All Chapters of The Pack's Dragon: Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

Havermouth, Present Time“This spell is unfamiliar to me,” Connery commented quietly. He had watched several of the steps in silence, handing her equipment as she asked for it, waiting for the moment that she stepped back and took a breath, watching as the rust-colored liquid bubbled thickly in the vial suspended over a Bunsen burner, judging the moment that it was safe to speak. “But this…” He nodded his head to the vial. “I recognise. I always thought it somewhat misleading that it is named Dragon’s Blood after learning that dragons did, or had as I thought at the time, existed. Of course,” he added. “I understand that the reason is it’s caustic abilities. But why not just call it Spelled Acid?”“It doesn’t sound as pretty, I guess,” she slid him a small smile. She should be exhausted, she thought, but in truth she was invigorated. She wanted the spell done and her enemy’s blood on her tongue. “It’s like Demonic Ash.”“True,” he picked up the bone ash he’d prepared. “An ingredient t

An Island Somewhere, Present TimeBenethin led the way to a small bedchamber. “I will contact Arturo,” he said to Niarthen. “Tomorrow, we will accompany you to the Citadel.”They exchanged a grim look and Niarthen nodded slowly. “Tonight is for celebrating,” he said softly. “Tomorrow for war.”As Benethin returned to the main room, Lyric examined the room with fascination. There was not much to it. A stone table was placed beneath the window, with another woven seat. A carved wooden chest stood against a wall. Floorboards ran along three sides, but the center of the room was occupied by an irregular growth of… moss.She knelt by it and ran her palm over the fine leaves of its surface. “The bed that feeds off those who sleep on it?” She remembered him describing it to her. “How do I…” She adjusted her position under she could lay on it. It gave beneath her weight, moulding to her body. “Oh!” She was pleasantly surprised at how comfortable it was.It was not cool, or damp, as she would

An Island Somewhere, Present Time The Mer town was beautiful in the night, the houses and roads bathed in silvery light from the glowing plant life that, from the positions along the walkways and roads, had been deliberately planted in order to guide the way through the dark. Many of the Mer had also painted the stonework of their houses in elaborate designs that the luminist paint illuminated in the darkness. “Oh,” Lyric stopped dead to stare in awe. “It’s beautiful.” Niarthen looked around with pride, as if he had arranged the glowing display personally. “I am glad that it pleases you, Mia Persuma Inillium,” he took her hand and encouraged her forward. As they stepped out onto the street, she saw people come to their own doorways and windows. Many stepped out to stand before their houses and watch them walk down the road. Lyric blushed, clinging to Niarthen’s hand tightly. “Why…?” She started looking up at him to find him looking down at her with a smile lighting his face, his ha

Rideten, Present TimeTalen raised his eyebrows at Heath. “You start.”“I’d prefer if you did,” Heath replied warily.“Hmm,” Talen grimaced slightly. “I have nothing solid to offer you Morgana, just a… feeling. I am concerned that Stella has an agenda that we don’t understand beneath her apparently benign surface. I hope that she is what she appears to be, I really do, for your sake, Morgana, as I feel…” His eyes were gentle. “She fills a role in your life that would otherwise be absent. I hope that she honors that role, and her purpose is pure. As we know, a difference of opinion does not mean that the other person does not mean well, it just means that they view the situation through a different lens.”“She’s racist,” Heath said slowly. “We had this talk about how it would have been better for you to have gotten pregnant to a human or a witch, rather than a bunch of werewolves and a vampire. She doesn’t like us,” he decided. “She tolerates us. But she sees us,” he gestured around to

Havermouth, Present Time A knock at the door woke Sigrid from a deep sleep and she immediately reached out to check on Tom despite her sense of her mates informing her that all three were fine, if somewhat sore and exhausted from exchanging bite marks. Tom did not stir under her inspection, exhausted from blood loss. Greg was a blur as he went to the door, pressing his back against the wall as he slid a look outside through the window. “It’s a vampire,” he said. “Woman. Carrying an eskie.” “Fatima,” Sigrid realized and rose, drawing on her robe as she crossed to the door. She was too exhausted from turning Greg, and now Tom, to move so swiftly, but Greg was full of new-vampire excitement about his new abilities, and well fed having helped her to drain Tom. “Bringing supplies.” “Don’t need this, then,” Dan slid his gun back onto the table. He was gorgeously disheveled, naked, and smeared with blood and cum. Greg opened the door, unbothered by his nakedness. Fatima’s eyes went stra