Home > Dragon Mystics (Supernatural Prison #2)(8)

Dragon Mystics (Supernatural Prison #2)(8)
Author: Jaymin Eve

Liar.

Yeah, so I was a liar, big deal. Better than losing my pack over a stupid hormone-induced decision. Their laughter died off as they caught up to me. Mischa pushed her way through to snuggle herself into my side. I raised my blue eyes to meet her green, one of the main differences in our looks – well, the eyes and a few other bits and pieces. “What?” I asked, trying to keep the nasty from my voice.

She shook out her long dark hair, her woolen hat keeping it from flying away. “I know exactly how you feel.” She pretty much whispered it in my ear.

Mischa was a virgin; her shifter side had been suppressed along with her dragon mark. This had allowed her a little reprieve – in the outside world – from the onslaught of hormones we were hit with around puberty when we came into our powers. Now that her shifter side was free, well, she was feeling everything intensely, and like myself had no outlet.

We were screwed … well, more like not screwed, which was the problem.

As we continued to walk, I did my best to avoid the probing eyes of my Compass quads, especially a certain piercing blue set. Thankfully, a pretty large distraction – the end of the tunnel – was closing in. Hopefully, whatever was out there would give me a reprieve from the amused looks and lessen the embarrassed heat which wanted to coat my cheeks. I managed to keep myself blush free, but damn it was hard work.

Cloaky had disappeared into the light. I really hoped we weren’t heading for the metaphorical “light at the end of the tunnel.” I liked living, and planned on doing it for at least another eight hundred years. As we reached the end it took no more than a moment for my eyes to adjust to the brightness. Woah. What the actual hell was this place?

Mischa breathed deeply. “Holy shit!” It was still odd to hear her curse. Our mother, Lienda, was fairly prim – for a wolf shifter anyway – and she didn’t think ladies cursed.

Screw being that kind of lady.

We had emerged onto a dais about twenty feet in the air. Below us was what looked like an entire world, spanning as far as I could see.

Grace had lifted both of her slender hands and had them pressed against her face. “It’s the hidden oasis.”

I locked in on the witch. “What do you mean?”

“It was just a story my gran told me.” Grace’s large, very dark – almost obsidian-black eyes – were scanning the environment below. “When the dragon king was alive, he was the worst kind of dictator. If you didn’t join him, you died. Some of the races banded together, witches and fey mostly, and they decided to pool their magic and create an oasis, a sanctuary for those who needed to escape but were not powerful enough to fight.”

My gaze was drawn back to the scene below. This place certainly fit the “sanctuary oasis” brief. It looked to be divided into territories. Lands of ice, oceans of blue, forests of green, and deserts of red. Basically something to suit each and every one of the supernatural races, even those from the demi-fey.

But one thing was bothering me. “Why was I the only one who could enter the golden barrier?” Sure it had strung me up, but the others couldn’t even get in at all. “I had to show the mark. This seems to be something to do with dragon marked.”

From the side, a voice said, “You are both right and wrong. This is the created oasis, and over time it has become a dragon marked haven.” Cloaked fey was standing on a small ledge which looked to lead into a crisscrossing path down into the valley. “Now is not the time for the long history of the sanctuary. Follow me, there are dangers here for those uninitiated. Do not be tempted from this path, for now you must shadow my steps.”

“Are we near Krakov?” asked Braxton.

“No,” was all the answer we received.

I wasn’t sure about everyone else, but I was relieved to know we weren’t courting the criminals of Romania. I’d heard they held the worst of our kind. Their prison was supposedly a veritable stronghold.

Cloaked dude turned and was off again. Braxton reached out then and linked our hands together. I narrowed my eyes and he leveled his stoic expression on me before he said, “I knew the moment he said ‘Don’t be tempted off the path,’ that you’d need some help.”

A few rumbling growls rocked my chest, and my eyes got even squintier. “Are you trying to say I have a short attention span? That I can’t walk into this valley without suddenly being distracted by, say, a squirrel, and scampering my ass off the road?”

Jacob and Tyson both snorted. I whipped my head around to them. At the sight of my expression, they stemmed their laughter before clearing their throats and staring off into the sky.

About freaking time. I was on edge, the need to be in control, dominant, was slamming into me. Braxton had stepped up his possessiveness more than a notch since we’d escaped the relative safety of our hometown. Maybe it was that I’d never been outside Stratford before, or simply everything from the past few weeks, but now seemed to be the time to nip this bullshit in the bud.

My finger flicked around to rest of them. “Listen up and listen well, Compasses. I’m not a delicate human, or a damsel in distress. I’m a wolf, an alpha and a supernatural. If you all try to bubble-wrap me up, I’m going to rip your faces off.”

Mischa and Grace seemed impressed and shocked by the attitude I was throwing at my boys, but the five of us fought all the time. It was how we related, we loved and fought hard. It was part of our pack dynamics.

Unfortunately, my five-feet-four of spitting mad shifter didn’t instill even an ounce of fear in my moronic quads. They exchanged amused glances, before Maximus snatched me up and threw me over his shoulder. Braxton seemed reluctant to let my hand go, as it stretched out between us, but eventually he was forced to release it.

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