Chapter 66
Cold Hands, Hot Scales
I woke up in chains.
Not the fun kind.
Silver manacles, etched with runes that glowed sickly green, locked my wrists to a metal chair bolted to a concrete floor. The room smelled like mildew, old blood, and chicory coffee. A single bulb swung overhead, throwing shadows that looked like wings.
Across from me sat the leather-jacket vampire, elbows on his knees, watching me like I was a bomb with a lit fuse.
He hadn't bothered to chain himself. Arrogant or polite; I hadn't decided.
"Morning, princess," he said. "Sleep well?"
I tested the manacles. The runes burned. My scales (still there, faint but visible) flared in answer, trying to melt the silver. The runes just drank the heat and glowed brighter.
"Peachy," I croaked. My throat felt like I'd gargled lava. "You always greet girls with kidnapping, or am I special?"
"Special," he said, and the word tasted like sin. "Name's Thorne Blackwood. You're in the basement of the Crescent Academy holding cells. And you, Riley Kane, just committed mass murder in front of thirty hidden cameras."
I barked a laugh that hurt. "They were vampires."
"So am I."
Touché.
He leaned closer. The air chilled; my scales prickled like they recognized him. Up close he was stupidly beautiful (high cheekbones, storm-cloud eyes, mouth made for lying and biting in equal measure).
"Your little fireworks show triggered every alarm from here to Baton Rouge," he continued. "The Council wants you executed at moonrise. I convinced them to wait until you woke up."
"How noble."
"I'm not noble," he said softly. "I'm curious. Dragon shifters have been extinct for three hundred years. Yet here you are, smelling like wildfire and royal blood. Explain."
I lifted my chin. "How about you explain why my scales like you?"
His pupils dilated again (black swallowing gray). A muscle jumped in his jaw.
"Because," he said, voice rough, "dragon blood is the only thing that can make a vampire lose control. One drop and we go feral. One kiss turns into slaughter. You're walking poison to my kind."
He stood abruptly, putting distance between us like I was contagious.
"Which makes you either the perfect weapon or the perfect weakness. The Council's split on which."
The door behind him opened.
A woman walked in (tall, red hair braided with silver, eyes the color of hurricane skies). She wore professor robes over combat boots and carried a clipboard like a sword.
"Thorne," she said, not looking at him. "Step away from the prisoner."
He didn't move.
The woman sighed. "Elowen Drakari, Headmistress. You torched my city block, Miss Kane. Congratulations."
Drakari.
The name punched me in the gut.
"You knew my mother," I said before I could stop myself.
Elowen's eyes flicked to the scales peeking above my torn shirt collar. Something ancient and sad moved across her face.
"I knew your mother," she confirmed. "And your father. And the promise they broke that got every dragon shifter hunted to extinction."
She set the clipboard down. On it was a photograph: me at age seven, standing between a woman with my eyes and a man with Thorne's jawline, all three of us laughing in front of a bonfire.
Underneath, in red ink:
PROJECT VEILBREAK – STATUS: FAILURE → SUCCESSOR LOCATED.
Elowen met my stare.
"Welcome to Crescent Academy, Riley Kane," she said. "You're late for orientation. And you're either going to save the world, or end it."
She turned to Thorne. "Unchain her."
He hesitated. "She's dangerous."
"So are you," Elowen replied. "Yet here we are."
Thorne's jaw worked. Then he knelt in front of me, keys in hand.
His fingers brushed my wrist as the manacles clicked open.
The second skin met skin, my scales ignited (gold-white fire racing up my arms). Thorne's shadows answered, curling around my flames like they were dancing.
We both jerked back, breathing hard.
Elowen watched with clinical interest.
"Interesting," she murmured. "The curse recognizes its cure."
Thorne stood fast, putting the chair between us like a shield.
"She needs a leash," he growled.
"She needs a partner," Elowen corrected. "Council vote was unanimous. You're assigned to her, Blackwood. Keep her alive. Keep her controlled. Or we all burn."
She walked out.
The door locked behind her.
Thorne and I stared at each other across three feet of humming tension.
"So," I said, rubbing my wrists, scales still glowing faintly. "Roommates?"
He closed his eyes like he was praying for patience.
"Try anything," he warned, "and I'll drain you before you can blink."
I smiled, slow and sharp.
"Promises, promises."
Outside, thunder rolled over the city like dragons waking up.
Inside, the boy who wasn't supposed to want my blood and the girl who wasn't supposed to have scales realized the real monster hunt had only just begun.
Welcome to Monster High
The chains were gone, but the leash was very much real.
Thorne walked half a step behind me the entire way up from the cells, close enough that every breath I took tasted like winter and old books. My scales kept flickering under my skin, answering the cold radiating off him like a cat arching into a stroke. I hated it. I hated him. I hated how much I didn't hate it.
We emerged into a courtyard that shouldn't exist.
