Bee went very still. “I’m not your mate, Constantine.”

“You are.”

“Since when?” she asked, clearly a little irked. He loved that about her—just when he thought he knew how she’d react to a situation, she would surprise him.

“Since you were taken from me.”

“I think I’d know if I was your mate—”

He pulled her against his chest, claiming her mouth in a way that should leave no doubt in her mind that they belonged together, that each of them complemented the other, and that joined, they would be unstoppable.

“Golly!” he heard Gary say. “They’re on fire.”

“Ah, so she is a mate,” Baltic said dryly. “There truly is a person for everyone in this world if a dead wyvern can find a woman such as the Charmer.”

Constantine allowed his fire to wrap them in its warm embrace, the act of sharing it so intimate, it again roused the need to claim her as only a wvyern could claim his mate.

“Is he going to bonk her right here in front of Asmodeus?” Jim asked.

“Hush, you,” Aisling said.

Constantine knew he needed to stop. He had to deal with Asmodeus, and then he could take his time proving to Bee that she was put on the earth to spend her life with him.

He retrieved his tongue from where it was leisurely exploring her mouth, tamped down his fire, and bodily set her from him. Her eyes were soft with passion, her breath as ragged as his own, giving him immense pleasure that she felt the same way he did about their physical contact.

“If your bawdy show is over,” Asmodeus said, cutting through his thoughts, “I have business with the mortal. The rest of you, as I have already said, may leave.”

“This is not over,” Bee told Constantine and squeezed his hand to remind him that he was now bearing the ring. Why, he had no idea, but he assumed she had a good reason for giving it to him. Perhaps she had been impressed by the manly figure he made with the demon-blood–drenched sword?

“We’re not going to leave without Bee,” Ysolde said firmly.

“Of course not. If we go, we all go,” Aisling said.

Drake looked unhappy, but tapped his sword on the ground. “You may not have the Charmer. And we will leave, but not before we teach you for taking our mates.”

Asmodeus laughed. The wrath demons laughed. Constantine growled.

“Do you think to frighten us, wyvern?” Asmodeus parted the demons and stepped forward, pausing to address the line of dragons before him. “You forget who I am. I am not some inexperienced, weak demon lord like the Guardian.”

Aisling raised her chin but said nothing.

“Nor are my minions as easily overcome as those you slaughtered to get to my palace.” Asmodeus’s dark gaze pierced them all, but Constantine did not have Bael as a father without learning how to withstand such acts. “You come here, to my house, and threaten me with just a handful of men.” He waved dismissively at the other dragons. “Begone. My time is valuable, and I do not wish to waste it on your empty threats.”

“Our threats are anything but empty,” Kostya said, swinging his morningstar.

Constantine lifted his sword, just as the other wyverns did. He fully anticipated that it would come down to a battle, but he hadn’t realized how torn he would be between keeping Bee safe and destroying the man who had taken her from him.

“You do not have the power to do more than irritate me,” Asmodeus said in a bored tone. “But if you wish to destroy yourselves, so be it.”

He turned, obviously about to order the wrath demons to attack them, but instead, a voice spoke out, causing him to stumble.

“They may not have the power, but I do.”

Constantine did not need to move to the side to see who spoke.

“Oh, no,” Bee said in a whisper, taking his hand. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

“Great. Bael’s here,” Aisling said, looking weary. “That’s just what we need.”

“Bee, if I asked you to leave, would you do it without arguing?” Constantine asked her.

She thought for a moment, then shook her head, her fingers warm against his. “No. We’re in this together.”

He sighed. He had a feeling she’d say that, but at the same time, he was pleased she valued him so highly that she would risk her own safety. He couldn’t allow her to be harmed, of course, but until he made that point clear to her, he’d cherish the knowledge that she was, indeed, his mate, the woman who was born to complete his life. He turned to Drake. “Take the others and leave.”

Drake hesitated.

“There is no sense in all of us remaining here to deal with Bael,” Constantine told him.

“You seem to have forgotten my presence,” Asmodeus said, his irritation clearly getting the better of him, enough that he lost his usually cool demeanor. Constantine knew well it was Bael’s presence that caused this reaction; no doubt Asmodeus, while the titular head of Abaddon, knew he was no match for Bael. “I am the premier prince of Abaddon, and thus, I am the one you should remained focused on, not the former demon lord Bael. As for the other dragons, I have already dismissed them.”

“Why would you dismiss them when you could destroy them?” Bael asked, shaking his head and tsking in faux dismay as he sauntered forward. “You have ever been weak against dragonkin. I will not make such a mistake when I have retaken my throne.”

Constantine ignored the outburst, telling Drake in a quiet tone, “Leave, and if we are not successful, then you may handle the situation as you think best.”

“Really? You have nothing better to do than challenge me for what used to be yours?” Asmodeus said, addressing Bael in what was intended to be a dismissive tone, but Constantine was well aware of the undertone of strain in the demon lord’s voice.

Bael stopped in front of Asmodeus, little black tendrils of power snapping with every step. Asmodeus’s aura ratcheted up a notch as well, until the air was fairly tingling with static electricity. “Your posturing will not save you. I have more power in my little finger than you will ever possess.”

Drake clearly didn’t want to leave, but after a look at his mate, he turned and gave his men a sharp order.

“Another time it might be amusing to encourage your delusions,” Asmodeus told Bael, brushing off a bit of lint from his arm, and donning an expression of boredom, “but I have better things to do than state and restate the obvious facts. Begone before I have you thrown out of Abaddon.”