Fifth of Blood

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Fifth of Blood Page 1

by Kris Austen Radcliffe




  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Fifth of Blood

  Fate - Fire - Shifter - Dragon Book Three

  Kris Austen Radcliffe

  Copyright 2017 Kris Austen Radcliffe

  All rights reserved.

  Published by

  Six Talon Sign Fantasy & Futuristic Romance

  Edited by Annetta Ribken

  Copyedited by Terry Koch and Juli Lilly

  Cover designed by Lou Harper

  Series dragon design and art by Christina Rausch

  Plus a special thanks to my Proofing Crew.

  Copyright notice: All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidences are used factitiously. All representations of real locales, programs, or services are factitious accounts of the environments and services described. Any resemblances characters, places, or events have to actual people, living or dead, business, establishments, events, or locales is entirely unintended and coincidental.

  Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

  For requests, please e-mail: [email protected].

  Third electronic edition, September 2017

  Updated and reformatted

  version 8.25.2017

  ISBN: 978-1-939730-49-7

  Contents

  Fifth of Blood

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  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Meanwhile, far north of Portland…

  BONDS

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  The Worlds of

  About the Author

  Fifth of Blood

  Fate - Fire - Shifter - Dragon

  Kris Austen Radcliffe

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  Fate - Fire - Shifter - Dragon

  The Series

  Games of Fate

  Flux of Skin

  Fifth of Blood

  Bonds Broken & Silent

  All But Human

  Men and Beasts

  The Burning World

  Chapter One

  Seven days from now…

  Grandpa Andreas told her she was dangerous. He called her a true hornets’ nest.

  The douchebag asshat in front of her didn’t know the half of it.

  His blue-green enviro-suit creaked and crinkled. He lumbered and twitched and waved the wrench he carried in his gloved hand.

  Sweat plastered Rysa’s hair against her mouth and added ash and Burner stench to acrid notes of her own fear and exhaustion. Her hand wrapped around the axe and cold crept from the handle to her palm. Praesagio Industries collapsed to nothing more than the spruce-colored suit in front of her.

  That suit was meant for the ocean more than to protect a body from the acid of a Burner or the mind-shattering calling scents of an enthraller. Seams sealed out air and water. The hood, with its mirrored facemask, concealed. A rebreather recycled the wearer’s air.

  He swung. The wrench hit her shoulder and almost shattered the bone of her upper arm. But Rysa Torres, the Draki Prime, the healer of dragons, pulled through her pain and drew a long breath of Praesagio’s dust-choked air. And Rysa swung the axe weighing in her hand.

  The axe’s cut-steel head was balanced only in pounds by the flare on the end of the handle, not in ounces, and it rolled in her grip. It was an axe meant to take down walls. To open holes so those needing to escape a burning world, could.

  Not to defend a young Fate-Shifter from a Roman Emperor.

  Rysa’s white-hot seers ruptured and flared like a supernova. He was about to swing the wrench again.

  Burning sat on her tongue as a hot, acidic aftertaste her calling scents could not mask. It popped in her ears as a crackle as loud as her own breathing. And it colored the world with drago
n flame.

  The monster grunted loudly enough that Rysa heard it through his suit’s hood. This time, he raised the wrench over his head. This time, when he hit, she flew sideways. Her collarbone fractured, and she slammed into the edge of a tool case, but she held her body straight. She would not allow the monster in front of her, the thing who was much worse than her uncle Faustus, see the blinding hurt screaming through her body.

  He twisted slightly, she knew, to see her clearly through the mirrored facemask. One more hit and she’d knock off his rebreather. He’d go down like everyone else who came too close to her, a shrieking heap on the floor rocking back and forth because he couldn’t breathe anymore.

  No one breathed around her. No one. She was Fate. She was Shifter. And her calling scents set brains on fire.

  He wouldn’t get by her. Not now. Not ever.

  She would take him down and he would never control the Dracae.

  She lifted her arm, righting her collarbone and pulling the bone flush. Under her skin, bone knitted, but she wouldn’t move the axe to the other hand. She wouldn’t show weakness.

  They were matched weapon for weapon. He was bigger. But Rysa healed.

  The monster wiggled his shoulders inside his military-grade ocean suit, breathing singular air pulled from a filter system capable of trapping ash and fire and the calling scents of an out-of-control Shifter.

  The wrench arced toward her again. Its reflection glinted for the briefest moment on the plastic of his hood, mixing with the gleam and glitter of sun streaming in through the broken roof.

  The iron in her hand slashed, but the suit held. And this monster, this man who still counted himself Emperor of all—the normals, the Fates, the Shifters, the Burners—swung his weapon one more time….

  Chapter Two

  Now…

  Rysa Torres leaned against the door of a stolen sedan, her phone in one hand and a pair of binoculars in the other. Her soon-to-be brother-in-law, Derek, had parked at the far end of the big mall’s lot, in the little patch of asphalt to the side of the main entrance. He’d been nice and gone into the mall to buy supplies—and to do recon—by himself. So she could tease Ladon “privately.” Or at least as privately as allowed in a parking lot.

  The road ran by just up a dusty embankment, separating the mall and its movie theaters from the big box stores, the liquor warehouses, and the indistinguishable chain restaurants. Blocked from the shoppers by a rock-filled median and the sorriest-looking little tree she’d ever seen, the spot offered some privacy.

  Which she so very much wanted.

  Three days in a car with her butt on a rock-hard passenger seat and Derek cramming two thousand years of Dracae history into her head left her squirrelly. Both he and Andreas seemed to forget that attention deficit meant a real, honest-to-goodness deficit in attention. Without the calming effects of Ladon and Dragon’s energy flow, a lot of what they threw at her didn’t stick.

