Dragonmark (30 page)

Illarion finally approached them.
I'm glad that's settled. Not even a little.

Savitar laughed bitterly. “You're right. Nothing's over. This is just the beginning. Wait until Zeus and Apollo hear of it.” He glanced around at the faces and animals.…

Apollites, lions, eagles, falcons, hawks, tigers, wolves, bears, panthers, jackals, leopards, snow leopards, jaguars, cheetahs, and dragons.

“What the hell was Dagon thinking?”

Max let out his own exhausted breath. “That his wife was grieving for her brother and that he had the magick to make it better and to save the lives of her nephews.”

“You consider
this
better?”

Max shrugged at Savitar's question. “Better than death? Aye. Barely.”

“And you, dragon, are an idiot.”

“I've been called worse.” He glanced to Illarion. “And that was just a few hours ago by my brother.”

Illarion scoffed.
Seconds ago, actually.

Savitar shook his head as he met the gaze of the princess. “Those are the first of their kind you're carrying, you know that, right?”

Her face had gone pale. “What?”

“You conceived them after your husband had been transformed. The good news is, they won't die of the Apollite curse that comes with Eumon's bloodline. The bad news is, the gods won't be happy that your prince thwarted said curse.” Savitar growled in aggravation. “There's only so much mitigating I can do. Knowing the gods and those bitches in particular, I can tell you this isn't over. They will have something new in store for us all. And it won't be merciful.”

And he'd been right. In spite of the evidence, and Helena's testimony over what had happened, Max had been found guilty during that first Omegrion meeting. When Illarion went to testify, Max had kept him out of it, lest he implicate himself and come under fire.

Better one should be marked than both. He'd pressed upon Illarion the necessity of keeping Helena safe and fulfilling their promise to Eumon. Something they couldn't do if they were both being hunted.

So he'd been marked while Illarion had been left as a Katagari guard for the first Arcadian princes born to a human mother.

But for Max and Illarion, there would have been no Were-Hunters spared the sword.

Only Linus and Eumon.

It was why Illarion hated all of them so.

Lycaon would have gladly slaughtered the rest to spare his two sons from the wrath of the Olympian gods.

One wolf and one dragon.

The worst irony was that neither he nor his brother even held a seat at the very council that had been started because of them. Rather Helena and another Drakos born from an earlier experiment between an Apollite slave and dragon had taken the first Regis positions. Helena as the Arcadian Regis, until her eldest son, Pharell, had been old enough to inherit it, and Cromus, who ceded his place to Helena's Katagari son, Portheus, when he'd come of age.

Linus had been left to found the same wolf bloodline that had led to Vane, Fang, and Fury. His ruthless need to put down all the others and rule them had forced Savitar to create the limanis such as Sanctuary so that the Were-Hunters would have some refuge from the gods and others out to slaughter them needlessly.

Now, Savitar pulled back and lightened the room. One by one, he met the gaze of those seated at the council table. “There you have it. Yes, Max technically drew first Were-Hunter blood, but he did so in protection of you all. Are you really going to be as the first council and condemn him again, knowing that?”

Damos Kattalakis, the direct descendent of Eumon and Helena who currently held the Arcadian Drakos seat, rose. Slowly, cautiously, he approached Max and Illarion.

His face unreadable, he removed the feathered mask that covered the Sentinel marks on his face. Running his hand over the scales and delicate workmanship, he studied the mask before he spoke. “It is the custom of my patria to make these out of the remains of the Katagaria we've slain. It's done to remind us that while they are animals, we are not. That we are civilized and descended from the blood of princes. In particular, Eumon Kattalakis.”

He dropped the mask to the floor and met Max's gaze, then Illarion's. “I don't know why my great-grandmother failed to tell us of you, but I promise that if I should be fortunate enough to have dragonets one day, they will know the truth and what we owe our Katagaria cousins.” Striking his shoulder with his fist, he saluted Max and Illarion. “Thank you for saving my family. As the head of the Kattalakis Drakos, I swear that should we ever hear the Bane-Cry of you, or your mates or children, every member of our patria will answer. On our honor.”

Max inclined his head and saluted him back. “Thank you.”

