Dragon's Tears (City Dragons Book 3)

by Lisa Oliver

  Orson tilted his chin up. “No. I’m not stupid. I heard what went on in the States. Your mutated mutt would tear me apart in seconds and you’d probably claim that was just a coincidence too.”

  Byron jumped up as Dirk leaped to his feet. “You don’t ever malign my fated mate!” Dirk pointed at their uncle. “As clan leader, I can banish you and your family – is that what you want, or are you deliberately provoking a brawl so you can set your sons up to be killed by me and mine, like my father tried to do with my brother?”

  “You won’t win,” Byron growled, recognizing that was exactly what their uncle was doing. “None of you will leave here alive unless you start showing some respect.”

  Orson hadn’t moved from his chair, but he lifted his hand, presumably to tell his sons to stand down. “I didn’t think you had a spine, Byron. Mating must have done you a huge favor. Where is your blushing bride? A purely family question,” Orson added to Dirk, holding his hands out to the side. “No ulterior motive behind it.”

  “If you scent I’m mated, then you’ll also know who I’m mated too. The whole dragon clan welcomed Ice when he joined with me,” Byron said, his jaw tight.

  “He!” Orson slapped his knee. “I fucking knew it. My brother spawned three faggots and not a shot between them of having an heir. I knew it. I knew this would happen. Brilliant. That’s exactly what I wanted to hear. So, which one of my sons will you be choosing as the Hollingsworth heir, Dirk? I’m warning you now, they’ll need a seat on the board, and I’d expect whoever you choose to be running the European company at the very least.”

  “I have a son,” Dirk said through clenched jaws. “I have a son, and as my son won’t have to worry about me retiring for a good long while, he can grow up and have a life free from unhealthy family influences.”

  “The half-breed bastard you adopted?” Orson clearly didn’t see that coming. But then he had to go and make the situation worse, by saying, “You’ll be telling me next your little brother is making half breed vampires with his stuck-up mate. Fuck, the lot of you should have been drowned at birth. It’s just disgusting what you lot consider dragon-worthy these days.”

  Byron snarled. It was bad enough his mother slandering him. Yes, his father set him up to be killed by his brother, and he’d had to let his mate go into certain danger alone, because that was the only way he could hope for Ice’s safe return. But to hear his uncle slander the entire family line was too much. With a roar he let his claws emerge from his fingers as he dived for his uncle, slashing the man across the face. The blood splashed his suit and he felt his two cousins pile in on top of him, but that didn’t stop him smashing the shit out of his snobbish uncle.

  “I am sick and tired of not being enough, the way I am,” he snarled, continuing to punch his uncle around the head, making sure his elbows connected with his cousins on the back swing. No matter what they did, they couldn’t pull him off. “There’s nothing wrong with Tiernan. There’s nothing wrong with any of us. It’s you that’s fucked in the head. You and your robotic sons who’ll never find the joy of a true mate because they’re too busy looking down their noses at anyone non dragon. My mate wouldn’t even exist if all dragons thought like you. You’re what’s wrong with dragons today. You and your pathetic sons who can’t fight their way out of a paper bag.”

  “Stop him.” Orson’s words were mostly gargled. “This is an unprovoked… ow…”

  The weight fell off Byron’s back as fast as it’d landed and then Dirk was there, his touch gentle as he tapped Byron’s shoulder. “He’s not worth it, bro,” he said, his dragon making itself known. “He didn’t even have the guts to challenge me outright because he knew he couldn’t win. He just kept digging holes with his flappy lips until someone reacted – you just beat me to the punch.”

  “I’m just sick of taunts from shits like him.” Byron got up, retracting his claws as he tugged his jacket into place. Henry and Luke were bound on the floor sporting bruises and Henry had a cut over one eye. Jon was watching them like a hawk. “He’s as bad as father used to be. They cling to the old ways spouting words like dignity and respect, then stab you in the back as soon as it’s turned. No honor. No integrity. Just ‘we’re dragons so we’re superior’, but ones like this lot aren’t even close. They’re worse than pond scum, the lot of them.”

