DRAGON’S CURVY FIREFIGHTER

by

ANNABELLE WINTERS

1

FRANNIE

I go to him, but he’s gone before I get there.

I didn’t see him run. I didn’t see him jump. He

was literally there one moment and then not there

the next.

“Frannie! Get outta there!” comes the Chief’s

voice from the bottom of the stairs. The stairs

aren’t burning yet, but it’s getting close.

It’s also getting hot, I think as I feel the sweat

beading under my visor, gathering under my

helmet. This is an old house, and it’s gonna go

down soon. Those stairs catch a backdraft and my

only option is to jump out the second floor window.

Or worse—I’d have to be rescued by my own crew.

No way I’d ever live that down!

“Yeah, coming, Chief,” I answer, my gaze still on

the spot where I saw that naked man, saw his

scarred, broken body, felt the pain in his soul. I was

drawn to him, and I don’t know why. I don’t even

know what I’d have done if he were still here! I’m

strong for my height, but the man was big despite

his ravaged body. No way I’d have been able to

carry him down the stairs without both of us

tumbling head over heels.

Go, Frances, he’d said to me.

Frances. He’d called me Frances, my given name

that nobody ever uses—not even my mother (and

she named me . . .). How the hell did he know my

name? How the hell did he get into the building

when it had already been swept and cleared by the

crew? Most of all, how did he get out?!

“Out! Now!” shouts the Chief as the flames lick

the edges of the wooden stairs and thick black

smoke swirls down from the attic to where I’m still

frozen in time, stuck in space, rooted to this place

like I’m waiting to see if that man comes back.

Comes back for me.

2

FIKUS

“We have to go back!” I roar as my lopsided Red

Dragon flies through the night sky like a bird

wounded by a bad hunter. “She might be trapped in

there! She might burn! We have to go back!”

But my Dragon doesn’t reply. My Dragon never

replies. The beast is hollow inside, like it’s missing a

heart, missing a soul, missing its essence.

The broken beast lets out a mournful screech as

we fly through the dark clouds swirling high above

the burning house below. Through my Dragon’s one

good eye I can see all the way down, and my breath

catches when I see Frances emerge from the

building, helmet off, ax dangling in her hand, her

steps leisurely and non-hurried, like she’s taking a

stroll in the park.

It hurts to look at my mate when I know I can’t

have her, but at the same time I cannot look away.

She can’t see me all the way up here, and you can’t

be repulsed by what you cannot see, right?

“Of course, she already saw me in the flesh,

naked like a madman, scarred like a prisoner,” I

whisper to myself. “Did she recoil at my ugliness?

Run from the horror of my appearance?”

I don’t know the answers to those questions. I am

barely aware of myself these days, ever since I took

the Red Diamond and used it to summon my Red

Dragon from the Outerworld where all Dragons

exist. But I failed to understand that my Dragon

can only be a reflection of me, of the man I am.

A shell of a man, incomplete on his own.

Incomplete without his mate.

Of course, even though my Dragon does not

speak yet, its instincts burn in its belly. That’s why

it relentlessly brings us back to Frances, to our

mate. The foolish beast thinks we can actually

claim her and become complete. The simple-

minded animal does not understand that no woman

wants to be with a disfigured monster of a man.

And so I find myself trapped with a half-baked

Dragon that keeps setting fires in the hope that

Frannie will show up and . . . and what? Save us?

“It is too late to be saved,” I whisper as the

flames slowly fade below us. “I thought the Red

Diamond’s magic would fix what was broken in me,

restore my face and body to what it once was. I

dreamed of walking with long, powerful strides

again, my footsteps shaking the earth. I yearned to

spread my muscular arms out wide again, clench

my fists so tight my big knuckles crack like

gunshots. I imagined my eyes clear and sharp, my

smile full and proud, my cheekbones reflecting the

sun’s rays out to the world. That is what my mate

deserves, not a hunchbacked shadow of a man who

can barely get both eyes to look in the same

direction.”

I steal one last glance in Frannie’s direction, but

she is already out of sight. Then as my Dragon turns

and flies away into the night, a memory of Frannie

comes flickering back to me. A memory that I

didn’t even realize had registered, I was so out of

my senses when I appeared in the burning building.

The memory is there, though. A perfect recollection

thanks to the Dragon’s power of recall.

It’s a memory of Frannie’s expression when she

saw me naked like a demon, crouched like an

animal, muttering like a fool. She was shocked, yes.

But she wasn’t repulsed. She wasn’t disgusted. She

didn’t want to turn and run.

She wanted to stay.

And now a sliver of hope shines its light deep in

my broken heart, and I’m smiling even though we

are far above the clouds, almost outside of the

Earth’s atmosphere.

This is the second fire my Dragon set this week.

The second time I have seen my mate. Will there be

a third? Perhaps.

And perhaps, just like in a fairy-tale, the third

time will be a charm.

3

FRANNIE

“Why can’t my fairy-tale be Prince Charming

instead of Beauty and the Beast?” I grumble as

Ellie puts her hands on her hips and glares at me

from across the room. Ellie looks different, even

though it hasn’t been that long since she left for

Scotland to build a drawbridge, of all things.

Of course, Ellie has lived a lifetime during the

short time she’s been away, and I still don’t believe

half of what she just told me. She’s married?

Pregnant? And yeah, she’s also a . . . Dragon?!

Yes. My nerdy little engineer best-friend says

she’s now a fire-breathing monster straight out of a

myth.

Really?

I’m supposed to believe that?

Hell, I don’t even know what that means!

“Fate has its own plan for each of us, Frannie,”

Ellie says through a long exhale that fills the room

with a smoky aroma, making me wonder if my best

friend really is a fire-breathing beast. Nah. She’s

just under the spell of some Scottish Frog Prince,

and now she wants to set me up with his psycho

brother. “That’s how it was with Addie and

Arthur,” continues Ellie. “That’s how it went with

Bonnie and Brogan. Crane and Callie had their own

struggles. Dorrie and Diesel almost lost each other

before they managed to seize their forever. Then I

told you about Easton and myself. Which brings us

to the reason I’m here.” Ellie sighs again, a dreamy

look coming over her face, her brown eyes shining

with a weird blue undertone which most certainly

was never there before she went to Scotland.

“Frannie and Fikus.”

I stay silent, studying Ellie’s face to figure out

what’s going on behind those eyes that are shining

with an energy I’ve never seen in my best friend.

She smiles, but I sense a fire in her. An edge that

wasn’t there before. A confidence so strong and

radiant I’m almost jealous. Hell, I am jealous! Ellie

got married and is pregnant! Sure, I’m pissed she

didn’t invite me to her wedding, but she said it was

a small affair that I guess was Dragons-only or

some shit. And I’m not a Dragon. Not yet, at least.

Though supposedly I’m gonna be a Dragon at some

point, just like the rest of the girls.

“Look, Frannie,” Ellie says. “I know that

everything I’m saying sounds crazy. I don’t think

any reasonable person would believe me.” Then

she crosses her arms under her boobs and smiles.

“But you’re not a reasonable person, Frannie! Hell,

you storm into burning buildings when everyone

else is running the other way! You trust your sixth

sense to keep you safe, don’t you? So what’s that

sixth sense telling you now?”

“That you got knocked up good and hard and

now you’re bat-shit crazy,” I say through a snarky

smile even though I’m not totally kidding. Just

kinda kidding. I shrug and look her up and down,

my gaze stopping on her beautiful baby bump. I

want my own baby bump, just like my BFF.

Ellie looks down at herself and then sighs in

exasperation. “This would be a lot easier if I could

Change to my Dragon. But our Dragons don’t come

forth when we’re pregnant. Too much stress on the

body. That’s why Easton is standing guard on the

roof. He and his Red Dragon won’t let me out of

their sight while I’m pregnant.”

I raise an eyebrow and glance up at the ceiling of

my apartment building. I’m about to say something,

but I just shake my head and exhale noisily. I don’t

know what to make of all this. I know Ellie better

than I know myself. And I know something’s

changed in her.

Changed for the better.

Changed for the stronger.

Changed for the happier.

