by Tessa Dawn
Prince Dante angled his body toward all three sons, his voice now brooking no arguments. “The moment Aguilon divines the location of Dario’s soul—or should the fool Eliaz be carrying it with him—we will kill the shadow-walker and the warlock. I want Kristof and Eliaz dead.” He shrugged a calloused shoulder and regarded Aguilon askance. “Any shadow can swallow or exhale a soul, which is why I asked you to locate an ancient, but it is the warlock’s power that counts the most in an act of necromancy or an exorcism—am I correct?”
Aguilon dipped his head in a sign of affirmation. “Aye, my lord. Any member of the Council can perform necromancy, and any shade can eat a soul, although not all are proficient shadowmancers. From what I saw in my mirror, Eliaz Griswold is unusually skilled, but I imagine his true motivation is vengeance.”
At this, Prince Dante snarled. “We shall all seek vengeance this day.” And then he softened his tone, as much as he could, and turned to his beloved Ahavi. “Mina…” He slipped his arm around her waist, drew her close to his heart, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Be strong, my queen,” he whispered.
She placed her hand over her heart and shivered, gazing into the eyes of the dragon she had come to so openly love and desire. “Stay alive, my prince. Protect our sons.” Then she turned to regard all three dragons with equal adoration. “Ari, Azor, and my precious babe, Asher; you are ready. We have all prepared you. Stay close to your father.”
Dante grasped Mina’s hand, brought it to his lips, and kissed the tops of her knuckles. “And you, sweet Mina: Obey Prince Damian…obey Matthias…do not be stubborn.” He winked in a rare gesture of levity. “The male you grew up with in Arns will see to your protection, as will his powerful dragon.”
Mina nodded, and then she forced herself to pull away and step back.
She knew the dragons were on borrowed time.
“Fly swiftly, my beloveds. And may the Lord of War and Vengeance be with you.”
Chapter Sixteen
The trail between Castle Warlochia and Forest Dragon ~ 10 A.M.
Having been summoned in a dream-state vision, Princess Gaia Percy stroked the course, honey-colored mane of her steady mount and kicked the mare in the flanks to increase its pace to a canter. She had been riding since nearly 3:00 A.M., trying to reach Forest Dragon to catch up with Prince Dario Dragona.
She still couldn’t believe she was crazy enough to attempt it…
To set out on her own with little more than her cloak, a canteen, and a prayer.
It was true—she also had a rudimentary map and a surefooted mare from the stables, one that had traveled this path a hundred times prior, and the mare knew the route instinctively. Or at least, Princess Gaia had been promised by a stable-hand that the horse would not veer from the path.
She sighed, even as she drew her cloak tighter around her shoulders.
How had this come to pass?
Why had Prince Dario reached out to Gaia, rather than his mother or his father—rather than his cousins or his stewards? Why had he chosen to enter Gaia’s dreams and call to the princess in her sleep?
How had he known she would come?
The mare stumbled on a divot in the trail, but quickly regained her footing—and Gaia had to catch her breath: Her ill-advised, impulsive journey left no room for error or injury. She was trusting the fates to protect her. “Prince Dario,” she whispered into the dew-drenched air, imagining his stunning blue eyes and that harshly masculine demeanor that always seemed to make her shiver, “what is going on?”
All she knew was that she had awakened from slumber after seeing the prince’s chiseled features in her dream, and she had seen them as clearly as one might see their hand before their face: in stark, vivid detail. And in those groggy moments of drifting—between sleep, dreams, and waking—she had also heard the prince’s voice as clear as a monastic bell: “Come to me, Gaia. I’m in need of your assistance. I’m in need of your company and your comfort. Ride due west to the trail that intersects Forest Dragon, and I will meet you where the two paths converge. Alas, there is much happening in secrecy, and I do not know who to trust. You are new to the Realm, and your heart is pure. Come to me, sweet princess. Please. Come to me, Gaia.”
