Ice: Dragon Clan.

by Skye Jones

  Ice: Dragon Clan Book 1

  Skye Jones

  Copyright 2016 Skye Jones

  All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced or used without the written permission of the publisher.

  All events depicted are fictional and any resemblance to places and persons is coincidental.

  This work of fiction is intended for adults age 18 and over.

  Editing by Diane Moore and Sheri Williams.

  Cover Design by DW Art and Design

  Interior Layout by Rachel Medhurst.

  This book is dedicated to my mum. For being the best mum out there. Love you mum!

  And to my bestie, Sian, who is as wise and as pretty as the character in here!

  A quick Word:

  At the end of this story is a short snippet from Wolves at the Door. This is book 1 of the Shifters of the Glen series. The book is available to buy now, and on Kindle Unlimited too. Hope you enjoy the sneak peek.

  CONTENTS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Wolves at the Door

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter One

  Methodically, Ice wrapped the bandages around her hand, occasionally glancing at her reflection. The bruises from her last fight had purpled on her arms, and her cut lip puffed out.

  Tonight presented her biggest challenge to date. She focused on her breath. In for three, hold for five, out for seven. Her heart rate slowed in response. Flowers stood to her right, a bright splash of color in an otherwise monochromatic room of peeling grey and white paint.

  The smell of sweat mixed with body spray soothed her, the changing room odor comforting. Here, in the silence before a fight, she focused on meditation and calming breathing rituals. Out there, in the cage, she became her true self. A deadly calm fighting force others bowed before. Ice.

  “Ten minutes.” The knock at her door, and the bellow of her manager focused her mind further. His Scottish accent sharpened considerably before a bout, and she always thought he must be as pumped with adrenalin as the fighters.

  She’d banned him, or anyone else, from disturbing her in the hour before a fight. Other fighters wanted to be talked to, their egos bolstered, moves discussed. Not her. She wanted to find her calm center. The one she used to ground herself in the midst of the crazy rush that burst forth when she walked out into the arena. The lights blinding, music pumping, and the crowd roaring. Friday night in Glasgow, and the crowd proved more than lively.

  Hands wrapped in protective tape, she flexed her fingers and shook her arms at her sides, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

  She turned to her reflection once more. Gazing critically, she narrowed her eyes. A strong nose and jaw lent her a somewhat masculine appearance. She’d never been the pretty, curvy type guys went for. Still, today she looked like crap with her war wounds. Head cocked to the side, she stuck her tongue out at her reflection and turned away.

  “You can do this. You can bring the bitch down. You are a survivor, and you’ll survive the Shredder. Stay calm and lock yourself in, so you only hurt her as much as you have to.”

  Tears pricked her eyes. Shit! Each time she gave herself this pep talk, she flashed back to him. The asshole who’d assaulted her. Hating the mental image of the large man looming over her as she struggled to be free, she blinked twice to dislodge the unwelcome memory. Before a fight wasn’t the time to think about him, or the things she’d done to him. Things she’d no control over and didn’t want to think about.

  She’d spiraled afterwards, until the day her mum suggested self-defense classes.

  Just try it, Claire. From the first class, her affinity for martial arts had shone through. Over time, she’d become Ice. All her horror at what lived inside her, what she’d done to him, she buried deep under a layer of frozen calm.

  She crossed the room and carefully took the gold cross from around her neck. She placed it in a jewelry box on top of an old filing cabinet. Then she popped the box inside the second drawer and covered it with some dusty old papers. She’d hate for it to get ripped off in a fight.

  With a quick one-two-punch and a bounce of her feet, she shook off her melancholy. She’d become a fighter, and she needed to live up to her warrior name. Editor of stuffy books by day, fighter by night. If things went well, she’d maybe one day make the leap to the big-money circuit, instead of the spit and sawdust amateur shows she did now.

  Base boomed through the building, the music loud as the build-up to the fight started. Stomping feet accompanied the noise. Her adrenalin spiked, all her teary-eyed melancholy gone as the pre-fight rush built. Her heart pumped to the beat of hundreds of feet. Goosebumps broke out along her arms. She inserted her mouth guard and growled.

