Dragon's Thief

by Lili Zander

  Table of Contents

  Aria

  Bastian

  Rhys

  Mateo

  Erik

  Casius

  About the Authors

  Books by Lili Zander

  Books by Rory Reyonlds

  Dragon’s Thief

  Blood Prophecy Book 1

  Lili Zander

  Rory Reynolds

  Copyright © 2017 by Lili Zander, Rory Reynolds.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Design by Kasmit Covers

  Contents

  1. Aria

  2. Aria

  3. Bastian

  4. Aria

  5. Rhys

  6. Aria

  7. Mateo

  8. Aria

  9. Aria

  10. Aria

  11. Erik

  12. Aria

  13. Casius

  14. Aria

  15. Bastian

  16. Aria

  17. Aria

  18. Rhys

  19. Aria

  20. Aria

  21. Mateo

  22. Aria

  23. Aria

  About the Authors

  Books by Lili Zander

  Books by Rory Reyonlds

  1

  Aria

  I’m not a people person. I’ve a comically large collection of t-shirts to prove it. T-shirts with slogans like ‘Go away, I’m introverting,’ ‘A large group of people is called No Thanks,’ and my personal favorite, ‘I hate people and bras.’

  That last one, I’m too chicken to wear outside the house.

  Which is why I’m extra-annoyed that Pieter has insisted on accompanying me tonight. I do my best thieving alone, damn it.

  Speaking of Pieter, he stumbles against a desk, and I turn to glare at him. “Tell me why you’re here again?” I mutter in irritation.

  It’s a rhetorical question, but the tattoo artist answers anyway. “I’ve already told you why a hundred times,” he bites out, his tone just as annoyed as mine. “Unless you became an expert on dragon blood overnight and forgot to tell me?”

  Sadly, no. I’m 100% Norm. I could be staring at a vat full of the precious commodity, and I wouldn’t have a clue.

  It’s after midnight, and there’s not a single person in sight. The two of us are in the research section of MagLab, one of the largest private blood banks in the country. According to Pieter’s informant, they’ve just received a shipment of dragon blood.

  I’m here to steal it.

  Dragon blood—rare and magical—is almost impossible to come by, and the three pints that MagLab has hidden away somewhere in this building are worth more than a quarter million dollars on the open market. Not that I’ll ever see that kind of money, of course. I’m a thief-for-hire. If I get Pieter Van Den Berg safely into and out of the lab, he’ll pay me five thousand dollars.

  Which is fine by me. There aren’t a lot of fences with the balls to cross the fearsome magical lizards.

  “They don’t have a lot of security.” The voice in my ear is Silas Archer, the closest thing I have to a father. Rogue wolf shifter, genius hacker, and former master thief, Silas has taught me everything I know. “I’ve disabled the alarms on the main laboratory door.”

  “You’re a rock star, Silas.”

  He grunts. “My spidey senses are tingling, Aria,” he warns. “That code was a little too easy to crack. They should have more than two guards at the front. Get in, get the stuff, get out. I have a bad feeling about this job.”

  A smile curves at my lips. Silas loathes that I’m following in his footsteps. My mentor worries like it’s an Olympic sport. “So what’s new?” I quip. “You have a bad feeling about every single one of my jobs.”

  I hold my stolen access card—male scientists are pathetically easy to seduce—in front of the reader, and the light turns green as the lab doors unlock. “Bingo. Card works like a charm.”

  Pushing open the double doors, I pause in the doorway, putting up my hand to stop Pieter from barreling in. “Wait.” Fucking amateurs. I count under my breath to thirty, listening intently for any whisper of sound, but the only thing I can hear is the dim whine of the overhead fluorescent lights. “Clear.”

  “Drama queen.” Pieter, looking as offended as Silas’ cat Madam Buttface, stalks toward the stainless-steel refrigerators lining the back walls and throws them open, revealing shelf after shelf of plastic bags filled with blood, each one neatly labeled with a serial number and nothing else.

  My heart sinks. “Umm, Silas? How much blood were these guys supposed to have?”

  “Why?” His voice sharpens. “They should be down to a two-day supply.”

  I catch a glimpse of Pieter’s face. It’s deathly pale. Fuck. He’s about to lose his shit. “There’s at least a month’s supply here,” I reply. “Judging by Pieter’s reaction, it’s all shifter blood.”

  “Fuck,” Silas swears on his end. “He’s not going to be able to sense the dragon blood. Too much noise.”

  Pieter reaches into the refrigerator and pulls out a bag at random, holding it to his nose and inhaling deeply. He’s not a shifter, but somewhere in his family history, there’s a magical being or two, because the South African tattoo artist can work with magic, incorporating it into his ink. I watch him hopefully, but it’s to no avail. He shakes his head. “My senses are too clouded,” he says, his voice pitched high with nerves. “The guards will be back in this wing in another five minutes. We don’t have enough time.” He sighs regretfully. “Let’s get out of here, Aria.”

