by Anya Nowlan
Gold Valley was one of the premiere goldsmith towns in the whole world, a feat managed thanks to centuries of careful development and coaxing by the dragons, who lived there. After all, every dragon loved gold, and it was only sensible to keep the masters, who could provide it close by.
They owe us as much, he thought.
Night grew near, and Devon was anticipating another stretch of darkness with nothing to do but curl up and wait for the sun. He’d customarily take a short flight along the borders of his lands before he attempted sleep, though seeing as he hardly needed it when things were as calm as they were now, it provided him with little distraction. So when there was a knock at his study door, he let out a sigh of relief.
He almost hoped that one of the servants had done something horrible, blundering in one way or another. He could use the opportunity to concentrate on something other than his current problem – finding a wife where there was no wife to be found.
“Yes,” he called, spinning around to face the door.
“Sir,” the servant said, a lizard shifter whose family had been in the service of the Bluewings for generations. “There is someone here to see you.”
Who the hell would come see me now?
“It’s a woman, sir. A human.”
Well that got his attention.
Still, that didn’t give Devon much to do or help solve his single greatest problem – how to find a wife when the last thing he wanted to do was to settle down with anyone?
I need another drink, he concluded, stalking out of the study to retrieve the bottle he had left much too far.
CHAPTER TWO
Gemma
Gemma’s eyes narrowed as she trudged up the stone path that led to the dark, foreboding castle of a mansion. As it was suspect to happen when she was planning something that required extensive hiking, the weather was gloomy and shadowed by clouds, the sky muddled and cast with the deep, ruby red color of the setting sun. Poetic really that the only time they had shitty weather was when she had to go talk to a Bluewing. The walk up from Gold Valley was quite the trek and one she had been putting off for far too long now, but it was a trip she had to make.
Enough was enough. Things were getting far beyond ridiculous and close to unbearable, and it was obvious that no one but Gemma was willing to do a damn thing about it. She huffed under her breath, feeling the pebbles and earth crunch under her hiking boots as she continued her trek with long, determined strides. She wasn’t going to turn around and go back. Not this time.
A rumble of thunder sounded in the distance, and Gemma looked up, brushing her blonde locks from her face. It wasn’t even really past dinner yet, but the sun was disappearing awfully fast tonight, and the sky was foreboding, threatening with a storm. It was all very cliché, she though, but a little bit of drama went well with the nonsense she had to discuss with Devon Bluewing, the last of the Bluewings to live in the area.
Just keep walking, she reminded herself, putting one foot in front of the other. Its fine. He’s just a dragon. Nothing unusual about that. I’m sure he can be reasoned with, Gemma told herself, trying to suppress the grin that wanted to come to her lips at the thought of that. Sure, nothing odd about dragons or expecting a Bluewing to listen to reason. She realized how ridiculous that would sound to just about anyone else. But the inhabitants of the secluded Colorado town of Gold Valley hadn’t thought anything weird about dragons for as many centuries as they had been there.
After all, one learns to appreciate the creatures that bring them their wealth. However, she was fairly certain that not a single person, who had gone to a Bluewing dragon before, trying to get them to lessen the financial burden they set on Gold Valley, had lived to tell the tale.
I’ll just be the first, then. This is the 21st century for god’s sake, the dragons can’t just push ancient traditions on us like that and expect us to do whatever they want, she thought confidently.
Just as she had calmed herself down enough to ignore the knotting in her stomach, a deafening roar sounded from up ahead. It shook the very foundation of the mountains, and Gemma stopped, frozen in place for a second. Instinctively, her eyes went up to the mansion, scanning it for the familiar form of the mythical blue-black beasts that sometimes cast a shadow over the entire village.
