Hours later, in bed, naked, and…I could totally go for a smoke, Deka sighed—because, yeah, the sex was that good—and uttered, “Show me.”

“I thought I just did.” He couldn’t help a smile.

She matched it and took it up a level with, “Your grins should come with a warning. Mini orgasm ahead. Now, stop stalling and show me.”

“Show you what?”

“Your magic, stud. Dazzle me,” Deka demanded as she lounged on his bed wearing nothing but his scent. It suited her. Suited her very well.

The urge to mark her now, before the battle, was strong. So strong. His need for her was never clearer than during the time he’d spent apart from her.

He worried about her every second. Missed her something fierce.

And yet he used those emotions to focus on his lessons with the Jabba brothers. The sooner he mastered his new skills, the sooner he could return to her side.

Now, he had to prepare for the biggest event of his life.

His wedding.

Because he wasn’t worried about the fight. He had a plan. An epic one. A strategy he would invoke in two days.

Two days of furious preparation by the dragons and their allies. Messages flew, as did people, all of them wanting to be part of the battle.

The final stage was set to happen in the Great Victoria Desert, the largest desert in Australia, the perfect stage for the upcoming festivities.

The clock ticked down. Everyone of import was aware of the epic event happening. Everyone wanted to be present and had done their utmost to look his or her best.

Standing on the reddish-orange sand as dawn crested and lit the world on fire, he tried not to fidget or sweat in his robes—not a dress.

If you say so, muffin.

Samael stood at Remiel’s right side, a position of honor accorded to him by the brother he’d wronged.

A chance for redemption.

And power, muffin. Don’t forget the power.

He hadn’t. He might not wear the mantle of king, let his brother bear that heavy load, but he could be a force to be reckoned with in his own right.

Ain’t no could be about it, stud. You are a force. My force.

Only because of you. Deka had helped him find that core of strength in him, reminded him of who he could be. Also helped him find what little honor he had left.

Now, he stood at the head of an army. A dragon army, an array of cryptozoids and even humans the likes of which the world had never seen.

And they were impressive. Him most of all.

Samael wore black robes edged in silver, the needlework perfect, the runes ancient but cool looking. He drew the line at the staff and beard Deka had insisted on.

Spoilsport.

At his side, the Golden king wore a splendid military uniform, hand stitched by the best seamstresses, and ornate enough to befit a king.

The king’s advisors and generals—the head of the Septs, with the Silvers being the most prominent—had all chosen to wear their house colors along with stoic expressions, their faces masks carved from stone. But their eyes…they glowed green with excitement.

It had been a while since dragons were able to openly fight.

Behind the governing ranks lined the army. Most had eschewed uniforms to emerge as their other selves.

Dragons with scales gleaming in the dawning sun. Heads held high, and in their clawed fists, weapons—pole arms, and spears, plus modern-day tools finely calibrated to each warrior. In the olden days they eschewed weapons, thinking claws and teeth were enough. Arrogance had helped to kill them.

They’d adapted. They created their own line of dragon-friendly weapons. And now, they’d finally get to baptize them with enemy blood.

Weapons weren’t the only change in this battle. Armor encased them, made to protect their more vulnerable bellies. Many wore helmets to protect their heads.

A fierce-looking troop.

The shapeshifters roamed restlessly, their furry minds eager for the chase while the humans among them fidgeted, their fingers sweaty on the stocks of their guns. The human governments had sent their soldiers to fight and never asked what they thought. They’d sent their fragile men and women to stand awed and honored among monsters of legend.

It was a glorious army. A beautiful militia.

And the whole world got to see it because some news network morons were actually standing nearby, broadcasting.

“How has the human race survived this long?” Samael muttered.

“They procreate like rabbits,” was Zahra’s reply.

Can you both zip it? I’m trying to look menacing here. Remiel spoke in their minds rather than aloud, probably because a dark cloud on the horizon approached, the opposing army of darkness.

Deka suddenly spoke to him. Wait, that would make us the army of light. I totally chose the wrong outfit for this.

Her priorities were as skewed as ever. No surprise she’d chosen to join him in this final battle.

As if she’d stay behind, when, in her words, “But this girl just wants to have fun.” She’d even sung that to him over and over and over until he agreed—the blowjob helped make her case.

Having her here was actually a good thing. It meant Samael couldn’t fail. Because failure would mean her getting hurt, and he had made a promise to never let that happen.

Plus, the caterers were waiting just over the dunes to set up and get the party going.

Before this day ended, Deka would be his wife.

