Fang and Claw: Nocturne Academy, Book 2, стр. 113

“Well, what’s done is done,” I told her. “Maybe once Kaitlyn and I are Blood-Bonded in a couple of years we’ll come back and be able to start fresh.”

She frowned. “Must you bond her to you, Son? You can have a Joining ceremony and still not take such a final step.”

“Mother, I love her,” I said gently. “I want her to be mine in every way possible—and I want to belong to her as well.”

She sighed. “I understand, I suppose. It just worries me—you Blood-Bonding yourself to a non-Drake. Once you do that, your lives are entwined forever. If she dies, so will you and vice versa.”

“Nocturnes have extremely long life-times,” I reminded my mother. Though we had been hiding Kaitlyn’s Nocturne status from the rest of the Court—it was bad enough for them to think I had chosen a human for a L’lorna without admitting that she was actually another kind of Other—I could hide nothing from my own mother.

“I know.” She smiled at me sadly. “I just want you to have a safe and happy life, Ari.” She patted my cheek. “But it seems your Drake has other plans for you. He always was one to go his own way.”

I could certainly attest to that. When I was younger, my Drake had gotten me into many different scrapes by being so stubborn and obstinate about having his own way. But I couldn’t help agreeing with his choice of Kaitlyn as our L’lorna—there was something special about her—something no one but my Drake and I could see and he had seen it first when he chose her.

I loved her as deeply and unconditionally as he did—I only hoped that my mother was right and I could make Kaitlyn see and understand that sometime in the future.

I bid my mother goodnight and promised to write her regular letters from the human world, which would be carried by some of the other Drakes in my class at Nocturne Academy when they went back and forth to Court. As I always did, I felt better after talking to her. I and my Sire didn’t always see eye-to-eye and my Drake had often chafed under his rule, but my mother was the peace-maker between us and she always had words of wisdom for me.

I left her chambers, lost in thought. I had my head down and was considering her advice to just be patient with Kaitlyn, which is probably why I didn’t see the danger coming my way.

As I rounded the corner which led to the wing where my own chambers were located, four males rushed out of the shadows and hard hands gripped me.

“Get him!” I heard one of them say—a familiar voice, though it was one I hadn’t heard since I’d left Nocturne Academy. “Get the manacles on him quick!”

I started to shift a once—of course I did—my Drake could fight off my attackers much more quickly and efficiently than I could. But before I could let him out, I felt something cold and hard being locked around my wrists.

Ignoring this, I tried once more to let my Drake out. But he couldn’t come. I felt him roaring and beating his wings restlessly inside me but for the first time in my life, I couldn’t let him out—couldn’t let the other half of myself go free.

What was wrong with us? Why couldn’t he come out?

“Got him,” the same familiar voice said. “Good luck letting your Drake out now, Alpha-to-be. Not wearing these inhibitor manacles.”

Looking down, I saw I was indeed wearing two thick bands of greenish-gray metal like large bracelets. The metal was studded with gaudy dark red stones like garnets—Blood Stones, I saw. They had magical properties and could be used as both an enhancer and an inhibitor of magic.

In this case, they were clearly inhibiting my shift from human to Drake.

“This is ridiculous!” I looked up at my attackers and recognized Pedro Sanchez, who was grinning evilly at me. “Takes these off me right now, Sanchez!” I demanded.

“Oh, I don’t think so.” His grinned widened. “Your Drake is more powerful than any in the land—well, other than your Sire’s. Why do you think we went to the trouble of getting a bruja to make us inhibitor manacles in the first place?”

“Let me go!” I glared at him. “What do you want with me, anyway?”

“Oh, it’s not you we want, Reyes.” Sanchez’s eyes gleamed in the dim, shadowy hallway. Even in the dim lighting, I could see the vivid blue handprint marking his left cheek like a warning. “It’s not you we want,” he said again. “It’s your sweet little L’lorna. That little puta did me wrong, and now she’s going to pay.”