She looked for the familiar dark blue glint of scales and the blaze of golden eyes, but found herself staring at a dragon just as similar to what she expected as it was different. Its scales were red and its wings narrower than the Bluewings she was used to seeing, and it swooped down from the flat roof of the mansion with another one of those roars that seemed to curdle her blood. Her mouth agape, she stared at the slender, elegant beast, though it was hard to refer to something as elegant when it was the size of a modest skyscraper.
Her eyes went wide with surprise as she saw it change course and head straight for her. She caught sight of its ruby red eyes, slanted and brimming with what she could only define as menace. Blood curdled in her veins. For a frantic moment, she was sure it would open its powerful jaws and breathe fire on her, leaving her as little more than a scorched pile of dust on the stone pathway.
Gemma ducked with a yelp, her hands covering her head, and she could feel the rush of wind sweeping past her as the dragon flew over her, only a few feet higher than where she had just been standing.
“Fucking bottoms of hell,” she murmured softly, looking behind her to see the dragon disappear into the clouds above the town, heading southward. “What the hell was that?” she asked no one in particular, gasping for breath. When she turned her attention back to the mansion, it was just in time to see another dragon take flight, and then another.
Mossy green and wheaten-gold scales caught the last rays of light as the beasts headed in opposite directions, east and west, paying her no heed whatsoever. Gemma’s heart was pounding in her throat, and for a moment, she thought she might just turn around and head back as she’d done several times before – and those times there hadn’t even been any dragons trying to casually throw her off the path and into the rocky ravines to either sides of it.
Perhaps she should have been more surprised than she was, but dragons had become a more common sight around Gold Valley lately.
When Dayton Bluewing – the last of the old generation Bluewings – died, the town had got to enjoy what could only be described as the who’s who of dragon royalty flying over their modest little houses and making the earth tremble and quake with their roars. It was enough to make a girl somewhat unimpressed by the meager gathering now, though the three dragons she just witnessed were certainly bigger than most of the dragons, who had been in the area last time. Almost as big as Devon Bluewing himself, she thought.
It had been months since the burial ceremonies concluded and the last of the dragons had left, other than Devon himself of course. One night, the air had turned cold and crisp, and the sky had been without a single cloud, the air trembling with the most beautiful music anyone in town had ever heard. Gemma remembered one of the older locals, who had been around when Dayton’s wife Gabriella died, saying that it was the dragons saying their last goodbyes to a fallen brother.
The stark gloominess of the skies now seemed like a violent departure from the serenity of that day. Idly, Gemma wondered what could have brought the dragons back to the keep now.
Despite the recent crowds, it had been a long time since dragons came to Gold Valley with any kind of regularity. There was always a Bluewing to guard over it, but none of the others could be seen, except for rare glimpses once a decade or so, when the council gathered. Sometimes, more than one Bluewing roamed the sky briefly, but that too was something to remark upon and gasp at, not just shrug off and forget about. Dragons had made themselves scarce in those parts, and Gemma wasn’t entirely convinced it was only because there were fewer and fewer of them to fill the skies.
Her palms had crashed into the dirt as she came tumbling down, and the jagged earth prickled at her skin. One would never imagine th
at there was gold hidden in Gold Valley by the looks of the place (though the name should have been hint enough!)
The tale went that dragons had found Gold Valley and the rest of Treasure Lane long before humans came to be. The beasts had guarded and protected the mountains and rivers plush with gold, but it was only when humans came to the areas that the dragons could really reap their bounty. And so they did. The lands were divided up between the most powerful dragon families, and alliances were formed when tensions rose between different factions.
There were many pockets of wealth like Treasure Lane dotted all over the world, but few as rich and inviting as this. So, the dragons made a pact to protect it and avoid slaying one another over petty rivalries – as dragons were prone to doing – and formed a council where only the wisest of dragons could represent the needs and desires of their kin. Under that guidance, Gold Valley had been formed, forever indebted to the Bluewing dragons and set to serve them, if the humans wished to remain in the lands.
