by Alisa Woods
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Kiss of a Dragon (Fallen Immortals 1)
Copyright © 2016 by Alisa Woods
July 2016 Edition
All rights reserved.
Sworn Secrets Publishing
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the author. For information visit:
Alisa Woods
Cover by Steven Novak
Kiss of a Dragon (Fallen Immortals 1)
Paranormal Fairytale Romance
LUCIAN
I am a Dragon Prince of the House of Smoke… and I am dying.
Five hundred years is truly enough for a man like me. A monster. Yet a ten-thousand-year treaty will die with me, if I don’t spawn a dragonling to take my place. My two brothers are no use in this task. It falls to me, the eldest by a hair’s breadth, and yet, I cannot face the horror of another sealing. Another death. Another woman’s blood on my hands.
ARABELLA
I was saved from death in a dark Seattle alley by an impossibly beautiful man who swooped in on golden wings. Now he’s taken me to his lair, opened my eyes to a world of immortals I didn’t know existed, and given me an impossible task—find him a mate. Then, and only then, will he set me free.
He needs her more than he wants; she wants him more than she should; and the fate of both the mortal and immortal worlds depends on not just repairing their hearts, but finding a Love that’s True…
~*~
The Fallen Immortals series is a modern Beauty and the Beast story with flaming HOT dragon shifters, vengeful Dark Fae, and beguiling fallen angels. Lucian and Arabella’s story is told in the first three books of the 9-book series, with more planned after that. Only readers over 18 should embark on this epic series of dangerous love that only an immortal might withstand.
Lucian and Arabella
Kiss of a Dragon (Fallen Immortals 1)
Heart of a Dragon (Fallen Immortals 2)…coming soon
Fire of a Dragon (Fallen Immortals 3) …coming soon
They don’t know how bad it could be.
That thought circled Lucian’s mind like a vulture awaiting the stink of death. His dark mood must have found a home on his face because the hulking bouncer at the door—shifter, by the smell of him—hastened to step back and clear a path. The club pulsed with blue neon light, floor-vibrating music, and the sway of bodies drenched in sweat and sex. The bar was pure glass, lit from within by electric tubes—very modern, but it cast an eerie light across the dance floor and threw plenty of shadows for the brief, anonymous couplings that perfumed the room. Each tendril of scent told the story of lovers hidden in the dark. Sexually inexperienced and old hands alike. Humans seeking shifters to bang. Shifters hungering for a quick release. Their need had been held back by months of strife, but the hate-filled threats and deadly bombings had finally come to an end. What better way to celebrate than the grand opening of Shift Right, the first licensed, openly-shifter bar in Seattle?
The hot press of bodies said business was good.
Which Lucian fully expected—after all, he funded the enterprise, hoping shifters and humans would learn to get along. Or just fuck each other. Whatever it took to settle peace on his city once again. The mortal world had enough troubles without stirring up things that might spill over into the immortal realm. These happily grinding patrons had no clue about the unseen forces at play all around them—and it was Lucian’s job to keep it that way.
The owner of the bar suddenly appeared at his elbow. The man was small compared to Lucian’s large frame, and his trim black silks shimmered with blue light. “I’m so delighted you could make it to the Grand Opening, Mr. Smoke!”
“Please, call me Lucian.” He took the man’s offered hand, careful not to crush it. Humans were so delicate. “I’d say my investment is safe. Business is certainly… thriving.”
“Yes! I couldn’t be more pleased,” the bar owner effused in a way that set Lucian’s teeth on edge, but he just nodded in return.
Lucian wasn’t a dragon to waste treasure, but he would’ve funded the new bar regardless of its potential return. Seattle needed to get back on its feet. He and his brothers had watched the hatred convulse from afar, hoping the humans and his cousins-in-shifting, the wolves, could settle their differences without intervention. Or an excess of bloodshed. Interference created its own problems—keeping the mortal and immortal worlds separate was best accomplished when the humans were blissfully unaware. Or at least skeptically unbelieving. If they couldn’t handle knowing that a few wolves and witches existed in their midst—
“…which I thought was impractical, but it turned out fantastic!” The bar owner was still speaking, droning on about something. “This is just the beginning, Mr. Smoke, I promise. Together, we could expand…”
Together? Lucian arched an eyebrow but said nothing.
“…and then open more clubs downtown, then the suburbs and the…”
The man kept going—he was the kind of human who could make an immortal wish for an early grave—but Lucian just ignored him, sweeping his gaze over the dance floor. He appreciated a shiny investment as much as the next dragon, but he was only here to make an appearance. The rampant sexual energy of the place stirred his blood in a way that was painful—his own needs had gone unsatisfied for far too long. Spending time in a room like this, filled with warm pulsing bodies and a heady pheromone cocktail… it was mostly humans and wolves, but Lucian caught a whiff of dragon even before his brother, Leonidas, stepped out of a dark alcove and into a white-hot spot of light on the dance floor.
