Dragon's Curse: A Dragon Shifter Romance (Dragon Guild Chronicles Book 4)

by Carina Wilder

  “Well, what is it, man? Spit it out, for fuck’s sake!”

  “It’s Kliev…he…” Domnal slammed his mouth shut, clearly intimidated by the larger shifter, whose breaths were beginning to sound more like feral growls. Minach could feel his Dragon pressing against his insides, tense, angered by the other shifter’s hesitancy.

  “Damn it, Domnal, I haven’t got all day to stand around while you figure out how to form words.” Minach knew that his voice was as frightening as any Dragon’s. It seemed he’d woken up on the wrong side of everything that morning.

  “He’s dead,” Domnal rasped, his voice shattering with the words. Whether through sorrow or fear didn’t much matter. “His throat was cut. It must have happened last night, when he was on his way here for the birth.”

  Minach’s shoulders sank almost immediately, the blood rushing away from his face as his body threatened to collapse under the weight of his shock. This couldn’t be true, surely. Who would kill Kliev, and why? “What the fuck did you just say to me?” he breathed.

  “I found him lying on the Heath early this morning, not too far from here. Aramis and I carried his body down to the vaults to await instructions from you.”

  “How is this even possible?” Minach asked. But he knew perfectly well. There were many suspects; the Hunters’ Syndicate was well acquainted with any number of men and women who were skilled with blades. Some worked as the mercenary assassins known as Hashes. It was entirely possible that one of them had been hired to do the job. But how any human could have managed to take down such a shifter was a baffling mystery, to say the least.

  “No one saw anything, Kliev was alone,” Domnal replied. “It could have been anyone.”

  “Yes, it could, but there had to have been a motive,” Minach said. “Nothing was taken from him, I assume? There’s no chance that it was a mugging?”

  “Well, no, it’s not likely,” said Domnal. “He was carrying a wallet that contained fifty pounds. It hadn’t been touched.”

  “Good, well there’s that, at least.” Minach knew that he was being cold in neglecting to acknowledge the pain that Kliev’s death would cause the Guild. The dead shifter had been the oldest member of the organization, and loyal. He’d served Dragonkind for centuries, risking his life again and again to protect his own species. Now, just like that, someone had snuffed it out.

  One thing was certain: whoever had killed him was a fucking coward.

  “Take me to the place where you left him,” Minach said quietly, doing his best to maintain his composure as Domnal pivoted to lead him down the hall. A few minutes later they were turning down the passage that led to the Guild’s vaults, a series of enormous locked rooms that held treasure worth millions of pounds.

  After a moment Minach saw it: Kliev’s pale body, slumped against the wall, his light blue shirt soaked in dark stains. Though his eyes were still open, their brightness had long since faded.

  Minach knelt down before him, reaching a hand out to seal his eyelids. “Go get Aramis and bring him to me,” he commanded quietly. Domnal sprinted away, likely grateful for the opportunity to make a quick exit from his daunting fellow shifter.

  “Why would someone do this to you, old friend?” Minach asked when he was alone with the body. “Did they know what you were? Is that it?” Kliev was more than a simple Dragon shifter. He was a Kindred, a descendant of the line of Earth. The Guild had long assumed that he would be the one to locate the fourth Relic, once he’d found his Seeker. No one had pressured him, of course; Kliev had long since given up on the prospect of finding a mate. Centuries ago, he’d loved a woman and it seemed cruel to ask him to replace her. Minach knew little of the romance, other than that Kliev had a family once, and in recent years he’d seemed to enjoy his solitude. If his killer had known of his importance, it was entirely possible that Kliev had been targeted to prevent the Guild’s acquisition of the Relic of Earth.

  Minach sat down on the cold stone next to his longtime friend and pressed the back of his head to the wall. He would have to see to it that the others were informed, and that Kliev had a suitable burial. Just as tradition dictated that the Guild be present for a birth, they must be present to honour a death.

  Minach shut his eyes, fighting back the hot tears that wanted to slip down his stubbled cheeks.

