turret that is our launching pad, I arrange my bounty carefully and in the traditional manner. First, by tying the rope around their necks and securing the other end of the rope to metal stakes cemented into the stone just for this purpose. Finally, I throw their bodies over the ramparts, where they dangle for all to see.

Where, to a good pair of eyes, they’ll be visible for a great distance.

I inhale the afternoon air, deeply and thoroughly. Behind me, Spawn does the same. I angle my face towards the sky, where I know it must shine bright blue. The warmth of the sun doesn’t reach my darkest places. Perhaps it never will.

Her heart beats behind me. A little fast, but steady. No fear comes from her. Unlike me, her power is free for all to feel if she chooses. Right now, it sways around her like a tree in the wind. She is, no doubt, conflicted. She has never taken on a dragon before and come out the victor. Very few beasts can claim such a fact.

From one of those dark, lost places within me, the words come out between clenched teeth. “Thank you.”