Dragon Dreams- The Complete Shifter Collection

by Leela Ash

  “Shifter? What’s that?”

  Now he took a step back, alarm spreading across his handsome face. “But you have to be… I mean, I can see your link to the Other Side.”

  “Other side of what?”

  “Oh hell,” he sighed. “You’re one of the Lost.”

  Just what she needed to start the first morning of her new life: a completely psycho conversation. “Well, I’m lost now. I mean, I understand every word you’re saying – and they don’t make any sense. Look, let’s start over, okay? I’ll pretend that you knocked and I’ll say, ‘Hi. My name’s Tess Everlyn. What’s yours?’”

  He stared at her, a picture of bafflement.

  “That’s your cue, Big Guy.”

  “Uh, Darian Morland.”

  “Nice name. You rich? That sounds like a rich-guy name.”

  “No. Well, yes, but… no. Not at the moment.”

  The pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place. And the picture they formed was, well, the typical bull manure that her life was sculpted from. “Let me guess. You come from a rich family. You wasted your money on drugs. No, wait.” No junkie kept himself in peak physical condition like this dude. “Scratch that. You lost it gambling. So you borrowed more from some gang called the Fangs of Apophis. Lost that too. Fangs show up looking for their money, you can’t pay, so you grab your kid and run for the hills. Now you’re worried that I’m some kind of enforcer.”

  He said nothing. Just stood, frowning, arms by his side.

  “How right am I?”

  Right enough, apparently, to send him inching back toward the door. “Miss Everlyn, I apologize for my behavior. I’ve damaged your home, and for that I’m sorry.”

  Calm him down and he shifted from bruiser to Mr. Sophisticate. Tess considered, and decided she liked that. Loved it, really, how he intoned those charming words in his rich voice. She could see the two of them, laughing over wine and filets in some fine restaurant by the beach.

  Okay, I was joking about Bad Choice #13. How about taking a break before you sign on with the next Guy With Issues? Like, a decade or two?

  “You don’t need to apologize,” she said. “Though if you’re short on food, I’ve got a bunch of old MREs. Taste like crap, but…”

  “Thank you, no.” He retreated outside, where the morning sunlight turned his hair into burning honey. “I think it would be best if we each kept to our own property. Please don’t contact my son again.”

  “Hey, he was the one who…”

  The stranger didn’t wait to hear her excuse. Without a word, he turned and left.

  An hour later, Darian still couldn’t stop pacing. A father’s worry combined with muted complaints from his Dragon. Ethan was in danger. The magical part of his soul was certain of that.

  Although he hadn’t fled from a gang, Tess’ story hit too close to home. The truth was worse: he’d fled his responsibilities.

  A year ago, after a decade of silence, the Alpha of his Flight had called him. Brandon Lorde, First of Dragons. He offered shocking news: magic was returning to the world. For the first time in centuries, a Wellspring, a fountain of arcane power, had awoken. As a Dragon, Darian was a sacred guardian. His life, his soul, was forged to defend such magical places. “I summon you,” Brandon had said. “Come, and fulfill your purpose in life.”

  Instead, Darian fled.

  The memory enraged his Dragon, drove it nearly berserk. Yet, he barely sensed that. He rubbed his chest. Beneath his flannel shirt lay a tattoo: an image of his Dragon, in all its golden glory. Marred only by a crude ‘X’ inked across its mouth. A mark, the drug-addled Witch Hare who drew it had told him, with the power to silence a part of his soul.

  He’d paid her a fortune for that spell, and it was worth every penny. Maddened by his betrayal, his Dragon longed to tear itself apart. To shred its majestic wings and turn it – and him – into a Worm. A crippled shadow of his true self.

  It’s what you deserve.

  Even with the muting rune, Darian knew what his Dragon thought of him.

  You don’t understand. He prayed it could hear him, and leave him alone. I couldn’t answer that summons. Ethan depends on me. I’m all he has in this world.

  Silently, the Dragon sneered at his excuses. His soul was a warrior’s spirit, a Protector. It didn’t understand how he could shrink from battle, even to save his son.

  Because that was the part of the story that Tess got right: he was running from the Fangs of Apophis.

