Reborn for the Dragon (Banished Dragons)

by Leela Ash

  A loud cry of pleasure rushed from Lisa’s lips as the world began to explode with sensations. The hot eruption of her lover’s peak enhanced her own and her entire body exploded in untold pleasure. As she began to coast down from her climax she became acutely aware of a new presence. There was something happening; something beyond her comprehension. Something powerful was being done; something they had made together.

  When they were finally collapsed together in a heap on the bed, Norris took her against his shoulder and kissed her forehead.

  “You felt that, right?” he asked breathlessly.

  “We did it,” she whispered, caressing her abdomen gently.

  Norris nodded, a broad smile sweeping across his handsome face.

  “I feel it. Power. Strength. Our child,” Norris murmured, leaning over to kiss her belly. “Everything is going to be all right now.”

  He scooped Lisa close to him and pressed another gentle kisses into her hair, and Lisa smiled privately to herself. Everything she had hoped for was right here in this bed. Together, they would help to save the universe.

  The End

  SHIFTER HEAVEN BOX SET PREVIEW

  Dragon Protector

  Dragon Dreams Book 1

  Leela Ash & Tabitha St. George

  Chapter 1

  Golden and mysterious, the coin in Hannah Stiles’ hand hinted that there was hope. That, maybe, just maybe, there was a path out of this disaster.

  From downstairs, she caught snatches of her parents’ hushed debate.

  “…extremely generous offer… we won’t see another like it…”

  “…but we’ll lose everything!”

  “Everything except our son.”

  Silence fell. There was no arguing against that last point. Four months ago, a hit and run driver struck her seventeen-year-old brother Danny as he walked home one evening. Bills mounted. Insurance, that had promised the world, delivered far less protection than they needed. Hannah didn’t know the details. Even though she was six years older than her brother, her parents still treated her like their little princess. They tried to shield her from life’s ugly truths.

  But things had come to a head and there was no hiding now. Her parents owed the hospital $72,300. As much as their small farm made in an entire year! With their savings drained, a ‘savior’ had appeared, a real estate developer who made them a very generous offer for their farm. Enough money to cover their debts and set up somewhere else…

  …if they were willing to abandon their home. A house that had been in the Stiles’ family for centuries. The place where she and her father had grown up. Her parents hated the idea – but there was no other option.

  Except this coin.

  Hannah took a deep, shaky breath and prayed it was as magical as Grandpa had said. “When things are darkest,” he’d told her, “when there’s no hope at all, show this to the Protectors. They are bound by blood and honor to aid us.”

  Unfortunately, he hadn’t told her how to find those ‘Protectors’. His grandfather hadn’t bothered to pass that important detail along. Being a modern girl, Hannah didn’t believe in ancient debts and magic coins. But if this thing had truly been in her family for 300 years, it must be valuable. Maybe valuable enough to save their home. And she had a good idea where to find a ‘Protector’ of her own.

  Online.

  A quick image search didn’t turn up anything that looked similar. The coin itself didn’t offer many clues about its origin. No date, no sign of what country it came from. One side was blank. On the other, a dragon curled around the edge, circling two words: “Noraste Mel.” Google couldn’t translate that. When she posted on a rare coins forum, no one had ever heard of anything like it.

  Until yesterday, when an email arrived:

  Ms. Stiles,

  I am keenly interested in the coin you describe. If I am right about its origins, it is priceless. Though, surely, its Protector has told you that?

  I need to see the coin to be certain. I will arrange a video conference tomorrow night at 6:00. Do have the coin with you.

  Sincerely,

  Brandon Lorde

  Two words sent butterflies winging through her stomach. ‘Priceless’ – because that could save them. And ‘Protector’ – a strange echo of her grandpa’s own words. Quickly, she’d agreed to speak to Mr. Lorde tonight.

  Her computer’s clock read 5:58pm. Hannah set the coin down and ran a hand through her long blonde hair. Nervously, she swept a wrinkle out of her sleeve and worried that perhaps jeans and a faded state fair t-shirt weren’t the best choice to impress a stranger.

  Nonsense, she scolded herself. This isn’t a date. He’s interested in your coin, not you.