I go over everything she just told me, and I walk

to the window and stare out at the little park across

the street. “Fikus,” I say, blinking as the haunting

image of the man in the fire comes back to me. I

haven’t told Ellie about that. Not sure why I

haven’t told her. Maybe I’m just not ready to make

that leap yet. Not ready to say to hell with the real

world and let’s just dive in head-first into a fantasy,

a myth, a fairy-tale.

“Yes,” says Ellie. “Easton says Fikus will be

drawn to you, that his Red Dragon will seek you

out, that the magic of the Red Diamond will bring

the two of you together.” She pauses. “At least we

hope so.”

“What do you mean by we hope so?” I ask,

frowning as I think about the Red Diamond, how

I’d felt its power, felt it pulling me close to Fikus

like a magnet.

Ellie sighs. “Well,” she says, “I guess there’s a

chance you’re not Fikus’s mate. It’s either you or

Gabbie, though. You two are the last of the Sorority

Sisters in that photograph.”

I blink and nod. Ellie showed me that old

photograph from ten years ago. Then she’d shown

me photographs of the girls now: Addie, Bonnie,

Callie, and Dorrie—each of them with their

husbands, each surrounded by beautiful, healthy

children.

Each of them also had that weird light in their

eyes, I think as I glance into Ellie’s brown eyes and

nod again. I know she’s not crazy. She’s as serious

and sincere as I’ve ever seen her, and it’s getting to

me, breaking through the defenses I put up, making

me believe that what I saw in those flames wasn’t a

mirage, wasn’t make-believe, wasn’t a mistake.

It was fate.

It was Fikus.

And he is my mate.

“I saw him,” I whisper suddenly. Immediately I

feel dizzy, like the blood just left my head in a rush.

I know I just made a decision. A decision to

believe.

“Saw . . . whom?” Ellie says, her eyes flashing so

bright I do a double-take. “Fikus? You saw him?

Where is he? We have to tell Easton!”

I blink and swallow. “I . . . I saw him in the fire.

He was so . . . so sad, Ellie. A tortured soul. I could

feel his pain so clearly.” I swallow again as a

warmth flows through me, a desperate need to save

that man, a deep belief that I’m the only one who

can save him. “He knew my name, Ellie. He called

me Frances, my given name. How could he know

that?”

Ellie stares at me like she’s in a trance. Then she

snaps out of it and exhales. “He’s probably been

following you in the weeks since he disappeared.

Drawn to you again and again. What I don’t

understand is why he hasn’t approached you yet if

he knows you’re his mate. Maybe he can’t Change

back to the man?”

I shake my head. “He was a man when I saw him.

Naked and scarred, broken and twisted.” Now I

remember those visions I saw of Fikus from what

felt like decades ago, perhaps centuries ago. I

remember his broad back, thick arms, chiseled

cheekbones. What a man Fikus once was, and I

know that man still lives inside him. Someone just

needs to reach into his heart and find that man, pull

him back out.

And that’s what I do, isn’t it? Pull people back

out from the flames?

Ellie sighs and comes close. She links her arm in

mine, and I’m startled by how warm she feels,

almost like her skin is burning but not with a fever.

I glance into her eyes, and I almost jump back

when I see something move behind her irises. I

squeeze my eyes closed and then open wide again,

wondering if I’m seeing things. Nothing’s moving

now, but there’s definitely something in her eyes. It

looks like a . . .

“It’s my Dragon,” says Ellie with a smile. “Come

close and take a look. It won’t bite.” She blinks and

then holds her eyes open, and when I focus I see

that she’s right. There’s something in there, and it’s

the shape of a Dragon.

I draw back and let out a little snort, like I’m

expecting Ellie to laugh and say “Gotcha!” as she

pops out some fake contact lenses or whatever. But

that little Dragon is alive in there. It’s alive, and it’s

looking at me.

“Holy Mother of . . .” I mutter, shaking my head

and trying to take a step back. But Ellie’s holding

my arm tight, and she’s stronger than I ever

remember. “Oh my God, Ellie. It’s real, isn’t it. All

this shit is real.”

Ellie shakes her head, her eyes sparkling as she

smiles. “You have no idea how real this shit is,

sister,” she whispers. “No fucking idea.”

4

FIKUS

“I have no fucking idea how it started!” shouts

the fireman to his Chief as he directs a pitiful jet of

water at the roaring flames that are licking at the

sides of the abandoned factory my Red Dragon

picked for our third date with the mate we cannot

have.

“We cannot have her, but we can still look at

her,” I whisper as I sit cross legged on the top floor

of the burning factory, old machines looming in the

background like an audience of monsters. Once

again my Red Dragon started the fire and then

retreated to the shadows, leaving just Fikus the man

waiting for his mate. The poor beast believes that

putting me in a room with my mate is all that’s

needed for the Myth of Fated Mates to play out. It

is a pitifully innocent motive, and I cannot blame

the half-baked Dragon that I pulled to me before it

was ready, before I was ready. I misused the power

of the Red Diamond, tried to take a shortcut to my

forever, and now I’m paying the price, a price I

might have to pay forever.

I believed that using the Red Diamond’s magic to

summon my Dragon from the Outerworld would

make me powerful again, perfect again, fix what

was broken. I believed that the Dragon’s power to

heal would straighten my spine, smooth out my

scars, make my eyes burn clear and true. But

instead fate played a trick on me. Now I am

tethered to a hollow shell of a Dragon, a sad,

lopsided creature that cannot speak and can barely

fly straight.

“At least my Dragon has fire,” I say, grinning as

the flames make their way up to the top floor,

warming my body as they draw close. “Even fate

cannot be so cruel as to send forth a Red Dragon

with no fire.”

I’m still grinning as I hear more vehicles pull up

outside. I hear shouts of firemen, sirens of police,

even the whir of what I suppose is a television

station’s helicopter. But I remain still like a yogi,

cross-legged in my spot, unmoved by flames that

are starting to burn hot enough to melt metal. I

glance at the Red Diamond on the floor before me.

It seems to be glowing from the inside, glowing the

way it did when Frannie laid her beautiful brown

eyes on it. She’d appeared mesmerized by the Red

Diamond, her eyes misty and focused like she was

seeing something in her mind’s eye. A vision? But a

vision of what?

A vision of the man you once were, comes the

answer from my silent Red Dragon.

I almost fall over forwards onto my face, I’m so

shocked that my Dragon spoke! I almost shout in

joy, but manage to stay composed and reply.

“That man is dead,” I say softly. “If that is what

Frannie saw in the Red Diamond, then it is just

another cruel trick—this time on her.”

Nothing is more cruel than to be a prematurely

born Red Dragon whose human refuses to reach

out and claim the fate promised to him, growls my

Dragon. Twice I have brought you to our mate, and

twice you have let the chance slip away.

“The chance for what?” I growl back. “Have you

seen what I look like? Have you seen the way I

limp when I walk, the way my back is twisted like I

have been bent in half by the gods? A Dragon’s

mate expects her man to be strong, powerful,

unbreakable.” I grit my teeth and clench my fists.

“And using the Red Diamond to bring you to me

was supposed to make me strong, powerful, and

unbreakable. It was supposed to make me worthy

of my mate.”

You are already worthy of your mate, whispers

my Dragon. That is what fate means. You are both

made for each other. So if fate broke your back

and scarred your body before bringing your mate

to you, then there was a reason for that.

“Nice work shifting the blame to fate,” I grumble.

“Is fate the reason you cannot fly straight, that you

could not even speak for weeks?”

My Dragon is silent, but I feel it inside. Feel it in

a way I didn’t before. The beast feels warm, almost

alive. Like maybe it’s coming alive. Growing into

the beast I hoped it would be.

You are right. I could not speak when I first came

to you from the Outerworld. I barely had the

energy to fly, let alone fly straight, the Dragon

says. But I am stronger now, and that means fate

has not abandoned us yet, Fikus. It means our mate

has not turned away from your broken body, your

twisted face, the self-hatred you carry in your

heart. Is there even room for your mate to enter

your heart? For love to enter your heart?

“I think I liked it better when you could not

speak, Dragon,” I growl as the flames burn closer,

the shouts of firemen get fainter. I still do not hear

Frannie’s voice, and although I am disappointed, I

am not surprised. My Dragon’s words echo the

promise of the Myth of Fated Mates, but I still have

my doubts that the Myth applies to all half-breeds.

