by Abigail Owen
Table of Contents
Dedication
Prologue
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
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Epilogue
Preview of The Rogue King
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Discover more Amara titles… Coldest Fire
Red Awakening
Drakon’s Knight
Protecting the Wolf’s Mate
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2019 by Abigail Owen. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.
Preview of The Rogue King © 2019 by Abigail Owen
Entangled Publishing, LLC
10940 S Parker Rd
Suite 327
Parker, CO 80134
[email protected]
Amara is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.
Edited by Heather Howland
Cover design by Mayhem Cover Creations
Cover photography by
Nando Machado and Refluo/Shutterstock
vishstudio/DepositPhotos
Spondylolithesis and OlgaMiltsova/Getty Images
ISBN 978-1-64063-890-7
Manufactured in the United States of America
First Edition December 2019
Dear Reader,
Thank you for supporting a small publisher! Entangled prides itself on bringing you the highest quality romance you’ve come to expect, and we couldn’t do it without your continued support. We love romance, and we hope this book leaves you with a smile on your face and joy in your heart.
xoxo
Liz Pelletier, Publisher
To Valerie.
For being the sweetest friend, naming Camilla, and making sure I got Cami and her family right!
Prologue
Fire raged below Drake in glowing streaks across the greens and tans of the California countryside, black smoke billowing into the blue skies. The heat couldn’t reach him here where he hovered, a useless observer thanks to daylight hours. Damn his blood-red scales that made it impossible to not be discovered when closer to the ground. At least the scales on his underside reflected the sky above him, allowing him to camouflage this high up. As every dragon shifter could do.
From this vantage point, he could see the human hotshot crews scrambling to gouge a perimeter in the earth around the wildland fire. Using various tools, men cut away trees and shrubs and grasses, anything that could be used as fuel, encircling the fire and trying to contain it. Above them, their planes buzzed by at lower altitudes than where Drake had positioned himself. A few dropped smoke jumpers, but mostly the purpose was to dump water and fire suppressants over the blaze in strategic swaths.
Drake’s team of enforcers were there, too. Upholding the laws of the kings and clans was only part of the Huracán team’s job here in the colonies. Hiding evidence of dragon-shifter-caused fires, like this one, was just as important. Maybe more so.
They worked in the center of the inferno, a spot chosen strategically, where humans couldn’t sight them. From there, they labored steadily, pulling the towering flames into their bodies, absorbing them through their scales, as only enforcers had been specially trained to do.
“Papá.” The piercing cry of a woman reached his ears, even this high, thanks to the honed senses of a dragon shifter.
Drake zeroed in on the source of that cry, his enhanced vision catching on the small movement of several humans near what appeared to be a property with several structures. A ranch most likely.
Several humans appeared to be running around randomly, chasing smaller animals and trying to herd them into the back of a truck.
Idiots. Did they not realize the danger they were facing? Couldn’t they see the billowing smoke rising above the trees and growing closer? Hear the crackle of oncoming flame?
Leave the damn animals, he silently urged.
Assessing their location and closeness of the blaze, he knew they were already too late. The direction of the wind and how fast the fire was eating its way across the earth, already converging on the one road he could locate anywhere near the homestead, spelled doom for all in its path. Cold dread settled in his stomach, not setting well with the irritation flaring at their obvious stupidity.
These humans wouldn’t make it out alive. Not in time.
“Boss, I’m seeing a home in trouble.” Drake used the telepathic link all shifters could access when in their animal form to relay the information to his Alpha who was working on the ground, opening that magical channel so all the team could hear as well.
“Are humans involved?” Finn asked.
“Five that I can see, and the fire’s closing in fast. They have no escape route.”
“Who’s closest?”
Drake shifted his gaze to where his team worked, then gave a frustrated grunt. “Me. If any one of you comes off the line right now, we go back to square one. The winds are too high.”
“You know what to do.” Which meant Drake should save them, then wipe their memories. “And don’t get seen.”
“Yes, boss.”
Drake tipped his wings, setting his body into a spiraling dive, then angled his neck to focus on his location.
Fuck.
The fire was getting closer, moving even faster than he’d thought. If he didn’t haul ass, he wasn’t going to get to them in time.
He pulled out of the spiral and pinned his wings back, against his body, stretching out, long and lean to cut down on wind resistance.
At the same time, he did his best to keep his belly facing toward the fire, and the multitude of humans working it. Saving one bunch of humans while getting caught by another group would be a rookie mistake. One he didn’t intend to make. Though, at the speed he was moving, the scales on his belly would likely be rippling with color, unable to keep up with the transition.