  The exact moment the clock ticked over to 6:00pm, a soft ping announced that Mr. Lorde wished to begin a video chat.

  Hannah licked her lips and clicked ‘accept’.

  She had expected some little old man surrounded by cats, coins, and dusty antiques. Instead, a Greek god appeared on her screen.

  Black hair, thick and light as a raven’s wings, framed his strong, angular face. Everything about him radiated strength, from his muscular arms to the sharp cut of his jaw and his full, firm lips. And his eyes…!

  They caught her and held her as tightly as a hare in a hawk’s grasp. She had never seen eyes like them before. Rich, sapphire blue. For a moment, she swore there were lights in them, tiny flecks of purest gold that swirled around the pupils’ dark center.

  Hannah’s breath caught in her throat. She simply stared, like a deer in headlights, wishing, once again, that she’d changed clothes after coming in from the barn.

  For a moment, those luscious, mesmerizing eyes scanned her, drinking in every detail of her face, her clothes, her hair. Perhaps it was crazy, but he seemed… eager? Anxious? No, nothing that weak. But clearly, whatever this coin was, it held great importance to him.

  “Ms. Stiles?”

  Even his voice thrilled her, a deep, rich bass that transformed her plain, boring name into something enchanting.

  He cleared his throat. “Ms. Stiles?”

  Oh heavens! He expected an answer? Blood rushed to Hannah’s cheeks as she realized she’d been sitting there staring at him. “Yes? Uh, yes! I’m, uh, Hannah. Hannah Stiles.”

  “Good. Please hold the coin up to your computer’s camera.”

  No small talk? No ‘Hi, how are you, nice to see you?’ For the first time, she felt a twinge of uneasiness, but she ignored it. Of course, he was all business. A wealthy, elegant man like him would never care about a plain farm girl like her. Still blushing, she raised the coin, so he could see it.

  Immediately, he gasped. Some bright emotion lit his azure eyes. Hope? Joy? She couldn’t tell. For one moment, a dazzled smile brightened his face and he began to speak in a deep, musical language.

  What it was, she had no idea. Certainly nothing like her high school Spanish. He fell silent, awaiting an answer. Hannah winced. “I’m sorry. I don’t know that language.”

  At once, clouds of suspicion darkened his handsome face. He repeated the last sentence, his smile fading.

  “Sorry, I really don’t have any idea what you’re saying.”

  “Marakeen?” Those brilliant eyes bored into her now, seeking traps and deceit. “This word means nothing to you?”

  Hannah shook her head. “Is that the name of the coin?”

  His eyes closed, freeing her. Every muscle in his lithe body tensed, as if some fierce battle raged inside him. When he opened his eyes again, they were as cold as glacial ice. Chin raised, he stared through the computer at her with chilly disdain. “So, tell me, where did you steal the coin from?”

  Steal?!? Now her eyes flashed. “Excuse me? How dare you accuse me of theft?”

  “How dare I?” he sneered. “You have no idea what you hold in your hand. Clearly, you are a thief.”

  “This coin has been in my family for hundreds of years!”

  “And yet, you know nothing of the Marakeen
?” She glared back at him, unwilling to answer, and he gave a short bark of laughter. “Then let me correct myself. You are not a thief – you are the descendent of thieves.”

  “I think this conversation is over,” Hannah hissed. Gorgeous or not, he didn’t get to sit there and insult her family like that.

  As she reached for the mouse, his lip curled in mockery. “Don’t you want your money, thief’s child?”

  Hannah froze, and now it was her turn to fight back anger.

  Money. That was why she was here. She couldn’t forget that. Couldn’t let her anger… her disappointment, cloud her mind. Yes, her ‘Greek god’ seemed to be more of a devil. Yes, he was arrogant, and dismissive, and…

  She swallowed and scrubbed her eyes, quickly wiping away any trace of the shamed tears his taunts had summoned. None of that mattered. What mattered was that, judging from the luxurious furniture she saw behind him, he was rich. And he wanted her coin.

  “Well?”

