Feel the Burn (Dragon Kin #8)(38)

“Where’s your mama?”

“Outside. Waiting for you.”

“Then we’d best go to her.”

Still holding his son, Roland walked out the large double doors and onto the stairs, with de Vitis behind him.

Roland’s beautiful wife, Ageltrude, stood waiting with her orphaned nephew and niece. They were the children of Ageltrude’s brother who’d died many years ago. Armed and ready, they protected their aunt without question. Something Roland appreciated.

The early morning suns beamed down on his wife’s regal head. She was everything Roland could ask for in a woman. Intelligent. Beautiful. Royal. Pure.

In their ten years together, she’d given Roland four beautiful sons and a wealth of excellent advice. She was also dedicated to his god and, Roland truly believed, a gift from Chramnesind himself for loyal service.

“Ready, my love?” he asked.

“Of course.” She tightened the fur cape around her shoulders and walked down the stairs, leading the way for the rest of them.

Roland happily followed, watching his wife as she moved. Laughing, she looked over her shoulder at him, and said, “A beautiful sacrifice to our god.”

He had to agree, for the screams of dying heretics were music to the ears of Chramnesind.

Roland glanced around at the field of those who would not submit to Chramnesind. In order to save their wretched souls, each heretic was held or tied down and molten silver poured into their eyes. It was an excruciating death, but it purified them. Brought them closer to Chramnesind. A gift, really.

So the screams and cries of those not already dead . . . ? Nothing but hymns of praise to the one true god.

When they reached their carriage, de Vitis took Roland’s son from his arms and placed him inside. Ageltrude turned to him, smiled in that beautiful way she had.

“Anything I need to know?” she asked quietly.

“They lost the Quintilian King.”

Her beautiful eyes darkened and Roland knew that she was angry. Not with him, but with incompetence. His wife had no patience for incompetence. “That is unfortunate.”

“Do not worry. We’ll get him—and if he does truly know anything, we will cut it out of him.”

She let out a breath, smiled. “I don’t worry when you’re in charge.” She pressed her hand to his cheek and kissed him softly on the lips. “Now . . . let’s go home before that smell of burned flesh invades all my clothes.”

Chapter Thirteen

Gaius slowly woke up. He felt warm and safe and very comfortable. The Southlanders had the best beds. So good, in fact, he let himself luxuriate in that warm, comfortable feeling until he heard snoring. Deep, loud snoring.

Male snoring.

Gaius forced his eyes open and immediately noticed that his arms were around tiny Tatyana Shestakova. But she wasn’t the one snoring. That was Ivan Khoruzhaya behind her.

Even more horrifying, Yelena Khoruzhaya was pressed up against Gaius’s back.

What the hell had happened last night? What the hell was happening right now?

Gaius sat up and barked, “By Iovis’s cock, what is happening here?”

Marina Aleksandrovna, who slept by Gaius’s feet, lifted her head, stared at him a moment, then turned over and seemingly went back to sleep.

So Gaius dropped his head back and unleashed flame, burning the ceiling above and rousing every Rider near him as they reached for and brandished their closest weapons.

That’s when Kachka Shestakova slowly sat up. She was on the far side of the bed, her eyes bleary from drink. She yawned and scratched her head as she gazed at him. “What?”

“Why are all these people in my bed?”

“My bed, royal. This is my bed. Not yours. I allow you to sleep here. And I allowed them to sleep here. I do not see what problem is.”

The door to the bedroom slammed open. Dagmar Reinholdt stood in the doorway with her mate. She took one look and her hand covered her open mouth, her eyes widened in shock and despair.

Her mate, however, began to laugh—until Dagmar brought her fist down very close to his balls.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“King Gaius,” Dagmar began, “I am so sorry about this.”

“Sorry for what?” Kachka demanded. “We do nothing wrong. It is not like we f*cked him while he slept.” She abruptly looked at Ivan Khoruzhaya. “Did we?”

“Why are you looking at me?”

“Because you are male. And if there is hole, you must fill it.”

“Well, I did not fill any of his holes.”

Unable to listen to another second, Gaius roared, “Get the f*ck out of my bed!”

“Not your bed. My bed.”

“Shut up!”

“I saved your life!” Kachka shot back.

“You should have left me to die!”

“Next time I will!”

“I do not understand,” Dagmar snarled, “why you did not just take him to one of the many rooms we have available.”

“You all waste space. I do not understand why you waste so much space! And it is not like he is so important.”

Fed up, Gaius took in a breath, ready to unleash flame that would destroy every Rider . . . and most likely the entire room. He didn’t care. He cared about nothing at the moment. Because this was ridiculous!