He homed in on the family below him. The humans had given up chasing down the small animals.
Goats. They’re risking their short lives for fucking goats?
Maybe he should let the fire have them. Cull the herd of stupidity, so to speak. Despite the thought, something inside him urged him forward. Besides, he was under orders.
The five on the ground could see the flames now.
“Cami!” an older man shouted, urgency and fear giving the words an angry burr, like a swarm of bees whose hive had been knocked down. He was obviously yelling at the woman who was still going after two of the animals not yet rounded up. After one last raw look, the sorrow in her expression scraping along Drake’s nerves, she gave up and switched directions, sprinting for a large pickup truck where the others waited.
Not that leaving now wou
ld help them. However, it did get them all in one place, which helped Drake.
The heat of the fire cranked up a notch or ten, driving his actions. Drake pushed his body harder, faster, ignoring the warning tingle spreading from his right arm and down his spine. Shit.
I’m not even a thousand yet. Without a mate to arrest the process, dragons started aging more rapidly when they hit the millennium mark. Apparently he’d gotten lucky enough to get the early onset version of that crap.
Fortunately, despite the disease eating away at him from the inside, his body hadn’t given up on him yet and he couldn’t let up, or these people would die.
The truck took off, taillights swerving back and forth in the smoke as it fishtailed, tires kicking up the rough gravel of the track leading from the buildings to the road.
They’re not going to make it.
The fire was on top of their truck, cutting off their escape route, licking at the sides like a predator toying with its food. The chemical smell of melting tires filled Drake’s nostrils even as the terrified screams of the humans inside the truck pinged against the insides of his ears.
Almost there.
But he had to slow down or he’d crush the truck and end the humans he was trying to save with the impact. He threw his wings out wide, except his right arm was slower to move, as though he had no command over the limb. The imbalance tossed him into a sharp turn, but he managed to force that wing out and steady himself, then tilted his body back, catching the scorching wind with his wings as the ground rushed up at him.
The tiny sound of a bleat reached his ears, and he zeroed in on the sound. A baby goat standing at the edge of the fire. The animal the woman must’ve been trying to save.
In a split second Drake argued with himself—save the goat and then the humans or leave the goat for the fire. His practical side lost the argument.
The goat was in his path. Dammit.
He dipped on his way past, trees closing in on him, grabbing at the tips of his wings as he forced his way through, and snatched the little creature in one taloned claw, barely able to hold such a small thing given his own size. In the same instant, he realized that the animal was bleating at what must have been its mother. A charred body lay on the ground already consumed by the flames, the stench of death and burnt fur filling Drake’s nostrils.
Drake held on to the wriggling animal and went for the truck next. Except the move to grab the goat had slowed his speed almost too much. Stupid ass mistake. What if saving the animal had just killed those humans?
The flames were all around them now, having hopped the gravel road to the trees bordering the other side. He’d have to come down on top of them.
Drake flared his wings, managed to drop the small goat in the bed of the truck beside a wire pen of more goats that took up most of the back, then reached out with his hind claws and grasped the truck by the sides of the bed before slamming down over the top, covering them all—truck, humans, and goats—with his body.
“What the hell is that?” the woman’s voice demanded over the terrified shouts of the others in the car.
“Es un arbol,” someone yelled. A younger man, by the sound. As long as he’d lived in this country, and with many Spanish speaking rulers in this area over those years, Drake understood the language well.
“No. It’s not a tree,” he could hear the woman answer in English. “It’s…something else.”
So much for not being seen.
The truck’s tires spun, making it difficult to keep his grip, as whoever was behind the wheel hit the gas. At the same time, the driver lay on the horn, the sound blaring through Drake. He winced, even as he had to admit to being impressed. Most humans would be screaming, like the others with her, or passed out in fright, regardless of whether they realized what they were dealing with or not.
Drake tightened his grip—not the easiest thing on metal that slid against the razor tips of his talons—and concentrated on backing the flames off so he could fly them out of there. First, he dragged at the fire, drawing the flames into him through his scales, careful to protect the more vulnerable membranes of his wings, folding them in close to his body. After a second, the flames nearest him reduced in size and backed away, almost like a small creature cowering away in fear.
As the roar of the blaze around him diminished with the retreat of the fire, the sound of a truck door opening and closing reached him. He managed to get his wing out of the way in time before the person caught part of it in the door.
“Get off us,” that same woman yelled.
A small, swift point of pressure on one of the scales covering his left ribs followed by an expletive told him she’d actually tried to kick him.
