"Do you ever eat in there?"

Aimi didn't even glance to the side. "That's the formal dining room. We use it about three or four times a year when we receive visitors or are celebrating a mating."

"And you fill those seats?"

"Easily and with spillover. We usually have the young ones using the regular dining chamber that sits fifty more."

"How big is your family?"

"You'll see. We probably won't have time to gather them for our ceremony, but I'm sure Mother will have the invitations out to a reception before the week's end to introduce you to the Sept families."

She spoke as if he'd stick around. Not likely. A monster like him would bring too much attention. The world was a place gone mad. The last thing he wanted to do was bring the monster hunters here.

If they dare to strike, then I'll protect. Crunch some bones. Break some necks.

His cold, inner self had no qualms about doing what had to be done. But Brandon didn't want to give in. Giving in to the cold meant losing what was left of him: the brother who just wanted to do the right thing. The boy from the swamp, who had plans to not follow in family footsteps and end up in jail but to go to community college and learn a trade.

Instead, he'd learned pain, subterfuge, and intimidation as Bittech forced him to do their bidding. A command that usually involved doing nasty things to others.

That was then. This is now.

Aimi's voice tickled at him, and he ignored it, trying to pretend she hadn't just read his mind.

"Where exactly are we going?" And should he leave a trail of breadcrumbs behind, a valid wonder as they wound down some stairs, the distance a few levels at least underground?

"Auntie keeps her lab down here."

"A lab." He froze. "She's a doctor?" Someone who liked to poke people with needles and inject them with liquid fire? Oh, hell no.

"Don't insult me, boy. Humans use doctors. I am a true alchemist."

"Which, in today's world, would be known as a drug dealer," Aimi sagely advised.

Smack.

The cuff by her aunt caused Aimi to glare. "Don't slap me for telling the truth. You do peddle drugs, just not only the hallucinogenic kind. She does medicines, too."

He refused to budge, and his lips flattened. "I don't do drugs."

The violet eyes of the aunt perused him, the slitted part of her orbs flashing with green fire. "No drugs? Then am I to assume you are content remaining in your hybrid shape?"

Of course, he fucking wasn't. But what she asked of him... "You don't understand. Drugs and doctors playing with my DNA are what got me into this mess."

"Then perhaps drugs can get you out."

Doubtful. The damage had occurred at a cellular level. "I don't think this is a good idea." He turned around and made to retrace his steps. "I should leave."

"I am ashamed of you, niece. You chose a coward as a mate." The disdain shone in the words.

"He's not a coward," Aimi retorted. "Just wary."

"Hesitation is for the weak. Your children will rank low in the Sept. You bring dishonor to our name."

"He's not a coward."

No, he wasn't, but he wouldn't deny the thought of letting someone inject him with drugs gave him the chills. Why the fuck should he trust these strangers with his life and health? Why should he take them at face value?

This is my body they're talking about using for experiments.

Supposedly, they could help him. What if they lied? What if they wanted to continue where Bittech started?

Don't trust.

Never trust.

Coward.

He couldn't be sure who spoke the word, and yet it hung with almost visible presence. Fuck. And this was why mostly men held the Darwin award titles.

Because we are fucking stupid, that's why. A sigh left him as he turned around. "What is this obsession you all have with kids?"

Adopting a pose his teacher had-minus the ruler-Xylia explained. "The lines that survived must be preserved. We lost too many lineages when the purge happened. We must ensure it doesn't happen again. But we do the bloodline little favor when we mix it with weak cowards." Her gaze didn't shy from meeting his, labeling him with her derision.

Hell no. He might be a giant fucking lizard, but he still had some goddamned pride. He stalked toward the aunt. "You know nothing about me. Nothing. I didn't ask to be like this. You have no idea what it's like to have to hide because your appearance causes screaming chaos." High-pitched shrieks that were funny to his cold side. "It's not cowardly to say no to strangers when it comes to drugs."

"Medicine."

"Still from a stranger. Would you let just anyone inject something into your body?"

"He's not completely stupid." The aunt addressed this to Aimi, ignoring him completely.

"You are unbelievably rude," he snapped.

"And you are overly emotional. Get a hold of yourself."

Get a hold of himself? She'd not gone through what he had. She didn't get it. Or understand that his life wasn't his own. He had someone relying on him. "I can't take any chances right now until I save my baby sister from Parker."

"Parker? Are we talking the Parker on the SHC?"

"Yes."

"And he has your sister?"

"He's been holding her against me for years, forcing my family and me to do his bidding."

"And you did not wage war upon him?" The aunt said it so matter-of-factly, as if it were a simple conclusion.

"We tried." Got punished. More than a few Mercers had left the bayou to serve time behind bars. Others hadn't left. They were just not seen again. It made a once strong family crumble. "We tried, and thought we had it when everything at Bittech went to hell. But we failed. We failed to get my sister. Failed to kill Parker, and now, he has outed us to the world."

"You mean he outed shifters. Not much of a loss. They will pave the way. At least the humans know nothing of our kind yet. And given how they've reacted, we may never tell them dragons walk among them." The aunt pursed her lips in disapproval.

