"Do you like what you saw, vixen?"
Embarrassment flooded her face. She wriggled beneath his hold, and barely moved an inch. "Let me go."
The dragon propped himself up on an elbow. His electric blue eyes slid from hers, to the flesh her leather bodice failed to conceal.
"No."
Her jaw slackened. "Release me or--"
"Or what? Don't tell me you're frightened of me now?" His thumb began to draw lazy circles over the pounding pulse in her wrist.
"I'm not frightened of you," she said, the words coming out in a breathy sigh.
His wing coiled tighter, crushing her breasts against the warm barrel of steel he called a chest.
"Then why are you trembling?" He dipped his head below hers. "I can hear your heart hammering. Right here." A hot, open mouth covered the pulse beating beneath the skin.
"You're--" she stammered.
"Hungry. And you look tasty."
His dark head swooped.
Shadow of the Vampire
MEAGAN HATFIELD
To: Nan and Bump, for giving me not only a love of the written word, but raising me to believe I could do and be anything I set my heart to.
Lori Devoti, for not outbidding me, and for being a mythbuster. Kristi, because a book not dedicated to you is just dirty and wrong. AVP, Kathy, Chris, Diane, Kathryn, Bev, Shari, Bobbi, Rachel, Heather, Andrea, Angie, Deb, Donna, Stacey, Mary Jo and the rest of the WI writing gang for all the help, support, inspiration and friendship.
Shawn, Jayne, Courtney, Kathy, Jenelle, Shelley, Virgil, Christine and the other gym rats.
Rosalind (and Raven), for being my first official dragon lovers.
The two best kids on the planet, Bodi and Zoe, for putting up with more than their fair share of "I know you're hungry, but I'm almost done!" and still loving me.
Sean, for telling me I don't write crap, even when I do.
My mom, who taught me to believe in soul mates and happily ever after.
My agent, Kim Whalen, and to Karin Tabke for pointing me in her direction.
And to my fabulous editor, Tara Gavin, for taking a chance on me and helping me make this book everything I dreamed it could be and more.
Contents
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
PROLOGUE
She made certain they didn't have bodies to bury.
Hatred and rage weighed down Declan Black's shoulders, already heavy from his newfound responsibility as King. Since the news of his parents' deaths hit the lair, the only thought in Declan's mind was that he had not been able to bring back their bodies for a proper burial. Every dragon in their flock had gathered around their mountain to say goodbye to the King and Queen and usher him in as their new ruler. But the vampire Queen had ensured their ancient order and traditions would not be upheld.
They didn't have bodies to bury.
That was the only thought running through Declan Black's mind.
That and revenge.
Declan stood at the lip of the cliff, staring through the darkness at the churning sea a hundred feet below. Moonlight and night winds caressed his bare chest, carrying a scent right to him. The salty ocean air masked the stench of death blanketing the beach. Most humans would not even take notice. But the animal within Declan sensed it lingering in the undertones of the sea air.
Blood.
Declan crouched low. The tip of his booted foot dangled over the ledge, sending a handful of pebbles tumbling to the water. Undaunted, he leaned farther and cocked his head.
She was down there. He could not see her, but he could smell her. Powerful. Evil.
His sharp eyes zeroed in on the ragged cliffs and caverns below, searching for an opening. He always thought it ironic that the warring clans both chose the comfort of caves as their dwellings. Vampires inhabited the ground beneath the earth, while the dragons lived high above to avoid the increasingly astute human population. The security and protection a cave offered also appealed to his species. Only one entrance meant that they would always know their foes were coming and could block them or guard the cave to keep out attacks.
Much like his dragon kin's lair, the vampire catacombs below no doubt were elaborate and full of surprises. He'd have to be careful.
Declan fingered the brown satchel in his hands and stood. Despite his reservations, he knew he must do what his parents had died trying to do.
What she had killed them for.
Someone yanked the bag from his grip. Declan whipped around. At the sight of a small female with violet eyes, the frown he'd worn all evening deepened.
"Tallon, get back to the lair," he said, swiping his arm out. She shifted her hold, keeping the bag just out of his reach. Declan rolled his eyes. They were not hatchlings playing keep-away anymore.
"I'm coming with you."
"Like hell you are," he seethed, easily snatching the satchel from her hands and turning his back to her. He slid the straps over his broad shoulders, making sure the bag hung low enough that his wings would not rip through the fabric when he shifted into dragon form.
"They were my parents, too, Declan."
At her words, he drew in a breath, releasing it slowly. "Tallon, please. I'm not getting into this again. You were there when I told the council. I'm going alone."
A firm hand cupped his shoulder, forcing him around. "The Queen will capture and torture you like she did them, and then what? Then where will our flock be?"
"No closer to extinction than we already are."
Fire flickered behind her eyes. For a moment, he thought she might strike him. Hell, the dejection in his voice made him want to smack himself. However, she did not lash out. That was not her way. Instead, tenderness he neither earned nor deserved replaced her anger.
"We need you, Declan. Without you to lead us, all of our kind will be lost."
