Marked Prince - Michelle M. Pillow Page 0,4

of action. He did not like waiting and watching.

Somehow Grier and Salena managed to talk their way past the guard and enter the building. Jaxx focused attention on every exit. At the first sign of danger, he was swooping in.

In many ways, he preferred to be a dragon. Animal instincts weren’t complicated. If he was hungry, he ate. If he was tired, he went into a cave and slept. If he was bored, he flew away. If he or someone he loved was threatened, he blew fire out of his mouth.

Simple. Easy. Instinctual.

As a man, things were more complex. Emotions became involved, and animal instinct warred with political reality. It was complicated, challenging, and filled with nothing but expectations.

And as a prince, expectations were even worse. He had to consider shifter traditions, Qurilixen’s population, galactic politics, political doublespeak, the desperation of starving men, fear, treaties, laws, and on and on and on.

Jaxx could no more stop being a prince than he could change the fact that he was a dragon. Both were a part of who he was, and both informed his decisions. Sadly, like two warring personalities, they rarely agreed on the right course of action.

The dragon told him to rescue the people below. It was the right thing to do. He could do it now, and consequences be damned.

The prince warned him that such an action would solve an immediate problem but would create untold misery in the near future, worse than the current situation.

The dragon offered to fight anything that came at them.

The prince knew that such actions would result in the death of many, perhaps even the deaths of everyone and everything he loved.

And on and on and on the debate went.

Neither side of him provided a satisfactory answer.

Jaxx kept his attention focused. With each passing second, the knot in his stomach grew. There was no reason why he should feel so tense. Grier was a strong warrior and could hold his own, and he would not let anything happen to his bride. That is the only reason Jaxx agreed to this plan. Otherwise, he would’ve sent Grier home and gone in himself.

If Grier were caught, the Federation wouldn’t dare to harm a dragon prince. They might try to keep Salena, but that would make for a very tricky diplomatic mess. The local general could deny holding Salena’s sister prisoner, but they could not deny the existence of a dragon princess.

The knot inside him spread and turned into dread. Something was not right. The feeling had been nagging at him for hours. He couldn’t define it, but it felt like a sickness on the edge of his consciousness, as if he were about to fall into a nightmare, as if at any moment his heart could be pulled from his chest and crushed into a pulpy mess.

Pain radiated in his neck, and he lifted his face toward the sky to stretch the muscle. It traveled to his chest, focusing over his heart.

The sensation wasn’t fear, or panic, but a physical manifestation of an invisible attack.

The pain intensified, and he worried his heart might seize in his chest and stop beating.

Then, just as suddenly as it struck him, the sensation left.

Jaxx ignored the strangeness as he focused on the stronghold. His cousin needed him to be present in the moment, and whatever the pain was had lessened. His hatred of the Federation grew with each passing second. He would be happy when this adventure was over.

3

Fiora opened her eyes to the sterile white of the prison walls. Her mind instantly became aware of her neck and the slight buzzing against her skin. The pain was gone, the physical damage repaired.

She wanted the safety of darkness, not this white-walled hell.

Endless.

Maddening.

Torment.

Fragments of Rigger’s future faded like a dream, and she didn’t try to hold on to them. She didn’t want to hold on to anything. The hum of medical lasers dulled the sound of voices, but she heard the whispers.

“Rigger’s been stationed at the entrance,” a woman said, her words clipped.

“I’m surprised the general didn’t kill him,” another answered.

They had brought an exam table for her and Fiora hovered over the floor. The mechanical whirr of a cleaning droid sounded even though she couldn’t see the unit working to erase all signs of her blood from the walls.

“He still might—oh, good, you’re awake.” The woman who leaned in front of her view of white wore a stern expression, made more so by the natural ridges across her forehead. The