Another one who believed they were something impossible. "Okay. I see the delusion moonbeam suffers from is a family thing. Dragons. Really? You don't seriously think anyone will believe that." He couldn't stop a snicker.

Xylia blinked and for a moment seemed at a loss for words. "You don't believe in dragons."

"Not for a second. I've seen all kinds of shifters in my life. Big and small. Hairy, feathered, and scaled. No one, and I mean no one, has ever said anything about dragons." His eyes widened as he had a sudden thought. "Unless you're Komodo dragons. I saw some once at the zoo. The non-sentient variety, of course. They are pretty cool, even if they are just a fancier kind of gator."

Shock rounded Xylia's mouth. "Did your mate just imply we're lizards?"

Aimi winced. "Yes. But in his defense, he truly seems to not know about our kind."

"But he's a dragon. I can smell it."

"I know. I've tried telling him, but he insists otherwise." Aimi shrugged. "Perhaps the experiments at Bittech addled his memories."

"Or perhaps I am telling you the truth," Brandon interjected.

"And what is the truth?" asked the aunt.

"I'm just a gator from the Everglades who had some gene splicing done, resulting in this." He fanned his hand down his body. "This isn't a hybrid shape as you keep calling it. This is me. And only me. Ain't no drug gonna fix it."

"Scientists changed your genetics, you say?"

"Yes."

He didn't move as Xylia approached and sniffed him. Scent was huge among shifters. Humans tended to be visual, deciphering things with their sight, but with shifters, and animals more specifically, the nose could paint an even more vivid picture. The nose didn't lie, usually.

The aunt took a step back, her brow creased and her gaze pensive. "He smells unlike anyone I've come across, but despite the oddity of it, I would stake a good portion of my hoard that he's dragon."

"Hoard? As in treasure? Way to perpetuate the myth."

"All dragons have a hoard," the aunt replied as she turned around and began to walk again.

"What's in this hoard? Treasure chests, gold coins, jewelry?"

"To a certain extent. I also collect vintage muscle cars and race horses." Xylia waved a hand overhead. "Zahra, her mother, she is obsessed with original Star Wars toys."

"And Aunt Yolanda collects pool boys," Aimi muttered, tossing him a saucy grin.

"What have we told you about gossip, young lady?"

"Make it juicy."

"I think you have me confused with your Aunt Waida."

The constant verbal barrage proved fascinating, so much so he kind of just watched. He came back to the moment when Xylia addressed him. "This is my apothecary. Step inside."

"Why?"

"Again with the stupid questions." For a lady with an elegant appearance, she rolled her eyes like a champ. "Come in because I want to try something."

Brandon frowned. "Try what? I told you it can't be fixed."

"So you keep saying. Let me guess, a man told you that."

"Yes." This was fast becoming the second strangest conversation of his life, the first being Aimi's declaration that he was a dragon.

"Let me see if I understand. You took the word of your enemy? Because I assume you are not friends with the person who did this." She swept her hand at him.

"No, not friends."

"You let your enemy tell you it was irreversible, and you believed him. Did you get a second opinion?"

His lips tightened.

"Did you try any sort of treatment plan?"

He could almost feel the ghostly cuff of his mother with a muttered, "Idiot."

Her voice softened. "Let me help you, boy."

A hand gripped his forearm, and he didn't have to look down to know Aimi touched him. "You can trust her."

He wanted to say, "I don't even know if I trust you," but held the words inside because, oddly enough, he did trust her.

Ssshe tells the truth.

"It won't hurt."

"That's what the doctors said before the agony started." Along with the emasculating screams. Over time, even that pain failed to rouse him.

"Incompetent quacks. They try to work only modern science on what is, in many respects, ancient magic. I do a mix of the two."

"Do it, or I'll call you a chicken." Aimi clucked.

"Did you just double gator dare me?"

"More like triple, which means you can't say no now," Aimi replied, linking her arm through his and tugging him after her aunt. "What do you have to lose?"

His life? Not much of a loss, given it wasn't worth shit these days. What of his sister? He'd not even come close enough yet to doing anything to help her. He couldn't do anything, the whole lizard on two legs not being conducive for moving around in public.

Most of all, though...he wanted a chance to be normal again, and he wouldn't get that wish without taking some chances.

He took a step into the room. "Fine. Do your worst."

The aunt's lab reminded him of a medieval apothecary with dashes of modern convenience. Wooden shelves lined one of the walls and held hundreds of glass jars, each neatly labeled and barcoded. In contrast, another wall was all modern chrome and glass, the fridge and freezer combo holding yet more jars and vials, their contents backlit by a fluorescent light. In the middle of the room, a massive island took pride of place, split into several areas to work, the surfaces metal, granite, and more wood. On the third wall, at opposite ends, there were two archways. A peek inside showed one held an office with a massive desk and stacks of folders. The other room held beds and medical equipment, machines to read vital statistics, and other monitors that screamed hospital.

His bravado felt itself shrinking.