  But she did learn about the sheer quantity of actual Romans walking around, and Derek’s thoughts on modern Russia. And she lived through the “necessary” three-hour lecture on Fate-Shifter politics, even though Derek refused to talk about the Shifter Progenitor. She’d been so bored her seers started whipping around, looking for something—anything—else to think about.

  Like the gorgeous man standing next to the driver’s side door of his van, thirty-five feet away, his own phone to his ear and his binoculars to his eyes. She looped her binoculars around her neck, moving her hand slowly over her breasts as she leaned forward into the light thrown by the lone streetlamp a few feet away. A finger worked over a nipple and she opened her mouth, releasing a breathy sigh into her phone. Not a lot of light filtered over the sedan, but just enough to make her movements distinct and clear.

  Ladon’s growl rolled between the vehicles, a deep, masculine call of pent-up desire so loud Rysa didn’t need her phone to hear it. She grinned and ran her hand down her front. Then she splayed her fingers, and she dropped her palm to her thigh.

  “Guess where I put the other insignia,” she purred, watching him watch her. Before she’d cycled up too high, Ladon had tied leather cording through a new Dragons’ Legion insignia. He’d bound one to her uncovered wrist, and placed another around her neck. She wore three visible now, and one she’d put on herself. In a hidden place he’d have to find.

  He dropped the binoculars away from his eyes and just stared, one eyebrow cocked, chest forward and legs firmly planted, like he was about to sprint across the pavement and sweep her up in his arms.

  Which he couldn’t. Her Shifter calling scents spewed at an insane level that no one could be within thirty-five feet of her. Not Andreas or AnnaBelinda or any normal. Not Ladon. Not Dragon, who rested on the roof of the van, his hide dark and mimicking the Santa Fe landscape. The poor beast was trying very hard to ignore his humans’ little game.

  No one but Derek could be close enough to talk to her without yelling across a wide open space, which both pissed off Ladon and made him thankful. So Rysa did her best to keep her man engaged, even if they couldn’t touch.

  She missed him. A lot. Derek was great—though obviously freaked out by the changes to his body since she’d healed him at his cousin’s bar in Branson, Missouri. But he wasn’t Ladon. He was, pretty much, her brother-in-law, and he seemed to be taking his new role seriously. Derek channeled “mom” better than Rysa’s own mother.

  Right now, Ladon didn’t care where they were. If she asked him to strip naked so she could have herself a good look, he’d do it. Right here in front of the teenager staffing the drive-thru on the other side of the road and the fat housewives stuffing sleepy kids and ice cream into the backs of their minivans in front of the mall.

  Her spectacular man would stand in the heat wafting off the asphalt, in full glory for the world to envy, just because she asked.

  Ladon’s cheek twitched. “You put the insignia in your bra, over your right nipple. So it rubs like my thumb and finger.” All the lust in his voice carried through the phone.

  “Oh…” Rysa breathed. “Maybe I’ll do that. Maybe I’ll take Derek’s and put one on each nipple.” She ran her free hand over her breasts again. “But that’s not where it is.”

  The insignias weren’t her talisman, but they did carry a tiny fraction of dragon talon. They allowed her to use her Fate’s seers, at least a little bit. But losing her true talisman, Dragon’s talon, to that crazy nightmare-fuel douchebag Vivicus, and not being able to touch Dragon now because she had to stay back, hobbled her future-, present-, and past-seers.

  And made them random. But she was working on that. When she wasn’t teasing Ladon or being lectured by Derek on what Shifter clan lived where, she talked on the phone with Grandpa Andreas for as long as her brain could hold focus, or used chat, listening and studying and learning how to be a good Fate.

  Even hampered, she’d tracked Vivicus and her talisman to New Mexico. Three days they’d been jaunting around the Southwest, and she hoped they might catch a lead tonight.

  Her seers were clear on one thing—catching Vivicus wasn’t going to happen. At least not now. Vivicus needed new money for new accounts, ones unnoticeable to Dmitri’s cyber-stalkers and not attached to the Seraphim, so he was looking for a buyer for her talon. She was sure Vivicus had morphed his body into a shape just as unnoticeable.

  Her seers had been clear about something else—without her talisman, she’d never get her Shifter half under control. Dragon couldn’t get close for long enough to do any good. And it turned out dragons didn’t shed talons naturally. He’d volunteered to pull out another one—to tie a rope around it and use the van to yank it out the way her dad used to pull out her loose baby teeth when she was little. He said he’d hold still, maybe stay latched onto a tree, and have Ladon gun the van.

  The look of horror on her face had been enough to make Dragon promise not to try. She couldn’t get near him to heal the wound, so she’d firmly—very firmly—said no. Absolutely, unequivocal
ly no. And he was not to argue.

  The relief on Ladon’s face alone had been enough to stop all thoughts of de-taloning right then and there. Besides, Dragon’s missing one was still growing back, so he couldn’t lose another right now.

  Vivicus stealing the talon pissed off Ladon’s sister AnnaBelinda more than it did him. Rysa had picked up bits with her seers—guilt over what had happened in Wyoming and Branson rolled off Anna and Sister-Dragon and muddied Rysa’s present- and future-seeing. But at least Rysa knew it motivated the dragon woman to help this time, not hinder.

  When they left Branson, Rysa gave an order for AnnaBelinda to head off in a different direction, and to think very clearly about where she was going. So Anna had—and had returned to the cave to fetch the other van.

  As far as anyone could tell, Rysa’s plan had worked. No Fates had yet shown up at Dmitri’s bar, The Land of Milk and Honey. She’d had the Dracae and the Shifters send waves of confusion into what-was-is-will-be and they’d dodged a big bullet as a result.

 

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