  Many Shifters held true to the Old Ways. Packs of werewolves still roamed the wild, free and proud. Bears watched over families, guiding them through the generations. Yet, as the Wellsprings faded, many Shifters lost their path. Seduced by wealth, greed, and power, they abandoned their callings. The Fangs of Apophis were the worst. Led by Worms, fallen Dragons, they sought to dominate all of Shifter kind. To them, a Wellspring was a treasure beyond price. They would kill anyone who tried to keep it from them. A Dragon like him could face them and defeat them, of course.

  But not Ethan. His son was just a child. Small, sweet, helpless.

  Darian would abandon his duties before he risked his son’s life. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing him, as he’d lost Charity, the boy’s mother.

  A distant roar, dim and wordless, warned that his Dragon disagreed with that choice. Violently.

  He didn’t care. Nothing mattered as much as his son.

  That was how they came here to Maine, to the edge of the Hundred Mile Wilderness. At the end of a long, rutted dirt ‘road’ that was little more than a four wheel drive track.

  Now, despite his best efforts, danger had hunted them down.

  With a deep, shuddering breath, he forced himself to stop his endless pacing. That wasn’t true. He didn’t believe Tess had lied to him.

  He tried to convince himself that he had good reason to believe her, and that he wasn’t just charmed because she was such a beautiful woman. Greyhound-lean, with the heart-shaped, delicate face of a princess. Yet beneath her pale, spotless skin lay muscles unusual for a woman. She was strong, not some fragile Disney heroine. Only her hair marred her beauty. Someone – her? – had hacked short those thick, luxurious black tresses. Leaving her face framed by an awkward cluster of close-cut curls.

  Why would she disfigure herself like that?

  He ought to ask…

  Tempting. Darian grimaced as longing and loneliness welled up inside him. He’d avoided women since Charity’s death. The thought of Tess, so close, so friendly, stirred desires that had lain dormant for five years.

  Suspicion doused that hunger like a bucket of ice water on a candle.

  Wasn’t it odd that when he moved to the end of the earth, a lovely woman mysteriously appeared next door? In a place so wild he didn’t think there even was a ‘next door’?

  Destiny? Fate? Darian snorted in disgust.

  No such thing. And the enormity of the coincidence unnerved him.

  Sure, the Lost existed. Children who fell out of touch with Shifter society and grew up never knowing their true nature and power. But what were the odds that one of them would appear on his doorstep? Now, when he was on the run from the Fangs of Apophis?

  No, it couldn’t be. That meant, then, that she was lying to him.

  Again, he couldn’t believe that. Not because of her beauty, though. Because of her… her…

  Sadness.

  Startled by that insight, he paused. Outside the window, Ethan trotted back and forth across the camp’s pitiful lawn, gathering load after tiny load of dry leaves. His son was determined to build a proper pile for them to jump into. Darian waved. The boy didn’t even notice, too caught up in his quest. Leaving him to return to this puzzle.

  Underneath her flippant jokes, sadness wrapped Tess. Not the passing ‘sorrow’ of a child, disappointed by one of life’s little setbacks. No, this was grief. The soul-sickness of a woman who had lost someone she loved. Someone who meant the world to her. He recognized that despair. He knew, fu
lly, deeply, what it meant to wake up every morning to face the same question: how can I go on without them? What’s left in this world?

  Only love – lost or betrayed – gave birth to that kind of grief. The sight of it made him long to trust her. You had to be a good person to feel that kind of love. No one in the Fangs of Apophis would recognize it, or feign it.

  And yet…

  And yet there was no sane reason for her to be here. It had to be a trap!

  Or fate. Or destiny.

  Which he couldn’t believe.

  “Daddy!” Ethan barreled through the door, cheeks bright from the cold. “It’s done!”

  “Your leaf pile?”

  The boy beamed and nodded, stirring a melancholy happiness in his father. When was the last time that he, Darian, had felt such joy?

  “Come see! Come see!” Tugging at his hand, his son pulled him toward the door.

  Darian followed, letting Ethan’s innocent love dispel the gloom that clouded his heart.

