Dragon's Storm (Legion Of Angels #4)(17)

“Have you had any more visions from the Guardians?” Damiel asked me.

“No, but I have been having nightmares.”

Nero looked at me. “How long has this been going on?”

“Pretty much since we got back from the Lost City.”

A worry line formed between his eyes. He thought I was cracking under the stress of the trauma I’d experienced in the Lost City. And maybe he was right.

“What happens in these nightmares?” Damiel asked.

“I am stuck in a volcano, being slowly boiled alive.”

“You’re worried about your training with the Dragons,” Nero said.

“I know.” It didn’t take a degree in psychology for me to understand that.

I was leaving today for Storm Castle to undergo elemental magic training that would prepare me for the next level. I’d heard stories about Storm Castle, stories of being subjected to the elements in extreme, magical conditions far beyond the ordinary. It was the Legion’s tried and true way to prime our magic, to build up our resistance, to increase our chances of surviving the gods’ fourth gift. The gift of elemental magic.

“But I’ll be fine,” I said quickly. “What doesn’t kill you, only makes you stronger, right?”

I flashed him a big, confident smile to cover up my complete lack of confidence. The wound I’d received from an immortal weapon was interfering with my training. Whenever I pushed myself too hard, it flared up. That meant I was slower and weaker than I needed to be. I wasn’t ready for intense training, training that would likely open up old wounds—and create lots of new ones.

Then again, when would I ever be ready? I had to train, to level up my magic so I could gain the power I needed to find Zane. I’d joined the Legion for that single purpose, and I was not about to allow a pesky immortal weapon wound to stop me.

“And how are your preparations for your level ten trials coming along, Nero?” his father asked.

Nero said nothing. His default response to his father was no response.

“The trials will be difficult, like nothing you’ve ever faced before. The gods—”

Nero lifted his hand, interrupting his father.

“Have you asked Damiel for help?” I asked Nero.

“No.”

Damiel flipped the pancakes, a resigned look on his face.

“You really should. He’s been through it. He can help you,” I said.

“I don’t trust him. He’s hiding something.” He looked at his father. “I can feel it.”

Damiel clicked his tongue. “I can feel you trying to break through my mind, Nero. You aren’t strong enough. Not yet. You need to grow your magic. You should listen to Leda. I can help you survive the trials.”

“The last time you offered to help me, I nearly died. You are not a good teacher.”

“That was centuries ago, Nero.”

“You haven’t changed. You’re incapable of changing,” said Nero. “No, I will do this alone. You aren’t supposed to tell me anything anyway. It’s forbidden to speak of the trials.”

“The Legion holds no sway over me. Not anymore.”

Nero’s eyes were as hard as green diamonds. “You might have turned your back on everything we believe in, but I have not. My answer is no.”

I didn’t want Nero to die. He had to survive, Legion be damned.

“A few tips wouldn’t hurt, right?” I said to him.

He shook his head. “I don’t break the rules.”

“We’ve broken quite a few rules lately.”

Our mission to the Lost City. Keeping the secret about my brother’s powers and my ability to control beasts. Hiding the weapons and armor of heaven and hell. The list just went on and on.

“I did what I had to in order to protect you,” Nero said. “But I won’t cheat on a test for my own personal gain. There’s no honor in that.”

“Did it ever occur to you that I want to protect you? That I don’t want the trials to kill you?”

Dipping his forehead to mine, he wrapped his arms around me.

“You made a good choice. I didn’t expect this of you, Nero. So impulsive. So angelic. So incredibly unlike you,” Damiel said with an approving nod.

I met Nero’s eyes. “What is he talking about? What choice?”

“Nothing.” He glowered at his father.

“He’s marked you as his, my dear.” Damiel inhaled deeply. “I can smell him all over you.”

“Marked me? What does that even mean?”

“He’s marked you with his scent, his magic. Anyone with supernatural senses can smell it. It’s especially potent to other angels. He’s broadcasting that you’re under his protection. That you belong to him. And that anyone who hurts you will answer to him.”

I lifted my arm and sniffed. Damiel was right. I smelled like Nero. But when… Just now, I realized. Those kisses. I brushed my hand across my lips. The blood exchange that had felt better than any we’d had before. I dropped my hand to my neck. He’d marked me. Without asking.

“Why?” I choked out. My shoulders shook with anger.

“Nero gave you a book on angels,” Damiel said. “You should know how territorial we are. Why do you think Nyx has only one angel assigned to each territory with a lot of space between us? It’s because when we get too close, we start fighting over property.”