“Let me guess,” I slurred, my tongue dry and heavy. “This can go down the easy way or the hard way? Because I’ll tell you now, hard is what I get when a pack of shifters surround me.” At that, they all looked down at my—I rolled my eyes. Idiots.
I launched forward, promptly stumbling against an exam table and knocking over a tray of shiny objects. Objects that they were using to pry out my wings. Rage, familiar and welcome, bubbled up my throat and I roared at them all. Those dressed in white paused, the whites of their eyes rivaling their smocks.
Gaining momentum, I flapped my wings sharply. The noise distracted them as I pretended to take on the three guards. But, as they settled on their haunches and I brought up my fists, I veered toward a lone doctor blocking the exit.
A female. Her garb spattered in bright red blood. My blood.
I let out a war cry and charged, watching her face leach of color and her limbs lock up. I didn’t hesitate. Bowled her over with a single shoulder strike. Her high-pitched shriek as she smacked against the white tile was a beautiful song, ringing in my ears as I burst through the exit and into the hallway.
Freedom. So close. I breathed in the stale air with relish. But, as I bolted for the stairs that would take me up and out of this hellhole, I slowed at the sight of that still-locked “for emergencies only” room. Fae stick together. The loyalty was ingrained in me, even though I’d wrestled against my nature for three solid years.
These Fae had helped me save Reagan from being beaten to death. They didn’t have to. But they did. In return, could I really leave them here to suffer a cruel and twisted fate?
Hissing a curse, I skidded to a stop in front of the steel door, and with my new arms—densified with corded muscle—I yanked at the handle. The door held fast. I could hear shouts now and scrambling footsteps. I was throwing away my chance at freedom as I continued to pull and kick and curse.
But I couldn’t leave. I would never forgive myself.
“Tarik Hail.”
At the sound of my name on that demon’s tongue, I shivered. Maybe I should have run, because now . . . now . . .
“Give up, boy,” Mordecai said. From the corner of my eye, I saw him raise a black object. “That door only opens for those who know the code. Not even your full Fae strength can break through.”
Full Fae—
Something stabbed my neck and I jerked back, bringing a hand up to find a dart lodged there. I pulled the point free and blinked, the hallway already darkening. “Crap, not again.”
I groaned as the world turned black.
—
Burnt coffee. Toast. Cinnamon.
The smells swirled around me, tempting, coaxing me to leave my dark haven. I stopped breathing. Because the next time I opened my eyes, I knew who would be there.
“I know you’re awake, so you can stop faking.”
I exhaled through my nose and squinted up at a hovering Mordecai. Smoke puffed from his mouth as he flicked ash from his cigar onto my chest. “No, thanks. I don’t . . . smoke. It’s a . . . n-nasty habit.”
He peered more closely at me. “You know what’s a nasty habit? Irksome Fae screwing with my plans. The more you cooperate, the less painful this will be. But since you seem to learn things the hard way . . .” He wiggled a ring off his finger and inspected the face, then showed the design to me. “Beautiful, wouldn’t you agree? A dragon’s eye. Always watching. All-knowing.”
Bringing his hands together, he pressed the cigar’s orange glow against the ring’s grooved surface. In the silence that followed, my trepidation grew. The ring shone brightly as the gold heated, hot enough to—My chest heaved. Reagan’s raw and blistered neck, branded with a dragon mark, flashed in my mind’s eye.
“I’ve been curious how you found out about my daughter’s mark. But if you won’t tell me how you know, then you’re leaving me no choice. Shifters don’t help Fae, but you know what? I don’t want a dirty Fae helping my daughter, either. May this be a reminder that you are nothing more than property under my watchful gaze.”
Mordecai casually stuck his cigar between his teeth and grabbed my wrist, twisting until the sensitive inner skin faced upward.
“Any last words?” he mumbled around the cigar.
I breathed in deep, preparing myself. “Yes, actually.” He paused, the hot ring inches from my flesh. I could feel the warmth and my muscles trembled. “I only have one thing to say to you. Suck my—”
He thrust the ring onto my skin, pushing, pushing, pushing, until I thought the metal would burn a hole clean through to the other side. My fingers formed claws as I fought against the urge to scream my pain and fury. The vinyl straps holding me down flexed and creaked, groaning as I pushed upward.
Mordecai leapt back, eyes wide. For a glorious moment, stark fear bleached his face. He quickly smoothed his features, dropping the ring onto the tray behind him, but it was too late. I had seen. I had scared the stupid piece of filth.
I started laughing, low and half-delirious as the pain from the mark pulsed with a second heartbeat. Whatever had been done to me, whatever they’d injected me with, made me physically stronger. And the substance was green. Not green like grass, but green like—
Emeralds.
I laughed harder.
A loud clank from the ominous tray quieted my outburst, and I blinked up at a seething Mordecai. How mad would he have to be to unleash his inner dragon? I wanted to poke him some more and find out.
“Whatever you’re doing to me, you might want to stop. I’m gonna bust out of these restraints any minute now.” As
