A different dragon might’ve been furious at Viol’s defiance. He could rake Viol across the face with his claws, bite his throat until he submitted, and order that he never oppose him again.
But I was a true alpha. I was a guardian, a caretaker, and above all, the protector to everyone I held dear. To see my brother in such a state didn’t fill me with rage; it saddened me. I only wanted him to be happy.
“All right,” I said quietly.
Viol blinked, then furrowed his scaly brow. “What?”
Banking my wings, I slowly turned my large body around. Viol was smaller and faster. He caught up with me in a heartbeat.
“You’re not angry?” he demanded.
“Viol,” I said, looking at him. “When have I ever been angry with you?”
Chaotic emotions flickered in his eyes. He quickly put up his wing like a wall between us so I couldn’t see his face.
His voice was thick as he muttered, “You’re so fucking...” He let out a sharp sigh. “Listen. I don’t control you. Just wait a little longer. If your fated mate’s out there, he might be a contestant in the next Games. Right?”
That hadn’t even crossed my mind. I’d been so distracted recently, I couldn’t see the bigger picture.
“Oh,” I said. “Yes. That’s possible.”
Viol sounded relieved. “Okay. And if he’s not, then... live your fucking life.”
I thought I heard a hint of embarrassment in Viol’s tone. He pumped his wings hard, then exploded upwards into the sky, disappearing behind the vibrant clouds.
I flew back home like Viol insisted. But I couldn’t help glancing over my shoulder at the possibilities beyond the horizon.
Was my fated mate really out there?
And if so, was he the source of this ache in my chest?
Five
Muzo
Today was the big day.My flight to Chromatimaeus Island for the third Dragonfate Games was scheduled for this afternoon.
And instead of wasting time sitting in the fancy lounge, I was doing something way more important—hunting for breakfast.
Since I had nothing better to do, I arrived at the private airport early. Poppy’s cookies and my last twenty bucks ran out a couple days ago, so I resorted to doing things the old-fashioned way.
Outside the building, I put my clothes in a pile beside the Dumpster, then shifted. I prowled around in my jackal form. The trash zone was the hotspot—where there was garbage, there were rodents. Yum.
My ears pricked at the sound of high-pitched squeaking. It was my lucky day. A big, juicy rat licked itself on top of a cardboard box nearby.
I pressed my belly low to the ground and licked my lips. The last time I’d eaten was two days ago, and that was only a measly mouse with a side of discarded ketchup-smeared BurgerMart wrapper. Compared to that, this rat was a feast.
“Come to papa,” I murmured.
The rat stopped.
Crap. It heard me.
Why did I say that out loud?
It was now or never. Throwing caution to the wind, I launched myself at the rat. But my prey was tougher than it looked. Instead of running away, it reared angrily and sunk its teeth into my snout.
Pain exploded through my nerves. I howled in agony, throwing myself on the ground and rolling around to dislodge the rat. It jumped free and ran on top of the Dumpster, glaring at me. I couldn’t tell if I was seeing things because of the tears blurring my vision, or if the rat was giving me the finger.