Yes, it appears to have worked out for Easton

despite his own scars, his own flaws. But Easton is

the eldest, and perhaps he deserves it more.

Fate would not match you with a mate you do not

deserve, drones my Dragon who seems to have

gone from the dunce of the class to a wise old sage

spewing ancient truths out of his arse.

“Perfect,” I say, regaining my cross-legged pose

and wondering if I will attain enlightenment before

the flames burn through the floor and send me

tumbling down to earth—or maybe down to hell.

“So I should just sit here and wait for what I

deserve? How come that hasn’t worked for . . . oh,

let’s see . . . two hundred fucking years?!”

Fate does not just hand you your destiny on a

platter, Fikus, says my saintly Dragon that needs to

be swung around by the tail and tossed at the

damned wall. Fate makes you work for your

reward. You must earn what you deserve.

“I feel like there’s a trick hidden in that

sentence,” I grumble, shaking my head and finally

letting a hint of a smile break on my face. It is the

first time I have smiled in years, perhaps decades,

and it feels like the first ray of sunlight creeping

into a forgotten cave. I must admit that hearing my

Dragon speak has revived my faith, is making me

believe that just like Easton won his mate, I still

have a chance to deserve my fate.

No tricks, chuckles my Dragon. Other than the

tricks fate plays on all its victims.

I groan and rub the back of my neck. “There you

go again. If I rub the Red Diamond and wish really

hard, can I send you back to the Outerworld?”

My Dragon laughs, and I chuckle too. For the

first time in years it feels like I have a friend. Yes,

there was always Easton, and he was good to me

despite his own private struggles. But this is

different. This is—

I do not finish the thought because suddenly my

Dragon tenses up inside me and all my senses snap

into high alert. But it is not the smell of danger that

has got my Dragon all worked up. It is the scent of

pleasure.

“It’s her,” I whisper, rising to my feet and sniffing

the air like an animal. Her musk comes to me even

through the smoke, and it is sweet like a song,

perfect like a poem, heavenly like a hymn.

My Dragon roars inside me, and now I’m

prancing around the room like a crazed demon,

limping and hopping as my body yearns to dance to

the music that flows to me on the scent of my mate.

I am naked as the day I was born, and it is only

when I catch a glimpse of myself in the shiny metal

side of a machine that I realize that although my

body is still a mangled mess, the most precious part

of my manhood appears to be full of life, awake

with purpose, alive with intent.

“Our mate is here!” I sing.

“Our fate is here!” I croon.

“Our destiny is—”

Then I stop mid-song and freeze mid-step when I

see a line of men in black military gear with no

logos. I frown in puzzlement. I know these aren’t

firemen. Firemen don’t carry guns, do they?

I cock my head as they crouch down and take

aim. This makes no sense, I think. I am no threat,

am I? At worst they might believe I am mad. And

why would they shoot a madman? What did I miss?

“Don’t miss,” snarls one of the men, a bearded

giant who stands behind the line of shooters. “If he

Changes into a Dragon, we’re all toast. Fire at will,

boys. Don’t worry, far as we know, the creature will

heal right up.”

5

FRANNIE

“Right up this way,” says the Chief to the

bearded giant of a man who’s wearing black

military fatigues with no logo. This has sketchiness

written all over it. What was in that old factory?

Some classified government secrets? UFOs? Alien

bones?

I keep my helmet on and watch the Chief escort

Beard-man to where a couple of guys in black suits

are waiting. Blacksuits and Beardman seem to

know one another, and a moment later they say

something to Chief and send him on his way.

“Sketchy as fuck,” I mutter as Chief’s voice

crackles in over my headset. He wants us to clear

the scene, even though the fire is raging like a red

sandstorm. I glance back towards the building, a

strange melancholy rising up in me, a sickening

feeling in the pit of my stomach, a sense that

something is wrong. Very fucking wrong.

It’s a struggle to follow Chief’s orders with my

Sixth Sense going haywire like I’ve never

experienced. Usually that shit comes through as a

hunch, intuition, a sign that something is off. But

this is more than a hunch. It’s deeper than intuition.

And if it’s a sign, the sign says, “EMERGENCY,

BITCH!”

“What did the spooks want?” I say to Chief when

he passes my truck before we saddle up.

He flashes a stiff grin and shakes his head.

“Above my pay grade, clearly.” Then he gestures

with his head. “But looks like they got what they

wanted.”

I follow Chief’s gaze towards a black semi-truck

with a weird-looking trailer—like it’s been seriously

reinforced to be a vault . . . or a prison. A prison for

something big, something strong.

A prison for something that’s mine.

And now that sixth sense is taking over all my

other senses, and I’m absentmindedly stumbling

towards where that truck is stopped at a traffic

light, it’s blinker flashing bright red, so bright all I

can see is red.

One of my crew calls my name, but I wave them

off and break into a dead run. I know it’s crazy, but

all my signals are saying Mayday, warning me I

can’t let than truck pull onto the highway, that

whatever’s on that truck is mine. I don’t even

understand what that means, but I can’t stop

running towards that truck.

I’m fast for someone my size and height, but I’m

still at least a half-mile away. Then the traffic light

flips to green, and the black truck slowly makes the

turn to the highway on-ramp. I’m almost beside

myself as I try to run harder, faster. I wish my feet

had wings. Hell, I wish my entire body had wings!

Suddenly a shadow comes over me, and I glance

up as I’m running. It’s a dark cloud, thick and

ominous, moving weirdly fast through the sky.

What’s even more weird is that it seems to be

directly above me, keeping pace as I run across the

street like a crazy woman in a firefighter’s suit.

“Shoo! Get away from me!” I shout at the cloud,

not sure why I’m yelling at a force of nature. Then

I feel a heavy drop on my helmet, and before I

know it a clap of thunder booms in the sky.

And then it’s raining, and I almost scream in

anger as I feel my jacket and boots get heavy with

water, slowing me down. At first I hope the rain

will slow the truck down, but when I wipe the

droplets off my visor I realize that it’s only raining

above me! How the hell can that be happening?!

Also, I hear thunder again but there’s no lightning.

Doesn’t lightning come before thunder? What the

fuck kinda storm is this?! Where’s the damned—

But my thought is short-circuited by a flash of

light, and I scream in shock as a bolt of lightning

blasts down from my personal stormcloud, striking

me right between the shoulder blades like an arrow,

burning through my jacket like a hot razorblade

going through fresh butter. I brace myself for the

familiar feeling of my skin being burnt, but the pain

doesn’t come. In fact, I’m still running.

Running so fast my feet barely touch the ground .

. .

So fast it’s like my feet have wings . . .

So fast it’s like my entire body has wings.

“What’s happening to me?” I gasp as I feel

something in my body, almost like my body’s

changing, growing, expanding. “Why does it feel

like I’m lifting off the ground?”

Then I make the mistake of looking down, and I

almost pass out when I don’t see my feet at all. The

rain is blasting down from that weird stormcloud,

but I feel like the water is rolling off my back,

bouncing off my scales, spattering off my wings . . .

“Wait, did I just say wings?” I scream. “Did I just

say scales?! Why do I have wings and scales? And

who said that?! I mean, who thought that? Who’s

putting thoughts in my head? Who just—”

It is I, comes a whisper from inside me, a deep,

growling whisper that sends power blazing through

my blood, sends electricity ripping through my

body like that lightning is now inside me. I said

that. I am here, and it would be nice if you said

hello, Frannie.

“Who are you?” I mumble, not sure what’s going

on even though in a way I do. My brain is

combusting like a kitchen with a gas-leak, but I

can’t help but think about all that stuff Ellie told me

about Dragons, about how her White Dragon came

to her when she stood beneath the diamond

chandelier in the presence of her fated mate. Is that

what’s happening to me? And why does Ellie get a

crown of diamonds when I get rain and lightning?

Because I am a Storm Dragon, comes the

whisper. Your animal is not a girlie-girl White

Dragon who gets her cutesy energy from

Diamonds. We get our power from rain and wind,

thunder and lightning. We have the power of

typhoons and tornadoes, sandstorms and

icestorms, earthquakes and hurricanes.

“Earthquakes aren’t storms,” I shout as my

Dragon bursts into full bloom, my wings spread

wide as that stormcloud zaps us with a thunderbolt

and then disappears poof like magic, its work done

for now.

