“Swallow! Obey!” snapped Marduke, his tone harsh and unforgiving.
Walter quivered, obviously far too frightened for either fight or flight.
“Leave. Now.” Grimbold bit out the words. “This is your last warning, whelp.”
Marduke looked amused. “Or what? You’ve got no real power, old man, beyond your dragon-granted status as council head. You’re nothing but an ancient figurehead. Now, return the boy to me and I’ll leave. And if you’re a good, obedient boy,” he told Walter, who was still keening, but was now flanked by Everard and Carsons, “you’ll warm Aelfric’s bed tonight. He told me you have a very talented mouth, so there’s at least one thing you’re good at. He said he can’t wait to fuck you properly.”
Something in Grimbold broke then, and he had Marduke’s throat in his taloned hand. His claws punctured the dragon’s skin. “Leave now or I’ll kill you. If I ever see your face again, you will die.” He shook Marduke like he was a rag doll, then threw him down. “Get out of my home.”
Deliberately, he turned his back on the wretched example of dragonkind and went to Walter. “Sweet, are you—”
The boy shrieked again and Grimbold felt claws sink into his back, clawing for his spine in an attempt to rip it out. He roared with fury and agony, trying to twist away and get his teeth into his attacker. Then the claws were gone and Grimbold sank to the floor, drained and aching. He would heal, of course, but the pain didn’t cease to exist.
Nevertheless, his injuries were forgotten entirely as he saw Walter struggle with Marduke. Blood began to spurt from the dragon’s neck, pooling on the marble tile.
“Die,” Walter sobbed. “Just die and leave me alone.” Then he sliced the other side of Marduke’s neck with Grimbold’s illicitly shed claw. “Just die.”
14
Grimbold
The entry hall was a scene of carnage. Marduke had crumpled to the floor, trying to staunch his wounds with his hands. There was blood everywhere, especially on Walter. Geoffrey and Carsons tried to pull the boy off his sire, but he fought them like a wildcat.
Grimbold knew his back was sliced to ribbons, but still he pulled himself forward, trying to get closer to his omega. Every second that passed left him feeling stronger. Marduke had mocked his age, but that was a thing you gained. The older you were, the less human you were as well, even in human form. He healed while Marduke grew paler and paler, his life’s blood streaming through his fingers. That, and the Amethyst clan had always been fast healers, whereas the Topaz clan had never much gotten the knack.
“Heal. Him,” he gasped at Everard. “Bastard can’t. Die. Here. Like this.”
“Fuck,” Everard muttered. “The things I do for family.” He put his hands on Marduke’s neck and concentrated his magic. “There. The piece of filth is no longer perforated. Can I heal you now, Father?”
“In a. Minute.” In a minute, he likely would need very little healing, but that was just as well. Everard had no doubt used a fair chunk of his magical reserves on Marduke’s hide. “Walter. Sweetheart. Look at me.”
Walter immediately looked his way. He sagged in Carsons’ and Geoffrey’s arms. “You’re alive.”
“Very much so.”
Walter reached out a bloody hand and touched Grimbold’s face. “You aren’t dead.”
“Obviously.”
“But you’re hurt, sir.”
Grimbold smiled at Walter, who looked like he’d escaped from a horror film. “Just a little.”
Everard snorted. “Just a lot. Stay still, please, and let me do my work.”
Walter cupped Grimbold’s face in his hands. “I couldn’t let him hurt you. Not like he hurt me. I hope you’re not mad.”
Grimbold kissed one bloody palm. “Never.” His heart burned with what Walter had said, and what he hadn’t. How had he survived such a sire? It was a miracle he wasn’t more broken, both physically and mentally. “I could never be angry at you, sweet boy.”
Everard made a retching noise. “I’m just about finished. Please contain yourselves for a few minutes longer.”
“I’ll start working on the mating sanction paperwork right away, then I’ll hand it over to Sargon,” Geoffrey said. “We need to make sure the formalities are observed as soon as possible.”
“What should I do with the extraneous dragon, sir?” Carsons inquired, sounding bored but looking outraged as only an affronted butler could.
“Call the Topaz consulate,” Geoffrey advised. “Jareth can come get his brother and keep him contained until Ian is free to deal with him.”
“You shouldn’t have put yourself in danger, Walter,” Grimbold admonished, his eyes not straying from the omega’s face. He cared little about what happened to Marduke, only that he be removed from his presence. Grimbold’s driving concern was Walter. His omega.
