KISS OF FIRE
A Dragon Shifter Paranormal Romance
Catherine Vale
GROWLING ROMANCE
Website: http://www.CatherineVale.com
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Kiss Of Fire
A Dragon Shifter Paranormal Romance
Catherine Vale
Copyright © 2016, Wildfire Press
Website: http://www.CatherineVale.com
There's nothing sexier than the kiss of a primitive, dangerous, and irresistibly gorgeous shifter, especially one with the power of the dragon...
When Arianna finds herself face-to-face with the gorgeous castle blacksmith, Craig James, she feels such an intense connection to the man that she is left stunned, unsure what the hell is happening to her. He's not just remarkably handsome, he also possesses an irresistible charm, that leaves her powerless to resist him.
Arianna isn't your typical insta-love heroine, yet Craig isn't your everyday hero. Not only is he interesting and mysterious, but underneath those blacksmith clothes, he's a powerful dragon shifter... a gorgeous beast of a man, who is willing to fight for the woman he loves.
What begins as a one-night stand, quickly turns into something more, as Arianna finds herself thrust into the middle of a world filled with mystery, and magic, where tales of flying dragons and dangerous witches come to life, and where nothing is ever what it seems.
Can she bring herself to accept the illusive Craig James for what he really is, or will she be too afraid to believe in the magic that brought them together?
The fires of passion have never burned brighter, the scorching flames fanning the hunger that burns within until there is only one thing left to do: Give into it's power, or lose the chance to be loved unlike ever before.
Copyright © 2016, Catherine Vale. All rights reserved.
Published by Growling Romance
Edited by: Cass Lockhart
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, brands, incidents, and places are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction. The publication/use of these trademarks is not associated with or sponsored by the trademark owners.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite book retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
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Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
About The Author
Other Books by Catherine Vale
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Chapter One
The wind rushed past Arianna's face, tangling her hair. It was cold, but there was no place in the world she'd rather be. She was flying over the Scottish countryside, cradled in the claws of a beautiful dragon.
The dragon rose suddenly, and she gripped the cold cage-like talons. Above her, the moon sailed clear of its scrim of clouds, casting the world in a silvery light. She should be terrified, but she wasn't. Her heart swelled with emotions: awe and wonder at the sheer beauty of the night, of the land below them. Gratitude for the chance to take this ride, something she'd never imagined would ever happen. And grateful for love.
Love for the man who let down the walls surrounding his heart, and let her into his world, the world he'd kept secret for centuries. She loosened her grip on the talons and leaned back as they spiraled up toward the moon. This was bliss, as close to heaven on earth as she could ever imagine.
Then the world tipped crazily, and she was falling, tumbling through the cool night sky, the ground rushing up to meet her. She screamed, but the rushing wind tore it from her lips.
The world went dark.
* * *
Arianna Langer looked out of the plane window at the land below. She was almost there, almost to Inverness, on the last leg of her journey to Castle Nathair, hidden deep in the wilds of Scotland. The book she'd been reading rested unnoticed on her lap as she gazed out over the gray-green landscape, the mists and fog that hung in the hills, fading out over the water. All of it sent a thrill through her, set her heart beating faster.
“Miss? Please fasten your seatbelt.”
Arianna looked up at the smiling woman leaning over her seat. She had the distinct impression the flight attendant had made this request more than once. She nodded, marked the page in her book with care, and fastened her seat belt. She gave one last look out the window before turning back to the book.
It was a history of the area, one of dozens she owned. But this book was special. Professor Doncaster had given her this book after he'd become her thesis advisor. In one of their first meetings she'd told him her interest—her passion, really—was to research the legend of Castle Nathair—the Castle of the Dragon. He'd peered at her over the top of his wire-rimmed glasses.
“So, Arianna. It's the Castle's legend then that's caught your interest?” He sipped his tea, dark eyes twinkling. “You know I did my thesis on Castle Nathair.”
“I do. That's the reason I'm so happy to be working with you. It's your book that inspired me to make Castle Nathair the subject of my research.”
Professor Doncaster nodded. “It's a fascinating castle.” He leaned closer. “And you'll be looking at it from a woman's perspective, which will be uncharted territory.”
“How do you mean?” She took a sip of tea. Professor Doncaster was known for being a bit oblique at times, and now she patiently waited for him to explain.