Smiling, Damos drew him in for a hug, then Illarion. “My father rolls in his grave.” He turned back at Savitar and scowled. “Is this why you've always hated me?”

Savitar nodded. “Sins of the father, brother. Sins of the father. But today, you took the right step. And I saw it.”

Snorting, Damos appeared less than amused as he turned toward Dare Kattalakis. “What of you, cousin?”

“They can kiss my furry ass. We're still at war.”

“You should have eaten the wolves, little brother.” Everyone in the room turned to look at Falcyn for his dry, emotionless, and very callous words.

He stared back, completely unrepentant. “Just saying. They're crispy when fried. Lean meat. Low gristle. It would have saved everyone the migraine of dealing with them now.”

Fury choked. “Speaking as one of the wolves, I'm extremely offended by that.”

“Good,” Falcyn said without a hint of remorse or apology in his tone. “I've offended wolves and Were-Hunters alike. All I need to do now is feed on a cute, cuddly baby and my work for the day is done.”

Blaise smacked Falcyn on the chest. “Don't worry, he's part Charonte. Hand him some barbecue sauce and he's happy.”

Falcyn passed such an irritable scowl at Blaise that even though he was blind, Blaise felt it and shrank back—not in fear, but from common sense.

“He's not Charonte,” Max said drily. “That would be too easy an excuse for him, and there really isn't one. He's just an irritable bastard.… Much like Savitar.”

Savitar arched his brow. “I save your ass and you take a swipe at me? Really?”

“I'd apologize, but you hate insincerity more than you do insults.”

“Yeah, I do.” Savitar eyed the council members. “Well, we know where the dragons stand and where the wolves are officially.…” He looked at Vane for confirmation on their stance.

Vane cut a vicious glare at his litter mate, Dare. “Officially, the Kattalakis Lykos, both Arcadian and Katagaria, consider Max a brother. We have no issue with him and vote that the mark be stricken.”

“I second that,” Fury concurred. “And I hope you choke on it, Dare. It
and
my furry ass.”

Dare took a step forward, but his sister caught him and kept him from doing something profoundly stupid. Like attacking his brothers in front of the Omegrion and Savitar.

Savitar turned his attention to the other Kattalakis Drakos, who was standing with Dare and Star. Tall and dark, the Katagari Regis favored Fang more than the others.

His ebony eyes flashed as he considered his response. After a few seconds, he pulled the silver dragon pendant from his neck and looked down at it resting in his palm. “I grew up with stories about the Dragonbane and how he killed the first Arcadian in cold, vicious blood, and started our war of species. My father impressed upon me that we were never to be such animals. That we should strive to find the human in us, even when it seemed buried and lost.” He glanced to Dare and Star. “I'm thinking that my father was wrong. We should have embraced the Drakos more than that so-called humanity.”

Darion came forward to lay his pendant in Illarion's hand. “I vote to remove the mark and I cede my seat at the council to the rightful heir. You are the one made from Prince Eumon's blood, not my family. It's only right that you should be the one making the laws for our people.”

Illarion shook his head.
I can't take this.

Darion held his hands up and stepped back. “You are Regis, Stra Drago. I refuse my seat. I have no right to it.”

Savitar glanced around to the rest of the Omegrion members. “For the sake of brevity, I'm assuming the rest of you concur. Is there anyone who objects?”

Dante Pontis, the Katagaria panther Regis, held his hand up. With long dark hair he wore in a ponytail, he was the epitome of a disgruntled predator. “I'm not protesting, but I have a question.” He turned toward Maxis. “Why were you marked originally?”

Max shrugged nonchalantly. “I'm an asshole.”

Dante grinned. “While, as a fellow asshole myself, I can respect that. Care to elaborate?”

“The council mood back then was a lot different. They were still raw and pissed off from being held in a cage and experimented on. They'd just been told about the curse the Fates had handed down, that we couldn't choose our mates. They'd be assigned to us, whether we wanted them or not—and that the Fates had decreed eternal war between our species.”

And human rationale was new to the animals,
Illarion inserted.
They were angry and lashing out at everyone, especially my brother and me.

Max nodded. “When they started to attack me, I reacted as any drakomas would. I told them to fuck themselves and attacked back.”

