Page 18 of The Uncrowned King (The Bastard Duology #2)
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The certainty in the hellhound’s brown eyes did nothing to sway Derek. He tried to call his magic once more, but it still didn’t respond. It was there, just beneath the surface, but something was blocking it. Likely, the cage.
He knew what the hellhound was. The others might not, but he did. It turned his stomach that she had looked at him with such appreciation. As if he would ever be attracted to the likes of her.
She stood confidently in her body-hugging attire, showing off her curves. She kept her dark hair long and loose, and there were no jewels to draw the eye. Her body did enough of that without her needing anything else. Her face was pleasing. If he didn’t know what she had done, he might have considered her attractive with her oval face, high cheekbones, and plump lips. But he knew the darkness within her.
“Which one of them have you maneuvered into your bed?”
Her conviction slipped. “Excuse me?”
“Which of the Kings did you manipulate and coerce?”
“For what?” she asked softly.
He raked a scathing look over her. “To protect you. I saw them. Every move they made was to keep you from harm.”
“You might have also noticed they didn’t try to kill you.”
“A warrior cannot be on the defensive and offensive at the same time. They were more concerned with ensuring your survival than removing me. How else do you think I got close to you?”
Her nostrils flared, and her gaze narrowed in anger. “We were trying to trap you, you arrogant arse.”
He looked around at the cage. “This won’t hold me for long. I’ll get free. You would do well to run, hellhound, because I won’t rest until I track you down.”
“The Derek I knew wouldn’t be so gullible as to believe everything a Star Person told him.”
“You don’t know me, so don’t pretend otherwise.”
“Did you not just hear the story I told you?” she demanded, her body rigid with frustration.
He dropped his arms to his sides and flexed his hands, imagining them wrapped around her neck as he released dragon fire over her. He could practically hear her screams now. “Were you talking?”
Her brown eyes searched his. “You cut your hair.”
The words surprised him. He’d expected her to argue her point, not change the subject. And to one that caught him off guard besides. Derek fought to keep his arms at his sides instead of reaching for his hair. He remembered how he had run his hands through it and had been startled to find the length barely brushed the back of his neck.
“It’s a pity. It looked good long.” She turned and walked out of the room.
Derek remained still, counting off ten minutes. Then twenty. No one else entered. He shifted his attention to the cage. Now, he could focus on it and figure a way out. It had been large enough to hold his dragon form, which meant he had a lot of room as a human.
He walked the perimeter of the square enclosure. The magic was thick and heavy. There was more than dragon magic involved. It was a different kind of power. One he hadn’t felt before—more than one, actually. The knowledge that the Kings had allies didn’t deter him. He didn’t care who he went up against. He didn’t even care if he survived. All that mattered was making a stand against those who’d taken his mate and children.
And to think he had contemplated beginning a new life. Starting over by forgetting the past and all the unanswered questions he had. He was ashamed at even considering such a thing after what had happened to his family.
He felt a push in his mind and thought he heard a voice, but he couldn’t be sure. Derek forgot about it as he rested a palm against the black bars. The metal was cool to the touch. The magic was just outside the bars, allowing him to curl his fingers around them. That wasn’t enough, though. Derek held up his hand once more, palm out as he moved it between the bars. He encountered the barrier almost instantly. It was similar to the shield at the dragons’ border.
His contact was light as he pressed his hand against it. The barrier gave slightly under his touch. He pushed a little harder, and magic zinged through his fingers and up his arm, sinking like hundreds of tiny blades into his shoulder and expanding outward. Derek yanked his arm back and shook it out. The instant he removed his hand, the pain stopped.
Everything had a weakness. Even a cage and a magical barrier. He only needed to figure out where it was. And once he was out, he would kill anyone who got in his way.
Derek checked different areas of the cage. He climbed to the top and tested that. He examined the floor. Then he took a long, hard look at the room he was in. The numerous lights left very little shadow. While he didn’t have a good view of the ceiling, he guessed it was fairly high. That begged the question of how the Kings had gotten him into the cage.
He wished he could remember more about them. They didn’t all lead. One of them had to be in charge. And why had they sent the hellhound to speak to him? They couldn’t be afraid of him, surely. It boggled his mind why they protected her. They’d had a chance to take him out and hadn’t taken it. Their oversight would be his gain.
His mind ran the gambit of ideas for why he was still alive. Many of them made sense, but he had to consider that he hadn’t come to the battle with all his memories. The Kings potentially knew something he didn’t. And they would try to use it. Maybe even attempt to turn him against Miena.
Derek lowered himself to the floor in the middle of the cage and sat with his legs crossed. He closed his eyes and went over the attack in his mind, dissecting his movements—and theirs—frame by frame.
“Derek.”
Her voice again. But he wasn’t dreaming this time. The voice was stronger now but still soft. Almost as if she was afraid of being discovered. He hadn’t been there to protect his mate. Had she called out to him for help? Had she believed he would save her? Had her last thoughts been of him?
No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t recall her face or even the color of her eyes. The blow to his head had shaken those recollections loose. At least he still remembered the color of her hair and the way she fit against his body.
But what color were her scales?
Where was their home?
How had he met her?
“Derek…have…me?”
He clung to the sound of her voice, trying to pick up on any inflection that might form memories. His desperation to recall something—anything—more made his head throb. He didn’t even know her name. Why hadn’t he asked Miena?
That begged the question of why Miena hadn’t told him about his family from the beginning. Why keep it from him at all? Especially when she had been so adamant about him returning to the Kings.
An image of two eggs, one a deep forest green and the other a bright magenta, filled his mind. They had been his. And they were gone. He knew that with such certainty that he must have seen it, but he couldn’t pull up the memory.
Reflecting on his lost children hurt too badly. He tried to return to thoughts of the attack, but each time he fixated on the hellhound, he heard his mate’s voice calling his name. It was a constant reminder of who was to blame for his family’s deaths.
And the more his hatred swelled. Spread.
Burned.
He would not rest until the hellhound was nothing more than ash floating on the breeze. It didn’t matter what it cost him. It didn’t matter how long it took. She would die by his hands.
“Derek.”
“I’m here,” he whispered. “I’ll always be here.”
He had to remember her. Something, anything!