Page 46 of The Forbidden Dragon King (Shadow Kings #1)

Maximinus pats Aurelius’ shoulder. “Nephew, after your hard work in the wars, I thought that you deserved a reward. On your brother’s deathday, when you have finally finished his great work and brought peace to our kingdoms by winning the Second Fae war, not only do we have the conquered Shadow Fae ex-king as our entertainment. But I have something else. A surprise.”

He waves his hands, and the doors creak open again.

This time, the prisoner who stumbles through isn’t carefully trained to look willing.

Instead, he’s bloodied and shackled in silver chains that are searing his wrists, ankles, and collared neck. He is staring around himself in terror.

He appears to be my age, olive skinned, and stunningly handsome. He is dressed in a diaphanous black robe that glitters in the light. It’s pleated, made up of a kilt and a sheer tunic that is threaded with gold and parted down the middle to reveal his smooth chest.

An obsidian scarab beetle pendant with diamonds for eyes, as if it’s only waiting to spring to life, lies between his pecs. The entire outfit is threaded with violet ribbons, which are also woven through his long, black hair along with diamonds like stars.

His hair flutters down in tangled lengths to his waist.

Yet it’s his mouth that I notice first: his canines that are elongated into two long, sharp fangs around the bit gag, which is pressed too tightly between his lips.

I stumble back, pressing against the wall.

A vampire.

I’ve never been in a room with one before.

I don’t know what I thought one would look like. I didn’t know that they would be this beautiful .

I want to hurl .

How can I think that way about the monsters that killed my entire court? My parents?

But then, the vampire raises his head, and his hair falls away to reveal his wine-red eyes.

I gasp.

A beautiful monster with piercing red-wine eyes and black hair fluttering to his waist like shadows…

It’s the monster from my dream, the one who has haunted my nights ever since.

The Alpha who I haven’t been able to forget…

I shiver.

I don’t know that I’m panting, short, painful gasps, until I hear someone’s panicked voice, breathe, love, bloody breathe…

Daire scrambles off Quintus’ lap, losing his aloof coolness for the first time.

“Where by the Shadow Gods do you think you’re escaping to?” Quintus attempts to snatch Daire’s silky costume and drag him back, but Daire easily dances out of his grasp.

Daire ignores Quintus like he’s an irrelevancy, slipping his arm around my shoulders and dragging me to rest against his neck instead. “Deep breaths of my pheromones, love.”

I cling to Daire, as I’ve wanted to do all night. I rest my nose against his scent gland, allowing the smell of frost in the sunshine to steady my breathing.

“That’s it. No need to watch.” Daire’s strong fingers are gentle, cradling the back of my head. Then he appears to be struggling to focus on the vampire, before he adds to himself in a horrified whisper, “The arseholes actually found a Blood who looks like Sin.”

Despite myself, I turn my head.

Curiosity killed the Omega.

“Lanlin…” Aurelius takes one step forward, reaching out, as if to cup the vampire’s bruised cheek. When the vampire draws back, flinching in fear, however, Aurelius studies him more closely. Then he shakes his head and steps back. “Who…? What the fuck is going on? Who is this prisoner?”

How can this prisoner look like Lanlin Sin? Because if he does, what does it mean about the vampire in my nightmare?

Is it the Shadow Vampire King?

I cling even harder to Daire, taking more desperate breaths of his scent.

I’ve never seen Lanlin. How could I be dreaming about him?

My nightmares aren’t real.

They can’t be.

Right?

And what does it mean if they are? Why would I be dreaming of the most bestial of all the vampires?

“What does some Blood’s name matter?” Maximinus snorts. “We caught this filth planning an assassination. Vampires are sly, barbaric, whorish creatures. They worship blood and the howling empty darkness of the Shadow Void. You know better than any of us what they deserve.”

When the vampire tries to raise his hands to protest, Maximinus gestures to the ground. Maximinus’ magic drags him down by his silver bound wrists.

In defiance, the vampire attempts to garble a response through his gag.

Why is he gagged? What doesn’t Maximinus want the vampire to tell anyone?

To tell Aurelius?

“Why is he here?” Aurelius’ expression is tight.

“So that you can execute him as a sacrifice to King Tarquin’s soul of course,” Maximinus replies.

“I’m not an executioner.” Aurelius attempts to turn away from the trembling vampire.

