Dragon's Successor (BBW/Dragon Shifter Romance) (Lords of the Dragon Islands Book 2)

by Isadora Montrose

  Amiria who had been sleeping in the bed beside Aidan had risen and was dressing the sleepy child. Rongo was looking out the windows with his handgun drawn and the safety off.

  “Bring him,” Roland instructed Amiria. To Rongo he said, “I’m taking your bride to the safe room with the boy and Dr. Cooper.”

  Rongo did not turn from his examination of the night sky, but he nodded and said, “Thank you, sir.”

  Amiria carried Aidan who had roused enough to begin asking endless questions. His nursemaid shushed him. Roland knocked once on their door and his sentries opened it. She had pulled on jeans and another of her dreadful tee-shirts. Roland pulled up one of the rugs beside her bed. He pressed lightly and the flooring rose to reveal a metal panel.

  Roland knelt and placed a palm over the lock. A screen appeared and a laser flashed. His irises were scanned and the plate slid open to expose a flight of stairs. “Go below,” Voros said. “Lock this staircase and do not come out until I come for you.” He stood guard until Kayla, Amiria and Aidan were below.

  He could see the women searching for the lock that would close the floor panel and seal the staircase from below as well. It seemed to take them a long time to press the buttons, but eventually interlocking steel plates emerged from either side of the staircase and sealed them behind eight inches of steel and concrete.

  Roland closed the hatch in the floor and replaced the rug. He trotted down the hall to join his troops and activate the steel and concrete walls that sealed his house against intruders.

  * * *

  Kayla’s heart was in her mouth as she and Amiria looked around the bunker they were standing in. The room was large enough — at least twenty feet by twenty feet. But it was windowless and had no apparent exit except the hatch they had entered it by. The chamber had been cut out of the volcanic stone the island was made of. It was unlike that it really had no second exit, but she suspected that unless Roland showed it to her, she and Amiria would never locate it.

  It was crowded with furniture and supplies. Bunks lay along one wall. Kayla counted. Three ranks of bunks three high. The room would sleep nine. A long table occupied the middle of the room. Ten chairs were tucked under it. One wall was a kitchen of sorts. A counter held a microwave and sink and tall cupboards. Beside that stood a big fridge.

  She crossed and began to open doors. There was food for a siege. Not very interesting food, but tinned stew and vegetables could keep people going for a long while. There were cases of water and sanitary supplies. The fridge was fully stocked and cold. Somewhere a generator hummed. Of course, there had to be an electricity supply to run the fridge and light the room.

  Amiria had opened a door and located the washroom. Kayla opened another cupboard and found an arsenal. Growing up on a sheep farm, she had done her share of hunting. New Zealand had suffered from the introduction of domestic animals. Feral cats and dogs, sadly, often had to be destroyed. A kitten or puppy that had never known humans, could never be rehabilitated, and could not be allowed to live wild to exterminate the native, flightless birds.

  Kayla pulled out a rifle and loaded it with the ammunition she found on another shelf. It was obvious that something terrible was about to happen and they had better be prepared. Amiria returned from toileting Aidan, and set him to play at the table.

  “Can you shoot?” Kayla asked her.

  “Of course.” Amiria said. She took a semi-automatic from the rack and closed the door. She swiftly loaded it and put a couple of clips in her pockets.

  Aidan was playing calmly with a little puzzle. He seemed accepting of his unusual nocturnal adventure. He didn’t seem to be paying much attention to his mother and nanny arming themselves until he said, “The bad guys come from the sea.”

  Kayla looked in consternation at Amiria who shrugged. The nanny slung her semi across her shoulder by its strap and went to sit with her small charge who grinned happily at her and returned his keen green gaze to his jigsaw.

  The safe room was completely silent except for the hum of the fridge and generator. Kayla pulled out her cell but was unsurprised that there was no service. It was unnerving to wait incommunicado, while heaven only knew what was going on, but waiting was all they could do. She took some comfort from Amiria’s composure, but every maternal instinct she possessed was on high alert.

