Arken wished he could peel away the lost centuries and turn back time. He was old enough to vaguely remember when the high priestesses had worshipped the dragon lords. Leveraging their powers for good, the Daughters of Men had kept the halls of treasure overflowing, and, in exchange, the dragons had given them the secrets to living fire.
But, gradually, religion had slipped from favor, as all ideas do. The temples were shuttered. The riches and offerings dried to dust. And, the priestesses lost their power. They became greedy for something more than legends. They wanted immortality.
Their ships came in the night. The dragons fought, but lost the upper-hand to ensorcelled weapons. The high priestesses took them down one by one. In the end, it was retreat, hide or die. Exiled from their own lands, they watched the dragon eaters build new temples and promise new blessings, this time to gods created in man’s image.
Sighing with regret, Arken landed on a green ledge overlooking the island that had once been his family’s. The crowded metropolis of Feis of the Fire was invisible in this realm, but he could feel it. He felt something else, too. A growing threat that stirred like a sickness in his gut. She was getting stronger.
She sought the Heart that could rule them all, but his prize possession was out of her reach. The treaty that allowed the dragon king and dragon eater to share the island was binding, no matter how much he hated it. He could never fly beyond the keep, and she could never enter, nor any mortal from the realm.
Feis had signed the deal before discovering Arken had the one thing she needed most. Now, that she knew, she would stop at nothing to get it. He was in the Realm of Dreams to find out if the time had come for an end to diplomacy. His warriors begged for war.
“Where are you, old woman?” Arken called out. His oversized body stretched in a field of fragrant grasses that covered the mountainside. He scanned the dreamscape in search of the oracle. “Sylph!” he shouted.
“I’m elemental, not deaf.”
A wisp of fog tore from the clouds in the sky. Arken chuckled. At first, it was merely the idea of a woman. Then, she took shape. A squat, round thing with mussy silver hair and a lined face. She was ancient, but her eyes danced like a child’s. Ainley settled on his shoulder with the same cool wetness of precipitation. It felt good to see her. Hell, it was good to see anyone.
“Can you feel what’s coming?” she breathed.
He nodded. “Something’s on the wind. Feis is after the Heart, and my soldiers are ready for battle. There are so few of us. I hesitate to risk a single dragon. The keep is impenetrable and the Isle of Warriors remains lost to the ships of the dragon eaters because of your treaty. We are safe. I owe you my life.”
“A rare moment of sentimentality from a reformed charmer? Or, are you flirting with me, young rascal?” She chuckled and patted his scales. Arken snorted. “Yes, the spell is strong, indeed…But I never said impenetrable…I’m afraid someone has found a way in.”
He scoffed. “Impossible. Many have tried. None but dragons can enter. I wouldn’t be bound to that infernal keep, if that weren’t the case. I haven’t had a good flight in eons, and—” He smirked at her knowing look. “Suffice it to say, I’m missing out.”
The elder’s smile broadened. “I’m sorry you’re missing out on your flights. Be that as it may, the treaty says none from your realm can enter. Here you are, in my world. So, you must know there are other realms and ways of travel that bend the rules.”
Arken stared in disbelief. He threw back his head and roared, “You said it would protect the Heart of the Dragon!” Explosive plumes of fire and smoke forcefully backed his outburst.
Ainley suddenly became condensation that dispersed and coalesced into woman-shape again to re-settle on his meaty shoulder. She clicked her tongue in disapproval, but she was none the worse for his tantrum. She nonchalantly tamed wavy hair as Arken collected himself.
“It’s the isolation,” he grumbled.
“I know. It gets to you. No creature is meant to be alone for so long. It’s not the stone I’m worried about. It’s you.”
“Never mind me. Either Feis can get to the Heart of the Dragon, or she can’t. Tell me plainly You speak in riddles.” Another stream of smoke was expelled from his nostrils.
Ainley’s raspy laughter sounded like wind chimes. She widened her eyes, and her lips curled in playful reproach. “You are thick,” she plucked his nose, “and slow in your dragon-shape.”