I hate vampires. I don’t want to feel sympathy for this one. But I know, as Daire does, what it feels like to be captive amongst your enemies.

Where’s the evidence that this vampire has been plotting anything?

This feels like nothing more than public theater.

I’d bet that Maximinus simply searched for a vampire who looked like a twin to Lanlin Sin, the infamous Shadow Vampire King, kidnapped him, dressed him up like Lanlin, then kept him imprisoned until he could pull off this stunt.

I’m beginning to think in the same way as these asshole manipulators in the court. It’s the only way that I’ll survive.

“How many Bloods did you kill over the last few days?” Maximinus demands.

“That’s different,” Aurelius says, as if trying to convince himself. “It was in battle. Until the vampires bend the knee, we’re at war.”

“You were going to execute me ,” Daire says, quietly, “as a sacrifice. Or have you forgotten that, boss?”

Aurelius’ shoulders tighten. “Maybe I made a mistake letting you live.”

Daire can’t hide the hurt fast enough.

“Then don’t make the same mistake twice.

” Maximinus squeezes Aurelius’ shoulder, pushing him in front of the vampire, who is now wildly trying to yank at the chains to escape but can’t budge them.

“Avenge the soul of your brother. Show everyone here watching that you’re not weak. Prove that you deserve to be King.”

Lucius is looking around himself desperately, assessing.

If Aurelius doesn’t do this, then he will appear not to be honoring his hero worshiped older brother on his deathday. He’ll lose power and prestige, considered not strong enough to execute a single vampire assassin.

If he does do this, however, I’m scared that he’ll be walking a path that leads to the awakening of the Golden Dragon, over bones, blood, and ruin.

A world where Aurelius is no more than his uncle’s weapon.

“Burn him to ash.” Maximinus’ hold has tightened to the point of pain on Aurelius’ shoulder.

When Maximinus shoves him forward, Aurelius struggles to steady himself.

“He’s drunk,” I hiss to Daire. “We have to stop this.”

Daire’s expression is unreadable .

“Burn him,” the Alphas start to chant. “Burn him.”

I look around myself in fear, as the metal plates, goblets, and utensils jerk from side to side by themselves under Maximinus’ control, before they rise into the air.

“ Burn him ,” Maximinus howls.

The vampire is frantically shaking his head. He doesn’t look like a warrior or an assassin. I bet that he’s never even picked up a blade.

Is killing the vampire like this truly vengeance?

“For Tarq.” Aurelius’ gaze is glassy.

It’s as if he’s no longer seeing the vampire in a collar who is hissing and spitting cusses around the gag, even as he weeps, but someone else entirely.

Shadows begin to darken the hall. They seep from the walls, rolling over the floors and surging around Aurelius like ashen flames.

I can taste them, vile and hateful.

In the dark, Aurelius’ eyes glow brighter. They swirl. They become those of a deadly predator, a dragon emperor who has crushed realms beneath his boot.

Who has executed worlds.

Terror grips my heart. Daire’s hold on me tightens.

Then Aurelius draws Hadrian’s Dagger.

Instantly, the dagger grows into a full, blazing sword. Golden flames sizzle along its length, which are as bright as the sun. Shadows wind around its hilt and up Aurelius’ arm, sickening and wrong. They consume Aurelius, devouring him until he’s nothing but shadows, amber eyes, and flaming sword.

The guests surge to their feet in awe-struck admiration and bloodlust fueled excitement. Their chants rise louder.

Burn him! Burn him! Burn him!

Daire’s jaw clenches. He holds onto me, as if we’re the ones who are about to be executed.

Except, Daire went through this, didn’t he? He only survived because Aurelius spared him.

Bile rushes up my throat that Daire knows at any moment, this could be him on his knees, waiting to be turned to ash.

Aurelius has grudgingly claimed Daire as pack but he’s never stopped being enemies with him. Why did I allow myself to become comfortable enough to forget that?

Plus, if either of us play this game wrong, it could be both of us who spark the emergence of this dark side to Aurelius.

Burn, burn, burn.

The vampire looks up, begging with his large eyes for mercy.

There is none.

Aurelius pulls back his arm, slicing the sword through the vampire’s neck.

As soon as the cursed blade touches the vampire’s skin, the enemy prisoner disintegrates to ash.