This time, it does growl. Scarlet magic flares in Silas's hands as he prepares for a worst-case scenario, but I just lift my chin, staring it down.
The voices are getting closer, and when Everett looks over and swears something about the Immortal Quintet, I know we're about to have company of the monster variety.
I arch a brow, deciding to use words that Baelfire's dragon will probably understand better. "My mate. Give him back.Now."
The dragon's wings flex, and somehow, it looks incredibly pleased with the endearment. A moment later, the massive beast shrinks and morphs, muscles condensing and bones rearranging until suddenly, Baelfire slumps against me with a violent shudder.
Oh, fuck. He's heavy.
I suppose it only makes sense with all that muscle.
Silas shoves the shifter off of me with his good arm. Baelfire is disoriented—and very, very naked—as he straightens to gethis bearings. His golden skin is beaded with sweat. When his attention finally lands on me, his eyes flare wide in panic.
"Fuck.Fuck. Did I hurt you, baby?" His frantic voice is like gravel.
"Not me." I look pointedly at Silas's seared arm. It looks painful, so I'm not surprised when he pulls out his crystal and pricks his hand to begin a healing spell on himself. "You put on quite the show."
Baelfire's expression turns mournful as he looks down at the big lump of charcoal that used to be Chase. He glances behind us at all the legacies standing a far distance off, glaring. Water elementals are working together to put out the fires, casters are trying to heal their burnt friends or matches, and sure enough, Iker Del Mar and a few of his older legacy hirelings are crossing the field toward us.
I admit, the hydra shifter has a decent long-distance glare.
"Shit," Baelfire mumbles.
He turns back to me, not at all focused on the fact that he's completely nude. I wish I could say the same for myself. It's taking significant effort not to glance down at his cock.
Baelfire grimaces. "Guess you've seen my dark side now. Sorry."
He's apologizing? Clearly, I'm doing a great job of hiding my newfound love for dragons…and naked dragon shifters.
Focus on his face. No looking down.
I allow my smile to come back. "Don't be. I thoroughly enjoyed it."
His face lights up. "I love your smile. I'd kill to see it more."
"You just did," I point out.
Bael ducks his head, rubbing his face. "Yeah…not proud of that. But at least that took the edge off my curse. I can finally think straight for the first time in days. Thank the fucking gods."
"Must be nice," Silas drawls bitterly, twisting his arm to heal his bicep.
"Decimus," Iker Del Mar booms as he stops a few yards away. His pale yellow eyes are trained hard and fast on my match, and his forked tongue flicks out repeatedly like an angry twitch. "You will come with me."
The image of all those dead fae in the hallway comes back to me, and I step forward without thinking, ignoring Everett's hissed protest.
"We still have combat training. You made it clear we're not to skip classes."
He doesn't bother sparing me a glance. "Your match will be back in time for training."
All the combat-emphasis legacies who previously ran from Baelfire's outburst are warily trickling back into the field, their curious eyes darting between our quintet and the immortal shifter. Brooks and his matches are nearby, and he sneers at me, drawing a line across his neck.
Seriously. When will people come up with a more original threat?
"Well?" Del Mar demands impatiently, baring his sharp teeth at Bael.
Baelfire glances at me one more time with lingering worry but follows the hydra and his legacy escorts off the scorched field.
18
