Unchained Beauty (The Deadly Beauties Live On 5)

“Trust me, you painted a vivid picture of what happens. I can’t ensure they’ll continue to grow, but they’ll be planted.”

“Oh, they certainly won’t last for longer than a month or two. That part of the earth is too polluted. Hence the reason we’re all here, instead of on opposite sides of the world from each other.”

Such a weird little flower to be so powerful. Parts of my mind want to dissect it, find out what about it keeps their fire from destroying the earth.

It’s an old habit, one I used to share with my brother.

Clearing my throat and looking back at him, I stick my hand out.

“So we have a deal?”

“I want it in writing from the queen,” he says.

“At least one of the others should be able to aide in convincing her of that,” I say, no real deception there for him to read.

“Then we have a deal.”

He clasps my forearm, and his eyes hold mine. “I rarely make deals with devils who plan to die. Don’t make me regret it.”

He pulls his hand back, and he uses a knife from the table to slice his wrist. The scent of his blood is weirdly not the charred ash I expected it to smell like. He lets his wrist drain over the jar.

“Tell no one of this,” he says quietly. “It’s disgraceful for one of ours to offer our blood to one of yours.”

“If I get that list, trust me, you’ll be anything but disgraced. How do you think I know what your blood is capable of, dragon?” I ask him.

His pupils dilate into reptilian slits.

“They had one of our kind?” he asks.

“Only for a brief time,” I assure him. “He didn’t make it long in the cages before he died from the imprisonment alone.”

“What the fucking hell kind of world have I brought my people to?” he mutters under his breath.

“It’s not like you guys came in peacefully the last time,” I remind him as I stand.

His wound seals, and I screw the lid on the jar, tightening it until no air can enter, then I grab the flowers and spell them both so that they disappear.

Then I vanish from the table, and reappear outside the perimeter he set, closing my eyes. Shit. She’s already here.

She couldn’t have traveled that fast without the abomination Kya has claimed as her own mate.

I dematerialize and head south to intercept, knowing where they’ll be going as a starting point. Damn dragonites are even more paranoid than I am, and that says a lot.

I prop up on a tree, hearing them talking, per the usual, as they approach, and I pull out my journal, glancing over the words I wrote so long ago—the exact plan I laid out.

Lately, I need to be reminded of my priorities more and more, and this journal—the hardest fucking contraband there ever was to get and keep hidden in that damn prison—is the only thing that puts me back on the right path.

Because I forget everything I planned until I finally see the words that make me remember.

“I can’t believe I told you about Alton, but you didn’t tell me about Slade being Ella’s mate,” Kya gripes, snatching her hand away from Chaz.

“Damn it, I thought you already knew, and I sure as hell didn’t want to discuss it.”

“So stop discussing it already,” Ella says on an exasperated breath.

My lips twitch.

“Was he going to mate you when I burst into the room as another Polly?” Kya asks, the color seeming to drain from her face.