by Sharon Page
Lucy would not expect him to leave the house during the day. He knew she had come to his room to ensure he was sleeping. Once she saw him, she had left the room, and he had then forced himself up, and had left the house. This was the best way to sneak out without her catching him.
A grin tried to tug at his mouth, but even the muscles of his face were too exhausted to work. He was behaving like a disobedient gentleman trying to sneak out on his wife.
Wife. When he thought of marrying Lucy, of spending the rest of his life with her ... hell, it was a sweet dream, but an impossible one.
When he had first left the house, he had gone to Charing Cross Road, to a bookstore owned by the vampire historian Guidon. There he had learned several interesting things. He had learned about Lucy—and why the prince was determined to have her.
Swinging a walking stick, Sinjin forced his heavy legs to move to the house as though he was a gentleman paying an afternoon call.
His prince’s house was only a block away, but suddenly, in the depths of his heart, he felt a stabbing pain. Fear raced through him—the same ice-cold, terrifying horror he’d known when he’d lost his brother. It rooted him to the sidewalk.
He could hear her roars—they were a dragon’s sounds of fury and hatred, but they were also Lucy’s. How he could hear them from so far away, he didn’t know. How he knew they were her roars he didn’t know. But it was like a voice in his head, telling him to get to her. To help Lucy. Save her. Fighting for strength, he spun in the street and forced his numb, shaking legs to run.
It couldn’t be Allan Ferrars. He had died. Lucy was certain of it. She had seen her brother attack him and she’d heard her fiancé’s howls of pain as Jack had lashed into him with his claws. She had seen Allan’s large dragon body collapse to the ground. He had lain there, unmoving, and his eyes had been open and blank.
She had been shaking with shock and horror, and sobbing with tears blurring her eyes, but she knew what she had seen. Jack had tried to pull her away, but she had gone to Mr. Ferrars and she had seen him change back into human form. Her brother’s arms had wrapped around her waist, stopping her before she could touch the man who had betrayed her, and Jack had hauled her swiftly away for her safety. But she had been sure Allan Ferrars was dead.
Father had told her he was. Father had told her Mr. Ferrars would never bother her again.
“Wh-who are you?” she cried at the man, cursing the tremble of her voice. “Let the child go.”
“But he is not a child, is he?” the man responded, his lips curving into a mocking smile. Heavens, it looked so much like Allan Ferrars’s smile, Lucy felt as though she had been hit in the stomach.
“The boy is a dragon.” The man waved his hand and murmured something to James. The boy gazed up at this eerie man, as though held under a spell.
James’s body began to jerk and stretch and change. Fear turned the boy’s face pale and he whispered in terror, “No. It hurts—no!”
She ran forward. “Stop this! It is too hard on his body and it is hurting him. You must stop it.”
James let a shriek of terror, a yell of pure pain. “Uncle,” he sobbed. “Help me. Lucy ... Lucy, make it stop. Please.”
She reached the man who held James. She stared into his gloating face, not caring if it was Allan—if he actually wasn’t dead, or he had become a demon or a ghost that had returned. She didn’t care. Shoving his arm, she tried to break his grip on James. But he laughed. A low, amused, tired laugh. Then he swung at her, and his open palm slammed into her cheek so hard it drove her to her knees.
Pressing her hand to her stinging cheek, Lucy got up on her haunches. Wings sprouted from James’s back, large blank and green wings, unusually wide for such a small body. His clothes had been torn by his change, and pieces of white cloth fluttered over the lawn. Scales were appearing over his body as it changed to dragon shape—as a tail grew and his arms became smaller, his face took on the shape of a muzzle.
He was screaming.
Lucy pulled up to her feet, and ran at the man again.
This time he threw her, and she tumbled like a rolling log across the grass and into a garden. Her body bashed against gravel and stones, and prickly twigs snagged at her skin. She dug her fingers into the earth to stop her, and got up painfully.
She had to stop him.
She hadn’t been able to fight Allan Ferrars, who looked exactly like this man.