That had to hurt. Her, not him. His scales were like a living armor. She had spunk, that was for sure. Or was pretty damn stupid. Granted, she was underneath him, but any intelligent person would not attack a dragon.
“I’m trying to help you.” He shot the thought to her, and only her, telepathically.
A hole of shocked silence only lasted a few seconds, then she kicked him again. “Like hell.”
Who was this woman? Idiotic time to be impressed.
He ignored her and returned his focus to the fire. As the flames moved back, he followed, crawling off the truck, creating a wide swath of scorched earth around them, smoke rising from the ashes in curling dark gray tendrils. Once he was satisfied that he could let up and the fire couldn’t get to them, he crawled back.
The humans in the truck stared at him with pale faces, their screams silenced by a fear that stole their voices.
“Cami. Get back in the truck.” The same man who’d yelled at her earlier was yelling again, desperately trying to open his own door, but the metal on that side had melted, welding it shut.
The woman, however, planted herself between him and them. “I won’t let you hurt my family.”
“I don’t have time for this shit.”
He unfurled his wings, and her eyes grew wide, then with one strong down stroke, he lifted into the air. He snatched her up with a front talon, and she went berserk in his grasp, fighting him like a wild animal not ready to give up an ounce of its life.
He held on to her as he landed on the truck, grasping it as best he could with his three remaining claws, the metal screeching a terrible protest as his sharp talons found purchase.
With forceful beats of his wings, he lifted them all into the air. The humans’ cries of alarm mixed with the frantic bleating of the goats in the crate in the back. But nothing came close to the woman still thrashing in his grasp, still fighting for all she was worth.
“Stop that.” He squeezed enough to make it a warning. “I’m trying to save your damn life.”
“Yeah, right. You probably started the fire and are taking us away to eat us.” If anything, she fought harder.
“Keep that up, and I’ll drop you,” he warned. He let her hear, by the tone of his voice, that he wouldn’t care either way.
Except something pinched in the region of his heart. As though a small string were bound to that organ, lassoed around it, and that statement had given the string a sharp tug. Almost like a warning.
Finally, he got them far enough away that he judged he could safely leave them alone. On a road no less, though their truck, with its melted tires and one working door would be worthless. At least they could be found or make their way to civilization from here.
He set down as gently as he could, the truck rocking violently and the suspension squealing and groaning with the impact regardless. With another downstroke of his wings, he released and lifted himself in the air, gliding farther away to land and release the crazy woman as well.
Immediately she ran to the truck to check on what was apparently her family. As soon as she could see they were safe, she spun to face him, eyeing him warily.
And Drake finally pa
id attention. Dark hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, streaks of ash across her face and clothes, and a scowl set to rival his own. But also, the smoothest terra-cotta skin and the softest, deepest brown eyes—eyes that practically begged him to not hurt them, even as they sparked with defiance.
“Are you going to eat us now?” she demanded, tipping her chin up at a rebellious angle. Courage in a teacup of a woman.
Drake snorted, which was about the closest he got to a laugh.
Then he started his shift. What he needed to do next required him to be human.
Mirage-like waves surrounded his body, obscuring the lines and blurring the details as he made the change. Scales and spikes receded to be replaced by skin, and clothes, and hair—the beast hiding beneath the more civilized countenance of a man.
Drake kept his focus on the woman as he changed, almost relishing how her gaze widened in shock, the way she took a step back only to stiffen and force herself to step forward again, not blinking or looking away.
Strength gazed back at him through a veil of fear. Suddenly Drake was gripped by a powerful urge to take both her strength and her fear as though she’d offered them up as gifts, and swallow her up, and sink into her all at the same time.
What would that no-nonsense voice, raspy from smoke inhalation, sound like on a moan of pleasure? Sweet and pure and heady. He hadn’t had a human lover in years.
Rejection shot through him at the thought. He was dying. No way could he drag this innocent creature into that mess. What the hell is wrong with me?
He finished his shift and walked toward her slowly, needing not to spook her, needing to get close.
“What are you?” she asked through lips pinched white, her hands trembling. He still caught a hint of fascination in those soft eyes.
“Does it matter?”
The creak of the one good truck door opening, hindered slightly by the dents he’d put in the sides, heralded the rest of her family getting out of the side not melted. Her father, he’d hazard a guess based on shared physical features, particularly the eyes, though his skin was darker hued, rougher, like he’d spent a lot of time in the sun. Three other men of varying ages followed, but still family perhaps. They stumbled out, staring at him with open trepidation.
