Wolf Princess Sold to the Dragon King

"One."

Cassian answered with a sob so embarrassing that across an ocean, Renwick Lunaris hunched over, unsure why it felt like his legacy took a direct kick to the balls.

Kael lowered his hand. The fire dimmed.

The prince’s entire body went limp with relief as a wet spot spread beneath him. Kael briefly considered keeping him alive just so Renwick would know that his son pissed himself.

He raised his arm again.

Cassian screamed at a pitch that violated the Geneva Convention of manhood.

Kael lowered it then raised it three times in a row, fast.

Cassian screamed, stopped, screamed, stopped, screamed. Three wolves in the back row covered their ears.

The throne room doors exploded inward.

A soldier stormed inside like a man who just caught his wife sucking off the mailman, covered in dark fae blood and skidded to a stop in the center of the room.

"ALPHA! Dark fae at the eastern perimeter! Three portals, ground assault, at least two hundred—"

He stopped mid-sentence, taking in the scene: three snapped necks, a sobbing prince curled in the fetal position, a dragon with fire in his palms, half the pack trying to blend into the walls, and then did a double take at the glowing princess bleeding on the floor, his jaw dropping as he stared.

Kael rolled his eyes. "Really? Of all things, SHE is the most shocking?"

The soldier didn’t even seem to hear Kael, unable to look away from the runes.

Tyler Draven stood, scooping Guinevere off the stone floor with one arm under her knees and one behind her back as gently as he could.

Her blood ran down his arms and was all over his bare chest.

Kael’s vision narrowed then flickered gold at the sight and scent of her fresh blood. Her body being against Tyler’s bare chest was not helping.

He dares touch our mate. Rip his arms off. Burn this Keep to the ground.

Tyler turned away from the murder dragon, addressing the soldier.

"All combat units to the eastern ridge. Full defensive formation. Archers on the tree line. Ground units staggered at fifty-yard intervals." His voice carried across the throne room with an authority that was two parts training and one part adrenaline. "Light the perimeter pyres. If we’re going to fight in the dark, we do it by firelight. Let them think we’ve got that dragon fleet."

Kael dragged a hand down his face.

A Beta’s son in pajama pants, shirtless, covered in a princess’s blood, was now running the military defense of a kingdom whose actual prince was crying. What a goddamn night. Good instincts. Wrong enemy for them. But the balls were there and Kael could work with that.

He let out a long breath, tearing his eyes away from Guinevere. "Yeah, you don’t want to do that."

Every head in the room swiveled to him.

"Fire doesn’t work on dark fae. They absorb it. Feed on it, actually. Your perimeter pyres are an all-you-can-eat buffet." He rolled his neck once. Something cracked. "How many entrances does your Keep have?"

Tyler stared at him. The internal debate behind his eyes was visible. This man knows what the hell dark fae are but this situation was fucked. He answered before he overthought the triple homicide bit.

"Seven. Four main, three service."

"Seal the service entrances. Heavy barricades. Before you barricade, put plywood in front as a decoy with tar behind it. They always go for wood entrances first because they can claw through it easily. The second tar hits their hands, they are slow as fuck. Let them run free the first round — they’ll spread the tar to the others. How many fighters do you have?"

Kael had been conscious for roughly twelve goddamn minutes and was now giving defense orders for this keep only because it was Guinevere’s home.

"Three hundred combat-ready. Another hundred reserves," Tyler answered.

"That’s enough if you’re smart about it. Tell your men to not, under any circumstances, get their blood in their mouths. If you do, wash that shit out immediately. Spit, rinse, I don’t care if you gargle with piss. It’s a hallucinogen. One swallow and your best warrior is fighting his own shadow for the next six hours."

An elder near the wall cleared his throat. "Young man, I have fought battles since before your father—"

Kael held up a finger, cutting the elder off.

"You have never fought dark fae, and I have at least thirty times. I did not just burn your little brat prince’s face to have your goddamn pack massacred."

The elder’s mouth closed.

"Second. They hunt in packs of six. If you see one, there are five more you can’t see. Third, they portal. Your ground units need to watch their flanks and their ceilings, because these things come from above as often as they come from the front."

Every soldier in the room instinctively looked up. The ceiling was stone. It was fine. They all felt stupid. They all kept looking anyway.

"Oh right, they make portals," Kael added as an afterthought. "If one of them gets inside this keep, then they’ll all be able to portal depending on your wards."

"Portals," Tyler repeated.

"Yes, portals. Big glowing doors to nowhere. Keep up, pajama pants," Kael replied.

Tyler gave a nod, listening like a Beta’s son now in charge with the pack’s fate on his shoulders. "What kills them?"

"Steel to the throat. Decapitation. Dismemberment works but it’s messy and they twitch for a while after. Silver does nothing, which is a shame because you people seem to have plenty of it." Kael’s eyes briefly flicked to the dead guards on the floor. "Your archers are your best asset. Dark fae are fast on the ground but they’re predictable in the air. A volley at the right angle cuts their formations apart."

"Air formations," Tyler echoed, like he knew what the hell that meant. "Understood, Sir."

"You don’t know what air formations are. That’s fine. Dark fae fly in predictable lines. Your archers shoot those lines. Lesson over. You’re welcome," Kael said, like he was explaining why fire was hot to a group of very confused toddlers.

Every second Tyler held her was a second Kael was fighting his dragon for control. The beast understood one thing: she is ours and he is touching her and that needs to stop right fucking now.

"Now that you have that. I will take her. Hand her over." He stepped forward, arms outstretched, impatience rolling off him as he reached for her.

"You’re going to have to burn me," Tyler said, voice steady while the pulse on his neck belonged to a hummingbird on drugs.

Kael’s dragon thrashed so violently against his ribs that his next breath came out as smoke. The helplessness was worse than the possessiveness. The possessiveness was worse than the rage. And the rage was already enough to level this Keep.

"She needs a healer. She’s hypothermic, she’s lost blood, and she’s been whipped. I am taking her to the infirmary," Tyler added, arms tightening around her.

Kael gave Tyler an unimpressed flat look. "No shit. I’m getting her the best healer in the world. Who is your Master Mage? I need a portal."

Tyler blinked. "Mage as in practitioner of magic?"

Kael’s face went through a journey. Disbelief. Horror. ’You’re fucking with me.’ Back to horror. Exhaustion.

"You don’t have goddamn mages."