Dragon's Storm (Legion Of Angels #4)(22)

“I cannot leave him unattended. He’s very good at escaping his restraints.”

“You could have waited with him.”

“In that freezing rain?”

“It is the lesser of two evils.”

“Only for the person who is standing warm and dry inside.”

“You would only have to wait there until the decontamination team arrived.”

The Legion took decontamination seriously. As soon as the team smelled the werewolf, they would burn off his clothes and give him a telekinetic shower that fried the muck off of him, down to the last dirty particle.

The secretary and soldier were still arguing over the werewolf when I passed through the door that led past the reception hall. Back here, it was just as full as up front. Soldiers in workout suits, soldiers in uniforms headed to or from missions. Lately, there hadn’t been any downtime at the office. Train, work, level up your magic or die. That was pretty routine for the Legion, but there were usually a few bright spots in between. Nights off, drinking Nectar drops, music, and dancing—just a little fun here and there to forget about all the horrible things in the world.

I was passing by my friend Nerissa’s lab on the way to my apartment when raised voices attracted my attention. Colonel Fireswift was in there. Ignoring my body’s desperate plea for a warm shower, I stopped. The Colonel was a jackass, and he was terrorizing my friend. I couldn’t abandon Nerissa now.

“Eight soldiers have come to me, each one with a note signed by you, Dr. Harding. A note that declares them too unwell to participate in the upcoming promotion ceremony.”

“It is against the Legion’s regulations to force sick soldiers to drink the gods’ Nectar,” Nerissa said.

“Sick soldiers,” Colonel Fireswift repeated with disgust. “There is nothing wrong with them besides their cowardice. And you are covering for them.”

Colonel Fireswift was an ass, but he wasn’t wrong. He’d made it his mission to level up the magic of as many soldiers as possible, no matter the cost. He considered the people who died in the ceremony to be casualties of war. He was a firm believer of thinning the herd. To him, those people would never have made it to a high enough level to be useful. The problem was Colonel Fireswift had a really narrow view of what constituted as useful.

Nerissa had a mission of her own. She was going to save anyone she thought wouldn’t survive the Nectar. She saw it as her duty as both a doctor and a decent human being. Her plan and Colonel Fireswift’s were fundamentally opposed.

“I have had enough of your incessant meddling and rule-breaking, Dr. Harding. The time you waste interfering with the smooth operation of the Legion could be put to far better use. You need to worry about yourself instead.” He waved his hand in the air, and a magical projection lit up the space in front of him. “You will head to Storm Castle with the other candidates for level four. Let’s just see if the Dragons’ training can’t cure you of your penchant for pissing me off.” He added her name to the end of the list etched in golden light, then swiped the magical projection away.

Nerissa just gaped at him, speechless.

“What’s wrong?” he asked smugly. “No snappy comeback?”

“Leave her alone,” I told him, putting steel into my voice.

Surprise froze Colonel Fireswift for a moment, but he quickly recovered his arrogance. He turned and walked out of the room, leaving Nerissa to pick up the pieces of her shattered life. I could see it in her eyes. She was sure she was going to die. Well, not if I could help it.

“Your impudence is rubbing off on your friends,” Colonel Fireswift told me. He towered over me like an ogre. “The First Angel thinks you’re special.” He made a derisive noise. He didn’t share Nyx’s opinion. He’d told me that countless times. “What’s this?” His nostrils flared. “Windstriker,” he spoke Nero’s name as though it were a curse.

He must have smelled Nero on me. Nero’s mark was gone, but his scent was still all over me. Colonel Fireswift could probably smell him in every spot he’d kissed me.

“As I thought.” His nose crinkled with disgust. “It must be exhilarating for a nobody like you to have an angel enthralled with you. You might think you’re filling that sad, hollow hole in him left by his dead parents. But you never will. You are nothing. A nice piece of ass, a way to pass some time, but in the end, nothing. Trash is trash.” He lifted his hand toward me.

My hand darted down to my whip. The electrically-charged cord hissed, catching his hand before he could make contact with me.

“You won’t lay a hand on me,” I ground out through clenched teeth.

“This is insubordination.”

“By not letting you mark me? Again.”

His eyebrows drew together. “So you know.”

“Yes,” I said. “This isn’t insubordination. It is self-defense.”

“You are out of line.”

“No, you are out of line, Colonel. I am not your property.”

“But you are Windstriker’s?” A cold smile spread across his lips. “You are nothing. A mere distraction, a tiny pawn in a game of giants. A game you do not even understand.”

Pawn. He used that word like he knew it would be the one to strike the right cord. He was right.

Colonel Fireswift pushed against my whip, reaching for me. He was going to mark me again. I felt it with every drop of magic in me. And there was no way I was going to let that happen. I stepped back and pulled, tightening the whip’s hold around his arm. Lightning sparked, singeing his skin. He didn’t wince, didn’t blink. Not even a little.