Destiny Kills (Myth and Magic 1)

“In their minds we can, because we turn into monsters that shouldn’t exist.” I rubbed my arms, but it didn’t do a lot to ward off the sudden chill. “They prod, they poke, they examine, and they cut. They put us through hoops and they expect us to be happy about it.”

“But, as you pointed out, we can turn into monsters. Why didn’t you, and just get the hell out of there?”

“Because for many years, we didn’t realize they were drugging us.”

“You should have destroyed them while you had the chance.”

“We couldn’t. We barely escaped as it was.” And only because the scientists had been too busy fighting the fire that had taken the life of one of their own, and had almost claimed ours.

I looked away, watching the buildings, shops, and houses coming to life as people began waking to the new day. Longing flicked through me. For too many years, my life had been one of white walls and bright lights. And air so cold it could turn the skin blue—which wasn’t such a problem for me and my mother, but it had certainly been one for the air dragons. The scientists had discovered fairly early that cold limited their movements, restricting their fire and making them extremely sluggish. Which of course, had proved a big problem for Egan. But it had been an even bigger one for the kids—especially Carli. The small brown dragon had been the first of the young ones snatched and she was still the youngest of them all—she’d barely been three when she was taken, and she was only seven now.

It was Egan who had realized that the cold was killing her, and he who had insisted that they turn the heat up in both her room and in the common rooms. For some reason I’ll never understand, the scientists had actually listened. Maybe they just didn’t want to lose their only female air dragon. But it was around that time they must have begun increasing the dosage of the drugs they’d been giving us—so much so that we actually started tasting them.

It was a realization that had begun our plot to escape.

But those plans had taken a very long time to come to fruition, I thought, my gaze lingering on the warmly lit homes zooming by. God, the luxury of waking in a home, surrounded by family, was not something any of us had experienced for a very long time. My capture might have been my own stupid fault, and Egan’s had apparently been due to carelessness, but most of the kids had been netted in those magical, mystical hours of dawn and dusk, when young air dragons rode the energy in the air, trusting the still-flaring skies to hide their forms as they attempted to master the wind. They’d been easy pickings for the older hunters who’d been high above, waiting for that one who strayed a little farther from flock than they should have.

And to take a three-year-old? Hunters who would do such a thing—who would not only betray their own but tear families apart for the sake of money—disgusted me. I think I hated them more than I hated the scientists.

At least we’d taken one of them out in San Lucas, which meant there would be one, maybe two, hunters left on my trail. That I knew of, anyway.

I tore my gaze away from the roadside and looked at Trae. The golden light of dawn shone through the windshield, washing across his features, making the spiky bristles lining his chin gleam like molten gold.

I have to say, twenty-four-hour whisker growth on this man was incredibly sexy.

“Tell me about the ring,” I said, as much to keep my mind off desire as to find out the history behind the ring.

He shrugged. “It’s basically the king stone, and it was Egan’s by birthright.”

“Why?”

He looked in the rearview mirror, then said, “Our father is the king of our clique, and Egan was the first-born pure-dragon son. As such, he was heir to the family fortune.”

“And throne?”

“Possibly.” He glanced at me. “I’m surprised that he didn’t talk to you about all this.”

“As I said, he wouldn’t. All he’d say was that the past no longer mattered.” I studied him for a minute. “Was that because of this Sila you mentioned earlier?”

“Undoubtedly.” Though his voice was flat, without emotion, the heat of his anger swirled around me, scorching my skin.

“What happened to her?”

“My father happened.”

“He tore them apart?”

“He killed her.”

“What?” I stared at him, horrified. “Why?”

“Because my father’s eye was always on the greater prize. Sila was a black dragon with no family links that would enhance the clique’s position and standing in the dragon community, and therefore useless in his eyes.”

“He killed her because she didn’t have the right connections?”

“Afraid so.”

My God . . . “Your father sounds like a murdering bastard.”