I tightened my grip enough to leave a decent bruise. Orange said nothing. Eventually I had to let her go; I wanted Mischa repaired. I kept a close eye, making sure she did nothing but close the wound.

She was fast, her power leaving tingles on my tongue as it coated the room. But she did as she said, the wound was sealed. My sister was deathly white as I reached out and felt for her pulse. It was weak, erratic. I hoped she would be okay now that her blood was staying on the inside. Plus she was marked, she couldn’t die from blood loss, could she?

I must have murmured something about that out loud, because Lemon snorted. “The king is free, all marked can now die.” She took great delight in telling me this.

Say what? What happened to our immortality? And more importantly, if the marked could die…

“I guess that means you both can die now too.” I gently set my sister aside, standing in a smooth motion. Shit was about to get real.

I was preparing to launch in their direction when a deep voice shattered the room. “You might be my beloved, but I cannot have you hurt my daughters.” The powerful timbre echoed off the rock and froze my feet to the spot.

Dread settling heavily in my gut, I turned, hoping like heck I was wrong, but somehow I knew who would be stepping through that portal. Sure enough, as I faced my fear, a massive male filled the gateway, blocking the burning world behind him.

He was tall, bigger than any of the Compasses, with dark honey-blond hair and piercing eyes of undetermined color … maybe gray. Dressed all in black, like a weird armor made from … fuck, it looked like scales, which shimmered as he moved. He stepped into the room and I fell to my knees. His power was strong and it was sweet, like a river of honey washing over me. I knew I would drown if this continued, but it was so sweet and tantalizing, I didn’t even care.

Something tapped at a corner of my mind. It took me a few heartbeats to realize it was my dragon. She’d crawled out of her space in my center, her energy now prowling around my head. I didn’t hesitate, reaching for her, knowing she might be my one chance to fight the king. With a flash of ancient energy – power which felt methodically cold, but with a touch of dragon heat – clarity returned to me, clearing the vestiges of the spell I was under. I regained thought, and remembered who I was.

Jessa Lebron, daughter of Jonathon, mate of Braxton, and nothing to do with this imposter.

I rose, my movements calculated. That bastard had rolled me good, but he wouldn’t catch me off guard again. First thing first … had he said Lemon and Orange were his…