Manhattan Dragon

by Genevieve Jack

  Raven stood at the head of the aisle, wearing a dress that was as unique as the creatures who had created it. Juniper and Hazel had outdone themselves with this one. She’d already received questions about who the designer was and had said she’d designed it herself, a lie her sister Avery clearly did not believe.

  The dress was made of a light, airy fabric and embroidered with diamonds that shimmered when she moved. Of course, anyone who saw it would assume they were crystals. The oreads had designed the gown backless with strings of diamonds swagged from shoulder to waist. No one in their right mind would assume they were real either. The dress draped over her every curve and was cut with an empire waist that completely hid her small but growing baby bump.

  “You don’t seem nervous at all,” her mother said beside her. “That’s a good sign.”

  “How could I be nervous? I’m making the best decision of my life.”

  Her mom smiled. “Speaking of life decisions, good or bad, I see you invited your father, and he brought a date.”

  Raven gave her side-eye. “See what you get for hounding me to talk to him?”

  “I wanted you to tell him you were expecting, not invite him back into the fold.”

  “Meh, don’t get too excited. I don’t plan to make involving him in my life a habit.”

  Her mother nodded appreciatively.

  The music started, and Avery took her first steps down the long aisle in front of her, a bouquet of lilies in her hands.

  “Here we go,” her mom whispered, squeezing her arm.

  Raven watched Avery reach the front of the church where Tobias met her and escorted her to the side of the aisle. It was sad that Sabrina couldn’t join them, but it was a day wedding, and although she could tolerate the sunlight, it weakened her. Raven understood.

  Gabriel’s sister, Rowan, proceeded down the aisle after Avery. Raven had enjoyed getting to know Gabriel’s sister and her new mate, Nick. She was overjoyed that the princess had agreed to be in her wedding and thought she looked flawless in the off-the-shoulder emerald gown that Avery had chosen for the occasion.

  Once Rowan reached the head of the aisle, her fiancé, Nick, ushered her to the side behind Avery and Tobias. That’s when Gabriel stepped into view in front of the priest, looking even bigger and darker than usual in a black tuxedo. Raven released a happy sigh.

  “Ready?” her mother asked her.

  “Absolutely.”

  “This doesn’t mean you’re going to break with tradition and change your name from Tanglewood to Blakemore, does it?”

  She scoffed. “Absolutely not. I can be as good a wife as a Tanglewood than as a Blakemore.”

  Her mother laughed. “You make me proud.”

  The music changed, and they started down the aisle.

  Raven continued, “Men have had the privilege of keeping their names for centuries. I’m certainly not going to spoil the Tanglewood legacy and bow to the patriarchy now.”

  Her mother’s eyes wrinkled at the corners with her smile as they reached the front of the church, and she leaned forward to give Raven a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you for letting me do this, Raven. You don’t need me, not anymore, but I’m here for you.”

  “I need you, Mom. I’ll always need you.” Her hands trailed from her arm and she turned to Gabriel. His eyes misted at the sight of her. Her love, her dragon, her immortal mate. She felt exactly the same way.

  The ceremony itself seemed to play out in fast-forward, their vows a string of pretty syllables that all reiterated what she already knew for sure—he was her soul mate, they were bound for life, and she would go to her death for him and for their child.

  “I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the priest said. “You may kiss the bride.”

  Gabriel bent to meet her halfway. She rose up on her tiptoes and captured his mouth. She was careful to keep it appropriate for church, but she couldn’t wait to get him home. She already wondered at the delights she’d find in his bed tonight, just as she did every night. Loving Gabriel was an adventure in slick heat, soft kisses, and the throes of magic that brought with them their own pleasures.

  Gabriel took her hand. “Come, my wife. We must greet our guests.”

  He led her back up the aisle where they lined up next to Avery, Tobias, Rowan, and Nick to shake hands and greet attendees as they left for the reception. There were several people Raven didn’t know well, distant relations that her mother had invited and past neighbors whom she hadn’t seen in years.

