Dragon: The Clan Legacy Series

by J. S. Striker

  The man, who was eyeing her as much as she was eyeing him, gave her a wide grin. It was almost like he didn’t notice the scars. “Hello. Aren’t you Miss Alison?”

  “Hello, Mr. Jackles.”

  “Finn,” he corrected warmly. “And by the way, I think you might want to hurry.”

  Francesca blinked. “What?”

  Blue eyes twinkled. “I was having lunch with Chuck and he basically ditched me. He’s on his way to your place right now, I believe.”

  Francesca’s eyes widened. Then delight slid in, as warm as the sunshine as she grinned at Finn. She made a move to run, but not before looking back and calling out a nice to meet you!

  On her way to her unit, she slowed down and took a pause before opening the door, remembering her scar. She honestly didn’t know what Charlie’s reaction was going to be. But she stood up for a lot of things and survived, and knew it was time to stand up for this, too. With a deep breath, Francesca opened the door and found Charlie in the living room, waiting for her. She opened her mouth just as he turned around, gray eyes settling on her scars.

  “I know it’s not a pretty sight to look at,” she said determinedly, “But I’m proud of them anyway.”

  He kept looking. Then, in one smooth motion, Charlie crossed the living room and walked nearer towards her until he was standing in front. His hand brushed the scar, a singular movement.

  Then he bent his head down and kissed her.

  What happened after was perhaps one of the hottest things that has ever happened in her entire life. It was probably the sweetest, too. Charlie took her twice, then pleased her too many times to count so that she eventually fell into a deep sleep. The way he made love to her told her too many things about his feelings, and she found herself rejoicing in all of them. She remembered herself requesting that he fill in the details she forgot, and he promised he would.

  When Francesca woke up in the middle of the night, there was no need to fill her in because the memories came back one by one. She smacked Charlie awake, just for good measure, scolding him for keeping it all in the first place. He apologized and pulled her closer, telling her he tried to stay away but couldn’t seem to in the end, because he loved her too much. Her birthday, when she turned twenty, was the closest thing he could get to finally having her, and even that was skating a thin line. But love knew no bounds, apparently…because here they were.

  “You already had me even when you were a cold bastard before,” Francesca murmured.

  Charlie kissed her shoulder. “Ever consider having a dragon shifter for a mate?”

  In response, Francesca grinned. Then she tackled him and kissed him to let him know exactly how she felt about that.

  *****

  THE END

  Dragon – Henrik – Book 4

  PROLOGUE

  Henrik knew something was wrong the moment he stepped inside the hut.

  There was a blatant sense of darkness in the air, unable to be seen but one he felt in his bones, chilling him effectively. He tried not to shiver as he stood in the doorway, his eyes surveying the scene in a quiet, efficient manner. They were eyes that didn’t miss details, so it didn’t take him long to see the upended glass of wine beside the table, the half-washed plates on the sink…and the drops of blood on the wooden floor.

  The blood smelled like blood always did, rusty and thick, but the scent was faint enough for him not to detect right away. His eyes followed the trail as he shifted his claws out, sharp and ready to strike.

  There were no sounds except for the dripping water, something that further disturbed him. Like Charlie, Malik was all about order and keeping things in place.

  He would never have left the faucet turned on.

  As quietly as he could, Henrik navigated the creaky floorboards inside the hut, glancing at the living room, which was neat as a pin. The difference between the living room and the kitchen wasn’t jarring enough for any normal person, but he knew Malik like the back of his hand; this wasn’t normal.

  Malik was in trouble.

  A few steps in and he finally heard it—whispers, soft and smooth. Definitely female. He followed the trail of blood to the huts only bedroom, adrenaline rushing inside him as he drew nearer. It took all of his effort not to run as worry for his friend rose to the surface, one who’d been missing for several days now.

  The door didn’t so much as make a squeak when he pushed it open. Inside, the trail of blood stopped in the middle of the bedroom, just a few steps away from the king-sized bed, which was made primly.

  Malik was nowhere to be seen, and Henrik couldn’t sense his presence at all.

  But everything still felt wrong.

  Frustration swept over him, another emotion that he’d been trying to keep at bay for who knew how long. There was also fear, which came from not knowing where his friend was.

  A few hours ago, they’d received a distress signal from Malik Heard, the leader of the dragon shifter clan. It had been sent out to the four dragon shifters left in the world—Robbie Sebastian, Finn Jackles, Charlie Takeshi, and him, Henrik Mikhailov—via their telepathic connection, with only one word screamed out.

  Witch.

  It could have meant his mate, Red, who was a young witch and had supposedly been with him so they could spend more time together—a vacation of sorts. It could have meant a witch had attacked them, because witches weren’t exactly that friendly with shifters as of the moment.

  It could mean anything, really.

  But the four of them didn’t get to find out because the connection was cut off, and no matter how they tried to reconnect via telepathy, Malik could no longer be contacted.

  That was the scariest of all.