"No," he said through clenched teeth. "We will be lost if that bitch gets her hands on the Crystal of the Draco. You were there when Doc translated the scroll. The power to rule all or destroy one," he quoted from memory. "You know what that means? If they harness the energy in that stone, the Queen will bend us all to her will and we will become slaves, like the auld days. Or worse, she will decimate us. And it's down there," he said, pointing to the caverns, "waiting for her to use it."
"The scroll's torn, Declan. We can't even be certain that's what it means...."
"They died getting that scroll to us," he shouted, his words clipped with emotion. "If Mom and Dad believed the prophecy enough to sacrifice themselves, that's good enough for me. As their successor, it is my duty to look after our kind. I'm flying down there to the horde's catacombs and retrieving that crystal."
"Fine. Then I'm going with you."
Declan released a frustrated groan and raked a hand through his hair. It was pointless to keep fighting. He knew Tallon. She was a warrior, a fighter. She would not give up until he granted her request. Not that he could blame her. He would have done the same thing.
"Do you swear to do what I say, when I say it, no questions asked
?"
"Of course." Her lips quirked in a victorious smile before she launched into the air.
Declan watched her transform in a burst of iridescent pinks and purples and shook his head.
"Fools and dragons," he murmured, leaping after her.
CHAPTER ONE
DECLAN RAN UP THE narrow tunnel. Footfalls pounding the earth behind him told him they didn't have much time to escape. Straight ahead, the mouth of the cave yawned, the slight flicker of moonlight revealing their way out.
"Tallon!"
"I see it," she called over her shoulder, her legs kicking with each powerful stride.
"Fly," he shouted when they neared the ledge. Without slowing, Tallon leapt into the void. Her slight body fell for a split second before she shifted form and took to the sky. Declan made sure she was airborne before pushing off the cliff with a grunt. His long body soared through the cool air, transforming with seamless precision into a black dragon.
As he climbed upward, a glance back showed the vampire soldiers, armed and ready to kill for the treasure he'd carried out of their den.
Turning toward the heavens, Declan beat his wings to climb higher as a barrage of gunshots screamed from below.
"Faster," he shouted telepathically, seconds before bullets tattered the scales of his left wing. A hot spike of pain lanced between his shoulder blades. Slipping in his ascent, he paused to grab a breath.
"Declan. Come on!"
He ignored her. Instead, he stared at the vampire horde twenty feet below. Rage bubbled in his veins at the sight of them spilling out of their seaside catacomb like ants from a hill. A soldier lifted a bow gun to his shoulder and fired. Arrows cut through the sky. Declan swung into their path, taking in his arm the one meant for Tallon. The skewered flesh sizzled.
Silver-tipped arrows. He groaned.
Not good.
The fine metal acted like a poison on his kind, eating their flesh and siphoning their power from the inside out. Gritting his jaw against the pain, he slashed the knapsack from around his neck and tossed it at Tallon. She caught it in one clawed hand.
"Take it and go."
She looked up. The fear in her eyes eating at his soul. Tonight was not supposed to have gone down like this. They'd gotten what they came for. But he'd be damned if it ended with her getting hurt.
A second arrow ate through his thigh.
"Dammit, Tallon. You promised." He growled. "Get out of here. Now!"
A breath of relief sawed out of his lungs when she nodded. After she disappeared in the darkness, he turned his focus on the vamp with the bow gun. Snapping his wings wide, Declan arced into a kamikaze dive. Fire licked the back of his throat. Smoke curled out of his nostrils.
The vampire saw him coming and turned to run, but he was too late. Declan opened his jowls, raining a torrent of dragonfire on the soldier. Pale flesh melted off his face and hands, pooling on the stones below.
Before Declan could close his jaw, another blitz of gunshots saturated the sky. Blazing heat ripped through his veins with the same burning efficiency as the bullets had torn his flesh. His wings faltered and folded behind him. His elongated muzzle shrunk until cool night air whipped his human face, tossing strands of hair into his eyes.
"Shit," he muttered as he began plummeting toward the ground, human from the waist up. Unable to stop, he twisted in midair and tucked his chin, waiting for impact. His body smacked the dirt, bouncing and skidding, his flesh eating the small rocks and granules. He slid to a halt. A cloud of dust rose and then settled over him like a blanket, coating his lungs.
Coughing, he rolled to his stomach and opened his eyes to peek. Two soldiers were rushing him. Fast. Their black trench coats billowed behind them, showing off an assortment of weapons strapped to gun belts around their thick waists.
At least six more, all decked out like G.I. Joe on crack, were closing in not ten paces behind them.
Great.
The first two almost on him, Declan crouched and sideswiped his leg in an arc, knocking them down. Springing to his feet, he reared his tail. Blood splattered across his face and neck as he lodged the club-shaped ball at the end of it into the nearest vamp's chest. Spinning, he caught the second one by the throat. He snapped the soldier's thick neck around until a sickening crunch reverberated through his arms. Discarding the lifeless heap on the ground, Declan wrenched his tail out of what was left of the other vamp's torso, and turned to face the second wave of soldiers bearing down on him.