Stop being such a stickler, screeches my Storm

Dragon as she settles into a glide above the black

truck. Now are we gonna save our mate or what?

6

FIKUS

“What’s happening?!” I shout as my body jerks

like I’ve just been electrocuted, brought back to life

by a bolt of lightning. I gasp for air, and then I

shout again as I feel the bulletwounds all over my

naked body.

Instantly it all comes back to me: The men in

black, Beardman telling them to fire at will like he

knew I’d heal, like he knew what I was.

Everything had gone dark when I was shot down,

those bullets ripping through me like fire, tearing

through flesh and bone as my body desperately

tried to heal fast enough. I vaguely remember being

covered in black canvas, strapped into a cart, and

wheeled out to a black truck that looked strong

enough to hold a wooly mammoth.

I’d tried to Change to my Dragon, but although

I’d felt the beast thrashing inside me, I was using

too much energy to heal my wounds. The Change

wouldn’t come. I was too weak. My Dragon was

too weak. It was over, it seemed.

Except it’s not over, I realize as I feel another

blast of lightning jolt my body almost back to full

strength. I feel my wounds closing up as the flashes

of light blind me and warm me at the same time. I

wonder if I’m in heaven, and when I focus my eyes

and realize there’s a gaping hole in the metal roof

of my prison on wheels, I decide that yes, this is

indeed heaven.

“Frannie,” I whisper as I stare up into big eyes

dark as stormclouds, strong wings of black and

silver, talons smooth like sandstone. It’s her. I know

it. I see it. I damned well feel it. “What are you . . .

how did you . . . when did you . . .”

“I’m not sure how to answer those questions,”

she whispers down to me through her Dragon. “All

I know is I got a bit of a makeover since our last

date. You wanna hop on so we can get outta here

before the Air Force shows up?”

I look down at myself, and instantly every muscle

in my body tightens. The Dragonblood in my veins

pumps with fury, and I feel power like I didn’t

know existed in my broken body.

Slowly I sit up and stare at my body. It looks

different. It sure as hell feels different.

“You did something to me,” I mutter, a smile

breaking on my face as I get to my feet and realize

that for the first time in two centuries I’m standing

straight. Standing tall.

My back is straight, my shoulders squared, my

jaw tight and balanced. I clench my fists and feel

my knuckles crack all at once. My forearms are

popping with veins, the sinews stretched and

shaped to perfection. My chest looks like two

wooden barrels, and it feels heavy like those barrels

are full of rock.

“Look at me!” I howl, arching my neck back and

stretching my powerful arms out wide. Tears roll

down my cheeks as I stare up into my mate’s

stormcloud eyes, bask in the electric charge put out

by her Storm Dragon, soak up the energy that I

know is the reason my body is healing so fast,

regaining the strength that runs in my Dragonblood.

Instantly I know my Dragon was right. Fate

always matches you with a mate who brings out the

best in you, brings out the beast in you, brings out

the strength in you. I shout in joy once again, even

though I sense the truck has stopped and we’re

probably surrounded by men in black fatigues. Still,

I know their bullets cannot harm Frannie’s Dragon,

and as for me . . . I am invincible now that I have

found my mate! I cannot die now that I have

something to live for.

Someone to live for.

“Someone’s gonna die,” I growl as the gunshots

start and I see bullets bounce off Frannie’s Storm

Dragon like peanuts at the circus. I know she’s

safe, but the sight of men shooting at her is too

much to handle. I feel my Red Dragon’s strength

building up to full steam, and I know the beast

that’s going to come forth will not be that lopsided,

half-baked creature that was rudely yanked from

the Outerworld thanks to my impatience.

So I close my eyes and nod, and my Red Dragon

explodes into existence, its mighty wings smashing

through the reinforced steel walls of the truck. My

talons rip up the truck-bed, and as I rise up and

look down on the bug-eyed men who clearly were

not psychologically prepared to witness two fire-

breathing monsters with jaws bigger than the truck-

cab, I sigh and prepare to turn them all into red ash.

But just as my Red Dragon prepares to blast these

pipsqueaks with their pea-shooters, I feel a cold

blast on my snout. I recoil and look up just in time

to get doused with another jetstream of ice-cold

water. Rainwater.

“You did not just do that!” I roar to Frannie’s

Storm Dragon, who’s gleefully putting out my Red

Dragon’s fire like this is a carnival game.

“You are not going to kill government

employees,” Frannie scolds as she blasts me once

again, this time getting my Dragon right in the nose

and making us sputter in rage.

“Not my government,” I reply hotly, smoke rising

from my wet head as I shake off the water like a

dog at the beach. “Besides, someone shoots at my

mate, they die. That’s the rule.”

“Oh, right. You guys are European,” Frannie

mutters, rolling her Storm Dragon’s eyes and

getting me with a playful spurt of water. “And

that’s all the more reason to not kill Americans. I

don’t want you starting an international incident in

my hometown.”

I scan the sea of armed men peppering us with

bullets as that television helicopter rolls the

cameras from a safe distance. “I think that train has

already left the station.”

“And so should we,” grunts Frannie. “Come on.

Hey, what are you doing?”

“Just gotta get something,” I growl, arching my

Dragon’s head back into the wrecked truck. I scan

the back where they’d held me, but there’s nothing

there. Certainly not what I was looking for.

“Looking for this?” comes a man’s voice, and I

roar as I whip my head around to face him.

It’s Beardman, and I roar again when I see what

he’s holding.

The Red Diamond.

My Red Diamond.

“Did you know when you woke up that this is the

day you die?” I whisper as I tower above the man

and wonder whether I should burn him like a flank

steak or just rip him to shreds like cold chicken at a

picnic.

I know I’m a ferocious sight, but Beardman just

stares up at me and grins through his beard. It

strikes me as strange that he isn’t scared, but my

Dragon’s rage at seeing him with the Red Diamond

is clouding my judgment. My Red Dragon wants

him dead so we can take back what’s ours, and I’m

more than happy to oblige.

So I blast him with a red-hot streak of Dragonfire,

reaching out with my talon to pluck the Red

Diamond from his fingers before he turns to ashes.

But my talons come up empty, and when the smoke

from my attack clears I roar in shock.

Because Beardman is gone.

And in his place is a Dragon.

A Black Dragon.

And it’s holding the Red Diamond.

Immediately I know that this Black Dragon was

pulled into existence from the Netherworld, has

joined with Beardman. I don’t know much more

than that, though.

And as long as this Black Dragon is holding my

Red Diamond, I don’t want to know much more.

So with a bloodcurdling screech I rip through the

air, Dragonfire pouring from my maws, talons

ripping at his scales, wings and tail slashing through

the burning air as we engage in a battle to the

death.

I feel Frannie blasting us with rain like this is a

dogfight she can break up, but this time it doesn’t

work. My Red Dragon is at full-strength, and our

flame is too hot to be put out by water. Even an

icestorm can’t cool me down now, can’t calm down

my Red Dragon’s bloodlust. Yes, Black Dragons are

powerful creatures, but I am more than a match. I

remind myself that I am not just any Red Dragon. I

have something else in my blood. A darkness mixed

into the Dragonblood. A darkness that is a gift.

A gift to the middle child.

A gift from Mother.

And as I feel that part of my blood come to the

boil, I sink my teeth into the Black Dragon’s tough

neck. The beasts screeches and blasts me with fire,

rips at me with its talons, whips me with its tail. But

I am too strong, and in a moment it’s over. The dark

beast’s neck snaps like a twig, and I arch my

monstrous body back and screech in victory, the

Black Dragon’s dark blood dripping off my long

white teeth and down my jawline.

“I’ll take that, thank you,” I growl, snatching the

Red Diamond from Beardman’s limp talons before

his Black Dragon crumbles to the ground, its weight

rocking the heavy truck.

My Red Dragon stares at the Red Diamond and

then licks its lips before looking for our mate. But

when we see her it’s clear something’s wrong.

“What?” I say, frowning up at Frannie, who’s

gliding far above the scene, looking down like she’s

horrified. “He stole from me. He was a Black

Dragon. What else could I do?”

But Frannie’s Storm Dragon is shaking its head,

and my frown cuts deeper as I try to understand

what’s happening. She’s in Dragon form, isn’t she?

