Chapter 88 Chapter Eighty-Eight

Chapter 88 Chapter Eighty-Eight
By the time Sylvan arrived back at the house with Cole thrown over his shoulder, the effects of whatever the dragon rider had taken were already beginning to wear off. Cole groaned and lifted his head off Sylvan’s back.

“Please tell me I’ve been out for twenty-four hours and that’s why it’s dark,” Cole begged.

“Not twenty-four hours, more like twenty-four minutes,” Sylvan said, controlling the urge to laugh.

Cole groaned again, this time in frustration. “Can’t believe I paid that scam artist.”

“You paid to get this fucked up?”

“My blood is literally hot enough to boil alcohol from my system. We can’t all get drunk enough to lose our bowels after a day of battle, now can we, Prince Sylvan?”

“Can you walk?” Sylvan grumbled at the reminder of one of his less proud moments.

“I have a dragon; I can fly!” Cole sang.

“Good.” Sylvan dropped him unceremoniously on the ground.

Cole hit the street outside of their house with a thud. The air rushed from his lungs with a whoosh, and he groaned as he pushed himself up on his elbows. He shook himself like a dog before staggering to his feet.

“That was uncalled for,” Cole sighed as he brushed himself off.

“So was the recollection,” Sylvan said, crossing his arms.

“Whatever, I’m going inside to hopefully pass out for another few minutes,” Cole said, waving his hand back at Sylvan in dismissal.

“Right behind you.” Sylvan started to walk after Cole when a soft, feminine chuckle stopped him in his tracks. He looked over his shoulder to find trouble waiting.

Teresa gripped the fence rails separating the house property from the street. Her smile widened as their eyes met.

“You don’t take no for an answer, do you?” Sylvan sighed.

“And you do? Tell me, Mate Killer, what did your little mate do when you pursued her?” She leaned over the rail. “Unless she was as eager to hop into your bed as I am?”

Sylvan smirked at the memory of Isla being underneath him that first night and how she’d been more than willing, until she wasn’t. “She refused me, actually. I had to bloodbind her to me to keep her from running.”

Teresa’s eyebrows rose to her hairline, and she bit her lip. “Somehow I like that answer more than the one I suggested.”

“Go home, Teresa,” Sylvan said, turning around.

“Actually, I’m heading to a pub up the road. You should join me. Better yet, you could wake your mate up, and she could join us,” Teresa suggested.

Sylvan kept walking.

“Come on, Prince, let’s just…”

Then she touched him. The blistering heat scorched his arm. He reacted on instinct. Sylvan turned and shoved at her chest with the palm of his hand. Teresa flew several feet through the air and hit the ground on her back. She looked up at the sky as she tried to regain her breath. Sylvan winced as he looked at the burn mark the dragon rider had left on his arm. He glared down at the woman who smiled despite herself.

“Satisfied?” he growled.

Teresa shrugged. “I stand by my earlier invitation. There are ways around my condition.” Teresa hopped up, completely unperturbed. “Think about it.” She swiveled on her heel and left the property with a skip in her step.

“I’m sure my mate will be seeing you,” Sylvan said under his breath.

He turned back to the house and prepared himself for what lay within. The air was charged with tension as he walked up the stairs toward the bedroom he shared with Isla. Outside their door, he took a breath. When the door opened, he knew immediately. She was sitting up in bed, her back ramrod straight. Her eyes wavered between luminescent blue and the matte black of the darkest night. When they connected with him, the blue was drowned out completely by the blackness of her possessive wolf.

“What. Happened?” she growled.

Sylvan didn’t answer. He knew exactly how she was feeling. She didn’t understand it. She didn’t realize her wolf had surged forward because it had sensed someone putting their hands on what belonged to her. But he did. And it was hot as hell. He reached his hand over his shoulder, took a fistful of his shirt, and pulled it over his head, all while walking to the bed. The moment her eyes locked on his bare chest, her teeth showed as if she were prepared to sink them into his flesh. He smirked as he kicked off his shoes and pulled his trousers down. Her tongue wetted her lips as he crawled onto the bed.

He used the palm of his hand to push her chest downward. Before she was pressed fully to the cot, her head refused to fall, and she claimed his lips in a possessive kiss that drew blood. Her hands gripped his forearms, which shook with the weight of restraint he used to hold himself back. Her fingers slid upward until they ran over the raised, blistered mark Teresa had left on his skin. He hissed at the contact at the same time as a feral growl ripped through her chest. Before he had time to pin her down, she flipped him onto his back. Air rushed from his lungs as she straddled his hips and glared down at the handprint on his arm: a brand so similar to the one that sent Sylvan spiraling into a fight with a fire-breathing dragon.

Isla’s head dropped so her nose could skim over the burn. Again, she growled so sharply that it vibrated through his body.

“Isla…” Sylvan cooed, trying to bring her back to him.

Instead of responding, she shoved off of him. Sylvan sat up on his elbows and watched her stalk from the room in nothing but her nightgown, hellbent on revenge. The front door slamming against the wall jolted him out of his admiration. He pushed off the bed and pulled on his pants.

Cole was waiting by the front door, staring out into the night at Isla’s retreating form. “Was that Isla?”

“Yes.” Sylvan raced out the door, following the scent of his mate as she walked in the direction of the pub Teresa had pointed out earlier.

