Page 10 of Mate of a Monster

My jaw clenches at the memory, and I force it away.

The dragons don’t come this low unless they are summoned.

Unless they are protecting. But my family is accounted for— so what the fuck is happening?

“Hatchlings? Still learning the law of the sky?” I ask, not buying it.

“Does that sound like a baby dragon to you?” Sinner flicks a raised brow my way.

No. No, it doesn’t. So, what the fuck? Is something going on in the sky laws that we don’t know about?

We burst through the main doors, immediately greeted by harsh winds and burning smoke.

A blue dragon scores the sky, sapphire scales catching what little light leaks through the storm.

He should be guarding the realm. The dragons of Rathe have always been proof that something older than crowns and more sacred than the blood in our own veins exists here.

This one is not guarding.

This one is attacking.

Fire explodes from his mouth in a rapid stream, his rage ripping through the air. Rooftops blacken to charcoal as flames spread over the announcement platform, turning it to ash.

Knight stares at the beast with wide eyes. “Why the fuck is he attacking the castle?”

Creed steps out into the yard, the color of his eyes shifting to white as he summons his magic. “London, we need the earth pixie. Can you call on your dragon to bring Kaia here?”

My head turns toward my brother’s mate.

She nods, staring at the dragon a second longer before her eyes close, hands open at her sides.

The dragon he speaks of isn’t really hers. These beasts belong to none and answer to no one. But my brother did kill her best friend, and the only way to bring him back was to put his soul into the one beast my brother could trust around his mate—the other guardians of Rathe.

So much for fucking that.

This particular dragon, though? He’s got a fucking chip on his shoulder. His wings beat the air slowly, as his chest inflates and he flies farther up.

“Get back!” Creed barks, hand flying out.

We bolt out of the way as flames spray completely uncontrolled across the land, showering the street in fire and burned wood. Gifted scatter like ants without direction to avoid being trampled.

I follow the line of smoke, of burned wood and whatever is left of it. My blood turns cold. He isn’t aiming at just anything.

“He’s aiming at us,” Sinner says, stealing my thoughts.

Creed and Knight look our way, brows drawn.

The dragon’s tail whips hard as he banks, the force of it slamming through a row of stone storefronts, collapsing over a group of screaming civilians.

“Get them out,” Knight’s voice snaps.

Silver and a few lower level healers are already moving, pushing our people back, dragging the injured out of the debris.

London steps forward, white hair whipping around her face, her eyes pure black as her Ethos, born of her bond with my brother, rises.

The air changes instantly. It thickens, compressing into a visible distortion, a wall of wind that folds forward with force, catching the next wave of dragon fire midair and sweeping it sideways.

The flame bends like it hit a glass barrier, ripping across the street in a redirected arc that slams into the far wall, exploding against stone with a heat so intense it turns the air white.