Normally, Gaia would never have responded to such an entreaty, to a voice she heard while neither awake nor asleep, but something about this situation was different. She felt it in her bones. Something strange and awful and foreboding was happening with Prince Dario Dragona, though she couldn’t pinpoint how she knew. And while it didn’t completely make sense—why he would reach out to a stranger, and to Princess Gaia, no less—she had her own motivations for answering the dragon’s summons.
Gaia had been able to think of nothing—and no one—else, since her youthful maiden’s blunder, since she had acted like a child, mired in ignorance and steeped in innocence. She had wanted another chance to explore the possibility of…acquainting herself with Prince Dario’s heart.
She wanted to win his trust and his friendship, if nothing else.
And what better way to do it than to respond as a confidante and a loyal subject…than to respond to the male as a woman, not a child.
A woman who was certain and brave and decisive.
Prince Dante was away from the castle, and Mistress Cassidy could not have cared less—the Sklavos Ahavi had been dazed, distant, and lost in a stupor ever since the previous afternoon. She would hardly notice Princess Gaia’s absence.
Tightening her hold around the reins, Gaia raised her chin and stood a bit in the stirrups, relieving some strain from her back. She could tell from the topography she’d seen on the map, as well as the cast of the mid-morning sun, that she was getting ever closer to Forest Dragon…
Ever closer to Prince Dario Dragona.
Damian Dragona, in the body of Prince Dario, pulled back on his horse’s reins as he came to a bend in the road and recognized an unusually tall grouping of linden trees bunched together in the shape of an uneven star. Ah yes, they were drawing nigh to the two fallen logs that denoted a fork in the road, the area where the trail from Castle Warlochia intersected with the road to Castle Dragon. If all transpired as planned, Princess Gaia would arrive at the intersection with near-perfect timing.
He snickered, even as he stirred restlessly atop his mount.
Young virgins were so damn gullible.
Having access to Prince Dario’s vivid memories, Damian had recognized at once that Princess Gaia Percy, King Thaon’s daughter, was one of the most beautiful—and nubile—women he had ever seen. Beyond that, her body was ripe for the plucking, restless with untapped carnal energy, and she could hardly breathe in Prince Dario’s presence, just waiting to let all that vivacity out. Having found Kristof Nocturne’s fleshly services wanting, at best, Damian had made a shrewd, impulsive, and purely selfish decision: He had forced Kristof Nocturne to use his considerable powers as a warlock to enter Princess Gaia’s dream, to call to the innocent female like a beckoning lover, lost in the night…to entreat her to his bed.
Okay, well, he hadn’t exactly entreated her to his bed…
But he had beckoned her to Forest Dragon and away from Castle Warlochia.
He stared at the path ahead of him and snarled; then he eyed his riding companions and replaced the snarl with a smile. Eliaz Griswold was keeping up easily. Kristof, on the other hand, seemed a little slow, but perhaps he was a bit sore in his seat.
Oh, well…
Chuckling inwardly, Prince Damian considered the journey ahead of them—they still had over eight hours to go before they’d reach Castle Dragon, but then all good things come to those who wait. “And some good things come sooner than others,” he mused aloud. Why make use of a piteous man, or even a half-copper whore, when one could ravage one of the most beautiful women in all of the Realm? Hell, it didn’t look like Dario had ever used her, and Castle Warlochia was far, far closer to Forest Dragon than Castle Umbras. The female wouldn’t even have to press her horse.
&nb
sp; And as for Prince Damian?
He wouldn’t have to quit riding to take advantage of the princess.
He could always settle her in his lap and spin her around to face him.
The prince sat up straighter on his mount and ushered the horse forward with a lean: His sex was rapidly growing hard with need. It was time to catch up to the naive female.
Chapter Seventeen
The crossing in the road ~ 10:30 A.M.
Princess Gaia Percy sat on the largest of the two fallen logs, where the trail from Castle Warlochia met up with the road through Forest Dragon, wondering how long the landmark had been there. The wood had not rotted; rather, it had nearly petrified to stone, making for a perfect and sturdy stoop to sit upon. She glanced at the honey-colored mare tied to a nearby tree and sighed. The stable-hand had been correct—the horse had known the way.