  Her father kissed her on both cheeks and offered his congratulations, but he did not introduce the woman who accompanied him. She was auburn-haired and freckled, and when she shook Raven’s hand, her touch sent a shiver of power up her arm. Raven went rigid, a strange taste filling her mouth, her hand turning cold as ice.

  The woman released her and slipped into the crowd, arms linked with her father’s. They left the church before Raven could question what had happened.

  “What’s wrong,” Gabriel asked, rubbing her back with a steadying hand. “All the color just drained from your face.”

  “Did you recognize that woman who was with my father?”

  He squinted after her, but she was long gone. “No.”

  “She had power. I felt it. And it was somehow familiar.”

  “Familiar how?”

  She shook her head. “I’m not sure.”

  He massaged the base of her neck. “Maybe a natural witch,” he said. “Try not to worry. If she’d wanted to make mischief, she would have done so.”

  Raven tried to comfort herself with that thought and gave Gabriel a grateful kiss. “Thank you. You’re right. I’m not going to think about it. Not tonight. Tonight is about you and me and our future.”

  “David, please excuse me. I need to use the powder room,” the stranger said.

  The man she knew was Raven’s father smiled at her, although she was sure there was nothing going on behind his blank stare. She’d had him entranced for most of the day. She’d told him to call her Charlotte, but other than that, he knew nothing about her. Exactly as she wished.

  She ducked into a bathroom and closed and locked the door, examining her reflection in the full-length mirror. The auburn hair and pale skin were quite ugly, but one mustn’t get lazy when using illusions. The last thing she wanted to do was stand out. She’d been so close to the witch, but principles were principles. She’d let Raven have her wedding. There would be time enough to take her, the right time, when she could use her father to gain access to her without the threat of three dragon heirs to deal with.

  Until then, she needed to bide her time, to be patient. She cast off the illusion in the privacy of the small room and watched her reflection turn dark purple in the large mirror. Much better. She unfurled her gossamer wings, stretching one, then the other, and sighed in relief. Aborella was a powerful and patient fairy sorceress, and she wouldn’t be leaving Earth without Raven and the whelp she carried in her womb. And if she played her cards right, she’d take the treasure of Paragon with her.

  Thank you for reading Rowan and Nick’s story. Both are anxious to find Rowan’s brother, Alexander, before the Empress of Paragon does.

  Alexander exists on the edge of insanity after the loss of his beloved Maiara. But when his family arrives on the scene, details about the dragon sibling’s early history in America may hold a promise and a secret to healing his heart. Turn the page to read an excerpt.

  Get your copy of Dragon of Sedona today!

  The Dragon of Sedona Excerpt

  Coming March 24, 2020. Cover reveal coming soon.

  Click here to preorder now!

  The Dragon of Sedona

  Excerpt

  Alexander was beginning to feel like Wile E. Coyote, only instead of blowing himself up trying to kill the Road Runner, he kept trying to commit suicide and was repeatedly thwarted by the rascally bird. His roadrunner was actually a red-tailed hawk that was hundreds of years past its natural expiration date, yet was far to
o stubborn to want to die. Unlike the cartoon Road Runner, the hawk made no attempt to run away from him or leave him in the dust with a resounding “Meep, meep!” On the contrary, this bird rarely left his side. Despite his many attempts to separate himself from the winged creature, it remained an obsessive, magical pain in the ass.

  “You’re not going to stop me this time, Nyx.”

  He called the bird Nyx after the Greek goddess of the night. Red-tailed hawks weren’t nocturnal animals, but this one had ushered night into his life, the kind of night that lived on the inside of man that no amount of desert sun could reach. She had been his mate’s familiar when she was alive. Maiara, his true love. She never went anywhere without the hawk until the night she was brutally murdered. The hawk had left her and come to him, and she’d been with him ever since.

  A stab of longing cut through him. Thanks to Nyx, not a day went by he didn’t think of her. The bird was a constant reminder, both of them locked in eternal mourning.