  Showtime!

  Nathan didn’t believe what he’d seen. Two human females knocking ten tons of hell out of one another! His people never let females do such a thing. They were too rare and precious.

  He shifted in his uncomfortable seat. Bright lights flooded the arena, which along with the noise and stench made him feel sick. Gods above, he hated spending time in human company—well, except for the odd female for some fun and games. But crowds of them? He shuddered. The sounds and scents of their lives were too much for his exquisite senses to bear. Their shrill shouts and body odor were the worst. He’d only come because his financial adviser, a competent man, kept bugging Nathan to do something social with him. So far, he’d managed to avoid the opera, theatre, drinks, and a golf day. This occasion, though, he’d been caught on the hop. He’d, stupidly, admitted to staying in town for two nights to conduct business, and David had pounced. Another client had let David down and left him holding two tickets to something called a Mixed Martial Arts night. Having time to kill, and nothing better to do, he’d agreed. Only to find himself in this version of hell.

  “Amazing isn’t it?” David pushed past Nathan’s knees to take his seat, plopping an overflowing plastic cup of beer in Nathan’s lap.

  “It is…interesting.”

  “There’s another women’s fight up next, followed by two men’s fights. Personally, I prefer the women.” He leaned close to Nathan, his breath stinking of onion crisps. “It kind of turns me on to see two fit women knock one another about.” He chuckled and swigged his beer.

  Nathan hid his grimace. The man helped him grow his wealth. As leader of his clan, that mattered. It mattered a lot. When you lived for thousands of years, you needed to control enough wealth to ensure your clan’s survival. They didn’t keep it in caves as the stupid human myths said. No, they used bank vaults and clever financial types like David.

  He closed his eyes for a moment and pictured his home, nestled deep in the heart of the Scottish Highlands. He’d only been gone a few hours and already he missed it. The clean air, no stinking humans and their onion crisps. No smoke from cars—they had five vehicles for the whole community and members took turns to use them. Nothing but fresh air and miles of stunning scenery. Of course, there were the fires his kind loved to light, so they did produce some smoke. Not that it mattered, they were miles away from civilization. Once they’d shifted form, they’d fly above the mountains. They’d swoop down to light the constructed pile of wood until the flames licked high into the darkening skies, before soaring high once more to watch the spectacle.

  “Aaaaand now, lad
ies and gentleman.” The announcer broke into his reverie, grounding him back in his seat in the arena. “I’m pleased to announce a real treat for you tonight. Two of the toughest women in their class. Last year’s Lightweight champion, Theeeee Shredderrrrrrr!”

  The roars from the crowd and more stomping feet were deafening. Nathan stopped himself from rolling his eyes at the dramatic way the announcer stretched every other word.

  “Facing her, and a sure contender for this year’s Championship, we have the amaaaaaazing Ice!”

  A louder roar greeted this announcement.

  “Oooh, the Shredder is hot.” David shouted over the stomping and hollering. “Always wanted to meet her. We might be on for a backstage visit. Mate of mine knows the bouncer and put in a good word for us. I dropped the lad a couple of fifties, to try and grease the wheels as it were.”

  “You paid one hundred pounds to, maybe, meet one of these women?” Nathan shook his head.

  No wonder most humans were always claiming poverty. The things they spent their money on never ceased to astonish him. Unless held in gold, stocks, cold hard cash, jewels, antiques, or fine art, it proved ultimately worthless. Tomorrow he’d spend some time with his hoard of gold—the thought made him smile. His people experienced a strong connection with the precious metal. They believed it held healing and soothing properties and their females wore a lot of it. The males kept their ceremonial gold cuffs locked away, to be worn when they celebrated the summer and winter solstices, or said thanks to their various gods.