“Well, it's the romance of the whole legend, I suppose. The lord of the manor cast under a magical spell, unable to reveal his true self to anyone. His love, his loss.” He waved his hand between them. “I studied the architecture, the battles nearby, the castle's place in such a turbulent time in Scottish history...the masculine side of history. But with your research and study of the man and the legend, that's the other side of the equation.”
“I guess I didn't think about it like that. But it is the legend that intrigues me. Was there anything else you learned about him?”
Doncaster rose, moving to a shelf behind Arianna. She turned, watching as he ran one finger over the spines of the books. “You read as much as I
know in this...” He pulled a volume from the shelf, handing it to her. It was his book, the history of Castle Nathair, the one she'd read so often her copy was beginning to fall apart.
“I know the man I’m interested in is Ross Cameron, and that his father, Lawrence, built the castle, apparently leaving it unfinished. There was a not so small inheritance for his son. Apparently the mother died in childbirth. Then the trail goes cold.”
She opened the cover of the book, and gasped. It was a first edition, in mint condition. Closing the book gently, she rested her hand on the cover.
Doncaster took his seat. “There's really not much written about the son...Ross Cameron. There’s a vague reference in the parish records in 1768, but it’s not a record of his death, but of someone else. A woman.” He shrugged. “She wasn’t a person of interest for me, so I did no research on her.”
Arianna was disappointed, but not surprised. Chasing threads that weren’t part of the core research had led her astray before. At the end of the meeting, Doncaster rose, and walked her to the door. He'd picked up the book she'd left on her chair. “And to inspire you, I'd like you to have this.” He handed her the first edition. She took it, her fingers trembling
“Thank you, Professor. This means so much to me.”
“You're welcome, my dear. I'm honored that I had some small part in inspiring you. And I hope you enjoy the book…and your adventure.”
Her thoughts came abruptly back to the present as the wheels of the plane touched the runway, bounced once, and then they were on the ground. She tucked her book safely into her bag. As soon as she could, she moved down the aisle, eager to get outside, to breathe in her first breath of Scottish air.
When she'd gathered her luggage in the terminal—one small suitcase of clothes, and one larger full of books and research notes—she stepped out of the airport. Even though she was standing on concrete, trying to hail a cab, she was delirious. She was here, in Scotland.
Chapter Two
The taxi took her to the small inn she'd found online. The last time she'd traveled, in Italy during the summer after high school, she'd been foolish enough to try to find the hostel she was staying at on her own. A shopkeeper had told her it was just a short distance. She'd spent most of the day wandering up and down alleys and through plazas in the blazing sun before she'd found it.
The inn was small and quaint, just what she was looking for. She wanted to immerse herself in the locale, sink into Inverness, and the countryside.
A man had carried her bags up to her room, and she spent a few minutes sorting through her research and books, setting some on the desk beneath the window, putting a few on the bed to read. She’d spent hours agonizing over which books to bring. In the end it had been Doncaster’s, of course, and a slender volume about magic and myths of Scottish castles she’d found at a second hand store on campus. It was one of the few that mentioned the local legend of the castle. She’d bought at a whim after flipping through the chapters, then tossed it on her desk and forgotten about it.
The light was fading from the sky, but it seemed too early to go to bed. There was a building across the road, low and white-washed, small windows blazing with light. She watched the people milling about on the sidewalk, some going inside. Whatever was happening down there, it looked interesting.
But she turned away. Tomorrow was going to come soon, and she was anxious to see Castle Nathair for the first time, and to get stuck into her research.
She climbed into bed, setting her alarm. Professor Doncaster’s book lay on the pillow but she reached past it, picking up the other book. She flipped to the chapter about Castle Nathair. There wasn’t much, just a few pages. It spoke of magic and dragons, of a lord cursed by a witch to spend eternity as a dragon, unable to leave the castle, unable to change back into human form.
A newspaper clipping fell out of the book, yellowed and tattered. She’d never noticed it before. Carefully she unfolded the paper, spreading it out on the bed, scanning the words.
It was from a local Inverness paper, several decades old according to the date at the top of the page. As far as she could tell, it was a kind of human-interest story. The reporter was interviewing an elderly man about the castle.
She leaned back against the pillow, holding the article, avidly scanning the faded print. The man interviewed said when he’d been a young man, the locals had claimed to have seen things at the castle, more specifically, a dragon flying in the sky. No one had ventured up to the property in ages to investigate out of fear. It was believed the dragon would kill anyone who came onto the property.
