Dragon: The Clan Legacy Series

by J. S. Striker

  Red’s gaze flicked towards Henrik. “Henry?”

  Golden eyes clashed with hers, their intensity almost jarring her out of her concentration. But she held his gaze, knowing it was important. Finally, he nodded. “Yes, mistress?”

  Nice touch.

  “You heard what Ruby said. Please…me.”

  Ruby’s eyes narrowed, at the same time Red saw Henrik stand up at the corner of her eye. Then she was being jerked up, and her vision was filled with a flash of anger, then complacence, before his mouth descended on hers.

  Red had told herself that the first kiss was a fluke—a shock to the system, for she hadn’t been kissed in so long and Henrik was obviously male. His primitive aura and blatant virility had contributed to the sparks that had run down her system, down all over her body, and it was nothing more. This kiss, this second kiss, would not produce the same reaction.

  And she was right. It didn’t produce the same reaction.

  Instead, it elicited more.

  This kiss was full of the same passion that was present before, but there was something else there in between the little nips, in between the sips he took. There was power, a great sense of it that flowed between them, invisible but strong. There was electricity, even more intense than before, and it bit at her skin inch by inch until she was tingling from head to toe.

  There was hunger, too—lots of it. Too much of it, and she could feel every little bit. It threatened to drown her, threatened to make her forget who she was. Who he was.

  A tongue slipped in, sweeping across the cavern of her mouth and making heat rise up in her belly. Her heart pounded, an infinite stuttering that had her clutching at his chest for support. His hand moved to settle on her waist and bring her closer. It was a lover’s intimate touch, and a moan almost came out of her throat.

  Then she was pushing him away, attempting to grasp back the control that was slowly running away from her. She arranged her expression to one of satisfaction before turning to the gathered crowd.

  Josiah smiled, greed glinting in his eyes. “What a marvelous trick,” he complimented, tone that of awe.

  Ruby’s eyes narrowed. “I said to please the women.”

  Red flashed a smile. “I don’t like sharing, Ruby.”

  Lolita, who had been silent the whole time, now gave Red a thoughtful look. “Is that the only way he can be controlled? Pleasure? You’re giving him too much leeway, Red…don’t you think?”

  A hush fell over the crowd. Then, murmurs of agreement slowly rose. Red’s blood ran cold as Josiah picked up on the idea, turning that unnerving gaze on her again.

  “What do you say to that, Red? Doesn’t seem very…convincing. How about let him perform a…dog trick?”

  The message was clear: they wanted her to humiliate Henrik.

  And she was going to have to.

  She schooled her expression again, even while her heart was pounding harder than ever. “Henry?”

  Silence. Then, “Yes, mistress?”

  “Lick my boots.”

  She didn’t look. She couldn’t look. But she felt Henrik’s head near her foot, saw out of the corner of her eye as his tongue darted out. Then he stood back up, his expression unreadable.

  “Very good,” Lolita said, delighted.

  “Good, Henry,” Red murmured. “Now kneel.”

  More silence. Then she felt the thud beside her, and saw his head near her waist. Power raged inside her, wanting to lash out. Hurt them all for the amused, pleased looks on their faces. But she couldn’t. So she held up her chin and nodded at each and every one of them. “It’s getting late. Would everyone mind if I turned in? I have some…night activities to do.”

  There was no mistaking the meaning of her words. It was deliberate.

  Josiah nodded, eyes still on Henrik. “Go ahead. A pleasant night to you, Red.”

  “And to you. Henry, let’s go. Don’t stand up.”

  She turned around and walked, not once looking back. After a few seconds, she felt Henrik beside her—only he was crawling, just like she’d commanded him to. When they were out of sight after turning a corner, she felt anger rolling off his shoulders, even while he kept his silence. She felt sick to her stomach, sick to her guts, and she couldn’t fathom the humiliation Henrik must have felt.

  The leader, the proud dragon, brought to his knees. With no power to fight back.

  They reached the tent a few seconds later, and Red put the wards back up. They were basic wards, enough to alert them of any attack spell coming their way. But it couldn’t mask anger, or shouting, or any unusual surge of power from the inside.

  When the wards were all up, Red turned to Henrik. He stared back at her in anger, glaring eyes pinning her down.

  “I’m sor—”

  “Save your apologies,” he cut off, then turned around. Henrik removed his shirt, then took a basin of water and toweled off the dirt that stuck on his palms. She winced at the sight, but he was no longer looking at her.

  “Henrik—”

  “I said save it,” he growled. “It’s part of the act.”

  The dragon leader climbed into bed, his back turned towards her. After some hesitation, Red changed her clothes, not bothering to find cover since he wasn’t looking, anyway. Then she slowly climbed into bed beside him.

  “I’m…I don’t like doing this,” she whispered into the air, feeling miserable.

  Silence.

  “I don’t like it, either,” he said after a while.

  “It’s not right,” she babbled on, keeping her voice low. “It’s just not right, and I hate them. They are all idiots and dangerous, and you don’t know how much I want to just leave. I just…”

  Her voice trailed off when she saw Henrik’s shoulders visibly tense. Then, before she could get another word out, he turned—a flash of movement so fast, he was suddenly on top of her and—

  “Voices coming,” was all he had said before he was pressing his mouth against the juncture of her—oh.