  His scornful gaze burned through her, hitting her soul like a hammer’s blow. Yet she forced herself to meet it. To lift her chin and defy his unjust accusations. “Yes. $72,300. That’s what this coin will cost you.”

  He didn’t even blink at that crazy price tag. “An oddly specific price.”

  She held her tongue. He didn’t deserve an explanation.

  “Very well.” Clearly, his interest in the subject had died. “$72,300 it is. I will mail you my address. Send the coin to me and I will give you what you want.”

  “I want the money first!” Her lips pinched. “I don’t trust you.”

  “Well, I don’t trust thieves,” he countered, “and I have the money. You will not be paid until the coin is in my possession.”

  As she opened her mouth to argue, he waved dismissively. “We’re done here,” he said, as the video conference ended.

  For a moment, Hannah sat there, shaking with shame and rage. How could someone so heavenly, so gorgeous, be so cruel? What had she done to deserve that kind of treatment?

  By all rights, she ought to be dancing with joy. She’d done it! She’d found the money her family needed to save their land! But all she could think about was his eyes, and the way the hope and joy they held had died. She hadn’t done a thing wrong, and yet here she sat, feeling vaguely guilty. Sure that, somehow, she’d disappointed this stranger.

  Rude stranger, she reminded herself. He was in the wrong, not her.

  A ping announced the arrival of his address. New York City – not so far from her upstate home.

  She stared at it until her mother’s voice called her to dinner. And when she rose, she had a plan.

  Mr. Brandon Lorde of New York City would get his coin alright.

  But not the way he expected.

  Chapter 2

  A day later, Brandon Lorde was still stewing about that treacherous thief as he jogged through Central Park.

  Normally, he drew attention on his runs. His dark charisma, as well as his relentless pace, caught the eyes of everyone he passed. By the time sweat plastered his shirt to the hard lines of his muscled body, he would turn the head of any woman in the park.

  Not today. Today, a fierce anger burned inside him. Nothing was worse than a thief, a person who stole what another had claimed. Humans and animals both despised anything that took what was not theirs.

  Their displeasure was a pale shadow of his own fury. For, while he looked like a perfectly sculpted human man, he was much, much more. He was a Dragon Shifter, a Marakeen in the Old Tongue. An ancient guardian who resided half in this world, half in the Other Side. To mortal eyes, he was nothing more than a strikingly handsome man. Only those with Shifter blood could see the majestic Dragon of his soul.

  Once his breed had been guardians, protectors of the Wellsprings that brought magic and life from the Other Side to this world. But Earth had turned from magic. The Wellsprings dried up, tearing a hole in the souls of all Dragonkind. They were Guardians of Nothing. Protectors of the Past. No matter how much wealth they gathered and hoarded, no pleasure ever filled that gaping rift.

  Yesterday, for one exhilarating, terrible moment, he had dared to dream of finding his purpose at long last. Hannah Stiles’ ‘coin’ was a piece of Blood Gold, the token that a Dragon gave to someone who saved his life. He, and all Dragons, owed its owner a debt of honor. A debt that honor demanded be repaid, even at the cost of the Dragon’s life.

  And when he had seen the girl…

  Purity and sweetness. She didn’t need any of the fancy clothes and expensive jewelry city women piled upon themselves. Her beauty came from within. The sweep of her silken hair, the way it spilled around her shoulders. The warmth that lit her brown eyes when she smiled. The swell of her breasts under the plain clothes she wore, hinting that a woman’s full lusciousness lay beneath that innocent gaze.

  His first thought had been, here is someone worthy. Someone he could devote his life to protecting. It would be his honor, his joy to repay whatever debt was owed her.

  Of course, that all turned out to be a lie. Again. Three times now, con artists had tried to fool him with stolen Blood Gold. Each scam breathed life into his dying dream, the prayer that, someday, he would find a person worthy of service. Someone he could live for – and die for, if necessary.

  Well, not today. He could not fall for this trick again! Brandon gritted his teeth as another flare of anger surged up from his Dragon. A passing dog walker couldn’t sense that. But the three pugs she led flinched away from him, yelping. Animals had much keener senses than their human masters.

