My spine tingles with the desire to attack, but the information we’re suddenly privy to is too important. I grab Remus’s wrist. He seems to understand. “Unfortunately, things in that regard are harder than you might think. The dragons have gone into hiding. And the only time they seem to appear these days is when one of us ends up dead.”
“So now we’re being hunted?” Alex scoffs. “Fuck this. I’ve seen an influx of rings all over LA.”
“Made with the blood of the last dragon we had in our possession,” Maybe-actor says. “That blood is now gone, and all the rings made are accounted for.”
Alex charges toward the man and points a finger at his chest. “How much would it cost to find Scott one that was already created? Kick someone else to the curb.”
“Dad,” the boy blurts. “No. I can wait.”
Alex whirls on the boy, who has now leaned forward in his chair, showing his dark mop of hair. “You will never make it through an Ivy League school without that ring, Scott. You’re not good enough.”
“So, I’ll go to a state school.”
His father crosses the room and grabs him by the face. I really hate this guy. “Shut the fuck up. You will do no such thing.”
Stanley raises a hand. “Release the boy, Alex. We’ll find another dragon. We might even get permission to drain some blood from one of our members’ beasts. A few remain in captivity.”
Alex releases the boy and takes a long drink of some amber liquid. “Fine.”
Stanley sits back in his chair and rests his hand on the armrest, his ring flashing in the overhead lights. This is my chance. I draw my dagger. Silently, I communicate that I’ll take Stanley, and Remus moves toward Alex.
I creep across the room as the men move on to a discussion about a young actress appearing in Stanley’s latest project. I lift my dagger and strike.
Stanley’s fingers drop to the floor along with his ring, and Alex’s hand drops along with the glass he’s holding. The boy screams first, followed by the two men who are clutching their hands and wailing in agony.
The maybe-actor looks right at me, seeming to see me despite my camouflage, his ring glowing blue on his finger.
“Jeremy, stop him!” Stanley yells as I move toward the blue glow.
“Jeremy?” My thoughts slow as Jeremy’s hands do an odd dance, and the light from his ring grows brighter, not into the form of a weapon, but something else, something far more dangerous. It closes around me and squeezes me like a fist.
I hear shattering glass. And then I’m falling into a soundless black sea.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
SEB
Fuck. It’s the first word that crosses my mind when I wake up. I am in a world of hurt. Not only is there a blue cuff on my ankle, which means I am a prisoner of the Saint’s Order, there’s an IV running from my arm, draining my blood into a bag. And the worst fucking part of it all is that Jeremy, the fucking doctor who hit on my mate, is outside the bars to my cell, sitting in a comfy chair, reading a book. I squint at the title. The Art of War.
You’ve got to be kidding me. This guy might as well be wearing an I’m a douchebag T-shirt. I try pushing into his mind, but my ankle starts to burn, and the entire cell is infused with blue light.
“Don’t try to use your powers,” Jeremy says. “You’ll only hurt yourself. Oh, and the bars are charmed too.”
I note the faint blue tinge to the steel. Fuck me. So I’m not getting out of here without help. “Where am I?”
He ignores my question. “I can’t believe you’re already awake,” he says, snapping the book closed. “I have to admit, they said your kind healed quickly, but I had no idea just how quickly. The spell I hit you with would have knocked a human out for a good twelve hours. You were barely out for four.”
“You’re a witch,” I say.
He snorts. “Let’s not pretend you don’t know who I am. Zoe is working for you, and I am her doctor.”
Was her doctor, I think. But I don’t correct him. The last thing I want is for him to turn his sights on Zoe.
“Tell me, Sebastian, did you disclose to Zoe before she came to work for you that you’d be digging around in her brain? She knows what you are, but does she know you’ve most likely infiltrated her mind?”
Infiltrated her mind. No, I wouldn’t do that without her consent. But if he’s asking, then he doesn’t know she’s my mate. At least there’s that. I hope to keep it that way. “Why? Are you worried what I’ll find in there? What kind of interest do you have in Ms. Willow?”
He lifts his chin. “The kind that makes me ecstatic to be the one who eradicates you from her life.”
