Bound By Heat - Dragon Shifter

by M. K Eidem et all

  “Agreed.” Rylin tugged her close, wrapping an arm about her waist. “And while I wish you’d reconsider, I won’t pressure you. If you’re ready, I’ll take you back now. I have to be here in time for the arrival of the other Kings.”

  “Alright.” Dara rested her head on Rylin’s chest as another thought crossed her mind. “That woman…do you think she suffered?”

  Rylin answer immediately. “No.”

  “Good.” She stroked his exposed skin, allowing her hand to come to a stop at the band of cloth about his waist. “This is going to work, right?”

  “It’s going to work.” Ry curved about her protectively and nuzzled the top of her head. “I promise.”

  Dara shivered as an ominous foreboding seeped into her pores at his vow.

  Chapter 10

  The Dracol Kings responded to his summons and arrived at Ry’s home shortly after he returned from leaving Dara at her place for off-world visitors. His Dracol fought him the entire flight back, wanting to turn around and guard the female he’d claimed.

  “You insult my Dracol by calling us here,” Varyk spat. Green waves fell to his collar from a small side part. “Whatever you’re dealing with is a matter for the Black. I resent any implication that my Green are involved.”

  Ry knew requesting the presence of the other Kings with so little information would open him up for censure. Getting them to the privacy of his office without anyone becoming aware had been tricky but he wanted their take on the matter before it became a wide spread rumor.

  Faris, King of the Silver, scoffed. “We all know of the vendetta you hold against the Black, Varyk. It’s not unreasonable for Ry to include you in this meeting, since he says he has something of grave import to discuss.”

  Faris’ statement didn’t necessarily mean the Silver agreed with him. It only proved Ry wasn’t wrong in his belief that Varyk or one of his Green could be responsible for the murders taking place in Black territory.

  The long-limbed King of the Green leaned back in his chair, leather clad legs sprawled out before him as he sipped his wine. A smirk played about Varyk’s mouth. “If everyone is a suspect in whatever news there is, then it stands to reason that Kon should be here.”

  Ry didn’t react to the arrogant comment. The King of the Purple had sent an emissary in his stead—not that Ry had expected him to show. Konlan’s grudge wasn’t against the entirety of the Black like Varyk’s, but against one female in particular. When Breya turned down his suit, only to mate another the next day, Kon had lost all semblance of control and gave reign to his Dracol. The beast spewed acid everywhere, calling on the strength of his sect in an attempt to get at the male to whom Breya pledged her heart. The damage had been extensive but worse was the breach it created between Ry and a man he’d once called friend.

  “Dairin’s presence is enough for me to satisfy the reglio. I wouldn’t have demanded each of you show today if it wasn’t important.” Ry stared hard at Varyk, his challenge unspoken if his peer chose to refute his statement.

  Faris tipped his head to the side, causing the length of the silver white braid to fall over his shoulder, hitting his jewel encrusted belt buckle. “This must be serious. When I received word you’d called a reglio, I almost laughed. It’s been over a century since a King enacted such a formal summons.”

  Ry shook his head. “I wish this was a joke, but what I share is very serious.”

  Varyk slammed his glass on the small table to the right of him, but didn’t lose his laconic slouch. His raptor gold eyes glittered with menace. “Nothing that happens to the Black can possibly justify the demand I leave the warm thighs I spent the night between.”

  “Someone is slaying liras.”

  Ry’s announcement fell into a dead silence. Dairin, the representative from the Purple, straightened from his lax pose against the wall. The short strands of brown and gold streaked hair formed a mohawk in the middle of his head from front to back with the sides tapered short. “Be specific, King of the Black.”

  Ry folded his arms over his chest, crossed his legs at the ankle, and leaned his hip against the desk at the center of his office. “It’s exactly as I said. Three of our females have been found slain. Liras, all of them, and their mates none the wiser until the last moments of their life when the killer let them reach out in terror along the mate connection.”

  Varyk stared, something flickering in his gold gaze too quick for Ry to catalogue.