  The music ramped up, and at opposite ends of the arena two females entered. The taller, leaner female possessed icy, white-blonde hair. Presumably, the aptly named Ice. The other caught his attention so he used his dragon gaze to zoom in on her. Wow. David was right, The Shredder looked kind of hot, in an unusual way.

  The white blonde entered the ring and the compere held up her arm shouting, “Welcome Theeeeee Shreeeeedeerrrrrr.”

  So, despite the hair, not Ice? Which meant the striking brunette held the name Ice. He leaned into David. “Why is the one called Ice a brunette, and the ice blonde named The Shredder?”

  “After their reputations as fighters. So, Shredder, she blasts into her opponents like a shredding machine. Moves fast as a cheetah, she does. Ice, is known for her ultra-calm. Never gets fazed, and often wins because she keeps her wits about her. Always so bloody cool.”

  He nodded and turned back to the ring.

  The bell sounded and the Shredder’s fist connected with Ice’s jaw. Nathan flinched. Wow. Not that he believed females incapable of fighting. Britain had been home to many warrior women who fought in the battles of old, back when he’d been young and naïve and thought humans were special. As the centuries marched on, he’d come to realize they were more akin to vermin. He did wonder periodically, if a time would come when their numbers needed to be culled for the sake of the planet. It looked increasingly probable.

  The fight dragged on much longer than the previous one, the women evenly matched, and despite The Shredder going at her hard, Ice dodged many of her blows, and landed a few good ones. Nathan sat forward in his seat suddenly interested. Fatigue stole across The Shredder’s features as Ice ground her down. The woman intrigued him. Certainly, he’d not seen such unusual beauty in a long time.

  Her long dark hair was pulled into a tight ponytail, which accentuated high cheekbones and arresting eyes. They were such a light color, an odd mix of green and blue. True aqua, like a tropical sea, they stood out against her brunette hair and olive skin. She had a strong jaw and a nose that ran straight, both almost masculine in their appearance. But those eyes and her full mouth saved her from appearing manly. Taken apart, her features—other than her eyes—might not have seemed much, but together they created an astonishing face. Gods, he needed to get a grip. Dragons had sex with human females; they didn’t compose sonnets to their beauty.

  A bell rang and a roar went up from the crowd. The compere grabbed Ice’s arm and held it aloft as she grinned wide.

  “I take it Ice won?” he asked David.

  “Yup. Which means I lost fifty quid, and she’s heading for the semi-finals in two months.”

  “Who will she fight first?”

  “Pamela Ruin.” He snorted. “It’s actually her name—she didn’t need a nickname picked out for her. Surname says it all. She does ruin her opponents. She’s ferocious. Ice wins the match with her, and she’s through to the amateur final.”

  On stage, the two women gave one another a friendly hug and a slap on the back. That seemed different to most fights. Last time he’d watched a boxing match, admittedly a long time ago, it had been all about the hate.

  The women left the arena to more pumping music and a sexily dressed girl paraded around holding up a sign.

  “Come on.” David stood and beckoned Nathan to follow him. “Let’s see if my friend has come through. I want to meet the awesome Natalie.”

  Nathan furrowed his brow.

  “It’s The Shredder’s real name.”

  “Ah.”

  Ten minutes later, they stood in a long corridor while David gushed over the female fighter. Nathan glanced at his watch. He’d had enough, but ought to wait for David. Didn’t pay to offend the guy who controlled your assets. Once David finished slathering all over the woman in front of them, Nathan would say his goodbyes and be off. He didn’t care to stay for the men’s fights. Maybe he’d retire to his room and read, or perhaps he’d head to a bar and meet a woman. Dominic did it enough. In fact, he grew sick of the never-ending parade of strange human females in their abode these days. Nathan ought to have a little fun of his own. Of course, all of it stopped if they found a suitable mate.

  Thoughts of his bonded male shot a pang of desire clean through him. Sadly, Dominic had made it clear he didn’t go for the males. He only wanted a platonic bonding, a close friendship amongst males whose scents matched, and the chance to gain a female mate. He’d respected Dom’s wishes, despite wanting more, because he’d been alive for centuries for fuck’s sake, and Dominic hadn’t. The young shifter didn’t appear ready for anything more between them and Nathan didn’t wish to push it and ruin their bond.