  His mouth was on her throat. Then his tongue was there, bringing the sparks back. His hand covered her breast, and because she was in sleepwear, the thin cloth wasn’t enough of a barrier as his rough, calloused thumb rubbed at her nipple.

  The reaction was instantaneous—and so was the desire. She arched against him, and his other hand went to her waist to keep her down. He nipped at her skin, and she could feel his hardness moving in between her legs, which he had spread open.

  Fire burned in her body, bright and beautiful.

  “Miss Denver?”

  The flap opened, with no regard for propriety. Ruby’s head popped in, eager eyes ready to take in the sight. She froze when she saw their position.

  “Get out,” Red snapped.

  Henrik thrust in between her legs, simulating the action of…oh. He did it again and again, and she tried to stifle her moan at the pleasure that radiated down her core.

  “You forgot your cloak,” Ruby murmured before closing the tent flap and walking away.

  The minute the footsteps were gone, everything disappeared—his mouth, his hands, his…his cock.

  “I’m sorry,” he rasped. “I heard her. She wanted to catch us.”

  “It’s all right,” she whispered.

  But it wasn’t all right.

  Red stared at the ceiling until her vision blurred, until her erratic breathing calmed down. She kept staring up, even while she heard Henrik’s own breathing dulling. Thoughts filled her head, a mess of thoughts that she wanted to burn and throw away.

  Her mother wasn’t here. She didn’t know their plan. She could still feel his touch.

  Nothing was all right.

  *****

  It took the coven heads three weeks to trust her. When they finally did, they were honest with her about it, having a formal meeting and telling her about their plan on how to go about attacking their enemies using the new recruits.

  “Oh, good,” Red said, clapping her hands for effect. She forced her eyes to brighten
, grinning like a madwoman at her audience. “How? When?”

  The head couple grinned back, almost warmly. “Let’s show you our surprise first. Then we can talk.”

  The statement surprised her, then began to make her heart pound as she knew exactly what they were going to surprise her with—the introduction of the real leader. She had long ago been suspicious that it was one of the powerful witches in their nightly bonfire gathering, but she hadn’t said a word because she knew patience was a virtue.

  And now, that patience was being rewarded.

  The couple led her towards another tent—a silver one that stood in the middle of browns, and one she hadn’t noticed before. They entered it without preamble, and a lone figure stood in the middle.

  Red stared. “Ruby?”

  Ruby was the leader?

  The redhead smiled. But something was different. Wrong.

  Her face was melting.

  Red watched in fascination as everything began melting away—Ruby’s face, Ruby’s body. Her hair turned a darker shade of red. Her body grew shorter, leaner. Her face bled away, shifting and shifting until a new face was finally formed.

  Fascination turned to horror as Red realized who was now smiling at her.

  It was her mother.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The transformation of Ruby was amazing in itself, because she hadn’t seen anyone maintain a façade in such a long time—not without tics, not without any type of suspicion. Red certainly hadn’t been suspicious. She’d dismissed Ruby as a wannabe witch with average powers, who only became part of the nightly gathering due to her charisma.

  They certainly hadn’t expected this kind of power from within her, hiding another person all this time.

  The coven leader.

  From his spot behind Red, Henrik could feel the vibration of that power, thrumming in the woman’s veins as much as it was thrumming in Red’s. She was petite, curvaceously so, and her hair was a richer red. Her eyes were a bluish gray that were even more beautiful. That was all Henrik saw before something else happened that he hadn’t expected at all.

  The cool, composed Red took a step forward.

  “You.”

  One word. It was a word filled with hatred and longing, a combination that gave Henrik pause.

  Then Red was lunging for the woman.

  It was all happening too fast, even for his naturally fast instincts to follow. One second, Red was there in front of the coven leader, her power raging at the tip of her hands before shooting out of them like lasers.

  The next second, she was flying inside the tent and crashing on the ground with a hard thud. Her head hit the ground first, and a cry of pain escaped her mouth.

  Rage filled Henrik’s own body at the sight. Then he was the one lunging for the coven leader, intent on killing.

  The woman’s eyes flickered towards him at the last second—still bluish gray, with the gray clearer now, and everything clicked into place as Henrik realized in horror why Red was so angry and who exactly this was.

  Then he felt something hit him in the head—hard, blunt and painful as hell.

  Shouts came from outside. But they faded almost instantly as Henrik became wrapped in darkness.

  *****

  He woke up to lights trained on him, and shackles on his arms and limbs. He was inside a tent, the same tent that he’d been tortured in during his first day with the coven.

  Now, Red was in the makeshift cell beside his.

  She hadn’t spoken a word when he roused, but her head turned in his direction as she inspected him quietly, obviously looking for any signs of injury. When she found none, she looked back down on the ground and didn’t say anything for a long time.

  Henrik assessed her too, and so far he didn’t like what he was seeing. Her shoulders were slumped, and her hair was a mess. There seemed to be drying blood on her cheek, which he couldn’t reach from this angle.

  “Red?”

