by Juniper Hart
When the war began between them, it waged for a thousand years, the fighting weakening the senses they had honed so well in the caverns of Eden.
And so, like the mortals before them, they failed to realize that there was a danger far greater than the one they had brought to the surface, puppeteering their moves with golden eyes and an ability far greater than anything either realm had ever seen.
They were dragon princes, five in total and hellbent on reigning all, unaware of what lay below. Cursed by a prophet in the time of the Pharaohs, they had wandered the earth: insatiable, longing, yearning, but never knowing what it was they craved so desperately.
The immortals from the underworld learned of the new enemy too late; they fled back for the portal to the caverns, but it was far too late. The dragons had been watching, biding their time as the vampires and lycans fought, waiting for a chance to retreat into the caves in the core of the world.
The dragons crashed through to the world below the surface, breathing fire and killing all who disobeyed them. They were there to reign, and no one could stop them from claiming the society of sorcery and magic.
Granted free monarchy, the creatures grew tenebrous, morose, and evil under the dragons’ rule. There was no more lightness or play—only melancholy and gloom.
For another thousand years, the heaviness weighed upon the inhabitants of Eden, until one day, the last of the fairies came to the high court to tell the dragons something they had never known.
“You have been roaming the high world, searching for something to sate your unquenchable thirst,” Lucia breathed, her wings flittering nervously as she surely anticipated being turned to ash.
But she had the princes’ attention, and she boldly continued.
“You have come here, hoping to find answers,” she said, her words rushing from her sparkling crimson lips, bright eyes dancing from one stoic face to the next. She paused, waiting for affirmation.
“Go on.” The voice belonged to no one in particular, yet it seemed to come from all angles at once. Lucia sighed quickly.
“Your desire is not within the power of your hands. The appetence will not subside as you claim more land or fortune. It will not dissipate with blood on your fangs, nor with beasts cowering in fear.”
“No?”
She inhaled deeply. “No. You each hold the end of your incessant agony in the depth of your hearts.”
A low, dangerous rumble filled the high court, but she remained in place.
“You best elaborate.”
Lucia closed her eyes and nodded, knowing her next words would be among her last.
“You must find love.”
The rumble grew louder, and Lucia suddenly realized that the princes were laughing, a sonorous, terrifying noise that filled her with fear.
“Love?”
“Yes, my lords. Love will—”
She did not have an opportunity to finish her sentence; a bolt of flames shot out toward her, engulfing her in a lick of fire.
The dragons looked among themselves, unspeaking, unmoving. The consensus was clear, even without a word uttered between them.
It was not that the princes did not believe the pixie who had come to ease them of their everlasting pain. The prophet had told them something very similar upon placing the hex upon their heads, creating ungodly creatures who possessed no restraint or control, animals who were plagued with tireless suffering.
No, it was not a question of disbelief.
The brothers simply could not foresee a world where anyone could love a beast.
And for another five hundred years, the dragons stayed in the ruined haven of the underworld, plotting their next move.
The legend of Hollow Earth grew to be nothing more than a fairy tale, folklore to be easily dismissed and never again spoken of, but the princes knew better.
It was their kingdom, a deep, dark hell no woman could ever love.
1
It was a smoldering day, one where neither shade nor fans could possibly allow for a reprieve. Even the bouts of air conditioning were doing little to help with the misery Lennox was experiencing.
He had only been in Louisiana for twelve hours, and he was ninety percent sure he was about to dissipate into the air like the humidity clinging to his red button-down shirt.
I can’t walk into an interview like this, he thought. I need to stop somewhere and shower.
As if reading his thoughts, Castor turned and looked at him from the driver’s seat. “Should we stop at the hotel before your meeting, Mr. Parker? We have time.”
“Yes, please. I’m sweating like a stuck pig,” Lennox replied gratefully. “Why the hell didn’t anyone prepare me for this?” He couldn’t see the driver’s face, but he was sure that the werewolf was grinning.
“You’ve been to New Orleans many times, Mr. Parker. I’m surprised you didn’t remember what it was like.”
“I’ve been everywhere many times!” Lennox protested. “That doesn’t mean I cling to the sensations of every swampy hell I’ve visited.”
“Valid point,” Castor agreed pleasantly.
I cannot wait for this bullshit formality to be done and over with, thought Lennox. It’s ridiculous that I even have to go through this. Damn Wilder to hell for this.
“We’ll be there in a couple minutes,” Castor assured him.
“The air conditioning better be on full blast in there,” Lennox grumbled, but the shocking cold from the vents inside the town car was already doing the trick, and he leaned his raven head back against the seat.
Since flying in from the caves, he had been running around like an idiot from meeting to meeting, jumping through hoops to appease his brother. Lennox didn’t deserve this kind of treatment—he hadn’t done anything wrong. But it wasn’t himself who needed convincing.
One of these days, he told himself, Wilder will get his. Hopefully sooner rather than later, because I don’t want to wait another millennium for his justice to come.
That was one of the problems with being immortal: time had no meaning when death was not inevitable.
Castor steered the car toward the entrance of the Royal Sonesta New Orleans, and Lennox moaned again.