  “You have to let me do this,” he said to Nyx. He’d used his dragon wings to fly to the top of one of the massive red rocks Sedona was known for with a roll of sharp wire and an appetite for death. The landscape’s signature color was courtesy of iron oxide naturally occurring in the stone, and the topography was roughly as dry and coarse as the surface of Mars. There’d been a time he’d found its mystique comforting. Not anymore.

  “You don’t want to go on like this anymore, do you?”

  Nyx let out a shrill cry that let him know exactly what she thought of his plan.

  “I will never understand you. This has to be as much a nightmare for you as it is for me. Whatever Maiara did to you to make you immortal has attached you to me. Never able to live as a bird. Never able to mate with your own kind.” He placed his hands on his hips. “Have you ever stopped to think that if I died, you could be free? Truly free.”

  She flapped her wings and landed on his arm, her talons digging into his skin. To his dragon skin, it wasn’t a threat. He might have looked human with his wings tucked away, but he was far tougher and healed almost immediately when damaged. The hawk rubbed its head against his stubbled cheek. As he looked at her, he saw his reflection in her tawny eyes. Hell, he looked like shit. Even in silhouette, he could tell he badly needed a shave and a haircut, and he didn’t have to see the rest of him to know he was emaciated.

  He pushed her away. “That’s enough. Go wait over there. This will be over soon.”

  To be sure, his was not his first suicide attempt. It was hard to kill a dragon. Technically, he was immortal. Poison didn’t work. Walking in front of a semitruck didn’t work. He’d tried laying his neck on the railroad tracks once, and Nyx had dug in her claws and dragged him just enough to save his life. That was a mess and a painful recovery, but recover he had. If alcohol poisoning could’ve done him in, he’d already be dead. He bought tequila by the case. He’d run his motorcycle off a bridge. Lived. Had to buy a new bike. Dragons couldn’t drown or be burned to death.

  There was only one foolproof way to kill a dragon: decapitation. His latest plan was simple. He’d purchased a roll of thin, sharp wire. One end, he’d fastened around the base of a juniper tree. The other, he’d formed into a noose of sorts with a loop that would constrict, quick and sharp around his neck. His plan was to run as fast as he could toward the edge of the cliff and hurl himself off, causing the force of his weight against the wire to result in his decapitation.

  To be sure, he hadn’t calculated the physics behind the attempt. He was an artist after all, not a scientist. But he had a feeling about this one. It would work. It had to work.

  He checked that the wire was properly fastened around the base of the juniper tree and placed the noose around his neck, then backed up to get a running start. Pausing, he remembered his wings. What if his dragon instincts kicked in when he started to fall? He might accidentally save himself. He cursed and removed the noose.

  Flying down to the place he’d left his motorcycle on the road at the base of the cliff, he grabbed his leather jacket and flew back up. Thrusting his arms into the sleeves, he steeled his resolve. That would do it. Now if his wings reflexively opened, the leather’d stop them.

  He placed the noose back around his neck and wished he’d brought a bottle of tequila. This was going to hurt. Glancing back toward Nyx, he was relieved to find she was gone. Maybe his lecture had gotten through to her after all. She’d left him, for the first time ever. It was a sign.

  He ran for the edge.

  Three steps from the brink, Nyx flew straight up, sheering the side of the cliff straight into his face. He cried out. Her talons snapped toward his neck and his feet slipped out from under him. He became a baseball player sliding into home, only home was open air beyond the cliff’s edge. For a second he processed bright blue sky and the red-tailed hawk with his noose in her claws, and then he dropped like a stone.

  He landed on his back in front of his motorcycle. Oww. Immortal or not, it hurt when your bones broke. Perfectly still, he stared at the hawk as she banked and circled down toward him, her cries echoing off the stone.

  “I really hate you,” he whispered up at her as soon as he could pull breath into his lungs. There was a sickening slurp as his bones healed themselves. He ran a hand through his hair. The back of his head was sore, but there wasn’t any blood.

  The crunch of wheels on gravel turned his head. A minivan had pulled to the side next to his bike, and a tall white man in dark socks with sandals walked toward him.