He rolled an eye toward her. “You insult me?”
“I advise you. Take another form. It’s past time.”
“Time for what, Ainley? I begin to wonder if I should trust your rambling.”
“You trust me. Because you know that when the earth eats the fire, all things feel the dying of the light. Your world is out of balance, Arken, Son of Imyr. We must keep it from slipping off the scales. There are others at stake. Now. The clouds gather to meet the lightning. Get up. She comes.”
“Who comes?” he asked, perplexed.
Ainley held up her palm and gently blew the first dew of springtime into his blinking eyes. “It’s an imprecise science,” she whispered. “But, I think she might be your destiny.” He heard gold coins tinkling like rain.
His eyes snapped open. It wasn’t the tinkle of coins, but the distant shriek of a female dragon. Why was she so close to King’s Isle? The females on the Isle of Warriors no longer traveled great distances, for fear of dragon eater huntsmen. This one sounded like she had run into trouble.
Arken shook the weight of sleep from his limbs. His bones creaked, but his muscles bunched with anticipation. He nimbly raced the length of the chamber, rising with a gusty sweep of his wings, and taking off through the open crater. His rusty flight path bumped and dislodged huge chunks of rocks that hit the floor. Grounded too long, he thought ruefully. He would tend to that later.
Another frail scream rent the night. As upper atmosphere winds helped him gain elevation, Arken flew through zigzags of lightning that lit up roiling clouds. He concentrated on finding her, but, in the back of his mind, he worried he wouldn’t. He could only fly so far. The hidden keep would never let him go.
Suddenly, he saw a dark, featureless shadow in the storm. Another flash of lightning illuminated her—red-scaled and impressive in size. Her aquiline face tapered to curving purple horns, and her wings were threaded with blue. She was fighting desperately to recover from a free-fall.
She’s a warrior, Arken realized. He let out a throaty bellow, and she answered with a short squawk, twisting her slender neck in his direction. Relief at having an ally made her struggle harder. He changed course and repositioned to catch her. His wings beat the air, keeping him aloft, as she tried to reach him.
A part of Arken was detached from the danger and reveling in the storm. Stinging rain lashed his scales. His glossy black hue reflected the lightning that danced around them. Yet, over the roar of nature, he heard pounding hooves, and a frisson of dread went through him when he spotted the huntsmen racing at breakneck speed to reach them. There were five or six highly skilled men in the colors of the Temple of Fire. He knew they were excellent at hitting their targets.
Arken tore his gaze from the longbows tainted by Feis’ magic. Even fired from miles below, the deadly arrows would reach. He strained to fly higher. “Can you steer toward me?” he called to the female.
She shook her head, but laboriously flapped her wings. Her body rose on one side in a visible limp. He wished she could hurry. The huntsmen had a better shot of hitting them, the longer he hovered. Arken lunged to close the distance between the red dragon and himself. The moment she was within reach, a wicked looking arrow flew past.
He rolled away, quickly locking talons with her and dragging her out of range. But, the awkward collision made them spiral in rapid revolutions to the ground. Down, down, down to the cheering huntsmen. If they touched earth, they’d be eaten before sunrise.
Arken burned with rage at the very idea. He gritted his teeth and regained al
titude, summoning a belch of fire. White heat raced toward the huntsmen, and they scattered. Not for good, but long enough for Arken to give another powerful kick and redirect his trajectory toward the keep. On horseback, the huntsmen could go no farther than the foot of the mountain.
With a sigh of relief, he checked the rescued dragon and saw her injury. A colorful expletive leapt to mind. It was bad. A thick arrow protruded from her ribcage. The huntsmen had found her weakest spot. He seethed. There were already too few dragons left.
“I’m dying,” she whimpered.
“No, you’re not. That’s a direct order from the king. How could you let this happen to you?”
“They were in the forest. I didn’t see them until it was too late. They chased me.”
“They’re with the dragon eater. I broadcast the danger!”