  He found it difficult, especially when they shared a woman. Then he’d have to see Dom in all his glory. And the man was beautiful. They’d started off in separate rooms, only ever sharing a bed with a woman between them. But as the years passed, they’d ended up sleeping together more often than not. Dom seemed to need the companionship and closeness, and he wasn’t about to complain. Dominic always wore boxers and he wore loose pajama bottoms. There had been the odd occasion recently when he swore Dom cuddled up close in the mornings on purpose. Not wanting to damage their bond, he didn’t push it. If Dom wanted more, he’d need to make it obvious.

  A door banged closed behind him. Gods! That scent.

  Nathan drew in a deep breath. It hit him so hard the corridor spun around him. A dragon female must be nearby. One whose scent called to him, heady and strong, but soft and sensual at the same time. Fucking hell! A match…more than a match. His senses went into overdrive; the female was damn well made for him and Dom. His heart hammered hard and he clenched his fists to hold onto his control.

  Slowly, almost scared to look the occasion seemed so momentous, Nathan turned his head.

  Ice!

  She slung a heavy duffle over her shoulder, and strolled toward him. Up close, her unusual features made him speechless. Talk about a face to launch a thousand ships.

  “Later, Nats,” Ice said as she neared. Her soft, husky voice wrapped around him like smoke.

  His brain stalled, leaving him unsure what to do. How the hell did a dragon female find herself here, in this city, fighting humans? It was…shameful. Deeply so. Their females were rare and they never fought. To do so with humans, in this grubby spectacle? Gods!

  Dragon males bonded with one or two other males and waited, sometimes for many years, until they found their female match. Sometimes as many a
s four males shared one female mate. Not him, he didn’t need the hassle. Nathan had his bonded male living with him now, and he’d never look for another. Dominic proved enough of a handful. They only needed their female mate. Problem was, finding a female whose scent matched and complemented theirs proved difficult. Very difficult. He and Dom had been searching for years. Endless visits to various clans proved fruitless.

  “You’re still coming out tomorrow night for drinks, yeah?” Natalie asked.

  Without breaking her stride, Ice nodded. “Yep.”

  “You want a lift, hon? I can come get you at seven.”

  “No.” Ice shook her head, her hair glistening under the strip lighting. “I’ve got to feed George, my neighbor’s cat. He eats at half seven, and he’s very particular about having a cuddle afterwards. I’ll meet you there about half-eight. All Bar One, right?”

  “To start with, but we’ll be moving on at nine,” Natalie warned. “You’re invited too.” She glanced at David and Nathan.

  “I’ll make sure I’m there,” Ice said.

  She waved and walked on. As she neared Nathan, she slowed and her gaze collided with his. Time slowed for him as her eyes locked on his, and he swallowed hard as they widened and her nostrils flared. Oh yeah, she’d picked up on his scent. He expected her to say something, despite their audience, but she frowned, looked away and hurried off. She rounded the corner and panic gripped him by the balls.

  He wouldn’t let her get away. Anger followed swiftly on panic’s heels, and he ground his teeth together. How dare she ignore him? She’d scented him, her reaction told him so, and yet she barely glanced in his direction. He pushed off the wall, needing to follow her.

  He spoke over his shoulder, “I have to go. I forgot, I promised to meet someone. I’ll be in touch.”

  Chapter Two

  Dom looked at the woman sleeping next to him. He’d brought her back from a trip into town after meeting her in a bar and she’d been up for some major fun. He’d taken the Jeep, and now faced another off-road trip all the way back. But she’d been hot, and worth the two journeys. Dirt tracks, not roads, led to Arach Caim, so he’d take the Jeep once more—could hardly expect her to ride on the back of a bike. After, he’d wipe her memory of the journey, leaving her with a few vague warm and fuzzies. She’d remember their night together, but never find the Clan again.