Surely she feels the bloodlust that’s part of a

Dragon’s instincts. Surely she senses that a Dragon

is a beast of destruction, a creature born to destroy,

built to kill.

But it also occurs to me that even though she

knows I’m her mate, she didn’t kill any of my

captors. Yes, she gave chase, risked her safety to

save me. But somehow she kept her Storm

Dragon’s bloodlust subdued. How? That should be

impossible for someone with no experience being a

Dragon! Hell, it would be hard enough even for a

centuries-old Dragon! Who is this woman?

“I’m a savior,” she whispers from high above,

shaking her head as she pulls farther away into the

dark clouds gathering around her. “I save people,

Fikus. I don’t kill people. I can’t be a part of

anything that kills. I . . . I just can’t do it. I’m sorry,

Fikus. This isn’t my fate. I can’t be a creature that

is born to kill. It’s just not in my blood.”

I stare up at my mate as a cloud of despair fills

my heart. “We don’t get to choose what’s in our

blood!” I shout up at her. “That’s what fate means,

Frannie! You can’t hide from your fate! Don’t

leave, Frannie. Don’t leave. Don’t . . .”

But I trail off as Frannie disappears into her

stormclouds, and I stare down at the Red Diamond

in my Dragon’s greedy clutches. Immediately I

think of Father, of how he lost the Red Diamond

and then lost his fated mate, my mother.

“But the opposite has happened to me,” I

whisper, closing my talons around the Red

Diamond, almost hopeful that I can crush it and

blow the red dust away into the wind. “I didn’t lose

the Red Diamond. I fought to keep it, and somehow

I still lost my fated mate. How is that justice? How

is that destiny? How is that fate?!”

I’m surrounded by vehicles and aircraft, soldiers

in all kinds of uniforms, cameras from every TV

station that matters. I think back to how I stole the

Red Diamond from Diesel’s vault, how I tried to

take a shortcut to my destiny. Is that where I went

wrong? Is this another cruel twist of fate that

proves the Myth of Fated Mates does not apply to

half-breeds, does not apply to cheaters, does not

apply to murderers? Is there a way back for me?

Back to my mate? Back to my fate?

“I don’t know,” I whisper, arching my long neck

down in submission and then Changing back to the

man, dropping down to my knees, and surrendering

to whatever comes next.

Even if it’s death.

7

ARTHUR AND ADDIE’S CASTLE

FRANNIE

“So the Black Dragon is dead?” Arthur asks.

I blink and nod, rubbing my arms and then

glancing around the big open room in the castle. I

found Ellie after the craziness at the fire—which

wasn’t hard, since she was looking for me. Stuff

was all over the news in like every country, and

Ellie said we needed to come here, to Arthur and

Addie’s castle.

“And you’re saying the Black Dragon came forth

when the bearded man looked into the Red

Diamond?” Addie asks.

I nod again. “That’s what it looked like. And then

Fikus just went berserk. He killed the Black Dragon

—just broke the beast’s neck.”

“Nice,” growls Brogan, and he fist-bumps Crane

and then Diesel. I stare in disgust at these big Alpha

bro-dudes who think murder is super-awesome.

Then I glance at Ellie like this whole thing is her

fault, like if she hadn’t answered the phone for that

ridiculous job in Scotland, I’d still be going about

my business putting out fires. Now I’m fucking

creating trouble instead of preventing it!

Ellie’s holding a straight face, but I can see

Easton beaming like he’s proud of his killer brother

Fikus. I almost understand it even though I don’t

wanna understand it. I’m no stranger to danger.

I’ve seen more blood than an ER nurse, more burns

than an arsonist. I’ve had men, women, and

children die in my arms because we didn’t get to a

fire in time. Life is fragile, and it’s so, so precious.

Any life. Even the life of a Dragon that’s probably

up to no good.

“So we watched the news footage, Frannie. After

you left, Fikus gave himself up,” Arthur says.

When I just shrug, he frowns and glances at Easton.

Easton shoots me a look like I should fucking

care about Fikus, and it’s all I can do to not storm

out of there. Or maybe storm in here—with my

Storm Dragon. Shoot some lightning up everyone’s

butt to get those judgmental looks off their faces.

“Look,” I say, glancing around the room and then

addressing Arthur, who seems to be the leader of

this crew. “I didn’t ask for this, and I just want out,

OK? No offence, but this Dragon life isn’t for me. I

have no interest in burning shit down. I’m a freakin’

firefighter! How can I moonlight as a fire-breathing

monster?!”

“None of us asked for this,” Arthur says stoically,

his green eyes focused and unmoving. Then those

eyes soften as he glances at some of the other

Dragons in the room, pausing briefly on each

couple like he’s thinking about each of their

struggles, the challenges they faced, the obstacles

they survived. “That’s what fate means, Frannie.

You can’t escape it. You can’t fight it. You can’t

run from it. You’re a Dragon now, Frannie. And not

just any Dragon—you’re a Storm Dragon. You can

use the rain, Frannie! No other Dragon can do that!

Hell, I saw the footage of you putting out Fikus’s

Dragonfire when he was going to kill everyone on

the scene.”

“Yeah, Frannie,” says Ellie. “You saved like a

hundred lives back there. Without you there to

control Fikus’s Red Dragon, there’d have been a

blood-bath. Instead you turned it into a sponge-bath

with rubber duckies floating around!”

I almost laugh at Ellie’s sweetness, but I’m

determined to stick to my guns. I see their point,

but for some reason I don’t wanna back down. It’s

only when I glance around the room again, take in

the sight of five Dragon couples surrounding me

like a family, that I feel a little something giving

way.

And as those storm clouds slowly clear from my

head, my heart starts to beat faster, louder, stronger.

I’m feeling jumpy, agitated, and I rub the back of

my neck and take deep gulping breaths. I wonder if

I’m gonna Change into my Storm Dragon again,

and so I walk to the open balcony just in case.

After all, I still haven’t figured out if my Dragon

only comes forth when I command or if it can just

pop up whenever it feels the urge (which would be

very inconvenient, it occurs to me).

“I did save those soldiers,” I mutter to no one in

particular. “And Fikus was only pissed off because

they were shooting at me. Shooting at his mate. As

for the Black Dragon, what the hell did I expect

Fikus to do? I sure as hell don’t know anything

about how powerful one Dragon is versus another.

For all I know, that Black Dragon could have killed

me if Fikus hadn’t broken its beak. Ohmygod, Fikus

was only trying to protect me, wasn’t he? Which is

what I was trying to do for him when my Storm

Dragon came to me, was pulled to me by my need

to protect my mate, to save Fikus from that truck!

Which means that Dragons are motivated by love

as much as anything else. Love that’s so fierce and

protective that it’s terrifyingly brutal . . . brutal but

beautiful! Love that’s nothing like ordinary human

love, and that’s why it’s so damned scary. That’s

why I ran. I was scared of what I felt. What I felt

for a man I didn’t even know.”

“I think she’s getting it, Arthur,” comes Brogan’s

obvious-as-hell whisper, and I glare at him before

shaking my head and biting my lip. “Now can we

go kill some bad guys, please?”

Crane, Diesel, and Easton all cheer, but Arthur

stifles his smile and raises both arms.

“There aren’t any bad guys,” he says firmly.

“Remember, we already knew that some secret

government agency was hunting for us. We’ve all

been seen or caught on film at some point. It was

only a matter of time before the Agency caught a

Dragon. They’re just doing their jobs. I mean, look

at us, guys! We’re monsters that breathe fire and

plunder anything shiny! Can you blame the

government for trying to either kill us or at least

study us?”

“Speaking of shiny things,” says Easton after we

all laugh. “What about the Red Diamond?”

I frown as I think back. “Fikus took it back from

the Black Dragon’s talons,” I say. “But if he

surrendered, then I guess the Agency has it now.”

“That could be a problem,” Easton says, his

green eyes narrowing as the mood gets serious

again. “If the Red Diamond’s power brought one

Black Dragon into our world, it could happen again,

couldn’t it?”

Arthur takes a breath and rubs his chin. “Perhaps.

We still don’t know how or even if the Red

Diamond’s power summoned Beardman’s Black

Dragon from the Outerworld.”

“Either way,” says Easton. “We need to get my

brother back, and the Red Diamond’s in the same

place.”