  He would do anything to protect him. Anything. Flee Boston and all his wealth. Turn his back on his sacred duties.

  And refuse to trust the woman next door, no matter how gorgeous she might be.

  Chapter 4

  Despite his best effort, Darian didn’t make it to Bangor that day. After only an hour of play, a squall scudded in from the west, bringing icy rain and a sharp wind that scattered Ethan’s leaf pile back into the woods. When they retreated indoors, they found a steady stream of water pattering down from the cabin’s decrepit roof.

  And so, Darian found himself spending the afternoon patching the roof with a tarp and some nails he found in a shed. When he finally came in, wet and freezing, he found his son bored ‘to death’ and sulking over the fact that he didn’t get his promised trip to the Black Bear Diner.

  Some days, it was tough to be a father. Way tougher than being a Dragon.

  Dinner and a bag of candy (hidden for emergencies like this) cheered the boy up. A little. As did the added promise of a few toys. How many toys? A bunch. Enough, he assured Ethan, that he wouldn’t have to worry about dying of boredom every time it rained.

  Once the sun went down, there wasn’t much to do out here. Ethan dozed off by 7:00 pm. Not long after, Darian sought the warmth of his own bed. Worries could wait until tomorrow. Tonight, he just wanted to sleep.

  The dream began in a darkness filled with whispers. Out of them, a deep, inhuman voice spoke, words hidden within a rumble that sounded like thunder.

  Love is the path that leads beyond the past.

  Then a woman, her voice as cold and brittle as frost, replied:

  No Claim without truth, as your Kind is wont to say. Let them see each other clearly.

  Tess opened her eyes and found herself in a ruined garden. Heavy stone walls, thick with ivy, surrounded it. Everywhere she looked she found withered bushes and wilted flowers. A weed-filled path circled a dry fountain filled with dead leaves. Only two things defied the decay. One was the arbor she found herself standing in. Marble and alabaster, it gleamed with a pure, white light that seemed to well up from the stone itself. It held only a broad bed, covered with silken sheets of deepest scarlet.

  The other living thing was Darian Morland.

  Barefoot, he stood on the path below her, naked except for a black sash wrapped around his hips. Though its drapes hid his manhood, it left nothing else to her imagination. Hungry, her eyes devoured the sleek, muscled lines of his calves and thighs. For a moment, her gaze lingered on the sash, and the hidden treasure it teased her with. Then she passed higher, savoring the sight of his flat, hard stomach and sharply chiseled abs. Strong arms, broad shoulders made her breath grow ragged. What would it feel like to have those arms wrap around her? To nestle within their strength, their power? To give herself to them, holding nothing back?

  Warmth spread through her, desire. She shifted slightly and felt cool silk whisper across her nipples, like a lover’s breath. Dimly she realized that she, too, was dressed in little more than a sash draped across her shoulder and hips. White as new snow, her clothing was the mirror opposite of Darian’s darkness.

  As he stood before her, all but naked, she could see that a gorgeous full-body tattoo coiled around his lean form. It was a Dragon, etched in black. Though its body lay hidden on his back, its neck curved over his shoulder and a fierce, regal head glowered at her from the center of Darian’s chest. A long, sinuous tail curled down one arm, from shoulder to wrist.

  It was beautiful, breath-taking, and she wondered how many hours he had spent beneath the artist’s needle to bring such art to life.

  Yet someone had marred it. An ‘X’, harsh and sharp, slashed across the Dragon’s face. Its furious eyes gleamed through those lines like they were the bars of a cage.

  There had to be a story behind that ‘X’.

  “Tess?”

  That word drew her attention to his lips, to his face, and she realized that he studied her with a longing that matched her own. Those broad, luscious lips were parted slightly, proof that his breath was as ragged as hers. Amazed, aroused, he drank in the sight of her curves. As his eyes passed over her, she shivered. She could almost feel his gaze, the softest of caresses passing over her breasts, her hips. Lingering, for one moment, on the secret places hidden beneath her flimsy cloths. Desire flashed through her, fiercely, and she felt a delightful heat blaze between her thighs.

  Three short steps separated them. She walked down them, feeling the rasp of rough stone on her bare feet.