Just then, the thunderous sound of beating horse hooves battered her ears, and she jumped up from the log, her heart immediately beginning to race. “Just breathe, Gaia,” she told herself. “All will be well, and the prince will be pleased.”
As three panting mounts came around the bend, the first horse, a beautiful white stallion, turned unerringly toward the fallen logs, and Gaia’s breath caught in her throat. Prince Dario Dragona was a magnificent sight to behold, as always, but something about him was different: He looked prouder, more powerful, virtually steeped in authority.
And oddly, he appeared a bit angrier than she’d ever seen him before. His crystal-blue eyes were narrowly cast, and there was a stark vacancy in their depths. His tantalizing lips were drawn taut, pulled down into a scowl, and his masculine, angular features looked ten times harder, like someone had coated them in granite. She eyed her ruffled skirt self-consciously—she had taken a gamble by wearing a mid-length skirt over a full petticoat, as opposed to a tunic and riding breeches, but the ensemble she had chosen was simple, flexible, and plain. If the prince required her to ride side-saddle, the petticoat would conceal her legs nicely, and Gaia would appear demure, a companion befitting a royal dragon. However, if Prince Dario was more concerned with efficiency and time—perhaps he was a bit more no-nonsense, like Gaia’s father—then the skirt would bunch up seamlessly, allowing her to straddle the horse and still maintain her dignity.
Gaia had studied the customs of many lands throughout her royal upbringing, but one could not account for personal tastes. She smoothed her loosely tied corset and arched her back, brushing her thick braid of hair behind her shoulder, and Blessed Goddess of Mercy, Prince Dario’s haunting eyes followed the gesture like a hawk’s.
He pulled back on his horse’s reins, nearly causing the stallion to rear up; swung his leg over the saddle; and dismounted with the smooth, easy grace of a predator. And then he took three long, determined strides in her direction and grasped her by the back of the neck, pulling her into him to forge his mouth to hers.
Princess Gaia gasped, even as she tried to catch her balance.
Prince Dario’s hands were like the vortex of a tornado: measuring her curves, grasping her ass, then tunneling into her braid. He untwined the three loosely tied plaits and growled into her mouth.
Princess Gaia shoved against his chest. “My prince!” she baulked. “What are you doing?”
He licked his lips and took a vulturine step back, eyeing her from head to toe.
Her heart sank in her chest. “That is not why I came to meet you.” She struggled to regain her composure. “You sounded extremely forlorn in my vision.” She eyed the two suspicious-looking characters watching the scene from their mounts, and took a wary step back, away from the prince. “Is everything well, Prince Dario?”
He chuckled: deep, low, and sinister. “Everything is as right as rain. Thank you for wearing a skirt.” Then he closed the distance between them, snatched her by her hair, and dragged her back to his horse. “Eliaz, get her mare! We may yet need to change out another mount.” He tossed her into the front of the saddle, legs spread wide on either side of the restless stallion, and sank effortlessly into his seat behind her, bracing one immovable arm around her waist. “You’re the most tantalizing thing I’ve seen in decades,” he breathed heavily into her ear. “You smell like rosewater, and you feel like heaven.” He closed his hand over her right breast and brazenly squeezed it, before releasing her flesh to reach for the reins. “First, we will make up for lost time riding, Princess Gaia.” He nuzzled her neck with his mouth. “Then I will feed, but not too much. I just want a taste. I haven’t had blood or essence in decades, and you, my sweet princess, are pure heat and sun-kissed fire.” He scored her skin with his fangs and groaned. “And then I will raise your skirts and ride you with far more proficiency than I ride this horse. Of that, you may rest assured.”
As the stallion beneath her loped into a run, and the dragon behind her sparked terror in her soul, Princess Gaia fought back angry, helpless tears. She longed for her homeland, Lycania, and she grieved over her stupid, reckless naivety. It was true: Princess Gaia was a pure-blood Lycanian, which also meant she was a shifter, but her feline was more docile than aggressive, and she couldn’t hope to outrun a dragon. Clawing Prince Dario—or worse, trying to bite him—would only provoke his wrath.