It didn’t matter—she had to try. She understood Sinjin, understood why he was willing to face his prince alone, even though he knew it would be hopeless: to protect James, she had to be willing to die trying.
Lucy bit down on her lip and summoned her transformation into dragon form. The moments it took to do it were excruciating, and it felt as if it were taking forever. Her clothes seemed to explode off her body as her shape changed. As she grew and grew.
Then it was done.
The blackguard who looked like Allan had transformed, too. He was an enormous black dragon, as dark as coal, as shiny as smooth jet. He clamped his teeth into James’s neck and gave a powerful flap of his wings, lifting from the ground.
No. She leapt off the ground and took flight. Lucy threw all her strength into the beat of her wings. She managed to fly over his head, then blew a stream of fire across his back. She had to take care not to hit James. Since the horrible night she had fought for her life against Allan, she had never battled in dragon form.
James beat his wings wildly and struggled, but he could not break free of the grip of the other dragon’s jaws.
Lucy breathed another blast of flame, singing the scales on the other dragon’s back. Smoke curled up. Suddenly, the dragon whirled and his mouth sent a shot of flame at her.
Thank heaven she had flown that night in the moors. She was able to move agilely, to spin swiftly aside and let the fiery blast go by her. But the heat singed her, and she cried out in pain as it scorched her scales. Flapping her wings, she somersaulted in the air, drawing away from the dragon. She spun back quickly, and she breathed fire again—she put all her strength into the attack. She shot flames at him, then whirled around and slammed her tail into his back.
The male dragon whipped his tail around, and the end of it struck her stomach with so much force, the sharp scales dug into her skin. She let out a roar at the pain. Blood welled.
James was making desperate sounds—a dragon’s equivalent to cries of fear. She tried to make sounds to reassure him, the quiet, musical sounds she had heard her mother make. But they were unfamiliar to James and he was shrieking.
She pressed her clawed hand to her wound. Damn—the other dragon would go and she was too wounded to catch him—
No, he was turned back to her. With James caught in his mouth, with his claws extended, he rushed toward her. He wheeled his feet up so the long, razor-sharp claws on his toes were sticking forward. He could rip her apart.
But if she retreated, he could escape with James. She had to engage in a fight. Breathing flame as quickly as she could, Lucy turned to protect her belly and she charged at him. She stopped the fire when she got too close and she tried to aim her claws to take James without hurting him.
The other dragon swooped at her. His claws dug into her back. Pure pain. God, it was unbelievable. She was screaming, roaring ... falling... .
As she spun toward the ground, she saw the black dragon prepare to come at her. To finish her. Desperately, she fought for control, but she still fell heavily into the garden, sinking into the rich earth.
Her body hurt too much for her to take flight again, and she heard the low, hissing sound of victory coming from the black dragon—
“Lucy!”
Sinjin’s voice. The sharp tones of it stunned her. She arched her neck to see him racing across the garden. A long sword in his hand glinted in the sunlight. Gripping it with two hands, he leapt into the air and swung the blade so quickly, it became a blur of light.
Light. Daylight. What was he doing? He could not be out i
n the daytime.
The blade caught the black dragon’s leg. The dragon shrieked in fury and blood sprayed.
“Give me the boy,” Sinjin shouted. “I will let you live if you give me the child.”
The dragon hissed, then took James from his muzzle, and clutched the boy in his claws. He shot fire at Sinjin. A blast of flame larger than any she had ever seen. Cursing, Sinjin leapt to the side, rolling out of the way.
Lucy clutched her stomach. Blood leaked between her scaly fingers. Then she saw Sinjin’s face as he got to his feet. He was swaying. His face was turning black—it was burning with the rays of the sun. Smoke rose from his cheeks. His skin was angry slashes of glowing red and burnt black.
The sunlight was going to kill him.
The black dragon swooped down to him, wearing a grin on his long mouth. Sinjin lay on the ground, struggling to grasp his sword. Lucy tried to fly, but the pain in her stomach was too great.
