Page 75 of Heimlock

“Huracio, Huracio,” I sing-song, grinning. “There were days, weeks, and entire back-to-back months where I wish I’d been brave enough to do this.”

My fingers stop at his hip, adjacent to his crotch. It’s wet. “Huracio,” I shake my head with patronizing disbelief. “Did you piss yourself?” He whimpers; I grin. “So nasty. Let’s clean that up.”

Raising my hand, I cover it in blue flames and slap it down on his dick. Incinerating the entire thing.

30

Huracio’s screams echo into the night. I’m betting he regrets living isolated right about now. Anywhere else, neighbors would’ve arrived, calling for officials. Instead, no one comes.

The smell of charred dick enters my nostrils. It’s both the worst and best scent. It’s the best because of the way Kyrielle’s eyes dance with the reflection of dick-burning flames.

She’s magnificent.

It’s virtually impossible for me to feel bad for the Forest Sprite, mainly because Dragons are as dedicated to revenge as they are to respect. If she’d asked, I would’ve given Kyrielle a dozen imaginative scenarios that would’ve lasted for hours.

But as his dick burns off and snot bubbles in his clogged nostrils, I know this is a suitable outcome.

Kyrielle stands, glowing from the inside, with a satisfied smirk as she admires her handiwork. She glances at me and flicks her hand. I spit his legs out, licking his blood off my leathery lips with a forked tongue.

The stunning Fire Sprite turns to face me, beaming. Not a hint of remorse. Putting hands on her hips, she says, “Now what should we do?”

Are you asking if we should find someone else to maim, or what we should do with this specific body?

Her head tilts back, exposing the column of her throat in a loud laugh. “Both?” She frowns, looking at the passed out body at her feet. “He could report us if we leave him alive.”

He could.

Kyrielle narrows her flaming irises at me. “How opposed are you to murder?”

In theory or in this specific moment?

“Both?”

In theory, it’s not a good idea. Legally messy when done incorrectly, and often fueled by misguided principles or beliefs.

“In this specific moment?”

I want to do whatever makes you happy.

“So you won’t care if we dump him off the edge?”

I will care.

Kyrielle frowns. “But you—”

I will care because the body will still be too close. It’s wiser to carry it further away and deposit it elsewhere.

She hums, looking down at Huracio again. “We could burn him to ash?”

Probably wisest. Would you like me to do it?

My heart grows in size when she dazzles me with a brilliant smile. “Sure, unless you want me to have all the fun?”

I definitely want you to always enjoy yourself, I promise, delighted by her playful attitude. Who knew she was so genuinely bloodthirsty? But in this particular circumstance, I wouldn’t mind taking part in a team building activity.

Kyrielle trails a hand from my snout to my neck, stopping behind the frill of horns. Shivers shake my scales at the touch. In the corner of my eye, I see her motion. “Well, then, by all means. Fry him up.”

I snort out smoke in amusement. It’s been so long since I’ve activated my Fyre. Reaching deep inside myself, I connect with the well of flame always resting inside me. The ground glows orange as it heats. Inhaling deeply, the muscles in my throat contract and realign, allowing the everflame of Fyre to spew from my maw.