  She still didn’t look up.

  “Red. Hey.”

  A few seconds passed. Then…

  “She’s my mother,” she whispered.

  “I know,” he replied. And they left it at that.

  What must it feel like to know one’s mother was the leader of a cruel coven?

  The answer was easy enough to get when the tent flap opened and the coven leader entered. Red’s back went from slumped to rigid, and she stared straight ahead as the woman’s figure stepped up in front of them.

  The woman introduced herself as Gloria Denver, telling Henrik she was very pleased to meet him. There was no deducing if she knew who he truly was, so Henrik kept his mouth shut as Gloria continued speaking. She tried to get Red to talk, to tell her all the shifter and vampire secrets, but Red was as tight-lipped as he was.

  Eventually, the pleasant look on Gloria’s face disappeared when the silence went on for too long. It was replaced by pursed lips and a hard expression, right before Gloria called on Jericho to come inside. Along with Jericho were the same two men who had tortured Henrik in the past. They all eyed him in disdain, and he tensed his body in preparation for what they were about to do.

  But this time, the three skipped him altogether—and stepped inside Red’s cell. Magic flew in the air, and Red’s cell was covered in white from his angle, not allowing him to see anything anymore.

  Henrik’s blood ran cold then and there. He only had a second to lunge for the cell bars before Red’s ear-splitting scream pierced the air.

  *****

  They beat her. They kicked her and punched her and did whatever physical hurt they could to her first, all while Gloria watched from outside the cell. Henrik raged in his own cell, trying to get free from his own shackles to no avail—so he did some screaming of his own, telling the bastards to stop, telling them to leave her the hell alone. He shouted curses, told them that he was going to kill them all.

  None of his words mattered, because they kept on as if he didn’t exist.

  Gloria said she was doing this to punish Red for betraying the coven and for allying with shifters in the past—and she said it all with a pleasant voice, like she was just here for an afternoon chat.

  Then the physical beatings stopped. The three men left, quiet satisfaction radiating from them.

  And the magic torture started.

  To say it was horrible was an understatement. Red screamed, protested, cursed, and did everything she could to stop it from happening, but the pain reverberated even through Henrik’s cell as he felt power unlike any other scorching the air. Then it was directed towards Red quickly, until her screaming stopped. Silence filled her side of the cell, and he found it scarier than anything in the world.

  It didn’t last. She woke up, and they did the same—first the physical beatings, then the magic. He kept shouting with her, and his heart felt sick the whole time.

  Don’t hurt her.

  Don’t. Please.

  Two days later, Red was removed from her cell and placed inside Henrik’s, and he finally saw what they did to her. His breath sharpened, and his hands trembled as he watched her unconscious figure on the ground.

  She was bloodied, battered, and half-dead.

  And the sight made him feel like dying, too.

  His vision blanked. That was the only word for it as rage took over, making him scream over and over to have Gloria back here so he could kill her himself. She stepped over very quickly at the demand, eyeing him in amusement as he tried to attack her over and over, repeatedly lunging at the cell bars and baring his teeth at her.

  “Like the beast you are…aren’t you, Henrik Mikhailov?” she murmured.

  They knew. They had known all along, and their infiltration at the coven was a foolhardy plan from the very beginning.

  While he shouted, Gloria then began to tell him a story—that of staging an escape so her enemies would stop thinking she was still part of the coven and would stop being intent on killing her. She went into hiding and looked for her two daughters, who had ne
ver been part of the coven to begin with, and told them that she had changed—that she knew the horrors of the coven now and would never, ever walk that path.

  They listened to her.

  They believed her.

  They trusted her with all their hearts.

  Then Gloria proceeded with the story in a leisurely manner, getting to the part about how sickening it was to listen to Red, who had so much potential as a powerful witch, tell her over and over about what a wonderful man Malik was and how she was absolutely in love. Then, how easy it was to take control of Red’s younger sister, Celine—a witch who had no potential at all, but was a wonderful bait in the grand scheme of things. With Celine’s body, she followed the two to their hideout, pretending to be there to surprise them with a present for their love together.

  Only that present was poison, and Malik was dead before he even hit the floor.

  Something inside Henrik’s heart shriveled at the words, but resurrected once more in a fit of fury that threatened to consume him whole. His blank vision became dark as his thoughts became filled with vengeance, even when Gloria already left. Vengeance, and hurting them, and stopping them, a mantra in his head. Vengeance, hurt—

  Red.

  Almost instantly, her state filled his mind, effectively washing away all thoughts of vengeance in the meantime. He let it drag him back to the present, even while the past tried to pull him back repeatedly. Red was here. Red needed his help.

  Red was dying.

  Abruptly, the smoke in front of his vision washed away. Shame filled him, but for her sake, he locked it away as he knelt down in front of her and fought his demons inside. She was still unconscious, and her breathing was shallow. A quick assessment showed him that they did everything in their power to hurt her except shatter her bones…and kill her.

  Her knees were dislocated, and so were her shoulders. She was like a limp rag doll, and Henrik had to take her to the part of the ground that had more grass than soil so as not to infect her open wounds further. Blood flowed everywhere, thick and cloying.