Arthur sighs, giving me a sideways glance and

then turning back to Easton. “Your brother gave

himself up when he could have just flown away,

Easton. Why would he do that?”

Easton shifts on his feet and pulls the beautifully

pregnant Ellie close to him. “Fikus got hit the

hardest of us three brothers during the Fall of the

Red Dragons. When Father lost the Red Diamond

and the Red Dragons started dying, each of us half-

breeds suffered through unimaginable pain. Being

half-breeds saved our lives in the end, but we

carried the scars of our family’s shame, of our

father’s guilt.” Easton smiles as Ellie touches his

scarred face, and I feel my heart break just a little

when I think back to when I first saw Fikus, about

how he’d tried to hide his imperfections from me,

how he’d believed his mate wouldn’t want him

because he was scarred and broken.

“Fikus was scarred like the rest of us, but he

suffered more than Gilfred or I did,” Easton

continues. “I believe it was because Fikus was the

only one who inherited Mother’s gift that came

from Dark Magic. That darkness twisted his body

during that time of judgment on the Red Dragons.”

“Judgment?” I say almost scornfully. “Whose

judgment?”

Easton blinks like he’s not sure. “The Red

Diamond’s judgment,” he says hesitantly.

“How does a piece of stone judge anyone?” I

demand, my Storm Dragon growling in my head,

rumbling in agreement as we feel the need to

defend our mate, feel the yearning to make up for

leaving him, abandoning him, forsaking him.

“I never saw the full scrolls that detailed the

Myth of the Red Diamond,” Easton says. He

glances at Arthur. “Have you?”

Arthur grunts. “Not the entire myth. But Addie

and the women found some parts of the Myth in my

library.”

Addie nods, crossing her arms beneath her

breasts and glancing at Dorrie, the Moon Dragon.

“We know there’s a connection with the Dark

Energy of the Moon,” she says as Dorrie nods.

Easton stiffens and frowns as he rubs his chin.

“Interesting. My mother seemed to have a strange

connection with the moon too. Perhaps her Dark

Magic is the same kind of energy?”

Murmurs rise around the room, but it’s clear

everyone’s just speculating. Making wild guesses

while my mate thinks that fate has forsaken him,

that I’ve forsaken him. I yearn to go to him, to

make right what I did wrong. But how do I find

him? How do I save him without killing a whole

bunch of people?

“Can we save the guessing games for the flight,

please?” I say impatiently as the guilt gnaws at me

from the inside. I feel terrible for running, feel like I

turned my back on a burning building. I need to

make this right. I won’t be able to rest until I make

this right.

“Nobody’s flying anywhere,” Arthur says firmly.

“The last thing we need right now is to have a

bunch of Dragons flying around searching for

Fikus. Besides, Fikus is a Red Dragon, isn’t he?

He’ll be safe until we figure out a plan. The

Agency’s priority is to observe and study him, not

kill him.”

Maybe I already killed him by breaking his heart,

I think as I glare at Arthur and then scan the faces

of the other Dragons. Bonnie and Callie have

stepped out of the room to check on the kids, and

something occurs to me when my gaze rests on

Ellie’s baby bump.

“They all have kids,” I mutter to myself. “Their

first priority is to protect their mates and their

offspring. Their Dragons aren’t gonna let them take

any risks. And they certainly don’t wanna risk

leading the Agency back to this castle.”

At first I’m almost pissed off, but I can’t be angry

at them. I felt my own Dragon’s primal instinct to

protect when I chased down Fikus’s captors and

ripped the roof off a semi-truck! I feel how deep

the beast’s instincts run. These Dragons will one

day be my family, but right now this is my fight, my

battle, my fate.

And my goddamn mate.

I launch myself through the window before

letting another thought pass through my mind, and

just as my Storm Dragon’s wings explode out of my

back, I hear Arthur’s voice in the distance:

“Let her go,” he says. “She knows this is her

fight. This is part of her journey to forever. We’ll be

there for her when she needs us. But right now she

needs her mate. And when they find each other,

they sure as hell won’t need us around.”

8

FIKUS

“I don’t need food,” I growl, tossing the plate

across the room. The metal door slides closed with

a robotic whir, and I glance up at the cameras and

wave.

They put me in a fireproof room with walls that

look like they might actually hold a Dragon—for a

while, at least. But there’s no danger of me

Changing to my Dragon in here. What will I do

even if I break out of this cage? Kill everyone in

here, like the beast in me would love to do? Make

Frannie hate me even more for what I am?

“How cruel is fate?” I wonder aloud. “First I was

afraid to show Frannie the man in me, afraid she

would hate my ugliness. Now it turns out she hates

what I thought was the strongest part of me: My

Dragon! So what is the point of breaking free?

Where will I go? Back to Dragonswain Castle?

Back to the loneliness of the South Tower, living

out my days having to listen to the gleeful voices of

Easton and his mate raising their dragonlings?”

Once again I feel the weight of isolation and

loneliness descend upon me. After centuries of

seclusion I was accustomed to the feeling. But now

it is unbearable. Now that fate has teased me with a

glimpse of Frannie, a glimmer of hope that she

could accept me, I cannot bear to return to the

loneliness.

So what options do I have, I think as I look

around the empty metal cell. I will not starve to

death—not with immortal Dragonblood flowing in

my veins. I cannot kill myself—not that I know of,

at least.

“If all you can think about is killing yourself, then

you are already dead, my dear Fikus,” comes a

whisper from my left. A familiar whisper. A voice I

have not heard in centuries, not since I was a

toddler, barely able to walk.

“Mother?” I say, turning sharply towards the

sound of her voice. But all I see is the brightly lit

metal wall of my cage, and I blink and look all

around, wondering if I’m hearing things. But I have

had conversations with myself many times in my

solitude, and I know the difference. It was her

voice, and if so, maybe I am indeed dead.

“That is not what I meant when I said you are

already dead, you silly child,” scolds Mother, and I

raise an eyebrow and frown.

“I am not a child anymore,” I growl, straightening

my back and scowling. “I am over two hundred

years old, Mother.”

“And yet you sulk like you are two years old,”

she snaps back, her tone sharp, like she hasn’t lost

a step in the centuries she’s been gone. “You

inherited my gift of Dark Magic, but sadly you also

inherited your father’s gift of weakness.”

“Weakness?!” I shout, blinking in anger as I

almost let my Dragon come forth so I can show the

ghost of my Mother who I am, what I am, what I

can do!

Mother sighs so loud the light fixtures wobble. I

glance at the cameras, wondering if they can hear

me. Then I wonder if they can hear Mother, and I

hold my breath and listen for footsteps. Nothing,

which doesn’t help me to decide whether Mother’s

voice is outside my head or coming from the

madness inside.

“Or maybe the weakness inside,” I say in a sulky

growl, crossing my arms over my chest—which I’m

pleased to see is still broad like a barrel, tight with

muscle.

“There you go sulking again,” Mother says. “If

only I’d had more time with you, Fikus. Time to

train your gift, learn how the combination of Dark

Magic and Dragonblood could make you the most

powerful Dragon of all, an Alpha like no other.”

She sighs again, and then her voice softens. “When

I speak of your father’s weakness, I do not mean

physical weakness. Neither do I mean mental

weakness. Indeed, you were a smart, powerful little

toddler before the Red Diamond destroyed my

family, broke all three of my boys.”

I swallow hard and blink. I remember little of that

time, but my scars and deformities have never let

me forget what I do remember. “So if you’re not

talking of physical or mental deficiencies, of what

weakness do you speak?”

“A weakness of faith,” whispers Mother. “An

infirmity of belief. It is not your fault. Your father

was not the best role model for you three boys, and

I was taken from you too early.”

I take a breath and shift on my feet. “What

happened to you, Mother? All I remember is Father

losing the Red Diamond and then being ordered by

the elder Red Dragons to recover it by any means.

But he returned empty handed, and two days later

you were gone, Mother. They said you were dead,

but nobody found your body. What happened?”

Mother does not reply, but I feel her presence.

She hasn’t left yet. She just does not want to

answer. “What happened was that your father did

not believe in the power of myth, and the rest of

the Red Dragons believed too much in the power of

myth. In the end everyone paid the price. I could

not save them all, but I saved what was most

precious to me. My three boys. The three of you,

Fikus. That is what happened. I traded my life for

yours.”