  The four of them split up in their search, each at the places that their dragon leader frequented. Henrik went to Russia, the south of Siberia where his friend had a hidden modern hut located just below the Altai Mountains.

  A steady feeling of dread prickled Henrik’s skin as he silently made his way out of the room and towards the back door. Malik had been here.

  Was still here.

  Like a cloud parting, the darkness made sense. Realization came at the same time that footsteps scurried in the bedroom, followed by glass breaking. With a curse, Henrik whirled and ran back, his speed carrying him fast towards the bedroom door—

  The sight that greeted him was the stuff made for nightmares.

  Malik was on the floor, the spell that had hidden him now gone. His brown eyes were open. Unstaring.

  Dead.

  Henrik began to see red.

  With a roar, his head whipped towards the glass window that had broken, where his sharp sense of hearing could still detect footsteps running. He charged, ignoring the shards of glass that embedded in his skin as his vision zoned in on a woman running away.

  But not enough to escape him.

  He lunged and leapt at her back. In a movement that was almost a blur, the woman—witch—whirled to face him and hold a hand out, bloody and full of sparks. They looked each other in the eye and prepared to fight—

  “Stop!”

  Red’s voice penetrated the air. Red, who was Malik’s mate and in turn, one of them.

  Red, who had Malik’s blood on her hands.

  It took Henrik all but a second to absorb everything. Then the second wave of rage that swept over him made him blind to everything but the two women, the two witches, who were now standing almost side by side to face him.

  “We can explain,” Red said, her voice calm but not so steady. “What happened back in the cabin—”

  “He deserved it,” the other witch said in relish.

  And Henrik’s vision turned black.

  He attacked without thought, hacking into the surprised witch’s way with the intent of ending life. He felt her powers come to life, dashing slices of pain into his skin and bones, but those were easily ignored as he felt flesh rip.

  It ended too quickly.

  The witch dropped to the ground, b
ody limp and eyes blank as blood pooled all around her. Henrik’s gaze turned to Red, who had backed up a few steps with steely determination in her eyes.

  No remorse. None at all. Her face was a smooth wall, impenetrable.

  Henrik leapt in her direction.

  But before he could get to her, he felt her power surge bright, then a blinding, white light surrounded them.

  When the blinding light was gone, she was taken with it.

  *****

  He all but limped back towards the cabin, pain in every part of his body as he dragged the dead witch inside. The white light had turned out to have an attack spell accompanying it, and she’d been clever enough to conceal it until the very end.

  The room was still as it was, and Malik was still on the floor.

  Henrik looked at the sight, etching it in his memory forever. There was a certain grief building in his heart that he knew wasn’t going to go away. He’d lost a friend.

  A brother.

  Bending down, he closed the dragon leader’s eyes, then said a little prayer.

  When done, he stood back up. Then he went on his way, knowing the others would eventually find the two bodies and figure out what had happened. It had the mark of a bloodbath, and his imprints on the witch were clear.

  He still had one witch to hunt, and he vowed there was no hole on earth he wouldn’t be able to find her in. That witch was going to pay dearly for killing Malik.

  For betraying their trust.

  And he was going to make sure of it when she slowly died by his hands.

  CHAPTER ONE

  “It’s a natural instinct.”

  “To be horny?”

  The big, booming laugh that came out of Malik’s throat had her turning red, a reaction she tried to hide by looking down. His laugh died down to a chuckle, and she felt fingers on her chin, lifting her face up.

  Brown eyes filled her vision, earnest and kind. She’d always liked his eyes—the depth of knowledge in them, the patience in teaching her things that were out of her league.

  “Not that,” he said good-naturedly, shaking his head. “I meant the mating itself. We find the one we want to spend the rest of our lives with, and there’s no changing it. It’s in our blood, the knowing…and I’ve known since the moment I laid eyes on you.”

  That kind of statement, said so seriously and with an honesty that was jarring, had her blushing and every part of her body warming. He always had a way with words, and she found herself breathless most of the time knowing she was actually in this situation—a mate.

  The mate of a dragon shifter leader.

  She looked at Malik, her eyes memorizing his handsome face and other details. Unlike other witches, who disliked dragon shifters and shifters in general, she didn’t have any particular problem with them because not all were bad. In fact, she thought he was a fine specimen, especially when he shifted to his animal form—beautiful and light, with a power that could make you lose your breath.

  As a powerful witch in her own right, though still undeveloped, it was always brilliant to see him in his full shifted form.

  His human form wasn’t bad to look at, either.

  Malik had taken her hand while they sat there on that hilly meadow, with green grass and colorful flowers surrounding them. He kissed her hand, soft as a whisper.

  “I don’t want you to feel pressured, you understand? We can take our time until you’re ready.”

  She bit her lip at that. Taking time was good and all, but a sudden frantic beating of her heart told her that you never got what you wanted if you didn’t seize the moment.

  And so she seized this one by leaning up on her knees and placing her mouth on his.