  Byron still felt unsettled, uneasy, as though a thousand ants were crawling over his skin. He didn’t know if he was still upset, hearing words he’d thought himself in the past coming from his uncle’s mouth, or if his uneasiness was due to his missing mate. He turned and met Dirk’s eyes steadily. “The beat down was justified. Slander of our youngest brother and his mate, your mate, the heir, and you. As second, I was within my rights. I need to get out of here before I do something he really can’t come back from. If you’ll excuse me.”

  Ignoring his uncle completely, Byron stalked out, hurrying to his room, almost running by the time he turned into the corridor his wing was in, tugging at his clothes as they were irritating his skin. “What’s wrong?” He said out loud, knowing this had to be Dancer’s doing.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chaos.

  At least Dancer was talking to him again. My icy counterpart sent Ice into heat… he couldn’t help it… you two are not dual claimed and when our mate left without begging you to go, the poor dragon just went into meltdown. He’d waited so long for the claim, that now, in his head, it’s still incomplete. Wolfy is trying to calm him down, but it’s not working. Nothing I’m saying helps. I don’t know what to do. You fighting with Orson just made it worse.

  “What will this mean for Ice?” Byron stripped off his tie and unbuttoned his shirt. Just the mention of heat made the itching on his skin increase.

  He’s not going to be able to focus. He’s trying, so hard, desperate to stop the threats to him and you. He wants to come back to you, but now the heat’s in place, the dragon can’t stop it, unless he withdraws from him completely, like Dirk’s dragon did from him.

  “But that will leave him vulnerable, open to attack.” Byron hadn’t been around when it happened to Dirk, but Bryce, Dirk’s PA, had said it was really bad and Dirk needed medical intervention from a Griffin, before his dragon withdrew all powers, strength, and the heat leaving Dirk as weak as a newborn.

  We need to go to him. Dancer’s voice seemed to have an echo.

  “I’m not sure that’s the best idea. Can’t you claim him… you know… like that, in your dragon form?” Byron wasn’t sure if dragons even had penises, but he assumed they must do – they had a gender.

  There was silence – a long silence, and then Dancer asked, the wolf too?

  Ouch. Byron mentally winced, feeling sorry for the wolf. “You have to do something. I can go – we can go after him, but I don’t even know where Ice was going.”

  He’s flying a damn plane. It was typical Dancer would be dismissive of mechanical means of flight, but Dancer’s exasperation flowed through their bond. It’s wolfy who’s managing to keep him focused so they don’t crash the damn thing, but you’ve got to do something, because wolfy can’t keep this up for long.

  “Can you catch a plane in flight? Can you fly fast enough to make up the time we’ve lost already, and catch up to him, so we’ll be there when he lands?”

  I don’t know, Dancer sent back after a long moment. I will discuss it with the others and see which option they feel is best.

  Yeah, you do that. Byron felt something almost like a snap in his head as Dancer withdrew, presumably to talk to other dragons. Tugging off the rest of his clothes, he left them in a heap on the floor, striding into his private bathroom and turning on the shower. I should have gone with my gut, he cursed himself as he stepped into the water. I should’ve stuck to my guns, stayed with Ice regardless of my fears and he wouldn’t be going through this now. Leaning on the tiles, Byron let the steady stream of water flow over his neck and back, as he waited to hear from his dragon.

  /~/~/~/~/


  “Ice. Ice. For fuck’s sake, you’re burning up.” Petrov’s voice pierced the fog in Ice’s brain, and he tightened the grip on the control wheel of the plane automatically.

  “I’m all right,” he said quickly, checking the gauges to make sure they were maintaining a safe height and then out the window to ensure no mountains were looming. “I’m fine. You should be in your seat. I can do this.” I have to do this, have to do this.

  “You’re burning up. The sweat’s pouring off you. You have to land.”

  “We’re over halfway. There’s nowhere to land.” Ice waved a hand towards the window – the scenery on the ground was bleak, shrouded in ice and snow. “I’m all right. We have to keep going.” But even as he spoke his whole body trembled and the plane wobbled. Petrov fell back against the co-pilot’s seat.

