Chapter Three

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Rosen was sobbing bitterly. Why him? How was his identity even discovered when he’d never lived as a royal crow?

If the dragons wanted revenge, he was the worst prisoner they could have gotten their hands on, no one wanted him. Not even his own family.

The ancestral hall was dead silent, except for the shaky sound of his own sobs. He had always been terrified of ghosts—all those times Azriel made him watch horror movies back in Flower City. Oh, how he wished this was just a bad dream. Tears filled his eyes as a terrible thought hit him: if he died right here, no one would even come looking for him. Azriel would worry, but Azriel was a normal human who knew nothing about his identity.

Rosen had spent his whole life staying away from people. He was afraid to get close to anyone because anyone around him ended up getting hurt. The Black Rose had to stay pure—no love, no desire, no lust. His family had made sure to get rid of anyone who showed Rosen even a little bit of kindness, terrified that any affection would ruin his special power. The Black Rose was cursed to live and die completely alone.

Shivering in the dark, cold air, Rosen held his chained hands together in prayer. He turned toward the dark altar where the bodies lay.

"I didn't kill you," he whispered, "Please don't haunt me... rest in peace,”

***

Across the vast dragon estate, Killian stomped into his private chambers like a madman. His long black hair was wild and tangled, his wide chest heaving up and down. His mind was completely full of molten rage.

The royal dragon family had been ripped apart in a single night. His older brother Venris and his wife Solia had been coming home from the hospital after she gave birth when the attack happened. It was a complete bloodbath on the quiet mountain road.

Nobody was spared. The guards, the drivers, the servants—all slaughtered. Special grade bullets had weakened them first, but the real cause of death was deep knife wounds. And not just any knives—the blades had been soaked in dark crow sorcery. Crows were known for practicing evil magic, and this poison was strong enough to rot a dragon's blood from the inside out. Making them continue to bleed even long after death.

They had attacked Venris when he was at his weakest state. Solia had been very sick for a long time, and the shamans said she wouldn’t live past this year. To save her life, Venris had used an ancient practice—ripping out part of his own heart and tying it directly to Solia’s soul so she could survive to raise their child. That ritual had drained Venris. He was weak, and the coward crows knew it. They had slaughtered them for it.

Killian grabbed a heavy cup and drank bitter ale. The liquid burned his throat, but his insides were already burning with an unquenchable fire. His inner beast was roaring behind his ribs, screaming for blood.

He thought about the boy locked in the dark room. Killian had expected the Black Rose to be a weapon or a special treasure. Instead, his men had dragged in a scrawny crow boy with dark hair and pale blue eyes. Dainty, delicate, and small. Was this really the Crows' holy treasure? Was the shaman telling the truth? It didn't matter. The boy was a Solis, and that meant he was going to pay anyhow Killian wanted.

The heavy door opened, and Kenna walked inside. Her eyes were swollen and red from crying. She looked breathtaking, with long, beautiful golden locs framing her face, and her full, gorgeous figure wrapped in a dark black mourning dress.

"Killian..." she sobbed, rushing over to throw her arms around him and hug him tight. "Solia is never coming back... my sister is gone... what am I going to do?"

Solia was Kenna’s twin sister. She poured more wine for Killian, who was already half-drunk with fury and drink.

"The little dragonlin is gone too," Kenna whispered, tears spilling over her cheeks. "They were so excited about the baby, Killian. They already picked a name and bought tiny clothes. After the heart ritual, I really thought Solia was going to live and be happy..."

The metal cup in Killian’s hand grew white-hot from his rising dragon fire. The heat spiked so fast that within seconds, the metal melted right in his grip, dripping onto the floor like hot water and sizzling against the stone.

Kenna touched his sharp jaw, her eyes burning through her tears. "Venris would want his killers to die in the most painful way possible."

She pressed her soft lips against Killian’s mouth, tasting like salt and strong wine. Killian’s hand shot out, his fingers grabbing her neck tight. Their golden dragon eyes locked in heat and shared anger. Then he slammed his lips hard against hers, kissing her with wild, dark passion.

Kenna smiled against his mouth, a wicked excitement curling in her chest. She knew Killian was going to be brutal tonight. His grief was a hungry fire, and it always made him possessive, rough, and unhinged. She was the only woman in the kingdom strong enough to take his intense heat and handle his violent, animalistic lust. Other women would break under a dragon royal's raw power, but Kenna craved it.

