Page 4 of The Dragon's Omega
At no point did I want any of these Synn alphas thinking I was perfuming for them.
“What happened to him?” I asked in a strained whisper. My heart rebelled at the thought of hearing his story, like she wasn’t ready for more tragedy, still raw from everything else, but I needed the distraction.
“Hunters want dragon treasure.” Dewey shrugged when I peeked up at him, his grip on my wrist starting to throb. “We’re not the only humans who know, remember? There’s, like, secret societies who are super pro-supe, or super against them. Vampire hunters— Dad even poached shapeshifters in Brazil once. You should hear his stories. Totally wild.”
He met my look of horror with a smirk.
“Anyway, dragons collect stuff. Gold, jewels, books, weird art shit—that’s their big vice, and they hoard it all away like misers. In the grand scheme of supes, they’re also super OP.” I rolled my eyes at the slang: OP, overpowered. “But there’s a weakness riiiight over their hearts.” He made a cross on his chest, just below his black bowtie. “From what Dad says, if you can wedge something between two specific scales, you can hit ’em in the heart but they don’t die. They just shut down enough for you to rob them. Kinda like putting a shark on its back and they just float there. Tonic immobility, I think, is what Dad called it?—”
“That’s super shitty.” I stuttered to a full stop, awash with a fury that came out of nowhere. Dewey gripped my wrist tighter as I glowered up at him. “What the hell?”
One of the other meatheads tsked behind us, the second chiming in with a tut and a rumble. While these Synn boys weren’t exactly strict traditionalists, I’d gleaned their opinions on ‘good omega’ behavior over the last two months, and I barely fit the bill. They were all over social media, half naked, fully naked, blasting their stupid thoughts and faux facts far and wide. But their omega, it seemed, had to be sweet and demure. Someone who minded her Ps and Qs, especially in public.
Swearing, no matter how mild, always made them grimace.
As did my blue highlights last month, then the deep, luxe violet ones this month.
Oh, and the large-scale leg tattoos they hadn’t seen yet? Yeah, that would go over swimmingly.
We weren’t a fit, but I needed them, and they seemed to relish the thought of an older omega desperate for a pack—so desperate that she might bend and snap to their every whim once the bond was in place.
Something to deal with later, once I knew Louis and Dad were in good hands.
“Dad and his pack went from allies to caretakers when it all went down,” Dewey told me, casting a dismissive glance toward the giant mythical being dozing below. “Kind of annoying, but, y’know, it is what it is. He used to be really involved with Summer Solstice.”
My frown had him smirking again, as though he’d hooked me at the mention of the stupid beach festival Pack Synn hosted every year. “The fire wall? His fire. It looks insane in person. Dad says ol’ Vidar would go out in his dragon form at dawn—he’s a shapeshifter, mind you—and he’d let out this massive breath of fire. Then he would fly around, bellowing, putting on a show before the general public showed up. We saw it a few times as kids. Nuts.”
“Now we light it with torches,” Chad told me, sauntering a few paces over the gravel, arms crossed and eyes narrowed as they swept across the golden beast. “Night before the festival?—”
“Tonight,” Thad added pointlessly.
“We come down here, get him to blow, and bring the fire to the festival grounds on his behalf.”
“You don’t need to feed dragonfire, so once it catches, that baby will burn for at least two whole days like it’s freshly lit,” Dewey finished for them, “and Vidar gets to just lounge in his little den.”
I blinked incredulously at the sneering alpha, then refocused on the miracle at the bottom of the hill. It didn’t strike me as lounging if he was too injured to move. It sounded like… being stuck. Caged. Trapped in your own body?—
Like Louis.
Clearing my throat, I shook off the grief, the sadness, the loss, and did my best to stay rooted in the situation at hand. Dragons were real. The Summer Solstice Festival was tomorrow, and now that I’d seen Synn legacy with my own eyes, our bond was imminent.
Which no doubt meant I’d be expected to put on a show this weekend.
Summer Solstice Festival had started as a casual beachfront bonfire for locals back when Cedar Cove was in its infancy. Under Pack Synn’s management, however, it had slowly blossomed into a two-day rager on the beach. From humble beginnings to an obnoxious music festival, I was in for fire-eaters, food trucks, and a lot of liquor. This was barely the fun family-friendly event promised in the brochure. This was influencer paradise, full of booze, drugs, and rutting alphas hunting for their next hit in the crowd. Tickets cost a fortune. Under the intense June sun, it’d be hot, packed, and hazy.
And Synn alphas were always the stars of the show.
My waking nightmare, honestly.
The fire wall had been a massive attraction since the start. It ran a full mile along the beach and soared a good fifty feet tall—though I had always assumed the numbers were greatly exaggerated.
As was the fun.
As was the source. Pack Synn claimed ownership for everything Summer Solstice, from the musical lineup to the prestigious culinary offerings to the bonds forged in the pit. They boasted about the fire wall. Used it in all their marketing.
But it was because of him.
Vidar.