Corrigan’s entire body rose up in angry tension. Before he could say or do anything that all three of us would regret, however, I cleared my throat and repeated my words. “Solus, what is it?”

His violet eyes flicked smoothly over to me. I could see the warring emotion within him, but fortunately the need to tell us his news won out over the temptation to cause more aggravated mischief.

“Someone’s approaching,” he finally said. “The mage set up a small ward down by the main road after the humans arrived. It was intended to deter anyone else from deciding they wanted a quiet evening walk, but wouldn’t really stop anyone with any power.”

“And?”

“And it was broken about fifteen minutes ago. “ He glanced from Corrigan to me. “Not the only thing that was broken through apparently.”

Corrigan snarled. I put a calming hand on his forearm, ignoring the sudden flare of my bloodfire.

“So he’s finally coming then,” I stated in satisfaction.

“Whoever he is.”

I nodded distractedly. “Okay. Solus, you need to get back down to Larkin and make sure the two of you get out of sight. It’s up to you to make sure he doesn’t get hurt. Let Mereia’s killer get up here so that the two of us,” I motioned to Corrigan, “can deal with it.”

He clasped a hand to his heart. “Aw, dragonlette. So what you’re really saying is that you don’t want me to get hurt, but you don’t mind if the furry one here ends up as collateral damage?”

“Solus…” I said warningly.

He grinned. “Yes, yes, okay. I will do as you ask. I’m sure I’d be more use to you in a fight than protecting a wizard though.”

For a half second, my mind flicked back to that terrible scene back at the mages’ academy when both Thomas and Brock had wound up so very dead. I steeled myself. I was not going to let anything like that happen again. Ever.

“Just do it, please,” I said quietly.

Solus bowed and clicked his fingers, vanishing in an airy shimmer of purple. I realised belatedly that the reason he’d not arrived that way was he’d known what was going on with Corrigan and me in the first place. The Fae wasn’t all bad. One quick look at Corrigan’s face made me think that there was fat chance I’d persuade him of that, however.

“I couldn’t stop him!” howled Aubrey, still lying prone on the path ahead of us, his arms outstretched. “I tried, Mack! It’s not my fault!”

“I know,” I called over. “It’s okay, Aubrey. I need you to go and join the humans with Max and Beltran now. Stay there until we come and find you.”

“You’re protecting that bastard now too?” muttered Corrigan.

I shrugged, unwilling to admit that, despite myself, I was now kind of starting to like the ex-bloodsucker, as well as merely feeling sorry for him. He wore all his emotions on his sleeve, without trying to mute them in order to appear more normal. That made him occasionally annoying, but not dislikable.

“We can deal with this guy on our own,” I replied, as Aubrey scrambled to his feet and vanished into the trees.

“He killed a dryad.”

“You don’t need to remind me of that,” I snapped. “But they’re easy prey. You’re the Lord Alpha of the fucking Brethren, and I’m a dragon. Let’s see how scary he is when he’s got us to deal with.”

“Well, then,” remarked Corrigan, “let’s rock and roll, kitten.”

I used my Voice to blow a raspberry at him then injected as much sarcasm into my thought as possible. Sure thing, my Lord.

Corrigan chuckled, then swung me to him and planted a swift hard kiss on my lips. “Before I forget,” he said.

“Mmm?” I asked distractedly, my senses still reeling.

He bent over and opened up the picnic box. I admired his bum, much in the same manner that Max had been doing earlier with the protestor. This is different, I told myself, the Lord Alpha is a willing participant. I smirked. Very willing.

He stretched back up, a smallish box in his hands. I looked at him quizzically.

He raised up a shoulder. “Sorry, I can’t open it myself.” He grinned disarmingly. “Silver and I don’t really mix.”

Astonished, I took the box from him and lifted the lid, registering the contents, then stared up at Corrigan. “You brought my daggers? Both of them? But I only left one at the keep.”

“We found the other one not far from where you were lying unconscious on Hampstead Heath. The mages helped us pick it up and keep it safely covered.”

I took both of Balud’s weapons out, hefting each in my hands, before shooting him a grateful glance. “Thank you, Corrigan.”

His eyes crinkled down at me. “Just make sure you don’t mistake me for him. Whoever he is.”

“We’re about to find out,” I said grimly, then tossed the box to the side, and gripped the daggers in my hands.

The pair of us turned to face the path, ready for whatever was coming. The familiar surge of angry bloodfire hit my veins. This wasn’t the warmth of heated passion that I’d felt minutes earlier. This was full-blown angry revenge mode.

