Free Slayde, Book 2 (Chaos Time Serial) by Marie Hall Page B

Patros was a proud Minotaur. One of his better creations, and captain of his guard.
    The moment Patros entered his chamber, Dragden straightened his stance. No longer did a frail man bent in half by age stand there, but the ruthless leader of the new world army. He lifted his head. His face became cold, cruel—chiseled from steel and ice.
    Dragden marched to his throne and sat. Never one to let an enemy see his weakness, knowing if he ever did, that’s when they’d kill him. And he knew, they would. They all hated him. Feared him. As they should.
    “What?” he snarled as he relaxed on his throne. His arms rested on the carved golden heads of the lions. But it was merely a façade, at any moment he could leap into action, ripping Patros’ head from his body with very little effort should he feel the need. Old he might be, but he was still powerful. And the Minotaur knew it.
    “Forgive me the intrusion, sire,” Patros’ voice was the cold of a wind howling across frozen tundra. “But a Lord has been compromised, sir.”
    He narrowed his eyes. One of his seven sources, no one knew about the Lord’s save himself, Patros, and her .
    “And?” Anger burned bright, igniting the old passion, the old flame of destruction within. His fingers flexed.
    “He lives, sir.” Patros bowed his head, resting a clasped hand against his heart.
    “Go away,” he ordered. The bull snorted his agreement, turned sharply on his heel and exited his chamber.
    Dragden licked his front teeth, whoever had done this had done it with purpose and foresight knowing he was readying to enter his god sleep, leaving him unable to defend his sources.
    Who would know of the Lords? She was dead. His nostrils flared.
    Errol was phoenix, in essence immortal. He shouldn’t be surprised. But she’d not been a time jumper. He thought of the rag tag posse that’d dared to try and defy his rule, the healer with her pitiful attempts at staving off death, the foul mouthed, arrogant prick who thought he’d been strong enough to fight him—the same bastard who dared to lie with his bird, to touch her, to love her.
    And one other. The enigma. He’d never seen the face, always covered within the folds of a cloak, but the shadowy figure always hovered by their sides. Until one day the enigma had vanished. He’d thought perhaps it’d been killed.
    Was it possible the enigma had survived?
    Only a jumper could travel back. Only a jumper could have found her again. Dragden had searched for years. But finding her was like finding a needle in a haystack. Never knowing what she’d look like from one life to another it’d been an impossible task.
    His heart thrilled, his blood pounded like the forceful blow of a fist to his gut at the thought, the idea, that she’d been found. And she must have been, because only she had the key to the sources. It was why he’d shoved a spear through her side when she’d dropped to the ground like a fallen angel. She’d betrayed his trust. He’d had no choice.
    He licked his lips as need, lust, violence, and madness surged like a tidal wave inside him. He’d find her. Kill the rest. Take her. Bed her and then bring her back here, this time he’d do it right. This time he’d give her no reason to betray him. He could be kind. He could be loving. She’d loved him once. He knew it. She’d love him again.
    The thought alone made him ache, made him need, made him crazed to have her back. She was power equal to his own. With her by his side they could discover new worlds, tame them to their will. There’d be no stopping them.
    The annoying tingle returned. He brushed his fingers harder against his neck.
    He thought of his sources and his Lords. Powerful entities in their own right, but whoever was tracking them made a mistake. A costly one. If they thought Dragden entering god sleep would prevent him from guarding his treasures they couldn’t be more wrong.He walked back to the window with his hands clasped behind his back