  He’s a good guy, but he’s also a slippery bastard. If we leave here without the dragon blood, I know, as surely as my name is Aria Archer, that I won’t get paid. Leaving isn’t an option. “Silas, the bags have a serial number on them. Can you hack into their database?”

  “Nope,” he replies at once, his voice regretful. “I’ve already tried. Their research database is locked down tighter than Fort Knox. Whatever they’re doing, they don’t want people to find out about it.”

  Shit. Maybe Pieter is right. Maybe we should walk away.

  I stare at the back walls of the lab. This is worse than finding a needle in a haystack. The lab has more than a dozen refrigerators, all filled with blood. We need to find three bags in a thousand.

  No wonder they don’t need guards.

  Pieter is throwing open refrigerators at random, his hands shaking and his eyes wide. I lift my head to tell him to be quieter—security is lax, but there’s no point tempting trouble—and I see it.

  Three bags in the back are glowing softly, pulsing with a warm light. They call to me, whispering into my heart, telling me to touch them, to hold them, to take them…

  And I can’t ignore the siren call. I stride up to the shelf and reach for them. “These,” I say, in a voice I can’t recognize. “These are the bags.”

  Pieter gives me a strange look. “I can’t sense the magic,” he says. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  The moment I remove the bags from the refrigerator and place them into my specially insulated backpack, all hell breaks loose. A high-pitched alarm fills the air, and in the distance, drawing closer, I hear the sounds of shouting.

  The doors click s
hut, cutting off our escape route. I sprint to the nearest exit and hold up my access card, but the light stays red.

  We’re trapped.

  Footsteps march closer. “They’re in the lab,” a man yells out.

  “They could be armed.” A different guy and he sounds more nervous than his gung-ho buddy. “We should call for backup.”

  Two Norms I can take, especially if they’re unarmed. Before Silas took me in, I spent three years on the streets, and I learned quickly to defend myself.

  “They could be shifters, Aria,” Silas points out. He must be going out of his mind with anxiety, but his voice is as calm as ever. “If the doors are locked, there’s only one way out.”

  “The windows.” We’re on the third floor, and it’s bitterly cold outside. The glass is coated with frost, and the ledges will be slippery. Ugh.

  “There’s a fire escape at the corner of the building,” Silas says. “It leads to a back alley. I’ll be there. Aria,” the concern in his voice intensifies, “You can’t get caught with dragon blood. Leave the South African behind if you must, and get the hell out of there.”

  Pieter can’t hear Silas, but he’s staring at me as if I’ve grown a second head. “The windows? You can’t be serious.”

  Once again, this is why I work alone.

  I’m already looking around for a chair with metal legs. Finding one, I lift it up and slam it against the window, and the cheap glass breaks into a thousand sharp fragments. A rush of icy air fills the room. I hate winter.

  “Did you hear that?” A man shouts. “They broke the window. They’re getting away. Where’s Carlos?”

  Whoever Carlos is, I have no desire to meet him. “How did this building get through a safety inspection?” I muse aloud, widening the hole so it’s Aria-sized. Seriously. One pane of glass so thin that someone leaning against the window could shatter it. “Come on, Pieter. We’ve got to go.”

  He’s as white as a sheet. “I’m scared of heights, Aria,” he forces out through stiff lips. “You go.”

  Fuck that. I might not like people, but there’s a code. No one gets left behind.

  I grab Pieter by the collar and propel him to the window. “You’re stealing from a dragon,” I hiss into his ear. “What do you think is going to happen when they find out?” Everyone is terrified of dragons for good reason. People that steal from them disappear and are never heard of again, and I can guess why.

  I have no desire to be a breakfast treat.

  Neither does the tattoo artist. Pieter comes to his senses. “Let’s do this.”

  The two of us make our way out of the window onto the icy ledge. My heart is hammering in my chest. Silas is silent, but I can feel his anxiety coming through my headset in palpable waves. We inch along the side of the building, Pieter with his eyes tightly closed, his fingers gripping the walls. When we get to the corner, I tap his shoulder to get his attention. He opens his eyes by a sliver. “We need to go down.”

  He nods, still pale, but he must have some kitty-cat-shifter in his ancestry because he clambers down that ladder with feline grace. I giggle at the idea of a cat shifter who’s afraid of heights as I follow him. Thank heavens I have gloves—the metal is painfully cold.

  “What now?” Pieter asks me when we reach the ground.

  I look around. We’re in a narrow alley behind the building. There are no street lights here. It’s pitch dark, and I have a very bad feeling about this. “Silas is on his way,” I whisper. “He’ll be here in less than five minutes.”

  “Umm, Aria?” Pieter’s voice has a distinct quiver in it. “I don’t think we have five minutes.”

  I hear a low, menacing growl. Two yellow eyes gleam in the darkness. With shaking hands, I reach for the flashlight on my toolbelt and direct the narrow beam in the direction of the growl, and when I see the hulking black shape, my heart jumps in my throat.

  Panther shifter.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck. We’ve jumped from the frying pan directly into the fire.

  I’m strong for a Norm, but shifters are a different league entirely. Panthers are legendary for their viciousness. Pieter moves behind me as the shifter crouches down. “It’s going to pounce, Aria.”