“We’re already here? I am still at least forty-two degrees overheated!”
“We’re here,” the driver confirmed, and Lennox reluctantly reached for the handle to let himself out of the car.
He wasn’t like Wilder or some of his other brothers, who insisted on being waited on hand and foot. Lennox didn’t need the driver to escort him out of the car like some narcissistic movie star on the red carpet.
“I’ll be back quick,” he promised before heading into the entrance of the luxurious hotel.
What he wanted more than anything was to forsake the interview, change into his swimsuit, and go for a dip in the pool before spreading his wings and heading home to the Hollows, where it was cool and eternally dark.
Imagine what Wilder would say to that, he thought with a smirk, even though, instead of being amused, he was bitter and angry. So much that he wanted to smash his fist through a wall.
As he made his way to his suite on the executive floor, he contemplated calling his brother and telling him that he was done being his monkey.
We are all equals, all princes, Lennox reminded himself. Who crowned him king and why didn’t we stop it when we had the chance?
It had all started so gradually, with Wilder acquiring companies here and there while the others pursued other avenues on the Sunside. None of the brothers had noticed that he was becoming a tyrant, a difficult feat to accomplish when they were hardly known for their gentle ways as dragon princes.
Before anyone could realize it, Wilder had taken control of the Sunside, and suddenly, they all had to answer to him. No one could make a move of his own without Wilder’s approval. He assured his brothers that he had complete faith in their abilities to run their own businesses, and yet he continued to pull the reins like the megalomaniac puppet master h
e was.
This trip was just another exercise in this blatant abuse of power.
Moreover, Lennox knew Wilder gave instructions to his underlings to make the meetings awkward, which made the interviews extra humiliating.
He’s such a dickhead. One of these days, the rest of us are going to overthrow his dumb ass, and then where will he be?
Inside his suite, he stared at himself in the mirror, his piercing green eyes staring back with a surprising serenity, not an inkling of the aggravation he was feeling pictured in the glass. His thick mane of black hair was swept against the crown of his imperial-looking head, resting at the base of his neck in one flowing wave. Despite his permanent residence below the surface of the earth, he maintained a healthy glow, his sculpted form rippling in a galvanized hue as he moved.
There was not even any indication that he was on fire beneath his solid chest and muscular arms, both figuratively and literally. Louisiana was too uncomfortably hot for a damned dragon.
Lennox leaned forward to splash cold water on his face, the front of his white shirt spotting with wetness as he relished the cold liquid. It didn’t matter; he had to change, anyway. He eyed the shower wistfully and glanced at his limited-edition Rolex, debating whether to risk it.
I’d better not, he thought glumly, stalking toward the bedroom, where he had hung up the few outfits he’d brought from the Hollows. For all his thoughts about sticking it to Wilder, he knew what would happen if he was late for the meeting, and he had borne his fair share of humiliation for one lifetime. Besides, it would serve those cretins right if he sweated all over them.
Some of his brothers maintained houses on the Sunside, but Lennox still preferred the sanctuary of the Hollows to the mansions on the upper side of the world.
He stripped off his drenched shirt and grabbed a fresh one off a hanger, barely pausing to check himself out as he slathered deodorant under his arms.
In minutes, he was back in the car, and Castor sped off toward the downtown core to meet with Wilder’s people. Lennox was still fuming about Wilder.
“You have any brothers, Castor?” Lennox heard himself asking, and the driver glanced at him in the rear-view mirror.
“No, Mr. Parker. I have sisters. Four of them.” Lennox found himself perking up with interest.
“Four?” he echoed, studying the Lycan with new eyes. He’s not a bad-looking guy. I wonder what his sisters look like. Lycans are notoriously incredible in bed.
“Yes, Mr. Parker. Chandra, Clarice, Coral, and Charisma.”
Lennox cringed slightly at the alliteration of “C” names, but he made no comment on it.
“What are they like?” he asked, half curiously, half to make conversation. The Hollows were a big place, but his part of the world seemed to be getting smaller in regards to the female population. Or maybe it seemed that way to Lennox because he had dated so many of them. In any case, it didn’t hurt to keep his options open, even if it meant hooking up with his driver’s sisters.
Castor didn’t reply immediately, as if he was weighing his answer, and Lennox turned his head to stare out the window. Perhaps he didn’t want to talk about them. After a moment, though, he did answer, and Lennox wished he hadn’t asked.
“Well,” his driver began, “Chandra is married now, and Coral is dating a troll. It’s quite a scandal, but nothing quite as bad as the one you caused when you dated Charisma and Clarice at the same time.”
Ah, shit, Lennox shuddered. How could I have forgotten about the werewolf twins?
“Wow,” he said brightly. “That heat must really be getting to me. Of course I remember the twins.”
Castor didn’t reply, and Lennox idly wondered if his driver would kill him if he could.
Too bad for Castor, he thought. There’s no way to accomplish that. Dragons don’t die.
After a few minutes of awkward silence, Castor drove to the front entrance of a steel and glass structure on the outskirts of Kenner. It was meant to act as Southern Belle’s headquarters, but it seemed more like a modernistic mansion than an office building.
“Should I wait, Mr. Parker?” Castor asked. Lennox shrugged his shoulders.
