"Some meals fate cooked could only end in disaster."
~ Rebel Beast
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"We’re here, sir."
The taxi driver’s voice pulled Thamas Draco from his thoughts.
The dragon lifted his gaze toward the towering structure ahead, taking in the familiar sight of House Aetheris.
One would think that with his absence, the house would be a little subdued. Perhaps the students would feel the loss of one of their own, especially after the humiliation Rhydian had put him through.
Apparently, Thamas had expected a little too much.
Even from inside the vehicle, his enhanced hearing picked up the commotion coming from the house. There were voices everywhere, along with the unmistakable beating of wings and bursts of laughter that carried farther than they should have.
They were having quite the fun in there—without him.
A muscle ticked in Thamas’s cheek.
It shouldn’t have bothered him. He’d been gone a day, and he certainly hadn’t expected the entire house to go into mourning simply because he wasn’t there. Still, hearing everyone carrying on as if nothing happened irritated him more than he cared to admit.
"S-sir?"
Thamas finally turned his head. The driver immediately regretted calling him a second time.
The dog shifter gripped the steering wheel tighter, his throat bobbing nervously beneath Thamas’s stare. Cold sweat had already begun gathering along his forehead.
Picking up a dragon shifter was both a blessing and a curse. Dragons paid well. Extremely well when they were in the mood to do so. A driver could make more from transporting one wealthy dragon across Bestial city than he might earn from several ordinary fares combined.
The problem came when they weren’t in the mood to pay.
Dragon violence against lesser beasts was hardly unheard of. Some of them would simply leave without paying, and anyone foolish enough to challenge them risked discovering exactly how little a dragon cared about fairness when his pride was questioned.
This particular dragon looked as if he’d already had a terrible day. One of his arms was injured, his expression was murderous, and the driver had enough survival instinct not to ask what had happened to him.
Thamas glanced at the meter, then back at the driver. Using his good arm, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of gold coins he’d taken from his hoard before leaving his lair. Without bothering to count them, he dropped the entire handful onto the driver’s lap.
The driver stared down, his eyes nearly bulging out of his head. Those weren’t ordinary coins.
Gold wasn’t the currency used in Bestial City for payment, but that didn’t make the metal worthless. If anything, it was more valuable. A reputable dealer or collector would probably pay him far more for them than this entire journey was worth.
By the time the driver looked up again, Thamas had already opened the door.
"Sir, this is—"
Thamas slammed the door shut.
The driver wisely decided not to bother him. Just in case the dragon realized how much he’d handed over and decided he wanted some of it back, the dog shifter shifted the car into gear, slammed his foot on the accelerator, and disappeared down the road with enough speed to make his tires squeal.
Thamas didn’t even look back. He stood before House Aetheris, his injured arm strapped securely against his body. Beneath the bandages, pain throbbed relentlessly through the damaged limb.
As commanded by Rhydian, he had spent the past day actively fighting his body’s attempts to heal itself.
There was no greater torture than that.
Dragons possessed superior healing abilities. His body knew exactly what it was supposed to do with the damage, and every instinct inside him demanded that he surrender to the shift, allow his dragon closer to the surface, and let his natural healing take over.
Instead, he had been forced to suppress it every fucking second.
The experience was almost akin to deliberately making himself human. Weak, injured, dependent on time and medicine to repair what his own body could have fixed far more quickly.
He climbed the steps toward the entrance, already wondering what sort of reception awaited him inside. Perhaps the idiots would finally stop whatever nonsense they were doing once they saw him.
Thamas had almost reached the doors when the noise from above suddenly intensified. He stopped and lifted his head.
Something weird was going on. There was shouting, accompanied by a tremendous rush of wings.
His eyes narrowed at the sight of birds converging along the open third floor in alarming numbers. Ravens, hawks, falcons, and several other winged shifters crowded the opening, some hovering in the air while others appeared to be surrounding something he couldn’t see from below.
What the hell were they doing?
Then the entire flock erupted outward and someone fell. Thamas barely had enough time to register a flash of hair and flailing limbs before a body came hurtling over the edge.
It was a girl, and for the briefest second, he simply stared.
There was something almost absurd about the sight. House Aetheris was built for aerial creatures, and falling from one of its open floors wasn’t particularly concerning when nearly everyone living there could sprout wings before reaching the ground.
Except this girl wasn’t shifting. She was falling to her death.
Perhaps it was the shock of everything happening so quickly, but when Thamas saw her plummeting toward the ground, his instinct took over before his mind could catch up enough to ask the most obvious question.
Why the fuck was there a wingless creature in House Aetheris?
Thamas launched forward just as the girl dropped within reach. He had only one functioning arm, but that realization came approximately one second too late.
"Fuck."
He threw himself beneath her anyway. The girl slammed into him with enough force to drive the air violently from his lungs.
Thamas staggered backward, his shoes scraping against the ground as her momentum nearly sent them both crashing down.
His good arm locked around her waist while pure agony exploded through his injured shoulder when her weight knocked against it. Thamas gritted his teeth and somehow remained standing.
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