“Bring it on,” I whispered.

At my side, Corrigan nodded.

Chapter Twenty

The wait was agonising. This bastard had done things to that dryad that showed a callous heartlessness. He completely deserved the full ire that my Draco Wyr blood could offer. I was itching to show him that he should learn to pick on someone his own size. Or at least someone who didn’t belong to the quiet and entirely non-violent world of tree nymphs anyway. The longer it took for him to show up, the more my bloodfire boiled.

My simmering anger must have been getting remarkably obvious because Corrigan eventually turned to me. “Cool it.”

I snarled at him. “I can’t.”

“Of course you can. Weren’t you just trying to calm me down a few moments ago?”

“That was different.”

“Right.”

“Corrigan,” I grated, “I am a Draco Wyr. That means that sometimes, usually when I’m entirely justified to do so, I get angry. Well, it’s not so much anger as full-blown red-hot rage. It’s in my nature and I can’t help it.” I was uncomfortably reminded for a moment that Aubrey had made the same argument regarding his vampiredom behaviour, before I pushed that thought away.

“Bullshit.”

I started.

He reached out and gripped my shoulder, taking great pains to avoid the silver daggers that I was still clutching in my hands. “Think, Mack. When was the last time you were angry? You know, blood boiling out of control angry?”

I considered. Then my cheeks irritatingly heated up. It was when I’d seen Corrigan with that dark-haired shifter and had downed the stupid bottle of TemperSoothe. I didn’t really want to go there.

“A while ago,” I muttered to myself.

“It was when you shifted into a dragon, right?”

“Um…”

“That was months ago. You know you’re in control of yourself now. Bloody hell, that vampire over there almost killed you and he’s walking around as happy as a lark now.”

“He’s not a vampire anymore,” I pointed out, stubbornly. “And I wouldn’t say he’s particularly happy either.”

“That’s a moot point and you know it. You’re not that out of control person any more.”

“You know why?” I said softly. “Because when that happened before, when I turned into a dragon, I stopped being me. I would have killed anything that got in my way. There wasn’t a single rational thought in my head. Do you have any idea how terrifying that is?”

“You lived with a pack of shifters for most of your natural life! You know that’s what it’s like at the start, especially when you shift for the first time.”

I stared at him. “How would I know? I didn’t shift, remember?”

“Nobody talked to you about what it was like?”

I thought about it. They might have tried to. I was so pissed off at not being able to become a shifter myself that I was pretty sure I’d stone-walled the lot of them until they’d stopped trying to speak to me about it. But the fact that they found it hard to control their impulses when they first shifted didn’t mean that my circumstances were the same.

“Look, it’s all very well saying that it’s normal to feel that way when you shift at first. But I’m not a fucking were-hamster! I’m a dragon. If I shift there’s no telling what I could end up doing.”

“Have you not once transformed since that day?”

“No.” I folded my arms. “And I’m not going to.”

“You’re more in control than you think, Mack. You just need to believe that you’re in control.”

I was saved from replying further because Corrigan stiffened suddenly, his head cocked to the side. “He’s here.”

The flames inside me roared in delight. I thought about what Corrigan had said. Then I thought about what Thomas would have said. He had known better than anyone what it was like to lose control. And he’d believed that I had a handle on my inner rage. I took a deep breath and the fire inside me banked back down. Okay then. I was still going to destroy this fucker though, even if I remained relatively calm when I did it.

I glanced over at Corrigan. He was stepping neatly out of his suit trousers, and placing them to the side. I tried not to gawk. I failed. Abruptly, his skin exploded into sleek black fur, and there was a snapping and cracking of bones. His were-panther form snarled with the brief agony of the shift, then he was on all fours, the muscles of his huge forelegs bunching, poised for attack. At least he was in the same frame of mind as me. This wasn’t going to be a peace treaty or a negotiation; it was going to be a take down.

Finally, from around the corner of the small curving path, a figure appeared. Whatever I’d been expecting, it wasn’t the slight suited man that appeared. For one bizarre moment, I thought that Solus had been wrong or that Larkin’s ward hadn’t worked, and this was merely a guy out for an evening stroll. But when I took a closer look, I realised that wasn’t true. Because I’d seen him before, and not just in the photos that Alex had texted over. It was the vaguely bookish bloke who’d stood next to me on the street in London, commenting on the antics of Lucy, the mage and the Fae when they’d been tailing me. And he didn’t seem in the slightest bit surprised to see us.