“I have no idea,” he replied. “You know how these things go. It depends on how much they feel like screwing me over today. Just find somewhere to go and I’ll call you when this hell is done.”
“All right, Mr. Parker.”
Lennox slammed the door and entered the building, exhaling at the air conditioner blasting against his face. He’d have to remember to apologize to Castor later. He should probably find the twins and apologize to them, too.
I just want to ensure I get all the details straight in my head before I do, he chuckled to himself.
He knew it wasn’t a laughing matter, not really, but the women he met had to know that he was not in it for the long haul, no matter what Lucia or the ancient Pharaoh had told him. There would never be a true love for him, and he was perfectly aware of it.
“Ah! Lennox,” Gary Chambers, the chief operating officer, called, hurrying to meet him as he entered the lobby. “Great to see you again.”
“Hey, Gary.” There was much less enthusiasm in Lennox’s voice.
The men shook hands, and Lennox did his best to hide his exasperation as he was led into the boardroom at the end of the hall.
“How was your flight?” the COO asked, and Lennox smothered a sigh. Gary was mortal, and therefore, he was required to plow through the unnecessary pleasantries Lennox despised. Beings from the Hollows knew how to get to the point.
It really is a pity the mortals don’t know about us, he sighed. They could learn so much from us. I imagine they would all try to murder us, too, but still…
“Wonderful, thank you!” Lennox answered with feigned joy. “Glad to be in New Orleans and looking forward to doing business here.”
“Have a seat, Lennox,” said Gary, and Lennox sat down at one of the chairs in the boardroom. “I’m just waiting on Patrick Spencer from legal.”
Lennox felt his back tense slightly as warning bells began to sound in his head. “Legal? Hasn’t all the paperwork been dealt with?”
“It has…” Gary trailed off, and Lennox waited, his eyes widening.
“But?”
“We really should wait for Pat. He can explain everything so much better than I can,” Gary insisted.
“Why don’t you try to explain it, and I’ll see if I can put it together,” Lennox replied caustically, his foul mood returning like a smack to the face. “Or would you rather I just guess?”
Gary cleared his throat and stared at his manicured hands splayed on the table before him.
“There’s no easy way to say this, Lennox,” he began, and his tone was enough for Lennox to know this wouldn’t end up anywhere good, “but Wilder isn’t willing to merge anymore. He has offered to buy you out at a price you will think is—”
I should have known that son of a bitch was going to pull something like this! Lennox nearly leaped up from his seat, resting his hands against the table. “Bullshit! That was not the deal, and he knows it!”
“The offer is very fair!” Gary protested, and Lennox resisted the urge to smash his fists clear through the table to show him precisely what he thought of Wilder’s offer.
But he knew this was just another play by his brother to piss him off.
He has absolutely no use for Amarok Industries, he thought, and the merging was his goddamned idea! What the hell is he trying to pull?
“Well, I don’t know why I even bothered coming down to this shithole state of yours, then,” Lennox snarled. “A phone call would have been nice. A text? Email, maybe? You wasted my damned time for no reason at all!”
“Lennox, you need to understand something,” Gary told him urgently. “Sit down.”
“I’d rather stand, thanks.”
Gary cleared his throat, and this time, Lennox didn’t resist the urge to pound his fists against the surface of the rectangular table. The chi
ef operating officer almost jumped out of his five-thousand-dollar suit, face paling.
“Spit it out,” Lennox said, his voice dead and even.
“If…” Gary swallowed. “If you don’t sell Amarok Industries to Southern Belle Cosmetics, Wilder will force you into bankruptcy.”
Lennox would have laughed if he wasn’t so furious.
“It’s going to take more than his stupid mouth to get me to go belly-up,” he snickered mirthlessly. “Tell him to bring it on.”
Lennox spun to leave Gary in the office right as another man rushed inside the doors. It was Patrick Spencer, whom Gary had been waiting for.
“Sorry I’m late—” he started to say.
“Save it, Patrick. The meeting’s over,” Lennox cut him off, shoving past him and opting for the stairs.
He was furious, yes, but he might also be in trouble. At least, Amarok Industries might be in trouble.
I have a dozen other incorporated businesses, Lennox thought. He just knows that Amarok is my favorite because it’s my firstborn. What a miserable prick. He really gets off on doing shit like this to us. What made him this way? The need for more power? Well, whatever it was, he’s sorely mistaken if he thinks he can just bankrupt me.
But that was hardly the point. It didn’t matter that Lennox had a dozen companies. Wilder had six dozen. He was always going to be a bigger, more powerful and oversized bully, not just to Lennox but to all the princes.
Someone needs to stop him, the enraged dragon thought, bolting down the stairwell, his head thudding. Maybe it is time that we band together and stop this madness.
The problem was, there was no way to stop him. Wilder was too big a force to be overtaken. He and the rest of his brothers were destined to play Wilder’s cat-and-mouse games for as long as he wanted to play them.
2
“Hey, sweet pea, how about another round for us?” the kid with the squeaky voice called at her. He was twenty-one, but he still sounded like he hadn’t gotten through puberty, and his actions suggested the same.