The article ended on a rather skeptical note, claiming the only “monster” in the area was in Loch Ness, and that the locals here were trying to capitalize on the proximity to Inverness and Nessie by creating the myth about the dragon. The reporter left it up to the reader to decide, but she felt the whole tone was pretty dismissive.
She folded the paper, sliding it back between the pages of the book. It fit, more or less, with what she’d read in her books. She took out her notebook, making a note to check the library for more newspaper articles, and the family name of the elderly man mentioned in the story.
It was another lead. She set the books on the bedside table, turned out the light, and pulled the covers over her shoulder. The words she’d just read kept running through her mind, the old man’s tale of seeing a dragon in the sky over the castle. She wished she could show the clipping to her mother and get her feedback on what it all meant.
Damn. With a start she sat up. She'd completely forgotten to call her mother when she'd gotten settled, and she knew her mom would worry until she was sure that her daughter had arrived safely in Scotland. Flipping on the light, Arianna got out of bed, hunting down her cell phone. Mentally she counted the difference in time between Inverness and Nova Scotia, where her family lived. Fumbling through the unfamiliar series of numbers to dial international, she finally got the call to go through.
“I’m so happy you called!” Her mother's voice sounded far away. “How was your flight?”
“It was good. Long, but good. I'm sorry I didn't call right away, Mom. I got carried away...”
“In a book, I'm sure.” Over the fuzzy connection she heard her mother's laugh. “I know you well enough by now, Arianna.”
“I think I found a lead.”
For the next few minutes she shared with her mother what she'd discovered, and her plans to follow up on the lead. Her mother, as always, was encouraging, and just as curious as Arianna to find answers.
“You better get some sleep. Call me, if you can. I love you, Arianna. I'm so proud of you.”
“I love you, too, Mom. I'm not sure about reception at the castle...”
As if on cue the call dropped off. Sighing, she plugged the phone into the charger. Conversations with her mother were one of her favorite pastimes, when she could find the time. Her few friends at the University weren't in the same department she was, and while politely interested, weren't as enthralled with the history of obscure Scottish castles. Besides that, they were all busy with their own research. And the only other girl in the doctorate program was secretive about her own research, and way too competitive.
She climbed back into bed and thought about her life in Nova Scotia, Canada. It was a strange life at times, she had to admit. She spent more time in the past than the present, probing and poking at the lives of other people, long dead, almost re-living their lives. In some ways it had isolated her from her peers, set her apart. And more often than not, left her feeling lonely, as though no one would ever understand her, or her incredible passion for retracing the lives of those left out of the history books.
Punching her pillow in a weak attempt to fluff it out, she turned over. She was here, in Scotland, on the verge of the biggest adventure of her academic life. Excitement raced through her, and she forced herself to calm down. It took a long time, but she finally drifted into sleep.
She dreamed of a dragon in the air
, circling the castle, flying lower and lower, until she could see the scales on its belly, the talons on its massive feet. As she stood in the moonlight, the dragon scooped her up and carried her into the night sky, far away from the city, leaving it all behind.
Chapter Three
Arianna was up early, anxious to get to the castle, to start this adventure. The innkeeper yawned as he took her key, setting it in one of the cubbyholes behind the desk, the fob hanging over the edge. It was quaint, not having a plastic key card in her purse, to stay at a place where you left your key with the desk, retrieving it when you returned. It made her feel looked after in a way she'd never felt in chain hotels in Canada.
The sun was playing hide and seek with the mists, coloring the sky yellow, tinged with rose. She turned away from the sun, taking the road west, following smaller and smaller lanes, until she was certain she'd missed some crucial turn.
But she turned once more, and there it was, Castle Nathair, sitting on a rise, looking down over the river and fields. It seemed smaller than she'd imagined after looking at photos online, and in her books. Even though the castle was lit by the morning sun, its dark stones made it look black, and ominous. She felt like a cloud had passed over her, and she shivered.
The lane that led up to the castle was narrow and bumpy. The building and grounds were on the Scottish National Register, but the place had a rundown look. The grounds were overgrown, tufts of grass sticking out between the stones in the yard. She pulled up near the front entrance, parked and grabbed her bag. She got out and looked up at the facade of the building.
It was the right place. The plaque mounted into the stone by the large wooden door announced that this was indeed Castle Nathair. Grasping the huge bronze handles, she gave an experimental tug. The door didn't budge. She pulled harder, but it was clear they were locked.
Kiss Of Fire (BBW Dragon Shifter Paranormal Romance): Dragon Shifter Romance Page 1