Howling with victory, the black dragon dropped James—she managed to pull her body across the ground so she could catch him. The dragon flew at Sinjin. It dove in. Then Sinjin leapt to his feet and swung his sword. It should have taken off the beast’s head, but the dragon slid to the right and the sword took off its foot.
It spun, losing blood, then rushed at her. She tried to hold on to James’s small dragon form, but the bigger dragon hit her with his tail, driving her down, then grabbed James. It flew upward.
“Lucy! Lucy, are you all right?”
Arms came around her. She tried to struggle up. She couldn’t speak, only make a low moaning sound. Sinjin’s face—it was so horribly burned ... but he lifted his wrist to his mouth. She waved her clawed paw at him, trying to send him inside. They had to get James, but Sinjin was going to die.
His fangs came out, and he drove them into his wrist. Blood leaked out. He pushed his wrist against her mouth. She tasted the coppery fluid. Panicked, sick from the thought of drinking blood, she tried to struggle away, but she was cold now and her body was numb.
“Drink, Lucy. Please. Drink and survive.”
She did. With her tongue, she lapped up his blood. Then he moved his wrist away. Warmth flooded through her. The pain eased in her stomach, and a tingling sensation spread through. Through her dragon eyes she gazed down. The wound was knitting itself together, slowly disappearing.
She was healed.
She knew what she must do.
Beating her wings hard, she rose off the ground.
“Lucy, no! Lucy, don’t—”
She ignored Sinjin’s shout and she flew out of the garden, into the brilliant sky. Far ahead of her, she saw a dark spot in the air. It must be the black dragon and James. She didn’t care how strong this dragon was, she was going to rescue the boy. Sinjin was probably dying, he had been so badly hurt, but if she let herself think about that, she would panic or burst into tears.
James needed her to keep her head.
The other dragon—the one who looked like Allan Ferrars—had bigger wings, but she flapped hers wildly. Her dragon body ached with the pain of trying to beat her wings as hard and quickly as she could. Her lungs burned with the exertion. Even in dragon form, she was showing what happened to ladies—with their restrained living, their bodies fell apart. She had tried for so long to act like a proper normal lady, she had lost all her strength.
The black dragon turned in the sky, heading toward the lush green of Hyde Park. Lucy followed, amazed to see she was closing the distance. At least, she thought she was. She rose above the park. They soared so high, they looked perhaps like birds to the people below. Below the Serpentine snaked through the park, the rippling water glittering in the sunlight.
Suddenly a searing pain shot through her wing. Twisting to the side, she saw a thin dark shape hurtling through the air as she felt the delicate membranes tear apart. Her wing pulled inward as she reacted to the pain. She lost her balance in the air. Spinning.
An arrow had been shot through her wing. Crippled, she couldn’t control her fall. But then a force grabbed her—something unseen that slowed her plunge and brought her down slowly toward the trees that dotted the park. She landed with a thump on soft grass between two trees. The shock made her lose control of her shifted body. Pain rushed over her as her body twisted and writhed and she transformed back into human form.
She was naked. In Hyde Park. In the distance, she heard shouting voices. People had seen her fall. They might come to investigate, and she had no clothes on. Nor could she change back into dragon form. Her wing would not have healed. So she was going to lose James as well.
Tears of fury pricked. She got to her feet, too sore and pained to move quickly. Footsteps made her turn in panic. A gentleman was running toward her—an elegantly dressed one. Remarkably, his beaver hat stayed on his head as his long legs swallowed up the ground. She tried to cover her breasts and privates, then turned and ran for a tree. Why did there have to be one man who could run so fast?
The footsteps behind her sped up.
She was running like wild, naked. Where could she go? She couldn’t run out of the park.
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see he almost was upon her. Suddenly he reached out and grabbed a hank of her hair. He yanked her back, winding its thickness around his wrist. “Now I have you, my dear. Finally.”
Lucy twisted, staring into bright silver eyes. They were almost blinding.
“Who are you?”