“Please excuse me,” Lucian said to the bar owner. Then he turned his back on his brother and strode away from him, toward the entrance.
“Right. Of course! Great to see you! Please stop by…” The drone of his voice was swallowed by the music.
Lucian’s path to the door lay through a myriad of bodies clutching drink-filled glasses in sweaty hands. Even with half of them shifters, he towered over them. His glare had the intended effect—an unconscious shuffling out of the way of the predator in their midst—but it wasn’t fast enough. His brother caught him at the end of the bar.
“You made it,” Leonidas said from behind him.
Lucian debated ignoring him but turned to face the bar instead. He signaled the bartender, a pretty, petite blonde woman who was thoroughly human but had the scent of at least two shifters on her already. “Double scotch,
neat,” he ordered.
Leonidas leaned into the bar next to him, propping his elbow on the blue glass and grinning. “I hope you don’t mind, brother, but I started without you.”
“Obviously.” The bartender had set a glass tumbler filled with amber fluid before him. Lucian downed the scotch in one swallow. Alcohol had minimal effect on him, even in his human form, but he hoped the alcohol burn would mask the smell of the club, his brother, and the scent of the willing females that hung on everything. They were so easily drunk on shifter pheromones, the most potent of which was dragon. It was clear Leonidas had already done more than taste his first human of the night. And she surely wouldn’t be his last.
His brother grinned. “Go on, Lucian. Pick one. They’re ripe for the taking tonight.”
Lucian signaled for another drink.
Leonidas sighed, turned to face the bar, and ordered a drink of his own. “You really must break this streak you have going. It’s not like the crown can pass to the spawn of these loins.” He gestured to his cock, already well-used for the evening. Thankfully, he’d remembered to zip. “Just take someone for the night. Get back in the game. You’re worse than our brother with this.”
“Where is Leksander?” Lucian asked. The three brothers had been born minutes apart, but they couldn’t be more different. Leonidas’s endless sexual appetite was, in fact, normal for a dragon. Lucian felt the same raging need, but his past drained any encounters with humans of the pleasure they should have. And Leksander… well, he had his own obsessions.
Leonidas downed half his scotch before answering. “Leksander is where he usually is.”
“Not again.” Lucian finally turned to read his brother’s face.
His normal smirk was replaced by a grimace. “Oh yes, again. I really don’t think he’s going to give up.”
Lucian shook his head and finished his drink. He would entertain thoughts of breaking Leksander of his bad habits, but Lucian was smart enough to know the foolishness of that. Besides, it would only end in bloodshed. Probably his own.
“Come on, Luc,” his brother said, voice light again as he gestured to the undulating bodies on the dance floor. “Any of these beauties would fall in love with you in a single night.”
“Fuck off.” His brother should know better. The last thing he wanted was to revisit the images and the screams, all the things that would be resurrected if he found himself in the arms of a woman again.
“Suit yourself.” Leonidas rumbled a deep growl, drained his drink, and strode off into the crowd, no doubt seeking another release as soon as he was ready. Which for dragons was no time at all, not in this pheromone-infused environment. Several of Lucian’s top lieutenants were doing the same—the House of Smoke was well represented in the club tonight. There was no need for Lucian to follow suit—he had talked to the owner, paid his respects, made an appearance. Nothing more was required of him, and the scents were starting to crawl under his skin.
He turned to leave, but caught sight of Cinaed, his best friend and steady right hand, hurrying toward him from the DJ station near the back. His reddish-toned hair betrayed his Gaelic origins, back when the House of Smoke resided on the European continent, but the washed-out blue light of the club had turned his face ghoulish.
“What’s your trouble, Cin?” Lucian asked when he arrived.
The flush on Cinaed’s face was either sex or anger. It was hard to tell in the odd light and drowning scents. “The House of Drakkon is here, my liege.”
What? Lucian’s senses sharpened, as they always did for battle. It was an ancient reflex, but one that served him even now in the modern city of Seattle. There were far more predators than the city was aware of. Not least the House of Drakkon, an unsavory nest of black dragons that had been plaguing the city and battling with the House of Smoke for years.
Lucian shifted his eyes to scan the club. The Drakkon scents must have been lost in the flood of other smells. His dragon vision would better pierce the blue darkness and tricky lighting than his human eyes. The runes on his skin—a gift from the fae part of his DNA—twitched as they sensed his need for heightened magical awareness. That was one advantage which made his House strong, even if the treaty hadn’t also set them above all other dragon Houses—his fae magic allowed him to perceive any beast, no matter what skin they wore. Shifters. Vampires. Fae and angel glamour alike were no obstacle to him.
But easiest of all to find were his fellow dragons.