  Brandon struggled to calm his Dragon; the dogs didn’t deserve even a brush with a Dragon’s wrath. It retreated, still brooding over the shock of finding that this Hannah wasn’t as pure as she seemed.

  Disappointing. He sighed. But the world was full of disappointments. Some days it seemed like that was all that was left now that the Wellsprings had run dry.

  One last block brought him home to his brownstone. As he stepped through the front door onto the silver marble foyer, he sensed a disturbance. Someone was here. Someone… strangely familiar.

  Amarie, the elderly Witch-Hare who minded his home, stepped out of the kitchen carrying a tea tray. “You have a guest, Master,” she said, confirming his suspicion.

  He frowned. “I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

  The housekeeper swept past him. “She is expected, though.”

  His frown deepened. “By whom?”

  Amarie paused in the sitting room doorway and glanced at him with her odd, mismatched eyes. One blue, one green. “How should I know? I’m just a ‘crazy Witch-Hare.’ But she is expected.” Then she breezed past, as if her words made sense.

  As mad as Hares often seemed, the years had taught him that an eerie prescience often lurked beneath his housekeeper’s “nonsense.” He drifted after her, curious what the waters of Fate had washed to his shore.

  He stepped into the parlor and, at once, his gaze was drawn to the bay window. There, amidst velvet cushions, sat a vision.

  The girl.

  In the late afternoon light, her hair burned as bright as honey in the sun. Gold and warm, a gentle mirror of the blazing scales of his own soul. She was taller than he imagined, with the willowy grace of a gazelle. Her shyness might seem weak to some. But as she saw him, a quiet strength firmed her features. A hint, perhaps, that true steel lay somewhere beneath her mild demeanor. He wondered if life had ever forced her to find her own power.

  Suddenly, that question meant the world to him. He wanted to sit beside her, arm brushing against her sweet curves, and ask…

  NO!

  His Dragon’s anger shattered that pleasant image. This was not some innocent maiden, his Shifter soul warned. She was a thief.

  Once again, he felt the bitter sting of disappointment. But his Dragon was right. He had to stay on his guard.

  “Ms. Stiles.” He strode over to the table and took a cup of tea from Amarie. “I told you to mail the coin to me.” His Dragon sti
ll seethed, and he allowed the faintest touch of its displeasure to warm his tone. He was the Alpha of his Flight, and not accustomed to being disobeyed.

  She flinched, as if she could feel his Dragon’s hot annoyance. Yet, she rose to her feet, tall and proud, and faced him. “I chose not to. You gave me no reason to trust you.”

  She dared hint that he was untrustworthy? A few short, angry steps brought him to his writing desk. He turned his back on her beautiful, impudent face and found his checkbook. “As you will. The price we agreed upon was $72,000, yes?”

  “No. $72,300.”

  Again, the exactness of that amount puzzled him. “$73,000 then.”

  “No.” Her denial was soft, but implacable. “$72,300.”

  “You don’t want an extra $700?” What kind of thief would turn down more?

  She shook her head, sending a ripple of sunlight shimmering across her long hair. “I only need $72,300.”

  “But why refuse the extra money?” he pressed.

  “Because I don’t want to owe you. I wouldn’t take any of your money if I wasn’t desperate.”

  Shock froze his tongue. Even his Dragon subsided, confused. For the first time, Brandon wondered if he had made a terrible mistake. If he had misjudged her… offered insult to an innocent person…

  He opened his mouth to say that, but the words caught in his throat. He was an Alpha. A Dragon. Lord of his Flight. Admitting mistakes did not come naturally to him. And yet…

  And yet, Truth was more valuable than Pride. Any honorable Shifter – any honorable man – knew this. If he had made a mistake, he would correct it.

  He coughed to cover his disquiet. Amarie finished unloading her tea tray and scurried off, leaving the two of them alone. Awkward silence fell in her wake.

  Something had to be said. “Why are you desperate?” he asked at last. A hint of a growl frosted the words. Immediately, her eyes narrowed, and he hurried to cut off her outburst. “I understand that I have no right to ask this.” To his relief, her anger dimmed. She had a forgiving soul, he thought, if it took so little to placate her. “But I am curious why anyone would sell a family heirloom.”