Arken landed with a heavy thud within the glittering hall of riches. He stumbled forward, releasing the female dragon, and she collapsed in a heap. Her ridged spine rose and fell with labored breathing. Losing some of his ire, he nudged her to her side and yanked out the arrow. At her outcry, he flinched.
“I’m sorry,” he sighed.
“You have to go. They’ll find you here.”
“No, you’re safe here. Let’s get that wound taken care of and figure out what to do with you.”
She shook her head. “I’m not worthy of it, Your Majesty. I only came to deliver a message from General Lios. The last egg was stillborn.”
Arken sank to his haunches as a wave of despair washed over him. The last egg. His sister’s child. The last of his line. Dead. “What happened?” he whispered in shock.
“We don’t know, Sire. The egg nested well, but when it was time to hatch…it didn’t. We theorize the dragon eaters’ magic is straining our reproductive health.” She winced as she resettled.
Arken swallowed his grief. He would mourn the loss of the child another time. He was king and his sister, a general over his army. They were both duty-bound to be strong for the dragons. But, if another egg didn’t hatch soon, the entire race was finished. “Then, your arrival seems fate,” he said gruffly. “What is your name, warrior?”
“Vyda, Your Highness.”
“Common born?”
She bowed her head respectfully. “Yes, Sire.”
“I elevate you to the rank of gentry. When you’ve recovered from your wounds, we mate.”
Her glossy eyes widened. “Your Majesty!” she gasped.
“It’s our only chance,” he muttered frankly.
A wan smile softened her face as she realized her stroke of luck. Arken looked away. It wasn’t an ideal arrangement for him, but she was comely and well-made. A suitable partner, if he ignored the rules that stipulated he could only mate within the highest ranks. Elevating her to ‘gentry’ meant nothing.
“Yes, Your Maj—”
“Call me Arken. Now, let’s dress the wound.”
He moved to the other side of the hall to transform. He needed the agility of his man-shape. Ainley’s words came back to him. Take a different form. He had been a sleeping giant for so long that he almost didn’t know how. With a grunt, he condensed his consciousness and shrank into himself. He thought he heard Vyda protesting, but soon lost his dragonspeak. He also smelled something oddly out of place, but he lost that sense, too.
Arken fell to his knees, and the piles of gold dug into his thin skin. “Mmph!” He clenched his teeth. Lifting a hand, he shook black hair out of his face and stared at his fingers. All five were there. It would take getting used to. When he gazed up at the lady dragon, she towered over him.
“So, let’s keep your movement to a minimum until I can get some light going in here. I know you can see me, but I can’t see you in this form,” he said. “I’ll be right back to doctor on that nasty wound. Rest.”
Her words floated into his thoughts, Yes, Your Maj—Arken. Another smile. It was much more formidable from the perspective of his man-shape. She settled her heavy head onto her folded claws and closed her eyes.
Arken ducked into a chamber of the keep he hadn’t visited in forever. His absence hardly showed. It was the magic of the place. Everything arrested in time. He crossed the comfortable bedroom and pulled clothing from a chifforobe.
Quickly sliding his arms into a linen shirt, he covered his brawny chest. He stepped into a pair of black trousers and boots that came to his calves. Finger-combing his hair in front of the mirror, he studied his chiseled features.
He wondered what the dragon female would look like in her woman-shape. Probably lovely. So, why wasn’t he overjoyed at the unexpected gift fate had dropped into his lap? He had a mate. Only, he liked his sex to come without the taint of obligation. She would love him because she had to, because he was king.
Sighing, he entered the bathing room where he kept medicinal supplies. “Isolation has made you maudlin,” he muttered to himself. He threw open a storage chest. Once upon a time, he had play-acted at being mortal, and his servants had stocked the fortress, including these supplies. He had never needed them, but the medicine would come in handy now.
As he returned to the bedroom, everything in his hands tumbled to the floor and his jaw-dropped. There was a woman in his room. There was a woman hiding herself behind his bedroom door and peeking into the great hall where Vyda presumably slept. She spun around to face him. They were both rendered speechless.
