Page 38
Chapter 14
Augustine
D eclan.
Declan had come back, and he hadn’t led the men to August’s home. He had come and tried to help.
What was more, he had used Augustine’s father to try to stop the men. Father, who had been in the vault, through the portal. August was sure he hadn’t moved him.
How had Declan gotten through the portal into the vault? Augustine hadn’t felt anyone testing the magic. No indication of it being forced open. He could have stopped that, if he’d felt it. Could have closed the portal entirely. He was glad he hadn’t felt it, since he wouldn’t want to have hurt Declan.
But being here was no better, because Declan clearly wasn’t much of a swordsman. He did well enough, and with Father’s help, held the second man off for longer than he might have. In a strange, detached way, Augustine was proud of him, doing so much damage to monsters who were well-prepared to fight off supernatural creatures.
Dragon skin armor, the man-monster said he wore. Of course. Skinning Augustine’s ancestors and using their flesh to protect himself. That was what August knew of humanity. What he expected.
And now, this horror, that the thing expected to rape Augustine’s mate, while he did nothing but look on in silence?
The magic weapon they had shot him with had sapped his strength badly, but there was no way. No way he could hold still and lie there watching as a monster raped his mate.
Augustine took a deep breath, letting his throat open wide to take in as much air as possible. And then another, and another. On the third, he just kept drawing, and called his true form to himself, drawing air in and in as his lungs expanded to match his size. He crushed the poor brocade sofa they had slung him over, and a table beside it, his scales scraping the satin finish of the wood, sending splinters scattering around.
The other man shouted wordlessly in shock and horror, but he was secondary, unimportant. First, August had to handle the giant, meaty one who intended to hurt his mate.
Whether Declan wanted him or not—and he wouldn’t lie, the fact that Declan had come, had tried to help gave him a bit of hope that he did want him after all—didn’t matter. Whether Declan wanted August or not, no one deserved to be treated as this man intended to treat Declan.
Augustine would do the same to anyone intending such a crime.
When his lungs filled completely, he flexed the muscles in his throat that held the magic at bay, loosened them. And when his breath came out again, it was with fire. Flame so hot and bright that it was blue.
The beefy creature took a step to make sure he was between August and Declan, smiling nastily. “Want to kill me? You’ll have to kill him too.”
August gave the creature a draconic smile, showing all of his dagger-length teeth, and leaned in close. “I do want to kill you, yes. You don’t know much about dragons, do you?”
“You think he gives a damn about the demon?” the other man asked incredulously, trying to inch his way around the room toward the exit. “He’ll just burn you both.”
He had the weapon that had incapacitated August earlier in his hand, pulling the trigger over and over again, but this time, nothing was happening. It still made that crackling noise, but Augustine couldn’t feel the draining, the shock, or anything at all.
The only thing Augustine felt was angry.
“We know all about dragons,” the beefy fellow yelled. If either of them had been decent, Augustine might have thought he was trying to distract the enormous dragon and give his friend a chance to escape. But no, that didn’t seem too likely. The man whipped out another weapon, the same kind his friend was firing. “This’ll drain all that extra magic and put you right back where you belong. Might kill you if we drain too much, though. Don’t you want to stand down, and live?”
Didn’t Augustine want to live? This, asked the creature wearing the hide of August’s kin.
“You know nothing, human. Nothing at all. I would not like to kill you at the expense of Declan, no.” Augustine grabbed the man’s accomplice and threw him into the beefy monster, and took another deep breath. “But dragon fire is magic. And it would never. Harm. My. Mate.”
And with that, he let loose the lungful of flames, burning both men, the chair Declan was tied to, and even the ropes that held him, to ash in mere seconds.
Declan, unharmed but shocked, fell to the floor with a pained moan before Augustine could catch him.
In an instant, August changed back, joining his mate on the floor, cradling him in his arms in the middle of a circle of ash.
Those crystal-clear blue-green eyes fluttered open a second later, staring up at August in surprise. “It didn’t burn me,” he whispered.
August frowned at him. “As I said. My flame would never burn my mate.” He glanced over at where Father lay on the floor, dropped by Declan and ignored by the attackers. Yet more proof they had no idea what was of value and what wasn’t. “The same way the portal to my vault allowed you entrance. My magic acknowledges you as a part of me. It accepts you.”
Declan blinked, looking over at Father as well, then turning back to stare at Augustine. “Really? And that... your vault. That was”—he started to take a deep breath, but stopped partway with a wince—“beautiful.”
Augustine had to work not to snort. He trailed his fingers lightly across Declan’s bruised jaw. “Beautiful, indeed. I thought you cared little for beauty.”
“I like beauty fine,” Declan said, snappish as he’d always been before, his eyes narrowed at August. He didn’t try to climb out of his lap, though. He just moved himself around, situating until he was comfortable. “I just don’t like to be compared to a thing. I’m a person. Not a bauble.”
August stared at him for a second, realization dawning. “Did you think I believed you a thing?”
“You treated me like one. Kidnapped me and didn’t let me leave when I wanted to, like I wasn’t capable of making my own choice. Only cared that I was beautiful.”
What could he say to that? As he replayed the time in his mind, Declan... was right. He had treated his mate like a gem that he could lock in his lair and never allow out again. A thing that didn’t make its own decisions. He’d been more respectful of his father over the years, regularly asking if he wanted to be elsewhere, moving him from pedestal, to wall mount, to a random table in the library at the man’s will. He’d even been working on a spell that would let him move himself.
And yet, with Declan, it hadn’t even occurred to him. Because Declan had refused him, yes, but if the last week had taught him anything, it was that Declan had that right.
Augustine sighed, hanging his head in shame. “I have been awful to you. You were correct. I do not deserve a mate.”
Declan poked him in the chest. “Oh no you don’t. You don’t get to decide that now that you’ve got me. I believe you, okay? I don’t know if it’s just dragons who have mates, but I believe I’m yours. And maybe demons don’t, but I’m... I’m willing to give it a shot. Okay? I won’t be your thing, I won’t be owned. But I will be with you.”
Augustine’s breath caught in his lungs, uncertain whether to expel itself in a shout of exultation or just stay stuck where it was in shock.
“But right now, I think, maybe,” Declan said, his voice gone soft, his face pale. “I might need a doctor. A little bit.”
And his eyes slipped shut.
Table of Contents
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- Page 38 (Reading here)
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