Zanaikeyros - Son of Dragons (Pantheon of Dragons #1)(81)
Chapter Thirty-one The dark, inky beetle slinked into the shadows on the outdoor portico of the third floor of the Sapphire Lair, hunkering down behind an ornate iron post in the railing.
Zane’s words: As it is, I will need to feed…very soon, to replenish what was lost.
Well, thank the dark hosts, Salem thought. He was beginning to believe the dragyri would never leave his female’s side. There had not been one opportunity—not one—to get to Jordan Anderson since the two had come back through the portal.
And just what the hell was that!
Twelve pagans dead in the last five days: first, Rafael, Malandrix, and Alexian on Friday night. Then eight more shadow-walkers at the judge’s estate, not to mention the illustrious Traylyn Zerachi, slain by Zanaikeyros himself, with a bit of help from Lord Saphyrius.
Lord Hades was beside himself with fury, and Salem couldn’t blame him. This was not what he had envisioned for his beloved horde. Furthermore, he was so despondent at the loss of his familial puppets that he had considered ordering Salem out of Dragons Domain, demanding that the demon come home before completing his nefarious mission: to destroy Zanaikeyros’ mate. Salem had objected, as respectfully as he could, swearing that he could get to her before Sunday, before she entered that temple. But now, he wasn’t sure.
Zane was sticking to her side like glue.
Yet and still, he had to feed, and he had to feed soon.
That meant he would have to leave Jordan’s side to hunt and corner his prey—he would have to go back through the portal, taking a member of the Sapphire Lair with him. Yes, Salem had paid careful attention to every spoken word—he knew everything going on in The Pantheon, including last Sunday’s decree that the Genesis Sons had to travel in pairs: Levi and Axe had discussed it.
Unfortunately, what he didn’t know was when Zanaikeyros would hunt. Would he go this night, while Jordan slept, or would he slip out in the morning? The Sapphire Lair was teeming with powerful Dragyr—every single male was home—and sleeping or not, he couldn’t risk an attack on Jordan against such powerful odds.
He had to corner her alone!
Scurrying down the iron post, then dropping to the second-floor deck, beneath Zane’s, Salem made his decision. There was no point in hanging out all night, playing the incessant what-if game. He would travel beyond the Diamond Lair while he still had time. He would scope out the northernmost region of Dragons Domain and try to find these white sandy beaches. He would need to shift into his natural demon form to cover so much ground—he would need to fly beneath the cover of darkness—and pray, all the while, that none of the dragon lords were out, in their primordial, bestial forms, soaring beneath the dragon moon.
If they were, then his goose was cooked.
They would scent him in an instant.
Still, he had to risk it.
And if luck—or the power of Lord Hades—was on his side, then by sundown tomorrow, he would be waiting for Jordan and Zane in their glorious private cove. And if Zane continued to hover about his female like a swarm of mosquitos over a murky pond, then perhaps Salem would be brave enough to take another risk: to strike at the couple while they were still together, knowing there wouldn’t be any backup.
It would only take one swipe…one lunge…to take down the mortal female.
f
Macy Wilson fumbled with her remote control, trying to find a better movie on cable: something sweet and romantic…and titillating.
Something that reminded her of Dr. Kyle Parker.
She giggled beneath the sheets of her bed, fluffing the pillow behind her.
The day had been both awful and wonderful, respectively: On one hand, there had been the terrible news from the courtroom—Jordan’s courtroom—about some insane terrorist or escaped prisoner who had taken the courtroom hostage, only to be disarmed by SWAT. The details kept changing, the story kept evolving, yet they insisted that no one had been hurt. Macy had been beside herself with worry. On the other hand, she had gotten a call from Dr. Parker, which had conversely lifted her spirits. He wanted to come by her apartment on Friday night and make her a candlelit dinner.
A candlelit dinner!
It was almost too good to be true.
Granted, she was more than just a little bit loopy from her post-op medications—her four-hour doses of Vicodin and Tylenol—but she would have been just as giddy if she’d been totally sober. And as for Jordan’s plight? Well, Macy had received a text, around 12:45 AM, saying everything was fine: Jordan was still taking a couple weeks off, as intended—she still needed some time to reboot and recharge, and she would get in touch with Macy off and on, but not that often—she just needed some time and some space…
She had apologized for not texting sooner—apparently, there had been a lot of confusion and commotion following the dust-up in the courtroom—but she had insisted that everything was fine. She was safe. And she had told Macy not to waste any energy being worried.
While it wasn’t exactly unicorns and roses, it was enough to allay Macy’s fears…
At least for the time being.
At least her BFF was safe.
Now, as she snuggled beneath her warm, cozy covers, luxuriating in the soft, downy sheets, she turned her full attention to Dr. Parker…and this coming Friday night. What would she wear? What would he be wearing? How should she style her hair…and do her makeup? Would the surgeon be wearing jeans or slacks? Would she get a glimpse at his arms or his chest?