Azh heaved a sigh and with a flick of his hand returned the library to darkness.
Chapter 11
Wynn released a silent breath of relief as they stepped through a thick layer of magic and into the early morning light. A quick glance around revealed they were standing on the Victoria Embankment near Blackfriars Bridge. The smell of the city along with the pungent stench of the nearby Thames hit her with a comforting familiarity. No matter where she traveled or how long she was gone, London would always be home.
It was in the steady pulse of magic from the powerful Gyre and the ancient sense of belonging that seeped into her soul. As if she’d been a part of this land for countless eons, not a couple of centuries.
Despite the early hour, the morning rush had already started, the sounds a reassuring background noise as Wynn sent her companion a quick glance to make sure he’d toned down his aura. The nuclear blasts that surrounded him would sound the alarm to every creature in England something dangerous had arrived. Even if the humans couldn’t see it, the city had a large demon population, not to mention Saxton, the powerful vampire and current Cabal leader of the British Empire.
Once assured they weren’t going to attract unwanted attention, she turned to head toward Farringdon Street.
“Want to tell me who’s threatening to destroy me?” she at last demanded, proud when the words came out steady. She didn’t want to reveal the booming voice had scared the crap out of her.
“Not really.”
She glanced to the side, noting his clenched jaw. He truly didn’t want to tell her. The knowledge did nothing to ease her raw nerves.
“Azh.”
“My mother,” he at last confessed.
Wynn flinched. No wonder he didn’t want to confess the truth. It was bad enough to think that there was some unknown dragon who didn’t want a stranger in the lair. But the fact it was Azh’s mother made it a thousand times worse.
Was she pissed off because there was a stranger in the lair? Or because her son was there with a female who wasn’t a dragon?
The anger thundering in the air had felt personal. As if it was a direct response to Wynn, not just a random intruder.
The thought made her gut twist with a vague sense of dread.
“Your mother. Great.”
Wynn shuddered as they passed by Fleet Street, heading toward Holborn and Shoe Lane. Long ago this area had been the rookery, overrun with beggars and drunks who weaved their way through the narrow, filthy streets. On top of the hill she could just make out the square tower of St. Andrew’s church. The one spot of hope in an otherwise dismal neighborhood.
Over the years the area had been invaded by the middle-class, who ruthlessly bulldozed away the mishmash of wooden structures and the open market where vendors had once stood next to cartloads of fruits, vegetables, and secondhand furniture. They’d replaced them with cement walkways and sleek new buildings.
Wynn supposed it was an improvement. Crime was down and it smelled a thousand times better, but the vibrant soul had disappeared. A tradeoff that most locals were no doubt prepared to accept.
“Don’t take it personally,” Azh said dryly. “My mother hates everyone. She would kill me if she got the opportunity.”
“Seriously?”
“Dead serious.”
She blinked. His expression warned he wasn’t joking. Weirdly, that made her feel better.
“Why does she hate everyone?”
“Because I have her imprisoned for trying to break the treaty last year. She’s not happy.”
“I used to wonder what it would be like to have a family.”
“Complicated,” he admitted. “But despite my toxic relationship with my mother, I’m devoted to my people. They’re my true family and I will do everything in my power to protect them.”
She shrugged, pretending his words hadn’t scraped against a raw nerve. “Being alone isn’t so bad.”
She could feel the weight of his gaze brush over her, as if he could sense her lie. “No?”
She shrugged. “My mother’s not threatening to kill me.”