  * * *

  The Maori dragons were warriors from a long lineage of warriors. They sang deep and joyously in their massive throats as they waited for their enemy to appear on the horizon. The moon was still only a narrow arc in a cloudless sky. The sea could be heard rather than seen. Twelve black Maori dragons spread themselves out across the southern beaches of Tarakona — far enough apart that they could launch themselves into the air at a moment’s notice.

  Sixteen untransformed dragons patrolled the northern cliffs in human form. They were draped in Kevlar armor and armed with assault rifles. Under their vests, they had stripped to the waist in case they had to fly. Their eyes outfitted with infrared goggles, they stared out across the dark waters that surged onto the broken volcanic rocks. The rocks prevented any vessel from approaching that side of the island, but they could all feel the disturbance in the air caused by the approaching force.

  Roland had sealed his entire house behind the steel and concrete panels that completely covered windows and walls. Not even mortar fire could penetrate them. Kayla and Aidan were safe even without the additional protection of the underground room.

  He took dragon and patrolled his skies from a height greater than he had ever soared before. The island of Tarakona was a tiny speck in an inky and restless sea. The night sky was broken by myriad twinkling stars. But he looked far out to the horizon for signs that those stars were obscured as they would be by the spread wings of alien dragons.

  Nonetheless, he heard the attackers before he saw them. The deep hum of the Maori dragons stilled. The rush of their twenty-four wings beating the air challenged the wing beats of those flying toward them. Roland circled. He whistled to the Maoris below who held their ground, still in human. They looked steadily out over the water with unwavering vigilance.

  Their guns were aimed at the intruders, but all maintained discipline, and none fired. Roland could hear the throb of multiple engines as a fleet of inflatables assaulted the southern beaches where the Maori dragons had departed in quest of prey.

  From out of the trees, more of Roland’s sword bearers stepped forward. They shot at the fragile vessels. The surprised occupants floundered in the suddenly sinking rafts. Roland whistled again and flew out after the Maori dragons. They faced a flock of dragons smaller but more numerous than they. Roland was stunned at their small size. Was Vadim employing youths or was this a race of dragons of which the old stories had never spoken?

  The clash was noisier than Roland would have expected. He had studied records of battles. He had taken part in war games. The reality was brutally different. Clashing beasts roared and blood flowed freely. Stinging darts paralyzed limbs. Bloodcurdling screams accompanied the carnage. The coppery tang of blood filled the air.

  The attacking dragons shrieked defiance and dismay. Roland tried to distinguish the cries of the Maori dragons from those of their attackers, but it was not until the Maoris on the beach took up a rhythmic war chant that their compatriots in the air mimicked, that he could distinguish between them. Fortunately, the black Maoris had a huge silhouette that was identifier enough.

  Voros held his position high above his island, when every fiber of his being urged him to give chase and support his loyal soldiers. But a competing instinct urged him to watch for danger from the sea. The Maori were hauling shifters from the ocean and tying them up.

  Tigers, bears and leopards tried to defeat Roland’s men, but fur was no defense against bullets, and gradually they surrendered. Roland’s men tied them securely hand and foot, so that they could neither bite nor claw. The real threat came over the ocean from the mainland. A chopper, much like his own, could be heard from afar.
Gun turrets bristled on its black sides.

  Voros whistled sharply and six assault rifles shot out the rear propeller of the helicopter. It spun around, unable to hold its course, and plunged into the ocean. Roland circled but no bodies emerged from the depths, and no debris marked where the helicopter had gone down.

  Far out to sea, the battle between the dragons continued. The deep rhythmic humming of the Maori dragons grew louder and more terrible. It sent a chill through Roland — and these were his trusted allies and his sworn sword bearers! How much more dreadful must that resonant and relentless sound be in the ears of those they were attacking?

  He could see a swirl of black on the horizon where the sky was turning pale gray with the coming of the dawn. Dragons bobbed and spun and lashed the air with venomous tails. A dozen times he saw and heard the splash of a falling reptile. And still the Maori throats gave forth their ominous battle song at full cry.