I stare into the emptiness, blinking as I think back

to when I’d asked Easton about Mother. We never

understood why she died when the Red Dragons

were wiped out after losing the Red Diamond.

After all, Mother had no Dragonblood in her. If we

survived because our blood was not pure Red

Dragon, surely Mother would have survived, right?

But now I understand, and I nod silently and

swallow the lump in my throat. I am a grown man.

Grown men do not cry in front of their mothers.

“So you traded your life for ours,” I whisper.

“But traded with whom? A deity? A demon? Who

was it that took your life in exchange for ours?”

Mother’s laugh cracks through the air like a whip.

“Do you not know the history of the Red Dragons,

Fikus? Alas, if only I had time to read you boys

some bedtime stories.”

“Now’s as good a time as any, Mother,” I growl.

Mother sighs again. “All right,” she says. “Listen

carefully.”

9

FRANNIE

“Careful!” I scream as my Storm Dragon almost

takes out a flock of seagulls somewhere off the

coast of Italy. Or maybe it’s South America. How

the hell should I know? I’ve barely been East of the

Mississippi. Or is it West of the Mississippi.

Whatever. Every country looks the same when

you’re ten thousand feet above the ground.

You aren’t doing much for the stereotype that

women suck at directions, my Dragon coldly

informs me.

“OK, so I know you’re grumpy because I didn’t

let you eat those seagulls. Or those storks. Or those

dolphins. Or those fisherfolk in their boats,” I say.

“But that’s no reason to start insulting me. And

insulting yourself too, by the way. You’re flying this

thing, remember?”

Am I? Sure doesn’t feel like it, grumbles my

Dragon. Talk about a backseat driver.

“Just shut up and fly,” I snap even as I feel

myself smile through my animal. I am in a hurry to

find my mate, but I’m also learning about what it

feels like to be a Dragon. Clearly a lot of being a

Dragon means wanting to kill and eat every living

thing you see. And clearly I’m getting used to the

feeling, since I think I was drooling a little when

those fat juicy seagulls squawked at us . . .

We fly high above the Earth in silence for a

while, and soon I feel us start to descend to familiar

territory. I’d wanted to come back to my

hometown, back to where I’d last seen Fikus. I

figured we could pick up the trail there, since I had

no other ideas about how to track down our mate.

Thankfully it’s dark by the time we descend close

enough to be seen. All traces of the semi-truck and

the dead Black Dragon are long gone, and I marvel

at how efficiently the government can operate

when it wants. Still, I feel my Dragon perk up as we

come in for a landing, and I know she’s picked up

the scent.

“I knew that big snout would come in handy,” I

say, pleased at how this plan is working out so far.

Now we follow the trail like a bloodhound, and

when we get there we just send a rainstorm in

through the windows and then bust in through the

front door. Shouldn’t need to kill anyone, even

though I’m kinda getting used to that intoxicating

energy that feels like thirst but much more . . .

violent?

It’s called bloodlust, honey, growls my Dragon.

That’s how Dragons roll. Shoulda explained it to

ya, but I thought it would be self-evident. Clearly I

underestimated how much control you’d be able to

exert over my primal instincts. Not to mention

your own primal instincts.

“What the hell does that mean?” I say. “Which of

my own primal instincts was I controlling?”

Never mind, grumbles my Dragon. Let’s just hunt

for our mate, and then you’ll see what I mean.

I almost feel the woman in me blush when I

realize what my Dragon means. And now I think

back that image of Fikus standing tall and strong,

broad and beautiful, like seeing me had broken a

spell, cast away a curse, freed him from a prison.

Certainly I’d felt something when I saw him like

that, but the truth is, I felt the same when I first saw

Fikus—when I saw him scarred and hobbled,

twisted and broken. Did he know that it didn’t

matter what he looked like? Did I know that it

didn’t matter what he looked like?

The last thought sticks with me as my Dragon

sniffs the air again and arches its neck back. I

briefly focus on what my animal is up to, but I’m

quickly pulled back to my thoughts . . . thoughts of

Fikus.

“It feels like I know him even though we’ve

barely spoken,” I whisper out loud. I feel a hint of

anxiety, that human part of me that’s fighting an

attraction that makes no sense, an attraction that

was strong even when Fikus was a hideous monster,

muttering like a madman in the flames. I was drawn

to him then, and I’m drawn to him now. But that

anxiety still nags me, and it’s only when I confront

it that I realize it’s not anxiety at all.

It’s anticipation.

The nervous energy that perhaps a girl might

have felt a hundred years ago, back when arranged

marriages was how it was done. She’d be scared,

but also excited. She’d wonder how she could love

a man she barely knew, but she’d also secretly be

certain she could love him, that loving him was up

to her, not to fate.

I feel my heartstrings tug, and I’m falling into a

dreamy state, my vision glazing over as I imagine

finding Fikus, rescuing him like the firewoman I

am, giving myself to him like the woman I am.

But then suddenly I’m jerked back to the

moment, and my Dragon’s telescopic vision snaps

into focus. The beast is on full alert, its blood close

to the boil, fire licking around the edges of its

snout. We’re no longer in Seeking mode. We’re

now in Destroy mode.

“What’s going on?” I shout as we spiral up

towards the rumbling dark cloud that seems to be

getting bigger. At first I think the cloud is sorta like

the one that gave me power when I first Changed to

my Dragon. It’s only when the cloud gets closer

that I realize it’s not a cloud at all.

It’s a cluster.

A cluster of Dragons.

Black Dragons, dark as the night, deadly as the

dawn.

I don’t know what, when, how, or why. I just

know that this is part of my journey, part of my test,

part of my fight. This is fate testing me to see if I

really am a Dragon, if I really believe in my own

myth, if I’m really willing to embrace all parts of

the Dragon energy, the good and the bad, the light

and the dark, the need to create new life and the

craving to destroy anything that gets in our way.

I rejected that part of me earlier, rejected that

part of my mate, rejected that part of my Dragon.

So now I’m forced to face it head on.

“All right,” I sigh as I open myself up to the raw

bloodlust of my Storm Dragon. “Let’s see what we

can do.”

10

FIKUS

“There is nothing you can do,” Mother whispers.

“This is not your fight.”

“That’s my mate, Mother!” I roar, the vision of

Frannie being chased by Black Dragons enough to

make me want to pull my hair out. I know the

vision comes from the connection my mother has

with me through Dark Magic. I also know the

vision is real.

I spread my arms out wide and call forth my Red

Dragon, but nothing happens. I shout in anger,

command my Dragon to come forth. But I don’t

even feel the beast inside me, and I stagger around

my cage as I shout and stomp in frustration.

“What’s happening, Mother?!” I roar, whipping

my body around the empty cell, my panic and

desperation rising as I imagine Frannie being ripped

apart by those Black Dragons. “Have I not suffered

enough for my fate? Why am I being denied my

destiny?”

“This is how fate works, my son,” Mother

whispers. “Fate forces you to learn and grow, it

tests you and torments you to see what you are

made of, if you are worthy of your destiny.” She

pauses as I punch the steel wall and send pain

shooting through my entire body. Pain like I used to

feel in my old, broken body. Pain that shouldn’t

affect me now that I am . . .

“No!” I roar, staring down in horror as my

shoulders roll forward, my limp reappears, my spine

twists into the shape of a gnarled old tree.

Immediately I understand what’s happening, and I

hobble to the door and start to pound on it. I know

why I just lost my Dragon, why my body is twisting

itself back to the broken form of the Fikus I thought

was dead, the Fikus I thought had been reborn,

cured, set free.

“The Red Diamond,” I rasp. “When I gave

myself up, they took the Red Diamond from me.

The Red Diamond brought my Dragon to me,

brought my mate to me, brought my strength to me.

I just need the Red Diamond, and I’ll be able to

save my mate.”

Finally I hear footsteps outside the door, but just

then my mother whispers some parting words,

words that send a chill up my spine, a shiver down

my back.

“Don’t you see, Fikus?” she whispers from the

shadows of my mind. “Don’t you see that the Red

Diamond itself is a test? Do you really believe that

a shiny gemstone was the source of the Red

Dragons’ power? Is the true source of your power?”