A white-blond brow arched up. “I suspect you know, my dear. Do not worry, Lady Lucy Drake, your dragon slayer will come for you.” His hand cupped her neck, then slid down, nearing her breast. “I know he will. I have known Sinjin for a long time.”
“No!” She shoved his hand away. She tried to pull away, but he had her clamped by her hair. She knew who he was—Sinjin’s prince, the leader of the dragon slayers.
He was going to kill her.
“Not yet,” he said, as though he had seen her thoughts. “I have no intention of killing you now. Not when I know Sinjin will come to save you. But he will fail—he won’t free you and he won’t survive. It will please me first to take something he wants so very badly.”
“What?”
“You.”
21
Poisoned
In the prince’s grasp, Lucy tried to change shape. She closed her eyes and willed her body to shift into a dragon form. Even with a broken wing, she could fight better as a dragon, with far more weapons: claws, fire, and a powerful tail—
“No, you don’t, my dear.”
The prince’s right hand suddenly clamped around her neck. She felt pressure, as if he was choking her and as she struggled for breath, something cold and hard gripped her neck. It made a soft click, and then he moved his hand away. He kept her hair twined around his other wrist, using it like a leash to bind her to him. She sucked in a deep breath and looked down. But all she could see were her naked breasts and her stomach. She could not see the thing around her neck, but she could feel it digging into her flesh. Grasping it, she tried to pull it off. It suddenly grew as hot as fire and sizzled against her hands, burning her fingertips, and she had to release it, hissing in pain. She had felt something that was flat and shaped like a large, wide ring.
“A collar,” the prince informed her, in cold, hard tones. “It will prevent you from shifting shape and escaping me. This will make you more obedient.”
With his hand in her hair, he wrenched her head to the side. Her neck muscles pulled in protest and the hot necklace at her neck gouged into her skin. She tried again to shift shape but she couldn’t. With no other way to fight, she kicked at him. Wildly, she slammed her feet against him. But he wore a gentleman’s boots, and all she got were sore, bruised toes.
“Feisty,” he murmured, jerking her head even more to the side, until she feared he would break her neck. “A fiery dragon. I can see why Sinjin was willing to give up so much for you.”
He touched his mouth to her neck.
“Oh no, you will not!
” Lucy cried. She struggled, willing to lose her hair to his hands if she could get free. But her stupid hair would not give. She kicked. She screamed. What did it matter if all the ton came running across Hyde Park and saw her naked? She would be saved—
“Shut up,” the prince barked. Then he lunged forward and bit her neck. The pricks of his teeth were like two fierce burns. God, it was nothing like when Sinjin bit her. This hurt. And she could feel her blood rushing to his mouth.
Dear God.
Dimly, she wondered how he could be out in the sunlight. How was this vampire not burned, as Sinjin had been? Sinjin. Was he alive or had he died of the wounds to his face?
Her blood was rushing out of her. Suddenly, her legs gave out and she sagged into the blackguard’s arms. He was going to kill her. He was going to take all her blood and she was going to die here, with grass whispering around her and the sun beating down on her—
“Enough,” he growled. “That will be enough to keep your feisty nature subdued.”
The prince, the hateful, evil monster, swept her into his arms. Then suddenly he changed shape. He grew wings and his body turned black, like a large bat. A whirling light whipped around them. A sparkling white light.
“No one will see us. But do not fret. Sinjin will know where you are. He will sense you, he will track you, he will come to you.”
Would he? Her heart felt ready to explode in despair. Or was he already dead?
He strode into Guidon’s bookstore. He had not even bothered to let Guidon open the door, he had shoved it so hard, he almost tore it off its hinges.
“I need to find her,” he barked. “I need to find Lucy. Guidon,” he shouted, “where in blazes would the prince have taken her?”
The troll-like librarian came out from between two stacks of books. His thin yellowish-gray hair stuck straight up from his head, as though he had run his fingers through it. The vampire librarian was tiny, with a curved spine, but knew everything there was to know about vampires, dragons, and other shifters in London.