  That was when it hit her: This is too real.

  The thought cast a chill on her rising passion. Something was wrong. The details of the scene – lingering scent of dried roses, the cool moistness of the air – were too vivid. She could feel every inch of her body, from the small hairs on her arm to the pads of her feet.

  Had she ever had a dream so real?

  It seemed that Darian shared her concerns because he frowned suddenly. “Am I dreaming?”

  “No, I’m dreaming,” she assured him. “You’re in my dream.”

  “Uh, no, I think…”

  Before he could ruin the mood, she twined her fingers through his thick, blonde hair and pulled him into a kiss.

  Their lips met, warm and eager. She pressed close to him, savoring his touch, felt those arms wrap around her, just as she’d longed for.

  Then he froze and pulled back. “What’s happening?”

  “See that bed?” She pointed at the silken cushions behind her. “We’re going to make love on it.”

  “But…”

  “Hush.” She tapped one finger on his lips, her eyes sparkling. “This is the hottest dream I’ve ever had. I am not letting you ruin it by talking.”

  Thunder rumbled overhead. No, not thunder. Laughter! Deep, rolling chuckles, like the sky itself was amused by her joke.

  “No Claim without truth,” the thunder said. “Show her your soul.”

  Darian’s blue eyes clouded. Reluctantly, he stepped back and threw his arms wide.

  Rich light poured out of his body, filling his tattoo with its brilliant color. The Dragon, now golden, uncoiled from him and rose into the air. It spread its wings wide, growing, rising higher and higher, until an enormous serpent loomed above them.

  Tess swayed, dizzy with joy. She had never seen anything so wild, so fierce and majestic.

  Yet Darian’s eyes remained fixed on the ground, and the thunder growled another order. “Show her your soul as it is.”

  A black ‘X’ suddenly appeared in the air before the Dragon. It whipped forward, snapping around the serpent’s face like iron bars. Razor-sharp talons slashed at it, but another inky bond appeared, wrapping itself around the Dragon’s wings. It fell to the ground, clawing furiously. More bonds appeared, binding its flailing tail, its razor-sharp talons. More and more, until the Dragon lay still, wound in a cocoon of black lines. From its prison, rage-filled eyes blazed.

  Shocked, Tess stared wordlessly. Who could do that to a Dra
gon?

  As if it could read her mind, the thunder answered her unspoken query. “Every man is the master of his own soul. Could you Claim one so crippled?”

  Before she could answer, harsh, hysterical laughter rang out behind her.

  “Truth deserves truth,” a woman sneered. “Show him your soul.”

  Around the arbor walked an elegant woman. Tall, elfin-thin, she wore a crown and a queen’s regal authority. Like a creature from a fairy tale, she had milk-white skin, black hair that cascaded to her ankles, and glittering violet eyes. Yet, despite her regal elegance, an icy chill surrounded her, as if she was a statue carved from ice.

  Was that… her? Tess couldn’t see anything of herself in that Ice Queen. Then again, what did she really know? How much of her soul, her past, had she buried under that tree?

  “Show him your soul as it is,” the unseen woman commanded.

  Immediately, the vision whipped out a dagger and hacked her hair off at chin level. With short, vicious stabs she began to tear jagged rips in her velvet robes. She raised the knife, and for a moment, Tess feared she would kill herself. But, with a sharp crack, the Fae queen shattered into a million shards of ice.

  Now it was Darian’s turn to stare blankly. The two of them stood, silent, between bound Dragon and broken queen. Somewhere above them, the invisible woman cackled madly.

  Tess looked, from the pile of icy slivers at her feet, to the imprisoned Dragon that raged silently behind Darian. “Wow,” she sighed at last. “Aren’t we a pair?”

  Her quip shocked a chuckle from the man. Oddly, the hysterical laughter above them fell silent at the same time. Someone up there didn’t like other people’s jokes, apparently.

  “Tess, I’m sorry,” Darian said. “This should be something sacred. A perfect, magical moment. And instead it’s just…”

  “It’s life.” A funny thing to say about a dream, but the words popped out before she could stop them.

  He grimaced. “I was going to say ‘a mess’…”