Page 137 of Hateful Prince

I took to the sky, leaving Dahlia in the care of her other mates. They would see to her, but this? This was mine.

My gift to her.

My purpose.

My destiny.

I skimmed across the treetops, not needing to go far at all before I spotted the pathetic excuse for a being bolting through the forest. He was nothing compared to me. Less than a worm writhing on a hook. He was insignificant.

And he was about to be dead.

It would be easy to burn him to ashes here and now, but by the looks of my gem, he’d tortured her. Taken his time. Made it hurt. That’s exactly what I would do.

Swooping down fast, I knocked him to the rocky ground, watching with glee as he rolled down the hill and hit stone after stone, blood blossoming on his cheek and lip.

“D-dragon. Stop!” he cried as he got to his feet.

I reared back and shot fire at his feet, making him dance to avoid the flames.

Part of me wanted to play with him, but then the arsehole made the mistake of pulling his weapon. He grinned a savage, unrepentant smile as he brandished a blade covered in what could only be Dahlia’s blood.

“She bled so prettily for me,” he sneered.

They were the last words he ever uttered. Without hesitation, I drew my fire from deep in my belly and lit up the night sky as I let it pour out in a jet of merciless death. He never even had a chance to scream. By the time I stopped, all that was left of him was an oily scorch mark and a melted dagger. And unfortunately, a few smoldering tree stumps.

Alas, a dragon’s vengeance was rarely without casualties. But this time I carried none of the guilt. He deserved to be sent straight to the underworld. I only hoped Hades would get the chance to greet him at the gates and spend eternity punishing him for every vile thing he did.

One death was far too few after all the lives he took.

Hell, one death was too few after he dared touch what was mine.

Taking to the sky, I let out another furious cry. Although this time, instead of vengeance, it was one of victory. The Ripper was gone. Dahlia was safe. And I?

I was whole.

Chapter

Forty-One

DEATH

They’re not even making this a challenge. I stretched and rolled my neck as my astral projection returned to my physical form. Poor sweet Dahlia. She was quite battered this time. Those marks would scar, most certainly, but I was confident that the reminder of how close she came to the end would help her stay the course when it mattered most.

This was twice now I’d saved her from that asinine ritual—which wouldn’t even work, BTW. I was like her Phantom of the Opera—minus the mask and the singing. Her Angel of Music. I saved her and watched over her. Soon, she’d be calling for me and begging for my help. Just like I’d planned.

Master plans really were glorious. Like a cascade of dominos.

“You look like day-old shit.”

“I know you are, but what am I?” I shot back at Grim. Gods, he was the most frustrating creature. Word to the wise: never plan world domination using your ex as a means to an end. Not unless you’re a masochist.

“You’ve really let yourself go. Where’s that biting wit?”

My head hurt, and I couldn’t tell if it was because of the astral projection or the annoyance Grim caused me.

“You won’t be so eager to tease me when our next guest arrives.” I inhaled deeply and smiled as I felt the energy in the room charge. “He’s on his way. Mmm, it’s so delicious, the power I have contained in this tiny space.”

“You can’t possibly think you’re going to get away with this.”