  Faris lost all amusement. “Impossible.”

  “Is Breya one of the females you lost?” Dairin asked, tension lining his shoulders.

  Ry could only imagine what that particular death—if it occurred would do to relations between the Black and Purple. “Breya is fine.”

  An abrupt nod was Dairin’s only response, but Ry would bet a portion of the immense Black treasure that Kon would be notified immediately.

  “A mate would know the moment his lira was in trouble. She’d reach for him.” Doubt cast a dark frown over Faris’ expression.

  Ry could understand his disbelief.

  “What else do you have besides three dead females, and how does that affect the rest of us?” Varyk’s tone at least contained a vein of steel and lacked his usual mockery.

  Turning his attention to the question, Ry revealed all that he and his men had discovered, including Shara’s missing heart and the unfamiliar symbol.

  “Someone believes too much in the ancient rituals. You can’t absorb a lira’s strength by eating the flesh. Or any other means.”

  Faris’ conclusion mirrored Ry’s. “I agree. But I need to know if the other sects are experiencing anything similar.”

  Dairin shook his head. “To my knowledge, no deaths have been reported to Kon.”

  “My Silver haven’t reported a loss, but I do have an elder lira who has been missing for a week. It’s believed she nears the end and chose to spare her mate the pain of witnessing her death by leaving,” Faris said.

  “Perhaps,” Varyk chimed in, “one of your Blacks has gone mad. A stronger King would know where each of his Dracol stand with their essence.”

  “Are you missing the point?” Faris snapped, gold eyes starting to glow. “These females were murdered. Dracol females, while not able to shift, have proven to be physically stronger than their male counterparts in human form. Liras no less who maintain a telepathic contact with their mates. This shouldn’t be possible and Rylin has every right to reach out to us about this.”

  Varyk climbed slowly to his feet, glaring at Faris. Anger pulsed around him. “I still insist this is a problem for the Black.”

  “Then you’ve lost no females among the Green?” Ry asked, probing with sudden insight. Varyk hadn’t made any denials like the others.

  Varyk’s lips firmed. “A few of the younger have gone missing. Four females, but their family and friends are of the mind they’re together. An act of rebellion since they’ve all experienced their First Fire.”

  First Fire. Ry remembered his well. It was a time when Dracol struggled with their sexual urges. The violent need to fight or mate often became a driving desire, pushing their essence to the surface until they only wanted to stay in Dracol form to control it or risk harming those they cared for.

  “Were any of them mated?” That piece of information was critical and Ry didn’t want to discount it.

  Varyk snarled before answering with reluctance. “All but one was mated.”

  Faris inhaled sharply. “You think these missing females are connected.”

  Ry nodded. “Despite what Varyk thinks, I believe this concerns all of us. The loss of this many liras is not coincidental.”

  “What do you propose?” Dairin asked. “That there is a killer among us?”

  “I believe we have a rogue. One who’s discovered a way to block the mate connection and is using this ability to target our liras in his search to gain mythical power.”

  Faris cursed. “I need to get back and warn my people.”

  “Ko
n will want to know about this immediately. It’s harder to track our Purple because we make our home under water and prefer smaller groups.” Dairin sighed. “He’ll need to summon everyone to the homeland.”

  Which could take time, since travel by ocean wasn’t always as fast. “Tell him the Black give permission to cross our lands if they need to take to the skies in Dracol form.” Flying would be faster, but territory laws applied and needed to be respected.

  Faris chimed in. “The Silver as well give permission to cross our borders by air if needed.”

  Ry waited for Varyk to offer the same and received a cold stare instead. His lip curled when the King of the Green made no response. This was not a time to fall on rigid rules of etiquette. “Varyk, do you offer sanction if the Purple must cross into your territory to reach Kon?”

  “I still believe this is for naught.” Varyk waved his hand negligently at Dairin. “Tell your King he may trespass the land of the Green. By air only.”

  Though begrudgingly said, it was enough. Ry met each of their gazes evenly. “Report back within two days the confirmed numbers of any lira unaccounted for. If there is a rogue among us, we work together and end him no matter the sect.”