  “Hey, are you all right?” The man leaned over Alexander, the floppy brim of his hat casting shade over his face and blocking his view of Nyx.

  “I’m fine.”

  “What are you doing lying on the side of the road?”

  He glanced toward his bike. “I’m, uh, just resting.”

  “Buddy, this is not the place. Someone could run you over.”

  He cleared his throat. He should be so lucky. “Hmm. Right. I’ll be on my way then.” He allowed the man to help him up and gave his neck a good crack.

  “Hey… Hey! Are you that guy? You know, that guy who paints the bird.” The man turned to the van and yelled, “Honey, it’s that guy!”

  Alexander groaned. Oh dear goddess, please open the earth and swallow him down to hell pronto.

  A woman in a Minnie Mouse T-shirt, jean shorts, and a green visor hopped down from the passenger seat of the minivan.

  “My word, it is him! Alexander! We just bought one of your paintings! You’re so talented.”

  “Thanks,” he mumbled. “I really have to go.”

  “Oh wait, can we get a picture?”

  “I, uh…”

  The woman had already pulled one of his paintings from the back of the van. He recognized it. A piece he’d done a few years ago of Nyx, the red rock, and the blue sky. It was what he called a money piece. It meant nothing to him; he’d just painted it for the money. It was the Thomas Kinkade of his work, beautiful and meaningless.

  She held it in front of his chest, her husband holding the other end of the canvas, and then popped her arm out to take a selfie. He did not smile.

  “One, two, three…,” she prompted.

  The glare from the cheesy grins on either side of him was almost blinding. Out of sheer guilt, he popped the corner of his closed lips up a quarter of an inch. A series of clicks later, she slid her phone back into her pocket.

  “Thank you! What a special moment,” she squealed.

  She loaded the painting back into the van and the two waved their goodbyes. He watched them pull onto the road and drive away.

  Nyx landed on the handlebars of his Harley-Davidson, and he glared at the bird before climbing on behind her and starting the engine.

  “What a fucking Monday.”

  Alexander exists on the edge of insanity after the loss of his beloved Maiara. But when his family arrives on the scene, details about the dragon sibling’s early history in America may hold a promise and a secret to healing hi
s heart.

  Get your copy of the Dragon of Sedona today!

  Acknowledgments

  We’ve come to the place in my novels where I get to extol the virtues of the team of people who make this all possible. Novel writing doesn’t happen in a vacuum. If you enjoy my work, you should know it wouldn’t be quite what it is today without the help of a few important individuals.

  First, I want to thank Anne Victory of Victory Editing for her meticulous attention. It’s thanks to Anne that my comma placement is satisfactory, my participles don’t embarrassingly dangle, and all those sentences that made sense in my head but are complete gibberish on the page are made clear again. Anne has edited each of the Treasure of Paragon books so far, and I can’t thank her enough for what she does for me.

  Manhattan Dragon would not have been possible without the support of a few amazing and talented authors as well. Author T.M. Cromer was kind enough to give this manuscript an early critique and point out both areas of brilliance and where the story was a complete mess. I think we cleaned up those messes, TM! I thank you and the dragons thank you. Author Sara Whitney also helped me iron out a few details. Sara, your eye for character development and ear for humor are always appreciated.

  Thanks again to Deranged Doctor Designs for the cover art. Every book in this series is more beautiful than the last. Your talent is breathtaking.

  And finally, to my husband, Aaron, and daughters Hannah and Madelin, thank you for understanding my occasional absence (both mental and physical) as Rowan and Nick slowly revealed their story to me. Your support keeps me going. I love you all.

  About the Author

  USA Today bestselling author Genevieve Jack writes wild, witty, and wicked-hot paranormal romance and fantasy. Coffee and wine are her biofuel, the love lives of witches, shifters, and vampires her favorite topic of conversation. She harbors a passion for old cemeteries and ghost tours, thanks to her years at a high school rumored to be haunted. Her perfect day involves the beach, her laptop, and one crazy dog. Learn more at GenevieveJack.com.