  “Get out of that seat.” Petrov scowled as he hauled himself to his feet again. “I’ll fly. You’ll have to talk me through it.”

  “You can… you can…” Ice gasped as a wrenching pain flooded his gut. “Sit in the co-pilot’s seat.” Fuck. Hot. Cold. Pain. Tiredness. Sensation after sensation crowding his body, rendering most of it useless. “Take over,” he growled as he curled over his stomach. “Hold the control wheel steady.”

  Panting like a racehorse at the end of a sprint, Ice rocked back and forth in his seat, trying to get a handle on what was going on. Every cell in his body ached to be back with Byron. It was like he couldn’t think of anything else – just his mate. It can’t be the heat, he raged to his insides, not sure if either of his spirits were listening to him. I claimed our mate. This can’t be heat.

  Scaly can’t help it. His wolf side was a growly presence in his head. You left him. You left our mate. Scaly is gutted. Our mate is fighting another right now. Without us. We are stronger together.

  He told me to go alone! Ice could barely breathe and the black spots in front of his eyes were blocking his vision.

  Byron was trying to protect you. He didn’t want you to lose focus and get hurt because of him. He didn’t trust you to not humiliate him in front of his brother and clan leader, ordering him to stay behind. He worries so much.

  Oh gods. Oh gods. So many mistakes. Ice was starting to think his whole life was a mistake. Ignoring his mate for five long years, talking blithely about quirks he had no intention of keeping up when he and Byron finally did get to live together. We’re in a fucking plane. Petrov doesn’t know how to fly it. You have to stop this. Please!

  Will you accept any future consequences?

  Yes. Then Ice had a horrible thought. Provided it doesn’t mean giving up our mate. His one taste of his mate was nowhere near enough and either without the heat, Ice had known he’d made a mistake leaving Byron the moment he’d walked out the Hollingsworth door.

  Idiot. His wolf was rightfully scornful. As if we’d do that. Fine. Give us twenty minutes, thirty at the most. You’ll feel better then but remember this.

  Remember what? The wolf didn’t answer. Forcing his eyes open, Ice looked at his grim-faced brother gripping the control wheel staring fixedly out the window, barely blinking. “Twenty minutes,” he panted. “My spirits promised. Twenty minutes. Just hold course.”

  Petrov grunted, which was enough. Closing his eyes again, Ice succumbed to the heat. Why the hell am I getting a hard on?

  /~/~/~/~/

  The wonderful thing about the paranormal world is that sometimes believers can suspend belief, especially when a situation calls for unusual times. And in the dragon realm, where the dragon spirits of Dirk, Samuel, Rastin, Leonard, Foster, and Byron lived, there was nothing at all unusual at seeing an ice dragon merge his form with the wolf soul he’d been paired with since birth. If the resulting dragon was furrier than usual in places, no one was going to comment on it. They even turned their backs respectfully when the ice dragon/wolf mix, and Byron’s fire dragon took to the skies.

  Dragon mating, complete with sex in a spiritual form was virtually unheard of, but Leonard and Foster convinced Dirk’s dragon it had been done before, even if it did come with a few consequences. Dancer added his plea when his ice dragon mate, who still had to share the name he’d like to be called by, stood wracked with guilt and shame over his lack of control and the impact his actions were having to a man currently hundreds of geographical miles from his true mate. With no way for two men to get together fast enough to do any good, and the danger of Ice’s dragon shifting with Ice in a plane, the dragons would complete the dual aspect of their bond in their place.

  Flying as a dragon was intense. In the air, the heavy bodies of the dragons had no meaning – it was all about the rush of wind around their scales, the freedom of being in a construct defined by neither space nor time. The spirits slotted together like the perfect fit on a jigsaw puzzle, their long necks entwinned, two pairs of huge wings hiding the intimate actions from their audience below. The mating dance was older than time, and as the dragons on the ground below stamped their feet and tails onto the earth, setting up a primal rhythm, Dancer and the ice dragon/wolf found theirs.