  “No matter the sect,” they repeated without hesitation.

  Liras were sacred. The one responsible would not escape the wrath of the four Kings.

  Chapter 11

  Two days. Dara tried to ignore the fact that she hadn’t seen or heard from Rylin for two days. Not that she knew how to reach him. The first day she’d paced her room at the resort, eager for his visit. Lunch and dinner came and went. The sun had fallen and Dara had been certain he’d come during the night.

  She’d awakened the next morning completely dressed, slumped over in a chair, hair matted to her cheek. No Rylin. The next day repeated itself, leaving Dara wondering if she’d played the part of the fool. Her heart ached at the thought.

  How stupid she was to think love could be found in an instant. A single moment shared between two strangers. That was a fairytale for little girls who didn’t know better.

  “What’s on your mind? It must be deep.”

  Dara startled and dropped the spoon she held. Her friend, Willow, snickered and continued eating her own food, which consisted of a juicy piece of meat with trails of blood on the plate and several large leafy things that Dara thought still moved.

  They’d agreed to hang out today and Dara had hoped the visit would lift her thoughts from Rylin.

  “Nothing’s on my mind.” She picked up her silverware and poked at the simple soup in her bowl.

  “Hmph. Well, let’s at least talk about my mating. Will you stand for me?” Willow asked, tossing strands of brown hair back from her glowing face.

  She’d met the young Dracol female her first week on Vovin at a mating party and the two had developed a camaraderie of sorts. The friendship surprised Dara. Earth women weren’t prone to being kind to one another with the shortage of men, but she and Willow grew close quickly.

  They’d commiserated over the choice of men until a handsome Dracol approached and led Willow onto the dance floor, where they’d spent the entire evening. Envy coursed through Dara but she’d smiled and listened as Willow shared her infatuation the next day. Not even a week later and the male Dracol had asked Willow to be his.

  Trying to perk up, Dara gave Willow her full attention. “What does standing for you entail?”

  Willow finished her meal and leaned back in her seat, rubbing her flat stomach beneath a skin tight sleeveless black shirt. She crossed one leg over the other, causing the silver knee-length pants to shift and reveal the intricate tattoo of a Dracol scrolled up her calf. “I’m allowed one female by my side when I give my vows to my mate. The other females are jealous because I’ve chosen to be with a Silver and refuse to support me.”

  Willow belonged to the Black, Rylin’s sect, and her mating ceremony would be held at his home before she moved to live among the Silver. Dara hadn’t shared with the young woman her own experience with the King or the magical night they’d spent together. Lowering her spoon into the bowl, Dara tried not to let doubts attack her growing fear that Rylin might have changed his mind. She envisioned the anger on his face when she’d refused to stay the other night. Surely, he wouldn’t have reacted like that if he planned to ignore her.

  “Well? Will you?” Impatience laced Willow’s voice, her gold eyes snapping.

  “Yes. I’d love to.” The opportunity would also place Dara right where she wanted to be—near Rylin. Perhaps then she’d find out if he’d used her.

  “Great,” Willow squealed, jumping to her feet. “Let’s go.”

  Dara’s stomach pitched. “What?”

  Willow rounded the table and tugged at her elbow. “My mating to Arwen is today. Well, tonight but we need to get ready.”

  “You can’t be serious?” Dara allowed herself to be pulled to her feet even as she uttered the question in disbelief.

  Willow’s grin turned mischievous. “I’m very serious.”

  ***

  Two days. Two days since Ry had met with the Kings to share his concern about the murders and through it all, he’d had no time to see Dara. As the seriousness of the problem he faced grew, it almost relieved Ry to not have her near. The very thought of something happening to the Earth woman chilled him to his soul. Even now, he fought his instinct to shift and fly to her side.

  Ry strode through the halls of his home, nodding at those he passed. He had a mating to prepare for and couldn’t linger. One of his females would join her life with a male from the Silver sect.