  The sun popped up, slowly turning the sky a delicate pink. Twelve dragons flew back toward the island with long, slow strokes of their black wings. And still they hummed their terrible song. This time a song of victory and defiance. Roland met them on the beach in human form — slapping each man on the back as they returned to human.

  Tane Te Mahuta grinned at him despite a slashing wound that ran from breast to belly and oozed sluggishly. “We sent them to our mother,” he declared triumphantly.

  Hehu produced a dragon ear with a flourish. “Here is proof,” he said, “That those dragons were Russians sent by Vadim.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  In the midst of victory, surrounded by his triumphant coterie, Roland felt uneasiness settle into his bones again. His mate was still in danger. Every instinct warned him this was so. “Come,” he called to Rongo, who left his celebrating men and followed him. They were both unclothed but there was no time for dressing.

  “Our women are in danger,” he told the Maori.

  The two men set off at a run toward the house. Roland had thought his home an impregnable fortress. But how if Vadim has somehow breached his defenses? His palm made the steel plates that secured his doors slide aside so he and Rongo could enter. Instinct drew him to the interior room where the Russian bear waited under guard.

  Hahona lay in his own blood, his sightless eyes fixed on the ceiling. His gun was gone and so was the bear. Rongo sniffed. “A dragon was here, sir,” he said and turned and made for the sleeping wing.

  He was right. Roland could smell the rankness of his mortal enemy. Vadim had killed his faithful Hahona. Now dragon and bear roamed his fortress. Roland followed Rongo down the corridors, fearful he would be too late to save his wife and child from the two shifters.

  * * *

  “Do you smell smoke?” Kayla asked Amiria.

  Amiria’s nose was wrinkled too. “I do.”

  Kayla stood beneath the ventilation grille. She sniffed. Definitely smoke. It made her strangely sleepy. A quick glance across at Aidan showed him laying his little head on the table on top of his unfinished jigsaw. Her body made her decision for her. Without conscious thought she took dragon. She covered the grille with her muzzle and breathed out smoke to counter whatever was coming through the vent.

  Behind her she heard Amiria chamber a round. But she kept steadily exhaling. This could only buy them time, for second by second she was using up their oxygen. She sent her thoughts to Roland. The bastard had promised to keep them safe. Where the heck was he when they needed him?

  The rock wall moved and an opening appeared in its apparent solidity. A burly, naked man stepped in. He carried an assault rifle and was followed by an even broader, limping man who was wearing pajamas.

  “Move away from the vent,” ordered the man with the assault rifle aiming it directly at Kayla. “Take her weapon,” he commanded his companion.

  For answer, Amiria raised her rifle to her shoulder and aimed at the pajama clad man.

  “Put it down or I will kill her,” said the naked man coldly.

  Kayla willed Amiria to ignore him. The Maori woman did not lower her weapon. Her finger tightened on the trigger. The sealed trap door above slid open silently and guns blazed. Roland and Rongo bounded down the stairs. Kayla instantly blasted the intruders with flames. The room filled with black fumes and shrieks of pain.

  When the smoke cleared, the two Russians lay dead. Rongo nudged the naked man with his foot. “The bear saved us,” he said. “He knocked this one’s arm aside. But how did they get into the house? And open this door?”

  Roland shook his head swaying a little. “My wife saved us,” he corrected Rongo proudly. “She blasted them. But I have no explanation for their entry.” He wobbled as he spoke and then collapsed bleeding.

  Kayla felt her heart squeeze shut beneath her armored breast. Roland was dead. Her mate was dead. Oblivious to the high drama and the passing of his father, and his dragoness mother’s weeping, Aidan slept on, his cheek pressed into his toy. How could her lover have left her when they had just found each other again?

  Rongo was kneeling beside Roland. “Bandages,” he snapped at Amiria who raced to the cupboards and returned with towels and a large first aid box.

  Helpless, tears running down her scaly snout, Kayla watched these useless attempts to save a corpse.

  “Press harder,” said Roland impatiently. “From both sides, Te Paka. The exit wound is worse.”