Savitar snorted disdainfully. “Talk about putting lipstick on a pig.… You are allowed to say that you reacted badly.”

“All right, I reacted badly.”

“Yeah, that's an exaggeration,” Savitar said under his breath.

Max feigned indignation. “I don't know what you're talking about. It's been a million years since I last exaggerated about anything.”

Savitar rolled his eyes.

“Anyway,” Max continued. “I lost my temper over their accusations and…” He pointed up at the ceiling. “You can still see some of the marks where the fighting broke out and we almost burned down the building.”

“That's where I reacted badly.” Savitar flashed a fake smile. “As a result, Max was condemned and I was in no mood to refute or acquit their unanimous decision. We all had a very bad day.”

“And I've had a few more,” Max whispered loudly.

“Yeah. Sorry about that.” Savitar crossed his arms over his chest.

“Wow,” Dante said in a sarcastic tone. “Sounds like the mood I was in when I mounted my brother's hide to the wall of my club.”

Savitar nodded. “Basically … So, we are all in accord?”

“Yes.” Fury flashed a devilish grin. “Dare is an asshole and nobody likes him, at all.”

Dare started for him.

Fury bared his teeth. “Bring it, you little punk bastard! Let's go! You and me. Here and now! I'm ready to pick your fur out of my teeth! C'mon!”

Vane caught Fury and pushed him back toward Max. “Did you by chance bring a leash? Or a muzzle?”

“No, but I'm thinking I should have.”

Just as Dare broke loose to run at Fury, who was still taunting him and questioning his parentage, a bright flash lit the room, causing him to pull up short.

All movement stopped as Cadegan and Thorn appeared near Savitar. Both bleeding and in bad physical shape. Like near-death bad. They lay in a tangled heap at Savitar's feet.

Thorn had his arms around Cadegan as if he'd barely gotten them out of a nasty situation right before they'd been torn apart. The paleness of his bruised features added further testimony to that assumption.

Stunned to see the two well-seasoned warriors like that, Illarion didn't move. Thorn had been born an ancient warlord, and had thousands of years of heavy combat experience against the damned and demented. Cadegan was a demon and Addanc of incredible power and skill.

One thing those two knew how to do …

Fight. Especially anything fanged, clawed, winged, and preternatural.

His breathing ragged, Thorn cupped Cadegan's face in a strangely tender gesture. “You still with me, little brother?”

“Ach, aye, boyo, but only because me Jo would kick me arse if I didn't come home to her.”

Analise Romano, who was the Arcadian Regis for the snow leopards and a doctor, rushed from her seat to Cadegan to check on him.

Thorn carefully ceded his brother's care over to her before he stood and wiped the blood from his lips. He looked first to Fang, then Savitar. “Remember that situation I mentioned?”

“Blew up a bit?” Savitar asked sarcastically.

“Like your temper on Olympus during a full moon party. Needless to say, we have a massive problem. And our names are engraved all over that apple of fun.” Thorn moved to drape one arm over Styxx's shoulder and the other over Acheron's. “Checked on Mom lately?”

Acheron visibly cringed. “Ah God, what's she done now?”

“Well,” Thorn tightened his arm around both their necks, “I've just
got
to know … whose bright idea was it to surrender Apollo's custody to her?”

Styxx made the same grimace Acheron had worn a moment ago. “That idiot would be me. Why? What did I do?”

Thorn released Acheron to playfully slap Styxx on the face and squish his cheeks together. “Mama Apollymi found him a new playmate,” he said in the same falsetto people used when talking to small children. “She fed his ass to Kessar, and aren't we happy he has a new friend to play with, boys and girls?” He shook his head. “No … no, we're not. In fact, I want to bitch-slap you.”

“Oh dear gods.” Zakar repeated Acheron's words and stumbled back. “Please tell me she didn't.”

With a sarcastic, hysterical laugh, Thorn released Styxx, stepped back, and clapped his hands together. “No, wait! It gets so much better! You haven't even heard the good part yet. No! Yeah … she decided it would be a great idea to turn Apollo into a blood-bitch like you were, Z. Yes … yes, she did.”