She was his height, which made her a tall woman. Her hair fell in a single braid down her slender back, and she was shaped like a harlot—all soft, wide hips and plush breasts. The male clothes she wore did nothing to hide her divine figure. Arken’s physical response was unstoppable. He tautened like a bow being strung.
He shook his head at himself, remembering he had a sacred duty to save his seed for the dragon in the other room. “Who are you and how did you get here?” he snapped.
“Are you crazy? Shut the hell up before you wake the dragon!” she hissed. Arken lifted a brow, and she did a double-take. “Wait—what are you doing here? I thought Feis said no one from her realm could enter this place.”
Arken backed away warily. This was the dragon eater’s loophole traveler. Ainley had warned him. He considered killing the beautiful stranger. It would be a quick, painless death. He even moved toward her to strangle her, but something in her eyes stopped him. She didn’t recognize what he was. Anyone from his world would instantly know. They would feel the shifter magic rippling off him in waves.
“Feis sent you?” he asked.
“Mm-hmm. I take it she sent you, too?” The girl smirked. She slowly locked his bedroom door and sidestepped with her hands up, palms facing him. She looked like she was sizing him up. Like she would gladly take her chances fighting him before she fought a dragon. “What did she promise to pay you for stealing the red diamond for her?”
He narrowed his eyes. “What did she promise you?”
3
Daya lifted her chin, meeting his gaze. “Freedom,” she replied.
It wasn’t exactly the truth, but she didn’t feel guilty for lying because he clearly didn’t believe her. Skepticism was written all over his gorgeous mug. His strange black eyes frankly appraised her. She couldn’t help but stare.
He was tall. Jeez, she was a sucker for tall men. For a girl pushing six feet, the taller, the better. Medium-length black hair framed his angular face. Ordinarily, she liked a closer trim, but he was very knight in shining armor-ish. Also, the muscles looked capable of breaking her in half.
Or, inner bad Daya whispered, capable of breaking you in all the right ways.
A manicured brow lifted speculatively. He crossed his arms, and Daya smoothed her face. She wasn’t the damsel in distress type, and this knight wasn’t there to rescue her from dragons. Hell, he would likely use her as bait to get to the diamond first.
“Freedom. Hmm. What’s your name?” he asked.
His voice made something within her sizzle. “Daya,” she murmured, clearing her throat. “And, you?” S
he gnawed on her bottom lip as she quickly scoped the situation. Only one exit in sight, and that door led to the hall with the dragon. She had nearly lost her shit creeping past the beast the first time. She didn’t think she could run back out there.
Her sexy competition blocked the entrance to what looked like a bathroom. Maybe it was a throughway to another chamber, but she didn’t want to trap herself. He didn’t appear to have any weapons. She did. She slowly dropped her hands and brushed her wrist against the knife in her waistband. Her borrowed clothes from the stable boy weren’t an ideal fit, and she had worried the scabbard would slip off. It was still there.
“You can call me Arken,” said the stranger. “You’re not…from here, are you?”
She chuckled dryly. “Um. No. I’m from Cincinnati, although I don’t expect you to know where that is, considering this place isn’t on any map I’ve ever seen. Feis called it, uh, the Blue Sky Realm?”
“I see.” He took a step closer and gestured at her pelvic area.
She froze as her cheeks went pink. “What? What do you see?” How obvious was her libido?
Arken released a melodic laugh. “The knife. It’s poorly concealed. If it makes you feel more comfortable to have it in hand, you might as well take it out.”
She looked skyward. For a second, she had thought he could see through her clothes. Nothing would surprise her here. Her relief was short-lived, however, when she realized he was making it obvious she was no threat to him. “Why should I take orders from you?” she asked lamely.
He tilted his head with a smile. “Because I wouldn’t have told you I know you’re armed if I intended to hurt you. Besides, I’d feel more comfortable with a knife out in the open. No surprises.”
Wolf Boss (She-Shifters of Hell's Corner Book 1) Page 14