  He was not a man who cried. He’d long since forced his tear ducts to all but seal up in favour of the icy exterior that he wore as a protective mask. A fortress of a man, he rarely let anyone see his torment, and Kliev’s death would be no exception.

  He wished more than anything that he could speak to Amara. He wished for her eyes, her voice, the calm that she inspired in him. God, he wished she were here with him. He wanted to lay his head in her lap and ask her to stroke his hair, to tell him that everything would be all right. She could be his comfort. His Dragon, too, wished for the company of the Enlightened. But even more than that, he wanted to avenge his fallen friend. To explode from Minach’s chest and seek the killer who’d so cruelly stolen such a noble beast from within the Guild’s ranks.

  After a few minutes, Aramis and Domnal rounded the corner towards him. Minach rose to his feet, wiping his eyes quickly, his face set in a grim frown.

  “Carry the body to the Guild’s chamber and lay him on the table,” he said coldly. “I want a guard on that room until tomorrow. Do you understand?”

  Both men nodded and proceeded to lift Kliev. As they did so, a large, dark stain revealed itself on the stone wall behind him.

  “There may be more blood,” Aramis protested when he saw it.

  “I don’t care,” Minach snarled. “Let his blood stain the table. It will serve as a reminder of our ongoing battle against the forces that want to take us down.”

  The men nodded silently and proceeded on their way. Kliev must have weighed well over two hundred and fifty pounds, but the men moved him easily. Strong young shifters, thought Minach. May they live as long as the man they’re carrying did.

  They entered the chamber and lay him on the long wooden surface. Minach was turning to leave the room when something caught his eye: strange markings, scattered among the streaks of dried blood along Kliev’s collarbone.

  “This is odd,” he said as he bent down to look more closely.

  Domnal leaned forward, his eyes fixed on the spot that Minach was examining. “What is it?” he asked.

  “The veins around Kliev’s wound have gone black, as though his blood had been poisoned,” Minach replied, looking up. “This could give us the lead that we need. Or it could be a misdirect, intended to cast suspicion on hired assassins.” He pivoted on his heel, marching out of the room. “I’m going to speak to Lumen,” he called over his shoulder. “I’ll be in touch with details about the burial.”

  Minach found Lumen in his flat under Hyde Park, sitting quietly at the kitchen table. The Alpha, exhausted from lack of sleep, looked up with a smile when his friend walked in. But his expression altered the moment he saw Minach’s eyes. For once his friend didn’t look merely surly; he looked downright crushed by the weight of the world.

  “Good God, what is it? What’s happened?”

  “I’m sorry to bring you such awful news during what should be the happiest time of your life,” the black-haired shifter replied, slouching down in the chair opposite his Alpha’s. Just last night he’d conveyed the news of Lumen’s child’s birth to Amara, and now here he was, a messenger bearing a horrible piece of information. “Where’s Neko?” he asked, looking around. He didn’t have the heart to dump news of Kliev’s death on her so soon after her ordeal.

  “She and the baby are sleeping in the bedroom,” Lumen said, speaking in a hushed tone. “Please, just tell me what’s going on.”

  “It’s Kliev. He’s been murdered on the Heath.”

  “Murdered?” Lumen barely breathed the word. No doubt he was afraid that its sound would pollute his happy home. “By whom?”

  “That’s just it; we don’t know. His throat
was cut, and it appears that the blade they used was dosed with some sort of poison. It explains why he never showed up last night. I must say, it shocks me that he was caught on foot, let alone that anyone was able to overpower him.”

  “He did like going for walks on the Heath,” Lumen said, scratching at his scruffy chin. “He’s always found peace in wandering alone. Do you suppose the killer was targeting him specifically?”

  “I can’t say, any more than you can. But I can certainly think of a motive.”

  “Me too. It’s entirely likely that this was a deliberate hit. Executed impressively, given Kliev’s skill level. The man had fought in more battles than any of us. Whoever did this wants to make sure we don’t get our hands on the fourth Relic.”

  “Yes, it looks that way, doesn’t it?” Minach was still managing to conceal his emotions, but barely. Talking of possible killers was pulling his Dragon to the surface. The beast was ready to hunt, to fight, to kill.