Tytus and a few of his thugs lurked by the back door, no doubt lying in wait for some hapless woman. A human female. Their most favorite kind of prey.
Lucian shoved away from the bar and strode toward the cluster of vipers. Cinaed signaled others from the House of Smoke. Several drifted closer, on guard. Leonidas was too wound up in a female wolf to notice.
Tytus stood tall as they approached, the might of his dragon showing under the black silk shirt he had chosen to wear for this hunting ground. Their House was in the Sawtooth Forest of Idaho, but they favored raids on the city. Lucian’s city. The entirety of the realms fell under the protection of the House of Smoke—there was no single city that warranted more protection than another—but infringement on the one closest to Lucian’s lair was insulting. A simple insult from a dragon whose mind wasn’t troubled by complex thoughts.
“I thought we had an agreement,” Lucian said just loudly enough to carry over the thumping of the music. “An agreement that involved not seeing your ugly face inside Seattle city limits.” He didn’t need to raise his voice to make his intent clear—he would eagerly back those words up with talons and more. His mind was already calculating how to move the fight away from the sea of delicate human bodies.
Tytus and his lieutenants leaned forward, the unspoken threat bringing them in. “Our agreement lasted as long as the troubles were brewing between humans and shifters. I don’t have to be fae to know the limits of an agreement. The troubles are over.” He gestured to the bustle of humanity and shifters releasing their sexual urges on one another. “Your new club is a shining example of that.” Tytus’s dark eyes flashed a deeper black, a glimpse of his dragon hiding behind his irises. “And I’ve been without bedmate for far too long.”
Bedmates. Tytus was dragon; he could easily lure humans to his bed. But he was known for having a taste for force—the hunt was his fetish, and one that made Lucian desire the feel of Tytus’s blood on his talons.
“You may visit the bar. Have a drink. Take your pleasure in any corner you wish.” He leaned closer to Tytus, stretching his neck so the black dragon could see the runes there and the fae power they carried. Lucian felt them writhing, craving a release.
Tytus didn’t pull back… but he blinked.
Lucian dropped his voice low. “But if you take a female by force, my House will hunt you down like the wyvern you are.” Wyvern—the wild beasts that were the eventual fate of any dragon who failed to find a mate and successfully spawn. They were serpents with wings and no mind… no human mind, at least. Nothing to pass for reason or humanity.
Not that the House of Drakkon had much humanity to begin with.
Tytus sneered. “I don’t have to take them by force. They come to me of their own free will.” The man’s definition of free will was assuredly different from Lucian’s.
Cinaed rumbled a heated growl. “Yes, just like kittens falling into a sewer.”
Lucian let out a low breath. “Give me a reason, Tytus. I beg of you.” He was a prince of the House of Smoke and cursed with fae blood. It was no match at all. But then Lucian deliberately turned his back on the thug in dragon skin and strode toward the front door, leaving his threat to settle the matter. He’d had enough of the throbbing music, the pervasive pheromones, and the absolute knowledge that he would not be partaking of female flesh tonight—or any night—while even scum like Tytus would find some pleasure here. If Lucian stayed, he would only snuff out the incipient peace the club represented. And he couldn’t allow his frustrations to needlessly s
toke a war between the Houses, not now.
Cinaed caught up to him. “My liege?” He was clearly wondering Lucian’s intent, but Cinaed was also forgetting his human manners. He’d been at the keep for too long—just like Lucian.
He smirked. “I’m no one’s lord here, Cin. I’m merely Lucian Smoke, elusive billionaire.”
His friend gave him a wrinkled look, like he wasn’t quite sure if Lucian were right in the head. “Playing at human now, are we?”
“Angel investor,” he deadpanned as he reached the door.
Cinaed momentarily worked to keep a straight face, then lost the battle to a snort. But he was still close on Lucian’s heels.
Lucian held up a finger to stop his lieutenant from following him. “I’m going out on patrol.”
Cinaed’s humor evaporated like a fae disappearing into mist. “Do you wish me to accompany you?”
“No. Stay and watch over Tytus. Alert my brother, once he’s finished, to the House of Drakkon’s presence.” He scanned the bar once again, but only the three black dragons were in attendance. “I have a feeling Tytus is showing his face as a ruse; the rest of his House may be scouting elsewhere in the city for trouble. I’m going to see what I can find. Call me if the black dragons need me to back up my threat.”
Cinaed gave him a sharp nod and turned to wade back into the club.
As soon as Lucian was out the door and around the corner from the bar, he cloaked and leaped into the air. He shifted as he went, unfurling his wings to grab the light breeze and loft himself up through the concrete chimney of the buildings of downtown. The cool night air washed away the scent of the club, and the churning agitation inside him stepped down a notch. His talons tucked tight, and his wings spread broad. He stretched his neck, easing the last of the tension. What he really needed was a good hard fly, over the distant mountains back to the keep where he belonged.