  The ceremony would take place among the Black, then the female would leave with her new mate to live among his people. It was disappointing to lose a precious female, and while uncommon at no point did a person interfere with the Goddess of Fate. Love was accepted where it was found no matter the sect.

  Despite the late hour, many continued to go about their regular routine. Their raptors preferred the night, as it proved ripe for hunting. Ry’s essence stirred at the thought of a fierce hunt to dispel the powerless feeling descending on him. He stemmed the sensation curling in his belly. There would be no hunting for him this night. He had too much to attend.

  Halfway to his suite, a whispered conversation drifted to Ry’s ears. Two of his Dracol stood close to one another at the end of the hall, heads tipped together.

  The taller of the dark-haired men grunted. “…he ate her heart as well. King Rylin thinks this is the actions of a rogue.”

  “King Varyk or one of his Green?” The other man countered.

  “I’d bet on this being the Green. They’ve never been satisfied with the peace accord. Perhaps one of them wanted to strike at the Black in hopes of pushing Ry to retaliate in a show of force.”

  “If he doesn’t, others will perceive him to be weak. His lira left him which many castigated him for. Only a handful of us have ever had that happen.”

  A deep sigh. “True.”

  Ry stiffened at the personal remarks. He’d moved beyond hurt feelings from Sana’s actions, but sometimes the shame caught him off-guard and no matter how much he told himself it didn’t matter, doubt lingered as to whether he could have done anything differently.

  The conversation continued. “Now our liras are being hunted like feeble insects. I bet if he had a lira, he’d take this more serious. Perhaps he isn’t the King to lead us.”

  The first man snorted and Ry realized it was Rafin, Devon’s friend. “The mantle chose him. It only selects the strongest among us. Even I collapsed beneath the strain as it sought another.”

  “We’ll see how he handles this.” The voices faded as the men continued to walk further away.

  When they were gone, cramping pains caused Ry to glance down. One by one, he loosened his clenched fingers. It wasn’t important. The Goddess of Fate did not err and the mantle had chosen him when King Sarkin gave over his life to the flame. But the rest of the words gave him pause. If he purs
ued his relationship with Dara, she could become a target.

  His gut tightened. Never. He’d never let anything happen to Dara. But the more Ry thought over the murders—the mutilated lira, the more it became a very real concern that forming a relationship with her would more than likely draw the killer’s attention in her direction. What better way to strike against the Black, the King himself, than to attack a woman he wished to claim as his lira?

  Ry entered his room as his essence rose and his Dracol awakened at the potential threat to Dara.

  “Ry?”

  Ry spun around in a crouch with a snarl. Nolan froze and hesitated at the door. Ry’s thoughts had been so engrossed that he hadn’t heard the advisor approach.

  Ry settled back on his heels. “What is it, Nolan?”

  “We have received confirmation from the other sects.” Nolan’s expression hinted at the answer.

  Ry stilled. “How many?”

  Nolan’s throat moved and dismay clouded his gaze as he answered, “Sixteen in all.”

  “Sixteen?” Scales shimmered along Ry’s arms and smoke seeped from his nostrils. “Sixteen females dead among the other sects?”

  “Yes, my King.”

  Ry didn’t like this. Didn’t like it at all. A Dracol with a developed appetite for attacking liras. The number, plus the three of his own, gave credence to Ry’s worry that this was no petty sect squabble or vendetta.

  “There is more.” Nolan took a deep breath. “Two of them occurred last night. They were relations of Faris.”

  To strike against those close to the King of the Silver implied at a boldness not to be ignored. The rogue who hunted among them was proving fearless.

  Ry pressed his lips together, gathering the strength of the mantle about him with a mere thought. The ancient power crashed around him in a wave that almost overwhelmed all at once. Delving deep, Ry once again sought signs that one among them was unbalanced. He surfed through the hundreds of minds pouring behind his filter in a steady stream.

  Nothing stood out to him on the mental plane. Nothing to pinpoint if the killings were the actions of a Black Dracol or another. “I can’t sense any disturbance from the mantle. Did the others say anything more?”