  Lumen, on the other hand, was handling the news like a true Alpha. He always managed to seem stoic and calm. The ultimate leader, rarely revealing rage, sadness or fear, he simply got the job done. “The Relics are safe, at least,” he said. “I moved them from under the Heath a while back, and they’re hidden in a very secure place.”

  “How can you be sure? If Kliev wasn’t safe…”

  “I can only say that they’re in the best protected location on the planet. I won’t tell you where, for your own sake. But should something happen to me, you’ll know. In the meantime, our most important task is to give Kliev a proper burial. He has no immediate family left, as I understand it. So it will be to the Guild to look after the service.”

  “I’m assuming that we’ll bury him on his family’s land, north of the city. If it’s all right with you, I’d like to deal with it sooner rather than later.”

  “Fine,” said Lumen, rising to his feet. “After we’ve looked after his body, we can discuss the dilemma of the fourth Relic.”

  A sigh pushed its way out from somewhere deep inside his chest. “This is no simple dilemma. We’re well and truly fucked. The only known Dragon shifter in the line of Earth is dead. Our hunt for the Relics is over.”

  “We’re not fucked. There is always a way, Minach,” Lumen replied. A hint of sadness had penetrated his voice at last; even the Alpha couldn’t hold all his emotion in for long. “The problem is that we need to figure out how to proceed. Do me a favour and contact the other Guild members, would you? Have them spread the word that we’ll bury Kliev at his home tomorrow afternoon. I need them all there.”

  Minach rose to his feet and nodded. “Of course,” he said. “I’ll do it straight away.”

  “Now if you’ll excuse me,” Lumen said, dragging himself towards the hallway, “I’m going to go hug my mate and our child close.”

  “Does the baby have a name yet?” asked Minach.

  “Ah,” Lumen replied, stopping in the doorway. “That will have to wait a little while longer.”

  Farewells

  Kliev’s home was a sprawling estate in the town of Cheshunt, north of London. On its north lawn stood a solitary oak tree thought to be at least three hundred years old. The shifter had left instructions that he be buried under its boughs, should anything happen to him.

  The Guild was gathered in the tree’s shade along with members of the Syndicate. Bertie, the group’s talkative leader, stood next to Trix, wringing her hands and shifting from foot to foot like a worried mother.

  “It’s just terrible, isn’t it?” she said as the Guild’s men transported the enormous coffin towards the eight-foot-long pit that had been dug into the soft ground beneath the oak. They lay it on the ground, awaiting Lumen’s arrival. The service would only begin when the Alpha was present. In the meantime, the gathered crowd was buzzing with chatter, some of which wasn’t entirely the tone one would expect to hear at a funeral service. “Such a nice fellow, that Kliev was,” Bertie moaned as she stared at the casket. “And so handsome, too.”

  “Yes, Bert, he was,” Trix replied. “Though I think his death would have been awful even if he weren’t terribly handsome.”

  “Yes,” she said, “it would. But it’s all the more devastating to lose such a gorgeous specimen, don’t you think?”

  Trix nodded reluctantly, grinding her teeth as she told herself not to encourage such talk about a man whose body hadn’t yet made its way into the ground. Her madwoman of a boss was incorrigible when it came to fawning over Dragon shifters.

  “Did he…did he have a…mate?” Bertie whispered the last word as though she were talking about something profoundly intimate.

  Aegis, who’d overheard, leaned towards her from the other side. “No, Bert,” he said in a louder tone than was necessary. “No mate. Kliev was alone for years and years. He often spoke of you, though.”

  “Did he then?” asked Bertie, her eyes all but bugging out of her head.

  “Oh, yes. I recall him mentioning a deep-set lust…”

  “Aegis!” hissed Trix in a reproachful tone. Cruel man, to tease the woman like that. It wasn’t her fault that she had an incurable desire for Dragon shifter flesh.

  “Poor man,” Bertie said, shaking her head solemnly. “And such a shame to think I could have had a roll in the hay with him, had I only put my mind to it.” She let out a loud sigh.