Without breaking the kiss, Killian ripped her black mourning dress open, tearing the silk away to expose her heavy breasts. He shoved her down onto the wide, silk-draped bed. He didn't bother undressing fully; he just tore his pants open, his hard, throbbing length burning hot against her bare thighs.

He shoved inside her with one hard, ruthless thrust.

Kenna threw her head back, gasping out a loud, breathless moan as the intense heat filled her up completely. The pain and pleasure mixed together, sharp and dark. Killian grabbed her hips with clawed hands, bruising her smooth skin as he drove into her over and over, his chest heaving with deep, animal growls.

Kenna wrapped her legs around Killian just as the hot tension exploded through her body, but Killian suddenly yanked her off him.

He pulled out with a deep, harsh breath, spilling his hot seed across the silk bedsheets right beside her thigh.

Kenna lay panting on her back, her skin flushed red, her heart pounding violently in her chest. She looked at the wet stain on the dark sheets, and a heavy knot of sharp disappointment tightened in her stomach.

Killian had never once came inside her.

Not even once. No matter how wild, how rough, or how dirty their sex got, he always pulled out right before the end. Kenna quickly turned her face away, hiding her bitter pout beneath her messy golden hair. She wanted so badly to carry his child. She wanted to feel his royal dragon seed take root inside her womb, to swell with his heir and solidify her place forever. But Killian kept that part of himself locked away from her.

Killian pulled his pants up without saying a word, his face cold and unreadable as if nothing had happened. He walked toward the window, looking out over the dark, sprawling city of Noctis.

Kenna sat up slowly, pulling the torn pieces of her black dress over her bare chest. Her heart was beating fast with ambition despite her disappointment. Who knew she would get the chance to be Dragon Queen so soon?

Solia was dead, and the throne was waiting. After the big funeral was over, she would find a way to make Killian mark her as his eternal mate. She was going to rule all of Noctis right by his side.

***

Rosen didn't know how many days had passed in that freezing hall. He was starving, his stomach aching with sharp cramps, and his throat burning from thirst. Dragon magic kept the dead bodies from rotting quickly, but he was still trapped in the pitch black with corpses. His whole body felt weak. Every time he tried to sleep, the image of the dead baby on the altar flashed behind his eyes, snapping him awake in horror.

Suddenly, the iron doors swung open with a loud screech, and bright sunlight flooded in, blinding his eyes. Rosen winced hard, covering his face with his clinking chains.

Men in sharp black suits walked inside to pick up the bodies from the altar, completely ignoring Rosen as if he were invisible trash on the floor.

Rosen’s weak mind raced. What did the dragons really want with him? Were they going to execute him at the funeral? And why did his father start a bloodbath like this now? The war between crows and dragons had always been bad, but never like this. What was his family thinking?

His thoughts stopped when a woman stepped into the light. She was wrapped in a black gown, her long golden locs spilling over her shoulders. Her golden eyes fixed right onto him, burning with hatred.

"You murderous crow," she spat, her voice ringing off the high stone walls.

Before Rosen could move or speak, a hot slap slammed across his face, knocking him flat onto the cold floor.

"Because of your filthy family, my sister and her husband are dead!" Kenna screamed, her eyes spitting pure fire as she stood over him. "Why are you still breathing?!"

She raised her hand and slapped him hard again, the sharp ring echoing through the empty hall.

"It wasn't me! I didn't do it!" Rosen cried out, trying to pull his cuffed arms up to shield his bruised face.

Kenna slapped him again and again, splitting his lip open until fresh blood trickled down his chin. She leaned down, grabbing him roughly by his collar and pulling his face just inches from hers.

"Enjoy your last few moments of living," she said with an evil smile. "Because as soon as the funeral is over, I'm going to watch Killian burn you to ash."

Kenna let him go, wiping her hands on a cloth that a servant provided, looking down at Rosen with absolute disgust. She turned to the guards standing at the entrance.

"Get this filthy creature out of my sight," Kenna ordered, "Drag him to the deep dungeon cells. Let him sit in the cold filth until we are ready to kill him."