Gold Valley produced some of the best gold in the world, and it was the home of the most talented craftsmen, the town having lived and breathed gold for as long as it had been around. As such, it was in both the best interest of the dragons and the humans for it to stay intact.
The dragons profited from keeping the humans there, of course, as they helped fund their riches. Some of the traditions that had been formed over the centuries were now long outdated but still ripe in the pages of the town’s history. One of those traditions was the one that now caused Gemma such aggravation.
Each year, the town had to pay the Bluewings a bounty set by the dragons. It was supposed to be fair but just high enough to make the craftsmen worry and toil, as they couldn’t just hand over chunks of gold – no, it had to be carefully made into gorgeous jewelry and nothing but the best would do for the dragons.
But, with each generation, there were less and less craftsmen in town, and so the bounties were harder to fulfill on time.
And now, Devon Bluewing had made it more than clear that what used to be enough would no longer be anywhere near adequate. It could potentially drive people from their homes – after toiling over the dragon’s work, there wouldn’t be enough gold to sell to put food on the table. Of course, no one dared disagree with the dragon, but dammit, Gemma couldn’t just endure it without saying a word. He might have been a big bully, but he was just going to have to see reason.
Even knuckleheaded dragons could be negotiated with, right? Besides, wasn’t paying a bounty awfully outdated to begin with?
On shaky legs, she stood up and brushed herself off, the knees of her worn jeans grey with dirt. She sighed inwardly and adjusted the pack on her shoulders, stocked with a sandwich, a flashlight and her cellphone, and trudged onwards. Nope, he wasn’t going to scare her that easily. Devon Bluewing was just going to have to deal with hearing from her, and there was nothing in the world she could think of that could scare her away from her mission this time.
CHAPTER THREE
Gemma
Gemma squared her jaw in a desperate attempt to keep from shivering like a leaf. She’d never been to the mansion, and for good reason. No one ever went up there, unless one of the Bluewings personally sent for them, and over the centuries there had been plenty of people, who saw the mansion once and then promptly died. Dragons didn’t take kindly to disagreements. She tried to put that aside. It was a civilized time now, and even dragons had to play by the rules, right? Gemma swallowed hard.
She’d been left to wait in a large library, the walls covered with old leather-bound books in languages she could only guess the heritage of. The servant who allowed her entrance, had smooth features and dazzling sandy eyes – a Komodo dragon shifter, she guessed. Though shifters were a bit of an open secret, dragons were still barely acknowledged or talked about even in the shifter circles, let alone by humans.
There was just something unsettling about the thought that these creatures, who could level cities at a whim, were still alive and well in the world. Perhaps that was why only other reptilian shifters could work for them.
When the door creaked open behind her, she whipped around immediately. Her breath hitched in her lungs a little as she caught her first sight of the fabled, hated man, the playboy every woman gushed after. Devon Bluewing strolled in, standing much taller than she had anticipated and being much more striking in person than she’d dared expect.
He walked straight up to her, stopping just a few feet from her, and so abruptly that she stumbled back a step. He smiled, a predatory grin that made her weak at the knees.
The way he looked at her felt like he could see right down into her soul, his blue eyes seemingly so innocent, but hiding a fire that was almost palpable.
„What is it that you require, miss...“ he said, trailing off as he raised an expectant brow at her. He had a long face, a strong nose and high cheekbones that hinted at the beast that was hidden within. Everything about him screamed power, speed and ruthlessness. She didn’t want to admit it to herself, but the man was hot.
Of course he’s hot. He’s a dragon, after all, Gemma thought to herself, suppressing the snicker that wanted to crack her lips.
„Teeley, Gemma Teeley,“ she offered, trying her best to stop undressing him with her eyes.
It was harder to do than she thought it would, though, what with how his broad shoulders bulged out of his black silk button-up and how his slacks clung to his thick muscled thighs. The paparazzi had not done the man justice – he was built like a Greek god, and suddenly it became very easy to understand why every single model and actress in Hollywood was drooling all over him. He showed up in the tabloids with a new girl or two every week, and Gemma had started wondering if the damn dragon had some magic she wasn’t aware of.