  “Jesus, Bert,” Trix retorted, her sympathy fading fast. It was definitely bad form to be speculating after Kliev’s death about his status as her potential lover. The poor guy wasn’t around to defend himself against such allegations. Of course, he probably would have laughed. He’d always been a good sport, and much as he’d never actually expressed a desire to sleep with her, he’d had a soft spot for Bertie despite her utter lack of tact.

  “Well, I realize I’m ancient, but Kliev was hundreds of years old, wasn’t he? I probably would have seemed like a sweet young thing to the likes of him. Besides, I suspect that his equipment still worked just fine. It was a crying shame to waste it.”

  “Bertie, we’re about to bury him,” said Ashlyn, leaning across Aegis to speak for the first time. “I’m sure you can talk about his family jewels at a later date.”

  “He must have been so lonely,” Bertie lamented as though she hadn’t heard a word.

  “Not always. He had a mate,” Aegis replied, drawing an irritated glare from Ashlyn for encouraging the conversation to continue. “Many, many years ago he was married. She died a long while back, but still, he was happy back then, and I believe he was happy in his last days. You don’t need to worry about that.”

  “Hmmph,” Bertie replied as if to convey that Kliev would have been far better off if only he’d gotten a taste of middle aged woman before his time had come.

  “I’m just sorry we lost him this way,” said Trix. “He didn’t deserve to be murdered in cold blood.”

  “No, he fucking didn’t.” It was Minach who spoke this time, stepping forward in an attempt to diffuse the too-light mood. “Now, can we treat his funeral like what it sodding is, and stop speculating about how the poor dead bastard’s love life would have benefited from a grungy romp with Bert?”

  The others promptly clammed up. Satisfied, Minach looked around. Several Hunters, most of whom were female, were gathered around the area where Bertie stood, but he wasn’t particularly interested in them. It was only Amara who had his mind racing, and she was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps she didn’t know about the funeral, but that was his fault. He should have found her and notified her of what had occurred.

  Trix silently sidled up next to Minach and whispered in his ear, “Amara is coming across the lawn, in case that’s what you’re wondering.”

  The shifter felt his flesh heat up, annoyed to have such an instant and obvious reaction to the words. He turned his head to see the Enlightened making her way across the vast expanse of grass towards the group, a solemn expression on her face.

  Quietly he pulled away from the others to approach her, stopping some dis
tance from the crowd to ensure them a little temporary privacy. She looked so beautiful under the warm sun, her eyes brighter than usual as she looked up into his own. “So you heard about…” he said.

  “Yes. I was with Trix when she got the news.”

  “With Trix. Ah, so that was your mysterious meeting yesterday.”

  Amara nodded. “She wanted to tell me about a potential job in London. I’m to meet with Bertie tomorrow about a position with the Syndicate.”

  Minach’s face lit up at the news. A job with the Syndicate would mean that he’d doubtless get to see more of her. “That’s great,” he said. “A perfect job for you.”

  “It’s what I know,” she replied, shrugging. “Seeking out enemies of Dragon shifters and humans. I’m a regular bloodhound, only without the blood.”

  “You know a great many things,” he replied, his eyes locked on her. Damn, she was lovely. “Come, let’s join the others.”

  He guided her to a place next to the burial site, pleased to find that Amara positioned herself just close enough for her shoulder to press slightly into his upper arm. Minach revelled in the sensation, knowing that it was perhaps the most intimate touch that he would ever receive from her.

  He wondered how long he could stand to be around her without succumbing to his desire to press her back to a tree trunk and consume every inch of her body.

  Stop thinking such inappropriate thoughts, he told himself. You’re as bad as Bertie. No doubt it was his grief that compelled him to distract himself in this way. The combination of grief and the most beautiful woman he’d ever known was proving a potent one.

  The Guild hadn’t buried one of their own in some time, not since the Forsaken had first made their presence known in London. Their funeral services tended towards the informal; a get-together such as this was simply a means to show respect for the fallen. Lumen, who’d arrived late, finally stepped forward to address the Guild and the Syndicate at once.