The (Not) Satisfied Dragon - Colette Rhodes Page 0,3

pulling our shirts from the back of our trousers and wrapping them tightly around our faces. No wonder she was unconscious — liltane was potent and dragon dens were not well ventilated.

I didn’t hesitate, striding straight down the hallway to the master bedroom. I didn’t even need to see the bodies to know they were dead. Even though it was fresh, the smell of death burned my senses, it was unmistakable.

Levi appeared at my shoulder, holding up a lantern from the hallway he’d lit with a match. The flight gathered behind me as he held it up, illuminating the bedroom.

The execution site.

Five of the most famous dragons in Avalon and their notoriously awful mate lay in their bed where they’d probably fallen asleep, thinking it was a night as safe as any other. Their eyes were closed, faces mostly peaceful.

Throats gaping open.

Laying across their legs, soaked in blood, was my tiny mate. Shira’s black shoulder-length hair had come loose from the leather strap she’d tied it in, falling messily over her face. Her limbs were at an awkward angle like she’d fallen in place rather than laid down deliberately, half lying on her satchel. Around her neck was a soaked piece of fabric, probably the mask she’d been wearing to counter the effects of the liltane.

Some use that had been. Though, aside from passing out herself, she seemed to have pulled off her plan. There were six dead dragons in the bed and no sign of a struggle. Fucking magnificent.

Shira could hate me some more later, right now I needed to get her out of here. That would involve holding her in my arms like I’d been dying to do again for weeks.

My hands shook a little as I reached over from the end of the bed and pulled her towards me. Her limbs were limp and her head lolled as I carefully lifted her against my chest, cradling her like a child. She felt so small and fragile, yet she’d just wrought carnage and mayhem on a flight that many had deemed untouchable.

“She didn’t shift,” I said quietly, looking down at the spot I’d just lifted her from. The black blade of an obsidian dagger was sticking out of Odessa’s round gut, blood soaking the area surrounding the wound.

The males had their throats slit, Odessa had a dagger shoved in her belly like a stuck pig. I doubted it was on purpose, Shira had been all but lying on the handle of the blade. This night could have ended very differently.

“An obsidian blade?” Seff asked in awe, coming to stand beside me. “How did she get her hands on one of those? They cost a fortune. We really should have talked to her more. Asked some more questions,” he added quietly, rubbing his temple as he tried to understand our confounding mate.

“Such as ‘were you an assassin in a previous life, darling?’” Hiram snapped. “This is… this is madness.”

“Is it?” I replied quietly. “What would you do if your family were butchered in their home, the way Flight Milain butchered the flights on this mountain? Would you stand aside and do nothing?”

“Shira is a gold,” he hissed, though I heard the uncertainty in his voice. I didn’t think he believed what he was saying, but he didn’t know how to process this. He was the baby of his flight, coddled by his mother while his fathers and brothers did the dirty work.

“You didn’t answer his question,” Levi pointed out, walking around the side of the bed to inspect our mate’s handiwork. “What would you have done?”

Hiram made a noise of frustration from the doorway where he still stood. He would have exacted revenge, and we all knew it.

I pushed down the smile threatening to overtake my face, grateful my makeshift mask was hiding my face. My brothers would probably faint if they saw Asshole Ezra crack a grin.

“What do you want to do?” Oren murmured, stepping up beside me and gently pushing a lock of Shira’s hair away from her face. He looked at her like she was the sole source of light in his universe.

“Grab the dagger and the bowl she used for the liltane,” I instructed, tipping my chin at the harmless-looking clay bowl next to the bed. “There aren’t any traces of magic here, I say we leave it as is.”

“Really?” Levi asked, sounding surprised. “You don’t think we should dispose of the bodies?”

“By the gods,” Hiram muttered unhelpfully.

“Flight Milain has been telling everyone for years