Cocky muffin. I like it.

Her encouragement wasn’t needed to bolster him, not anymore. He’d found his balls and yanked them free. But the praise did fire him hotter. Once this battle is over, I’m claiming my princess.

Charge! Yeah, that was his impatient fiancée who yelled it in his head. He used magic to snare her before she could ruin his plan.

Let me go, stud. I can take her.

No, she couldn’t. None of them were strong enough to fight the witch. Not even Samael.

Which was why this had to be done just right.

The opposing army stopped yards away, and Voa stepped forward, her tightly fitted gown of red a slap to the Crimsons that she’d fooled and manipulated.

She walked toward them, slow and undulating. Wasted. There was nothing attractive about her.

Remiel strode forward to meet her, Samael two steps behind. The air already held hints of dusty heat, the acrid kind without a hint of moisture.

That would change as blood was spilled.

Think I can get a shot? Remiel asked without moving his lips.

“A fatal one? Nope.” There was only one way to end this according to the Jabbas. The question was, did he trust them?

They stopped while still several yards away from Voa. Out of physical reach but close enough to hear each other.

“How nice of you all to gather in one place for capture.” Her rapacious smile held a hint of darkness.

“Ditto to your army. It will make it easier for me to eliminate them.”

“You think vanquishing them will make a difference?” Voa angled her head. “Do you really think I need these puny creatures to achieve my victory?”

“Obviously, you need help, or you would have come alone. I guess you’re not that strong, after all.”

Her lips flattened. “I see what you are doing. Thinking I’ll lose my temper and send them away.”

“Please, don’t,” Samael interjected. “Deka’s been looking forward to this fight. She’ll be pissed if she doesn’t get to spill any blood.”

His words drew Voa’s attention. “And there is the one who thinks he can beat me.” Her lips pulled into a sneer. “Your magic is but a tiny spark to my inferno.”

“Sometimes you only need a spark to start a fire.”

The laughter emerged discordant and false. “You’ll soon see what true power is. It will amuse me to have you both kneeling at my feet. Swearing fealty and then feeding me as part of your surrender.”

“Blah blah blah. Can we get on with the fighting already?” someone yelled from the waiting army.

“You heard my people.” Remiel shrugged. “They are raring to kick your ass.”

“Today, the reign of dragons ends, and a new world order will—“

The aim of whoever lobbed the egg was good. It hit Voa in the chest and splattered.

As to why there was an egg?

All part of the plan.

Voa screeched, and her face pulsed, her skin rippling and bulging as if something crawled under it.

Something did. Darkness.

Also known as a spell gone wrong. Over and over again. It appeared Voa had sucked dry one too many bodies. She bore the signs of a body overindulging. Yes, the souls made her strong, but they changed her, too. Changed her in ways that weren’t healthy.

For them.

While freaky and somewhat possessed, she was almost invincible.

Almost.

Voa lifted from the ground, her gown fluttering as she elevated herself, arms spread widely as she intoned in a deep voice, “Attack.”

Kind of anticlimactic.

Remiel, for his part, muttered for his mind alone, Ready, brother?

As ready as he could be when pitting his strength against that of a psychotic, ancient sorceress.

You can do this, muffin.

While appreciated, her faith wasn’t needed. Not anymore. I will do this.

As Remiel launched himself into the air, shredding his fine-stitched clothes, Samael kept an eye on the sun.

The timing had to be just right.

The roar of battle echoed over the desert sand as the armies raced toward each other, determined to shed blood. Those with guns got an early start, and the sharp crackle and pop of bullets being fired filled the air with noise and the acrid stench of gun smoke.

Remiel played with Voa, who rippled into a perverted hybrid form, bloated beyond belief, and holy shit, there were tentacles coming out of the tips of her legs.

Moving quickly, a gleam of gold zipping and twirling, Remiel kept out of reach of Voa while landing the occasional shot, the lobbed balls of golden energy that did nothing but make the mutant sorceress madder.

A glint of silver overhead drew his attention as Deka met a smaller green dragon—one that subverted to the other side—head-on. They grappled in the air, his princess choking on the fumes the vapor dragon breathed. But her mother had protected Deka well. The potions Xylia had fed the army wouldn’t last long, but hopefully, it would be long enough to repel the poisons and vanquish those spraying them.

The sky turned dark, and not just because of the bodies crowding it fighting for their lives. The moon had begun to cross over the sun. The propitious eclipse that would save their asses was beginning, which meant Samael needed to roll up his sleeves and start, too.

