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Chapter Twenty-Two
Xander
I’m so pissed I can’t even drive. After spinning out on the highway outside of Rowan’s house I pull over a mile down the road, leave my truck, and take off into the woods. Shifting during the day is dangerous, but my dragon is coming out whether I like it or not.
I transform in a wave of heat and magic and golden light, and then I run. For miles and miles, until the forest subdues me enough to think again. The skies would work faster, but I absolutely cannot risk flying during the day. Finally, I’m able to shift back into human form and contemplate the utter fuckery I’ve gotten myself into.
Because that’s just it—I’m mad about Rowan, but not at her. No, the one to blame here is me. I’m the one who made an oath. And I’m the one who keeps coming within a heartbeat of breaking it.
I don’t understand why I can’t control myself around her. I’ve never been a man dragged around by his hormones. That’s a cop-out of dishonorable men to behave like animals. I actually am a beast, and I still know better. Or maybe that’s it—I know better, but my dragon doesn’t. My dragon has decided she’s the one, and it doesn’t give a damn about any oath I swore.
Rowan’s not just beautiful. She’s strong. Smart. Sassy as fuck and not about to let anyone tell her what to do. It’s a combination alluring enough to tempt any man. But it’s more than that. It’s her magic. She is fire and stars, like my dragon magic. When we’d been skin to skin, I’d been radiating so much heat I was afraid I’d burn her. Any normal person would have been burned. But instead, she’d been the one burning me, her own magic so scorching it hurt. In the best possible way, like nothing I’ve ever experienced before.
And it’s that same magic that makes it impossible for us to be together. How completely fucked is that?
The universe must have it out for me—the irony of the situation is so thick I could choke on it. Not to mention we keep getting thrust together—it seems Rowan is everywhere I turn. And when she’s not physically before me, she haunts my thoughts. Even now I see flashes of her up against the wall. Her moon pale skin, raven hair. Hungry lips, perfect pink nipples. The sounds she’d made…I’d nearly gone out of my mind.
I growl and punch my fist into the closest tree, sending shards of wood flying and carving a huge hole in the side of it. Giving in is not an option. A person is nothing without honor. My oath cannot be abandoned, or I abandon my sense of self entirely.
My thoughts drift back to the beginning, around three hundred years prior. My father and I had served as knights in Europe, in a group of other dragon shifters called the Order of Nobilis Draco, moving from country to country so as not to raise suspicion when we didn’t age like the other men. Then, when knights faded from history, we’d made our way across the Atlantic to America and ended up here in Massachusetts. It was here that everything changed.
Supernatural beings recognize others who live in the shadows, though we all tend to keep to our own kind. Mostly it’s the magic—everyone has a different and identifiable signature. I’d met witches before, in our travels through Europe. They tended to keep to themselves, or form small covens. But then we came upon the Raven Society—a society comprised of many, many covens. A group so powerful they could conquer the world if they wanted to.
My father found out that the Society was smuggling magical weapons for the Revolutionary War, basically acting as supernatural arms dealers. We intervened and the High Priestess of the coven, Katerina, along with several other witches in the Society, killed him in battle.
It was on that day I made my oath. To do everything in my power to ensure the Raven Society stays in check, until the day comes when I can end it. And ever since then I’ve lived here in Raven’s Roost, keeping a watchful eye over the witches, waiting for my chance.
Being alone all this time has not made it easy. There are thousands of witches around the world, and while I’m certainly not the only dragon shifter, there are none close by to this place. The turn of time has changed the witches quite a bit, and things have been quiet… until recently. Sybil’s murder had shocked the Society, had shaken everything.
It seems I’m not the only one who hates witches.
But murder isn’t the way. And summoning ancient evil sure as hell isn’t, either.
I hate the curiosity that burns inside me… I want to know the killer’s reason. Is it something like my own? Did they lose someone to witches? It makes me sick that I have any connection with someone like that, but I do. I understand their hatred, even if we don’t agree on the methods of handling it. It would be so easy to sit back and watch, let whoever is doing this take down the Society, like I’ve always wanted.
To do so is the coward’s way out, though, and I’ve never been a coward. Life is nothing without honor, truth, and dignity. And while I despise witches in general, I do recognize there are innocents among them, women like Rowan who don’t know what they’ve gotten into. I can’t just stand by and let people who had nothing to do with the past be slaughtered by some sicko with a demon fetish.
Which brings me back to my current dilemma—how do I protect Rowan without actually being in her presence? I need to stay away from her, that much is clear. My dragon gets more unruly each time I breathe in the sweet scent of her hair, feel the pulse of her magic against mine. I know that tomorrow they’ll have Sybil’s funeral, and now, apparently, Rowan’s induction into the Society. All the witches in one place? It would be the perfect time to attack. If, of course, the demon can break through the protective wards.
I’ll keep watch from the forest, as I did before, just in case. Rowan thought she’d killed the demon, but I knew better. She’d vanquished it temporarily. It’s far from dead. Maybe, if I’m lucky, it will show up again and I can put an end to this.
And once I do, I’ll make very certain I never see Rowan Stonecroft again.