  The connection was as natural as breathing. Byron and Ice had already exchanged bites in their human form. They were already bonded, but as Dancer slid into his mates’ morphed body, their huge forms swirling as their wings kept them aloft, the animal nature of man spread through his spirit, reaching out to the men they lived through. The dragons’ neck movements became more frantic, their wings beating double time to keep their bulk off the ground. Dancer could feel his link with his ancestors, reveling in their approval. As the moment came, when he could hold back no more, Dancer caught the Ice dragon/wolf’s eye with his and the morphed being nodded. Necks outstretched, heads tilted to the skies both dragons and the wolf let out a roar – a shower of fire and ice – and as they lazily twirled and swirled their way back to the ground, the wolf let out an additional howl through his dragon’s mouth.

  I choose the name Radostnyy, the ice dragon shared shyly as their tails brushed the ground.

  My joyful soul, Dancer sighed happily. He stared down at the white dragon scale that now covered his heart. Radostnyy wore one just like it in dark blue.

  Back in Munich, Byron stared at his spunk dripping down the shower wall, feeling a new found determination. Shutting off the water, he grabbed a towel and called on his satiated dragon. Enough of this giving my mate space bullshit. I need to shift. We’re going to Ice, now.

  And on the plane, Ice winced at the mess in his pants, even as his body temp slowly returned to normal and his heart chanted Byron’s name. Straightening in his seat, he glanced over at Petrov who was still staring determinedly at the skies ahead, his nose twitching the only sign he knew anything had happened to Ice. “Let go of the controls, my brother. I’m turning the plane around.”

  “You’ve come to your senses? We’re going back to find Byron?” Petrov slumped back in his chair, flexing his fingers to get some color back in his knuckles.

  Ice’s lips curved in a smirk. “We’re going to meet my mate, yes.”

  Chapter Twenty

  They met in the middle of a vast plain, shrouded with ice and snow. The dark blue dragon stood in the middle of the field, watching as the plane approached, sinking lower and lower until the wheels juddered and slid on the uneven surface. Ice was unbuckling his seat belt before the plane had even stopped, smashing his palm on the door control and leaping to the ground below.

  Byron found his legs, his breath forming a mist as he panted, remembering just in time to clothe himself with royal magic as the icy chill hit his bare skin. “Ice!” he yelled as he spotted the man running towards him. He started to run too. It was like a slow-mo romance scene, except there was no sunshine or a field of flowers – the running wasn’t slow and there was no soft kiss between two lovers when they met up. More, two men slamming together, their arms gripping each other tightly as they both inhaled their mate’s scent.

  “Ice, I’m so sorry. I should never have told you to go without me.” Byron’s bod
y shivered and it had nothing to do with the wind chill.

  “Not Ice any more, moya lyubov’. Ice has been retired. I will be known from this moment on as Ivak.”

  “Ivak,” Byron said softly, leaning his upper torso back slightly so he could stroke his mate’s cheek. “Does this mean we no longer hunt a threat?”

  Ivak shook his head, his hand reaching up almost hesitantly. Byron leaned his cheek into his mate’s touch. “I have avoided this for long enough, but the time has come. I won’t spend my life with you watching over my shoulder. My cousin will pay for what he did to you, him and my former handler Nikita. It’s time for me to remember, I am my father’s son. I’ve never been treated like one, I’ve barely been acknowledged by the man who contributed the seed I grew from. But I am, and always have been Prince Ivak Sellivik, and with my warrior mate and my loyal brother by my side, it is time to brave the dragon in his den.”

  “I won’t let you down. You have my word as the Hollingsworth Clan second, and as a Prince Consort,” Byron grinned. “Hey, does that mean I rank higher than Dirk now?”

  “Only among the ice dragons.” Ivak leaned forward, brushing the cold tip of Byron’s nose with his lips. “On my word, I will never leave you again. Whatever comes for us, we face together.”

  “I like that idea,” Byron said as he turned his mate around and they trudged back to the plane which had skidded sideways. “Are you going to be able to get this hunk of metal off the ground? I doubt there’s a decent runway for miles.”

  “The closest one is about two hundred miles that way.” Ivak pointed to his left. “Strong will, excellent pilot skills, and a hefty dose of royal dragon magic and we should be fine.”