The male was a supreme, ferocious predator—what the heck had she expected from him?
And Great Lycanians of old, what the hell had she done?
As the truth of her predicament and the inevitability of her fate settled upon her like fog upon the restless sea—only denser, heavier, and far less forgiving—she reached for her voice in desperation. “My prince,” she murmured in a raw, broken utterance. “You promised.”
He pressed his iron chest against her quivering back. “Yeah, well, I lied.”
Dante Dragona banked to the right and flew in a wide, circular arc, careful to approach the road through Forest Dragon from an eastern trajectory. He hoped to land about ten miles north, beyond the intersection of the Castle Warlochian Trail, without flying directly overhead. Although he was more than capable of rendering his supernatural body invisible, Azor and Asher were directly behind him, and their bodies, while translucent, might not be as seamlessly cloaked. Several minutes earlier, he had heard the telltale pounding of horses’ hooves below, and everything in his gut had confirmed that they were flying over Prince Damian, Eliaz, and the warlock Kristof.
Now, as Dante ducked behind a low-lying cloud, he called upon his powers of telepathy. It was true; he was not as natural and skilled with the power as his half-brother, Matthias, in the body of Damian Dragona, but he was adept enough to use it freely with his sons, especially since the three were completely open and using it intentionally: Azor, Asher; did you hear the hooves below?
Aye, Father, the dragons answered in unison.
Then stay clear of the road, and follow in my wake.
The dragons banked lower, dropping into the stream of narrowed, compressed air behind Prince Dante.
Did you see that tall, star-shaped cluster of linden trees? Dante asked, not waiting for a reply. As you know, that’s where the trail from Castle Warlochia meets up with the road to Forest Dragon. We will land at least ten miles beyond it and set up an ambush. We are yet far enough away from Castle Dragon—and distant enough from the nearest garrison of slave-trade patrols—that a battle will remain undetected.
Azor snarled psychically, and Dante knew his middle son’s dragon was riding the edge.
I saw it, Asher chimed in. And I detected something else in the distance—the intermixed sound of sixteen hooves, not twelve. And I also think I heard a distinctly female voice. I believe Uncle Damian has someone else with him. Someone other than Kristof and Eliaz.
Yes, Dante replied. I heard it, too. Be prepared for anything.
Chapter Eighteen
Forest Dragon ~ 11:00 A.M.
Prince Dario had fed upon Gaia’s blood, her heat, and her essence, while the warlock and the shade had callously ignored it all. The dragon had bruised her breasts and sc
arred her throat, without ever losing control of his mount. And now, he was gathering her skirts in his fist, bunching them around her waist, and in a matter of minutes, she would no longer be pure.
A harsh explosion, like a crackle of thunder…
A loud, ear-piercing retort…
And something long, scaly, and quick as lightning shot out from beneath a cluster of bushes, swiping the stallion’s hooves from beneath him. The horse’s legs collapsed; he lunged toward the ground; and Princess Gaia flew out of the saddle.
Something—no, someone—had snatched her from the mount.
Snatched her away from Prince Dario.
A pair of powerful, invisible arms enclosed her, and then she was soaring through the air, tossed like a ragdoll into a thick patch of grass.
Gaia scrambled to her knees, shuffled back into the thick of the trees, and peeked around a large, round trunk to see what the hell was happening. Her lungs were on fire. She could barely breathe. And her heart was pounding out a tempest in her chest.
Princess Gaia gasped.
All four horses, including her mare, were down on the ground.
The long, scaly thing had leveled them like a sword slicing through butter. Eliaz Griswold was on the side of the road, his eyes as wide as saucers. He was ducking behind his fallen horse as he searched the forest grove for an enemy. Kristof Nocturne had landed on his feet, and his eyes were glowing with fury, his warlock’s robe billowing behind him from the force of his gathering magic. And Prince Dario Dragona—he was standing at the fore of the mayhem, his right hand clasped around the hilt of his sword, his left hand brandishing claws. Smoke tinged with fire was already billowing from his mouth.