  Tell me something I don’t know, buddy.

  “Hey, kitty,” I say soothingly, staring directly at the big cat. Madam Buttface won’t pounce unless I turn my back on her, and I’m hoping this panther is the same way.

  The growling intensifies. The creature paws the ground, and I try not to notice how sharp its claws are. Then thankfully, the loud roar of a car engine drowns out the panther. Headlights light up the alley, and Silas’s grey Corolla rolls up behind us. “Get in,” he shouts.

  Only a fool turns their back on a big cat. I back toward the car, never taking my eyes off the shifter. It roars loudly as I inch away, sensing that it’s about to lose its prey. I watch it crouch into a leap, and then it jumps into the air, making straight for me.

  I make a dash for it, scrambling head first into Silas’ car. I almost make it unscathed, but the claws slash out before I can slam the door shut. My leg explodes with pain.

  And then we’re speeding away.

  “It scratched you?” Pieter asks grimly.

  “Yes.” Blood wells from the wound, soaking the leather seat. The panther has my scent now. I’m never going to be able to return to MagLab.

  I almost died tonight, and for what? My bank account is healthy, but you can’t spend money when you’re dead.

  “Tell me you’re going to give this up, Aria. I’m too old to watch you throw yourself into danger.” Silas sounds shaky. “Please?”

  I tried to steal from him once, and instead of turning me into the cops, he took me in. He saved me from the streets, and he treated me like family.

  He’s never asked me for anything. He’s always been supportive. Always been there for me.

  Now it’s my turn. “I’m retiring,” I tell the wolf shifter. “Tomorrow morning, I’ll look for a real job.” I lean forward and grip Silas’ shoulder. “No more thieving. I promise.”

  2

  Aria

  One year later…

  It is the darkest hour of the night. The moon is hidden behind a thick layer of clouds, and the air feels heavy. Goosebumps cover my skin, and when I reach for the sword strapped to my waist, the metal is cold to the touch.

  Inexplicably, I recognize this sword. It’s called Endellion, an ancient Celtic word for fire.

  Why do I know that?

  I’m standing in front of a tall castle. I’ve never been here—I’d definitely remember something this creepy and Gothic—but again, I seem to know it anyway. This is the castle of the Rogue Prince, and those that enter it uninvited can never leave.

  The blood-red ruby hanging on a thin gold chain around my neck blazes against my skin, giving me strength. The Dark Dragon has caused so much misery. He has trapped the magic of the Dragon Princes and perverted it for his own wicked use. He has cursed them to spend their immortal lives searching for their true mates, never being able to find them.

  But the thing that tipped me over the edge?

  He went after my family. He imprisoned Silas. And that is a line that cannot be crossed without consequences.

  Gideon Zyrian must die.

  I walk through long arched hallways of stone, searching for any sign of Silas. Torches blaze from metal brackets on the walls, but their light doesn’t pierce the gloom. In the darkness, I hear whispers, and a ghostly figure slides up to me, its eyes wild and staring. Aria, turn back.

  My fingers tighten over my sword, but I don’t draw it. The wraiths—spirits of all that have died here—cannot hinder me from my quest.

  Silas is already dead, another spirit hisses. Leave before you share his fate.

  No! My knees go weak, and I almost crumble to the cold stone floor. Silas cannot be dead. I would feel it in my heart. I would know.

  Wouldn’t I?

  My pulse racing, I start running. Faster and faster. The
Bloodstone around my neck is hot to the touch, its magic reacting to mine. This time, I don’t fight it. I let it lead me deeper into the Rogue Prince’s castle.

  “Halt.” Two guards stand in front of a tall set of iron doors. I’ve reached my destination. “Who are you?”

  My voice is cold as ice. “I am your death.” Before they can move, I draw Endellion from its sheath and slash at them. They fall to the ground, lifeless, red blood welling from their bodies.

  As if the blood is an offering, the doors swing open soundlessly. The Bloodstone blazes in warning, but I don’t heed it. I’m so close to finding Silas.

  Sword in hand, I enter the dark cavernous chamber. A tall cloaked man looms over a familiar, bound figure, holding a knife against Silas’ neck. “Aria Archer,” the Rogue Prince says as I take a step forward into the light. “I’ve been waiting for you. I thought you’d want to see this.”

  “No,” I scream. “No, please.”

  But it’s too late. Gideon Zyrian smiles viciously at me, and he slits Silas’ throat.

  I’ve failed.

  I sit up in bed, my heart racing, my entire body damp with sweat. As nightmares go, this one was a doozy. My fingers shake, and when I pull the covers away and roll out of bed, my knees are weak.

  It was so freaking vivid. If it weren’t for the fact that Silas’ epic sword collection doesn’t include a sword named Endellion, I would be struggling harder with coming to grips with reality. I seize upon that fact like a life preserver. It was just a dream.

  “Get a grip, Aria,” I tell myself in the shower. Hot water rains down on me, but the nightmare has left a chill that won’t go away, and I know why.