  Kayla’s tears stopped as if a tap had been turned off. Baron-Know-It-All had made a miraculous recovery.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  In the bushes above the beach, Maximilian of Landor crouched. Fearfully he watched the despised Maoris take Vadim’s shifters prisoners. He shuddered. If they found his inflatable, he would have no choice by to surrender and throw himself on Voros’ mercy. It was not as if a one-winged dragon could fly off this miserable island.

  The Maoris sang as they tended their wounded. The songs filled Landor with terror. Eventually, they bore their prisoners off, and then celebrated with a pounding victory dance that was as fearsome as their songs. From his damp hiding place, Maximilian wished with all his heart that he had never set eyes on Vadim of Montenegro or listened to his venomous urgings.

  When at last the beach was clear, the sun was high. Unobserved by any, Landor stealthily hauled his inflatable down the beach and silently paddled out past the reef to Vadim’s waiting boat.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Two weeks later…

  “I thought you would be interested.” Hugo Sarkany grinned at Roland sardonically over the video monitor.

  Roland shook his head. “I must confess that I was among those who laughed when Lord Spyridon suggested that Vadim had used his divorce to fling him off the Council because he was afraid of his knowledge of our traditions.”

  “Who could have believed Vadim was scared of a scholar?” agreed Hugo. “But the Spyridons have been our Guild Archivists for eons. Lord Spyridon knew just where to find all the secrets of Vadim’s lineage — once we asked him to look.

  “I have been conferring with Lord Spyridon,” Hugo continued. “He has located records of dragons who had mastered the spell of the Cloak of Invisibility. Vadim of Montenegro was of that lineage.

  “I thought that the Cloak of Invisibility was just a legend,” said Roland chagrined. “I did not prepare myself, or my home, against any such sorcery — and my wife and son nearly paid the price of my negligence.

  “We think that is how he just walked into the house, killed Hahona, and found the secret tunnels, without being observed. My security experts, Rongo and Tane, think he might actually have been inside for a full day before the attack. They have spent hours poring over our CCTV footage. There are hundreds of blurry images we think are Vadim walking around searching at night.”

  Hugo made a face. “Don’t tell your wife that,” he advised. “You have company in your ignorance, I never considered such a weapon. I have mounted an all-out search for a defense against invisibility.”

  “We too are l
ooking at ways to defend ourselves from future intrusions of that type,” said Roland. “Fortunately, we can find no evidence that Vadim was not the last of his lineage. We may not need a defense.”

  “If one villain knows the secret, we must believe all do.” Sarkany’s voice was grim.

  “We’ll find something,” Roland vowed.

  “So, my friend, when do we get to meet your bride?” Hugo asked.

  Roland waved his bandaged arm at the video monitor. “When I am fully healed.”

  “You are a dragon. Your bones should be already knit.”

  “Almost,” said Roland with a secret smile. “But believe me, I am enjoying my convalescence.”

  * * *

  Kayla was busy at her computer when Roland wandered into her lab but she turned to smile at her dragon lord.

  “Should you be up?” she asked critically, surveying his injured arm. Roland’s left arm was in a cast and he was wearing a sling. He had a small wooden box in his right arm. “You are supposed to be resting.”

  “I am a dragon,” he reminded her with a touch of his old haughtiness. “My bones knit quickly. In another week, except for a scar, I will be fully healed.” He smiled charmingly at her. “I have a present and some information for you.”

  Another present! Despite his fine words, and his conciliatory attitude, Roland persisted in trying to buy her love. He didn’t seem to realize she was already won. From the instant she had believed him dead she had known her heart was his forever. It was probably just as well he didn’t know. He needed to be kept on his arrogant toes.

  He kept showering her with gifts. First there had been a wardrobe of new clothes in jewel tones; then a shipment of shoes; more jewels; and now he had another chest. Really, he was such a dragon.

  She looked down at her cherry red sundress with its crocheted inlets. It was as comfortable as her vanished shorts and tee-shirts, and prettier. As were her espadrilles with their silly pattern of birds and butterflies.