He closed his eyes, shutting out the sounds of battle, dropping into the meditative zone the Jabba brothers had taught him—Clear your mind. Slap. Clear it means not thinking of a woman. Slap.

It took quite a few cuffs upside the head before Samael learned to remove all distractions from his thoughts.

The world outside disappeared, and he opened his inner eye to see the zinging lines of power that intersected everything.

Bright spots of light for life, shiny threads for the power that crisscrossed the plain, and a pulsing dark spot for the abomination that was Voa.

And then there was—

Something knocked him out of his trance, and he hit the ground hard, the slavering jaws of a werewolf gone mad inches from his face.

Before he could pulverize it with magic, the wolf was plucked from him and twisted. Crack.

The limp body got tossed, and Deka reached down to haul him to his feet. Her silver dragon towered over his human shape.

The other side of him yearned to join her, yet he couldn’t. For this spell, he needed fingers.

He also needed no more interruptions. The moon was almost over the sun. He needed to work the spell.

Do what you have to, stud muffin. I’ll stand guard.

And he knew she would guard him with her life. Because she’s my mate.

Damned straight I am, muffin, so get going on the magic stuff so we can get to the wedding stuff.

He knelt on the ground this time, his fingertips pressed in to the dirt, and shuttered his mind, quickly finding his place again, seeing the threads, insignificant strands.

It was almost time.

Ready yourself, brother. He shouted it mentally and hoped Remiel heard. As the moon fully covered the sun, he blinked his second set of lids and drew upon his othersight. It showed things in a different light. Illuminated the magic.

A thick cord of red speared down to the earth, a bull’s-eye from the eclipse. He shoved his fist into the glow and tugged. He twirled the strand of magic in the dirt, swirled and twirled, wider and wider.

The ground underneath trembled.

Impressive. The only magic he’d learned because, as the Jabbas told him, You don’t have time to catch up to her level of skill. So you need to trick her.

The hole, once started, kept widening. Things fell into it. Bodies. Dead and alive. The screams haunting.

A set of claws yanked him back before the earth at his feet crumbled away.

Opening his eyes, he felt more than saw the hole he’d ripped open. Pure darkness lay over the land as the eclipse stole the light from the world.

An ominous Ohm-ing sound came from the interdimensional rip, and he stumbled back with Deka.

The time was here. He shouted, “Now! Do it now.”

Despite the gloom, Remiel’s gold scales flashed in the sky, and all saw the golden fire as it emerged from his mouth and struck a very distorted Voa.

She screamed as her flesh melted and reformed, and melted again to form again, the souls she’d imbibed keeping her alive. Kind of cool that she got to suffer over and over. Even better, it distracted her enough she didn’t know she was being pushed.

But she wasn’t arriving fast enough. Time ticked. Precious time.

Samael extended his hands and grabbed hold of her dark magic, feeling it slither through his hands, slimy and gross, yet he reeled it in, drawing her closer to the abyss he’d created.

She paused in her struggle as she finally saw the hole. “Is that your plan? Shove me into another dimension? I’ll just come right back.” As if to mock him, she hovered over the hole, laughing.

A tentacle covered in suckers with stingers in the middle whipped out of the rip and wrapped around her ankles. With a yank, it drew her down.

Eyes wide.

Mouth open.

A short-lived scream.

The massive kraken-like creature the Jabbas had told him about, the one that could rarely be summoned, who wasn’t content with just one witch.

One witch isn’t even a snack.

More tentacles whipped out and snared those closest. One even wrapped around Deka and began to pull.

Without thinking, Samael slashed down with his hand, severing it with magic. Then and only then did he finally shift into his dragon and pull Deka away from the abyss.

Go back. I think we can take it.

We can’t go into that world. There is no way back. And the current passageway was about to close.

The moon moved past the sun, and as light dawned once again on the land, the hole in the ground shrank. The tentacles shriveled as the rays of light struck them.

With a piercing scream that shook the very air, the alien creature withdrew its appendages. The hole shrank and shrank.

It was barely large enough for a person when fingers appeared on the edge, humanoid fingers that scrabbled for the sides.

A silver dragon landed by the hand, looking for purchase. Zahra transformed and gave a haughty look to the digits before stomping on them.

Crunch. Pop. The hand was gone, the hole, too.

The dragons had won the day!

Without their leader and the mind control, the other side collapsed. Running, wailing, begging for their lives.

Cowards. Not worth his time. Samael ignored them all. He looked at his Silver princess and fluted a query. Ready to get mated?