One second we were in a damp basement under a warehouse, the next we were standing in sunlight that smelled like magnolia and gunpowder. Spanish moss dripped from live oaks older than the city. A three-story mansion (white columns, black shutters, balconies groaning under ivy) loomed ahead like a vampire's fever dream of Tara.
Students lounged on the steps: a girl with glowing runes crawling up her arms, a guy whose shadow had too many teeth, two identical redheads arguing over a levitating soccer ball that occasionally exploded.
All of them turned to stare when they saw us.
Whispers detonated like shrapnel.
"That's her."
"Dragon shifter. Thought they were myth."
"Blackwood's leash, look at the mark on her neck."
"Ten bucks she flames out by dinner."
Thorne's hand settled on the small of my back (possessive, warning, or both). My scales flared so hot the air shimmered. A couple of witches actually stepped back.
"Ignore them," he muttered.
"Hard when they're betting on my life expectancy."
He steered me toward the main doors. "Welcome to Crescent Academy," he said under his breath. "Population: future corpses and current disasters."
Inside was worse.
The foyer ceiling was painted with a mural of the Veil (a glowing curtain splitting the world in two). On one side: humans, cities, daylight. On the other: monsters, moonlight, blood. A giant crack ran down the middle, painted fresh red.
Subtle.
A girl bounded down the grand staircase (curls the color of midnight, eyes like starfire, Crescent Academy crest on her blazer). She took one look at me, squealed, and launched herself straight into my arms.
"You're real!" she said into my shoulder. "I thought the footage was doctored. Hi, I'm Liora Voss, but everyone calls me Li, and I've been assigned as your roommate, which is perfect because I already stole the bigger bed but I'll trade for first shower privileges—"
Thorne cleared his throat.
Li pulled back, grinned at him without fear. "Relax, fangs. I'm not stealing your dragon."
"She's not my anything," he snapped.
Li winked at me. "Yet."
A bell tolled (deep, mournful, definitely made from something that used to be alive).
"Orientation assembly," Li announced. "Mandatory. Come on, new girl. Time to meet the monsters who'll either be your family or your funeral."
She grabbed my hand and dragged me forward. Thorne followed like a storm cloud with commitment issues.
The auditorium was a converted ballroom: chandeliers made of bones and crystal, seats carved with protective sigils that glowed when you sat on them. Every supernatural species had their section (vampires in the shadows, witches crackling with static, shifters growling low). I felt like the main course at a buffet.
Elowen Drakari took the stage. The room fell silent so fast my ears rang.
"New moon, new blood," she began. "The Veil thins. The old laws crack. And for the first time in three centuries, a dragon walks among us."
Every head swiveled to me.
I lifted my chin. Let them look.
"Riley Kane," Elowen continued, "will train, fight, and—if she survives—help us hold the Veil together. She is under the direct protection of Prince Thorne Blackwood. Any assault on her is an assault on the royal line."
A ripple of discontent. Someone hissed.
Thorne stepped forward, shadows writhing at his feet like attack dogs.
"Try it," he said, voice soft and deadly. "Please."
The hissing stopped.
Elowen's gaze landed on me. "Miss Kane, your schedule."
A parchment appeared in my hand with a puff of brimstone-scented smoke.
Period 1: Veil History – Drakari
Period 2: Combat Magic – Professor Grimshaw
Period 3: Blood Control & Ethics – Blackwood
Period 4: Monster Lore – Voss
Lunch
Period 5: Trial by Fire (literal)
I looked up. "Blood Control taught by the vampire prince. That a joke?"
Thorne's smile was all fang. "You'll survive. Probably."
Li leaned over. "Period 3 is one-on-one. Just you and Thorne in a warded room. For your safety."
My scales lit up like Christmas. So did half the auditorium's wards.
Someone in the back whistled.
Elowen clapped once. "Dismissed. And Kane—"
I met her eyes.
"Try not to burn the school down on your first day."
No promises.
As the crowd dispersed, a boy unfolded himself from the werewolf section (tall, sun-kissed, cocky grin that could start wars). He sauntered over, completely ignoring Thorne's death glare.
"Jax Harlan," he said, offering a hand the size of a dinner plate. "Heard you torched a nest solo. Respect."
I took it. His palm was warm, calloused, alive.
Thorne's shadows coiled tighter.
Jax's grin widened. "Relax, prince. Just saying hi to the new girl."
"Say it from farther away," Thorne replied.
Li rolled her eyes. "Testosterone poisoning. Come on, Riley. I'll show you the dorm before these two measure dicks."
She dragged me out.
Behind us, Jax called, "See you in Combat, dragon girl!"
Thorne's voice was velvet and venom. "She's booked."
I glanced back.
Thorne was staring at me like I was the only warm thing in his cold eternity.
My scales answered before I could stop them (bright, hungry, impossible).
Orientation had barely started, and I was already on fire.