Sylvan entered the pub just behind Isla. She was standing in the center of the room, her arms at her side, her shoulders moving with the heaviness of her breath as she stared toward the woman who had trespassed on her mate. Sylvan smirked and crossed his arms before leaning against the threshold of the door, waiting to see what she would do next.

Cole came up behind him, breathing heavily from the run to catch up to them. “Are you… are you not going to stop her?” he asked.

“Why on earth would I do that?” Sylvan asked.

“Hey!” Isla barked. Everyone in the pub quieted and turned to look at her. “Whore!”

A moment passed before Teresa seemed to sense the ‘whore’ had been directed at her own back. She set her drink down and turned to face the enraged woman whose body was threatening to shift at any moment. Teresa raised a brow in curiosity.

“Me?” she asked, pointing at herself.

“You touched my mate,” Isla growled.

Teresa chuckled and downed the rest of her drink before slamming it on the bar. She hopped off her barstool and crossed her arms, ready to face the fragile-looking woman challenging her in public.

“Ah, so you must be the hybrid fated to the infamous Mate Killer, huh?” Teresa asked, her eyes rising to spot Sylvan watching casually from the doorway. She tsked. “I have to say, the nickname doesn’t bode well for you. For me though…”

Isla growled, the sound reverberating around the room and causing the glasses behind the bar to rattle. She lunged forward, and Teresa braced for the attack. Everyone in the bar started to cheer as the two women battled for dominance. The fight didn’t last long. Isla’s instinct to protect what she’d claimed overrode whatever training and experience the mercenary had gained away from her dragon. Isla cracked the dragon rider’s head against the bar, stole a knife from her belt and held it to Teresa’s throat. Isla growled as she pressed the knife deeper, drawing blood. Teresa made a small sound in her throat, not of surrender but defiance.

The sound cut short the growl Isla had released as her back straightened in shock. A memory surfaced in her mind that struck her hard enough to echo through Sylvan’s own. He could see a small girl, covered in dirt and blood, cowering in the corner of a dank cell while her small red dragon, the size of a cat, was chained and muzzled beside her. The girl looked up, and her green eyes sparked defiance. Sylvan made the connection at the same time as Isla did.

“You…”

Teresa rolled her eyes. “Yes, I touched your mate. Can you blame me? He’s…” Teresa’s eyes traveled over Sylvan’s frame without shame before Isla took a single step to block her eyeline.

“You were there too. The Aradian Council…”

Teresa tried to look up at Isla, but being pinned to the bar didn’t allow room for movement. She chuckled, which came out as more of a wheeze. “Oh, yeah, you were the fae pet they were playing with, huh? Are you going to show me what you learned from them?”

Though Isla looked startled at the recollection, the shock faded from her expression, and she shoved Teresa’s head harder against the bar as she leaned down and snarled.

“Touch my mate again, and I won’t hesitate,” Isla hissed.

After one last crack of her head, she released her hold of the dragon rider and pivoted to face Sylvan at the door. He straightened as she advanced on him, the intent in her gaze obvious. Her hands seared his neck as she gripped him and pulled him down to latch her lips with his. Sylvan’s brain short-circuited as she took control and pushed him sideways until his back hit a table. Her dominant claim didn’t stop there. Her mouth continued to nip and bite his lips, her tongue lashing against his as she pushed him back flat against the table. She crawled over him, her nightgown rising up as she rocked against him. Her mouth left his lips just so her teeth could sink into his neck.

The crowd roared around them as she claimed her mate in front of everyone present. Sylvan’s wolf surged forward, not one to let his mate have all the fun… or dominate him in public. He lurched upward and pushed her back across the room until she hit the wall. He lifted her up so she could wrap her legs around his waist. He wove his fingers through her hair and yanked her head to the side so he could claim her in the same way. She gasped and gripped his shoulders by digging her nails into his skin.

They weren’t done, though. No, the public claiming of Deveraux entailed one very important aspect that he’d been looking forward to since he sent her away from the beach. Using his body to shield her from the audience, he lowered the front of his trousers and forced the silk of her nightgown to her waist. The moment he entered her, she jerked. She flung her head back as she gasped, but he didn’t stop. Sylvan rocked into the heat of his mate as though he were reestablishing their connection. He wanted her to feel his desire for her, and only her, with each of his thrusts.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop,” she begged, her nails drawing blood from his back.

Sylvan chuckled, nearly out of breath. He trailed his tongue up her neck in a way that made her shiver violently. “You may like an audience, Isla, but I don’t like others watching you come undone. We’re going to do this quickly. Then I’m going to carry you back to our house and finish you off proper, understood?”

Something about the way he whispered the promise made her come undone. Isla’s eyes rolled to the back of her head. Her legs tightened around his waist at the same time as her walls cinched around his dick inside her. She moaned long, exaggerated, pushing him over his own edge. He planted his palm against the wall for stability as he spent himself within her. The crowd around them was drowned out by their breathing and the sounds of others wanting to join in on the fun with a partner of their own. Sylvan pressed his forehead against Isla’s and smiled.

“Is your wolf satisfied, mate?” he asked.

“Mmmm,” Isla said, her eyes closed. “She’s purring inside.”

“Well, I’m not quite satisfied. In fact, I have quite a bit more work to do before mine’s purring again,” he told her, swiveling around in the direction of the door.