  Now, she wasn’t the most experienced kisser in the world, but that had to do with the fact that she was just too busy with her magic practice to pay any attention to boys. But Malik was different—he was a man who swept her off her feet, intense eyes declaring on their first meet that he would see her again. And he more than saw her.

  Now, she was his.

  His initial surprise at the kiss delighted her, but the surprise didn’t last long. The next thing she knew, Malik was responding and taking the kiss to a level that had the warmth in her transforming into heat. He used his tongue, and it played with hers, and it was absolutely exciting. He was skilled with his mouth, even as he trailed his kisses down her throat and made her feel pleasure unlike any other.

  His hands went to her thigh, sliding up and sending her brain into overdrive as she placed her own hands on every part of his body she could touch. They settled on his shoulder, then his hair, and she writhed against him as the pleasure became too much for her to handle.

  Then his mouth was gone, and his hand had settled higher on her waist instead of sliding inside her skirt. She tried to catch her breath, a difficult task when her body was still humming for him.

  “Hold up,” he said, his voice now raspy and giving her the tingles. “We’ll take it slow.”

  “I want you,” she confessed, no longer ashamed of it.

  He groaned at her words, this time taking the initiative to pull her forward and give her a kiss—a harder one, full of intensity and barely-concealed lust. He pulled back again and shook his head.

  “I want to take my time,” he said, trying to steady his voice. “To kiss and taste every bit of you first. I don’t want you to regret this.”

  “I will never regret this,” she declared.

  He grinned, and her heart soared at the image of the happy man she had with her. She floated with the realization that she loved this person—this man, this shifter, who had taken one look at her and deemed her worthy. No judgment of her connection with the witch world, all his trust and faith in her and her abilities. He made her feel things she had never felt before, and she reveled in the feeling.

  He made her feel whole.

  Content, she smiled back at him and leaned on him, feeling his steady heartbeat.

  Malik was right.

  They had all the time in the world.

  *****

  They told her she was mated with a man named Malik Heard—and that she killed him in cold blood.

  There were many other things they told her, things that were difficult to process and absorb as it didn’t sound like her at all. But then again, what did she know?

  Still, Red Denver supposed she shouldn’t really be too trusting of what they told her all the time.

  It was easy to manipulate people into believing what you wanted them to believe, and she still hadn’t decided if she was being manipulated or not. On the one hand, their version of the truth was so crazy that she didn’t want to believe it just yet, because deep in her heart, she knew she was no murderer.

  On the other hand, it was so astonishingly detailed and crazy that it had to be the truth.

  But the question lay ahead of her, rolling in her mind over and over until she couldn’t sleep with the thought of it. It bothered her, crawling under her skin and sinking into her blood.

  Why would she murder her own mate?

  They obviously believed this version of the truth, hence she was placed in an underground prison with electric bars and no furniture except a hard bed and a pitcher of water. She supposed she should feel relieved that they hadn’t shackled her at all, though they still often took that extra precaution when she had a visitor.

  What was she going to do, anyway? Strangle them to death with her bare hands?

  Red had no powers. Apparently, the potion that made her lose her memory made her forget her powers, too. That was another story altogether, one they kept telling her, and she didn’t care for.

  Still, to be fair, the accommodations were not that bad. While the bed could have used an upgrade, the food sent to her daily was pretty good—a healthy mix of fruits and steak and other delicacies that felt foreign to her tongue. She supposed that as some sort of shifter headquarters, this place had all the good amenities, and that was saying something. They also let her shower
—accompanied by a female shifter who never talked to her and looked at her with disdain, true, but she would take it any day over dirty hygiene.

  But she wanted out of this. She wanted the frustration of always coming up blank with names and places and anything to be gone, because it made her feel lonely and terrified for herself—for other enemies that she may have had and would never recognize. It left her defenseless, left her in the hands of a bunch of alphas who would probably throw her to the wolves when the time came.

  She wanted to know this Malik—this shifter she supposedly used for her selfish purposes, duped into loving, and backstabbed the moment he trusted her completely.

  She wanted to know her powers—powers that she apparently used to do the evil deed without regret.

  She wanted her memories back.

  They tried the interrogation method, but all it did was bring out her snark and further enrage them with the attempt. She discovered that she had the type of attitude that could keep cool despite plenty of pressure. Now, that was something awesome.

  Red had studied the layout of her prison over and over, and she had to admit that it was good architecture in the sense that there were no crooks or crannies for her to start at least exploring. The bars were only in front, and the rest were surrounded by walls that looked too strong to break down. There was a tiny window with bars on the opposite side of the front bars, but it was simply surrounded with more walls.

  She also wasn’t the only one here.

  Sometimes, she would hear other prisoners being dragged in, hissing under their breaths and vowing some things involving revenge and death and sucking the blood out of them stupid shifters. She had an idea what these creatures were, so she opted to stay quiet and just let them be. But with their super sensitive hearing, it wasn’t hard for the vampires to figure out she was there.

  Sometimes, they tried to hypnotize her with their sweet, sensual words.