"Come on," he said, motioning to the approaching horde. His blood-soaked tail lashed and bit like a whip behind him.
The pack stepped closer. Their teeth were bared and their black claws extended. Not caring if he died tonight as long he took a few of these bastards with him, Declan stepped forward to meet them head-on. He stumbled over heavy feet. Frowning, he looked down. The remaining armor scales on his lower body receded. Then his tail, the only weapon left in his arsenal, shrank back into his body.
The silver, he realized. Its poison was draining his dragon power.
As soon as the thought came, his body screamed in pain, his side and back burning as if someone held a blowtorch to his skin. Cupping the wound, he pulled back a bloody hand.
Another shot fired. Instead of more silver bullets, a heavy net collapsed atop him, dragging him to the ground. The instant his cheek hit the dirt, feet and fists rained down on him. With the net tying him up, all he could do was shield his head with his forearms and wait.
"Enough!" At a female's order, the soldiers backed up a step.
The Queen.
It had to be her. At the thought, an icy shiver passed through him. A rational part of his brain had known she would come for him if he didn't kill her first. Knew she would take her vengeance against his kind out on his flesh--his soul.
Well, he thought, grabbing a fistful of net. He wasn't going without a fight.
With a roar, Declan looped the thick cord around his wrist and pulled, taking several of the horde to their knees. Jabbing a fist through the mesh, he seized the nearest soldier by the throat and squeezed.
"Dammit, Ivan. Hold him," a strong female voice ordered.
At her command, a boot rammed his jaw. Declan flew back, his chin kicking the ground in a teeth-shattering blow. Groaning, he spit out a mouthful of blood and pushed himself up, his head lolling in the direction he'd last heard the woman's voice.
The first thing he focused on were boots--spike-heeled, patent-leather, knee-high stripper boots, wrapped around a pair of slender legs that seemed to go for days. Declan lifted his chin and wrenched his swollen eye wider.
The female stood with one hand propped on black-leather-clad hips. The wind whipped thin blond hair around her--a delicately framed waist, bound in a leather corset that would have given any fetish kink an instant hard-on.
When his gaze finally reached her face, he noted she examined him with black eyes as cold and immortal as his soul. And that she was much too young to be the Queen.
"Where is the crystal?" Her smooth words held a faint trace of a Russian accent.
Not the Queen, but definitely of a noble caste. Declan grinned through bloodied lips.
At his smile, a dainty line furrowed her brow, and she cocked her head to the side. For a moment, she reminded Declan of a confused puppy. Until she raised a sawed-off 12 gauge and one black eye stared down the barrel at him.
"Tell me where it is and I might let you live, Derkein."
"It's gone," he said with a chuckle. "You have nothing to take back to her. You're as dead as I am."
The vixen's onyx eyes flashed silver before she drove the butt of the gun down to his face. He was still smiling when she pistol-whipped his nose and the world plunged into darkness.
ALEXIA F EODOROVNA stood in the catacombs, staring into the stone cell. Although the beast lay sound asleep on the floor and chained to the wall, his size and strength still managed to unsettle her.
Big. Dark. Dangerous.
She had
never seen anything like him. The dragon lords never shifted into human form during battle, and were said to be all but extinct, or so she'd assumed until tonight. After seeing him fight, she wondered how she'd ever believed the lie.
He'd fought like a warrior of auld.
The way he'd protected that female of his kind, battled until he couldn't stand and yet met death with a smile on his face, affected her strangely. Not because she knew she would have met her own death like the coward her mother had called her. But because in the deepest part of her heart, she yearned to experience that kind of love, yet knew she would die without it.
The prisoner shifted. The metal cuffs around his wrists caught the moonlight filtering in through the rectangular window in his cell.
Alexia leaned her forehead on the cool iron bars and watched the play of light on the dark wall. Tipping her chin, she took in a breath of salty ocean air, wafting in the window, purifying the rancid odor of her horde's dungeon. Funny. She'd always thought that tiny window to be the cruelest torture in the cavern. The vibrant ocean, the alive taste of freedom danced on the tips of their prisoners' tongues, taunting their spirits from the other side of the dungeon wall. A small flavor of a salvation that for most never came.
At least they died having tasted hope.
Footsteps ascended the spiral staircase behind her. Sliding her eyes from the prisoner, she adjusted the tray in her arms and turned toward the guard.
"It's about time, soldier." She nodded into the cell. "Are you certain he sleeps?"
The guard stepped into the light from a wall sconce. Like every one of her mother's soldiers, he had crew-cut blond hair, a thick pit-bull-size head and dark sunglasses he wore even in the inky-black pits of their cavern dwelling.
"I drugged that Derkein myself," he said, unlocking the cell door and propping it open. "He'll be out for hours, if he wakes at all."
"Good. You may leave us."
A dark brow cocked over the rim of his shades. "But, Lotharus ordered--"
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