It turned out he did – being mouthwateringly gorgeous, in that dark, gloomy kind of way.
„Gem. A pleasure. Devon Bluewing,“ he said, a slight smirk perched on his lips. She wondered how his lips would taste if he kissed her, and the makings of a blush wanted to creep on her cheeks. Hell, she didn’t even mind the nickname.
No, behave! Gemma told herself sternly.
„Mister Bluewing, I...“
„Call me Devon,“ he interjected, keeping his blue eyes on her. It was like being stared down by a wild animal – she knew she could make a run for it, but it wouldn’t really matter. He would catch her anyway.
“Devon,” she started again, reluctantly liking the way his name felt on her tongue. “I’m here today because I feel I have to tell you that the new bounty rule you set on Gold Valley isn’t fair.”
Like someone had flipped a switch, his casual, almost warm expression turned stony and cold in the flash of a second.
Oh no. Not good, she thought, keeping herself from gnawing on her lower lip. Now he was really looking at her like he was going to eat her up, and not in the good but the bad way. The way that ended with her in a box, sent to her parents as a pile of ash. Still, she persisted, ignoring all the klaxons screaming in her ears, and trudging onward, determined to get through her little monologue before he cooked her like a marshmallow.
“Gold Valley can barely deal with the old requirements set by your father. He knew that, which is why he hadn’t raised the amount for so long. We’re just barely coming out of the recession now, and the jewelry market is only beginning to bounce back from the hit it took, so I feel like it’s really unfair that you… “
“Stop,” he said, motioning at her like she was a gnat buzzing around in his peripheral vision.
Her words got stuck in her throat, and Gemma frowned. She hadn’t noticed before, but she was trembling a little. Not out of fear, but the adrenaline that coursed through her veins, knowing that she was standing in front of the man, whom she knew as the giant dragon, flying over her house. Just looking at him made her feel vertigo, thinking of him flying so high, his huge wings carrying him into the clouds, higher and higher… Gemma felt a bit woozy at that mental image.
She might have had a teensy, tiny, completely unnoticeable deathly fear of heights. Having a conversation with someone, who could take her into the stratosphere and then drop her to her death, was not something that soothed her phobia in any way, shape or form.
“How long has your family lived in Gold Valley?” he asked, turning his back to her and walking to one of the windows that provided a clear view of the valley. It was dark outside, and she could barely make out the flicker of lights down in the valley. One of those lights was her home.
“Six generations.”
“Good. Then your family was here when my grandfather Dominic still ruled, and they know that the Bluewing dragons have been nothing but protective of Gold Valley, and we would never ask for more than we know the town can provide. I remind you that it is only because of the protection of the Bluewing dragons that Gold Valley still stands,” he said, his words pointed as daggers.
“Does it really matter, which dragon lords over us – Greenplains, Redblades, Bluewings? You’re all the same,” Gemma snorted, crossing her arms over her chest. He whipped around, his eyes ablaze. Gemma got the feeling she’d just said something very wrong.
“The Bluewings are nothing like the Redblades,” he spat, venom in his words. “You best not think we are.”
“Is that a threat?” Gemma asked, raising a brow at the man. What the fuck are you doing, Gemma? Of course that’s a threat! Shut up! But of course she wasn’t going to shut up. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, and she could feel anger rushing through her. Dragon or no dragon, she wasn’t going to let him be a total prick.
She could almost see steam rising from him, and while the similarities with his dragon hadn’t been so obvious before, she could see it clear as day now. In the faint light that fell on him through the window of the soft-lit room, the shadows under his eyes and cheeks made him look severe and dangerous. His blue eyes flashed gold, and his nostrils flared. It was only for a fraction of a second, but right then and there, she knew exactly what he looked like as a dragon. It had been that obvious.