“The Red Dragons certainly believed it,” I growl,

clenching my fists impatiently as the locks and

levers start to whir outside the door. “And they all

faded to red dust when Father lost the Red

Diamond.”

“Did it ever occur to you that the only reason the

Red Dragons died out was because they’d given

away their power even before your Father gave

away the Red Diamond?” Mother says. “The Red

Dragons gave their power away to a stone, Fikus.

And because they believed that their power came

from a stone, when the stone was lost, all was lost.

Your test is to understand that power comes from

you, Fikus. Not a stone. Not your Dragon. Not even

your Dark Magic. Your power comes from the man

in you, Fikus. Fate has tested you like no other,

broken your back and scarred your face. Fate did

its best to break the man in you. But although you

bent, you did not break, my dear son.” Mother

trails off, and for the first time I feel her voice

tremble. “Somehow you clung to life with your

twisted hands, limped through every day even

though your heart was filled with loneliness and

despair. That’s real power, Fikus. That’s real

strength. Yes, you faltered when you stole the Red

Diamond and took a shortcut because you craved a

Dragon’s strength. And fate does not like shortcuts,

and that is why you must now face the test again.

The test to see if you can reach inside your broken

man’s body and find the strength that has always

lived in your heart, Fikus. Find the man in yourself,

and then claim your mate.”

“If she’s still alive,” I growl, shaking my head

even as Mother’s words ring true in my heart. I

look down at my body, hoping to see my chest

expand and straighten out. But clearly I have not

found my power yet.

“Oh, she will be alive,” whispers Mother.

“Remember what I told you about the history of

the Red Dragons, Fikus. Millennia ago the Red

Dragons and Black Dragons were one race. Then

came the Red Diamond and its magic, and the Red

Dragons decided it was a sign that they were the

superior race of Dragons. They started a war and

wiped out the Black Dragon bloodline from Earth.”

“Then who the hell are these Black Dragons?” I

snap.

“They come from the Outerworld, Fikus,”

Mother says. “And they have come to seed the

earth with Black Dragons once again. They are

feral and unmated, pure Dragon energy that seeks

nothing but destruction and reproduction. Of

course, they do not have fated mates, were not

destined to be Shifters, and so they could not enter

the Earth’s realm. Not unless they had a pathway

into this dimension.” She sighs as the door slowly

begins to slide open. “A pathway opened up by

Dark Magic.”

Time stands still as my chest tightens to where I

cannot breathe. “A pathway opened by Dark Magic

. . .” I repeat, my mind racing as I connect the dots.

“The deal you made two hundred years ago to save

your three sons?” I say. “You promised the feral

Black Dragons of the Outerworld a way to Earth?

That was the deal you made for our lives?”

“Yes,” whispers Mother.

“So why did it take two hundred years for the

Black Dragons to get here?” I demand.

“Because I stalled,” says Mother, and I almost

feel her smile ripple through the dimensions.

“Stalled for what?”

Now Mother’s smile shows itself in my mind’s

eye, warming me like the sun. “Stalled for you,

Fikus. Stalled long enough for your mate to appear.

You were the only one of my sons to inherit my

gift, and you will be the only one who can close

that pathway to the Outerworld.”

“What do you mean will be?” I shout as the

voices of men drift to me as the door opens. “What

do I need to do, Mother? Mother? Mother!”

“Crying for Mommy already?” comes a sneering

voice through the secondary door made of steel

bars. I glance up and then do a double-take when I

see that it’s Beardman, the Black Dragon whose

neck I snapped in front of a hundred cameras!

“I killed you—and your Dragon,” I snarl through

the cage.

Beardman leans close, and I smell the vile

Dragonsmoke on his breath. “You cannot kill what

has never been born,” he whispers.

I frown as I think back to what Mother told me.

These Black Dragons are not destined to be

Shifters, not destined to join with humans. Which

means Beardman isn’t human. He’s just a mirage, a

shell, a disguise. I did kill that other Black Dragon.

This is a different one, using the same human

disguise. How are the Black Dragons doing that?

Can they use Dark Magic too? No. They needed

Mother’s Dark Magic to open up the pathway to

Earth, did they not? Which means this strange

power to hide in a human disguise comes from

somewhere else.

Or something else.

My gaze drops down, and then I see something I

didn’t notice at first.

Didn’t notice it because of the color.

It’s black.

Black, though it was once red.

“The Red Diamond,” I mutter, trying to reach

between the closely spaced bars as Beardman

laughs at my pitiful attempt.

“Can you not see through those crossed eyes?”

he growls. “When you surrendered yourself, you

gave up the Red Diamond. You gave it up to me, to

a Black Dragon. It is no longer a Red Diamond. It is

a Black Diamond now. The Black Dragons own its

power, and we will use it to regain what was lost.

Regain it so it can never be lost again. The Black

Dragons will mix their seed with both human and

Dragon, breed ourselves into the fabric of life on

Earth. Neither man nor Dragon will be able to wipe

us out again, because our blood will run in every

vein.” He pauses and tosses the diamond up and

catches it causally. Then he looks at me with a mix

of pity and disdain. “Starting with your mate,

Fikus.”

It takes me a second to realize what he means,

and when I do I throw myself at the cage again,

roaring like a tortured animal as Beardman laughs. I

clearly remember what Mother said about the

Black Dragons from the Outerworld: They are pure

Dragon energy, driven by two simple needs.

Destruction . . .

And reproduction.

And if that group of feral Black Dragons aren’t

planning to destroy Frannie, it means that they’re

going to . . .

They’re going to . . .

They’re going to . . .

“Never!” I roar, gripping the bars of the cage-

door and slamming my head into the metal until

blood pours out of my nose. I search myself for any

sign of the Red Dragon that Mother says lives in

my heart, and I roar again when I look at my hands

and see gnarled human fingers.

I’m almost out of my mind at the thought of ten

Black Dragons capturing my beautiful mate and

using her to breed their dark seed, but just when I

think Mother was wrong, my fate was wrong, that

my destiny is nothing but torture and torment, I feel

something.

I glance down at myself, frowning at the strange

way my heart beats. It is not the heavy pounding

I’d felt when my Red Dragon was with me. This

beat is quicker, almost furiously quick, like greased

lightning. But it is not a panicked heartbeat, and as

the blood pumps through my veins, I feel my

fingers grip the bars with a strength I didn’t have

even as a Dragon.

“What’s happening?” I whisper as the muscles on

my stomach tighten like a washboard. My chest fills

out like two barrels of rock, and I feel muscles pop

all over my arms, rip down the straight of my back.

I think back to what Mother told me about my gift

—the gift of Dark Magic. I’d always known I had

it, but it had seemed weak and erratic. It seemed to

come and go, and I always assumed I didn’t have

much of it in my blood. The only time it had really

worked in a big way was to get me into Diesel’s

vault, back when I believed that the Red Diamond

was my only source of strength.

But I no longer believe that, I think as I glance at

the treacherous diamond in Beardman’s arms, a

color-changing stone of Dark Magic that tricks its

holder into giving up his power, a power that lives

inside, lives in the blood.

And what lives in my blood, I wonder as I step

away from the bars and look down at my thick

arms with veins snaking through the muscle,

furiously pumping and popping as my heart beats

with breathtaking speed. What lives in my blood

alongside the power of the Red Dragon?

“It’s the power of the man in me,” I whisper as I

feel the power of my Dragonblood mixing with the

essence of Dark Magic to strengthen the core of the

man in me, infuse every part of me, from my toes

to my nose, my fists to my face. “And it’s here

now.”

11

FRANNIE

“Here I am!” I screech through my Storm Dragon

as we explode out of a dark cloud, bringing rain and

thunder with us, lighting the darkness with bolts of

lightning.

I’m faster than these Black Dragons, and their

Dragonfire can’t get past my Storm Dragon’s water-

defense. At first I was terrified, but I’m learning

about what my Dragon can do, and the fear is gone,

leaving nothing but the fun of the flight, the thrill of

the fight.

“Though there hasn’t actually been much of a

fight yet, has there?” I wonder aloud as we do a

loop and glide high above the squadron of Black

Dragons. They haven’t broken their formation,

haven’t surrounded me and tried to overwhelm my

rainfire with their combined heat. If they were here

to kill me, surely they’d have tried something

besides the lame-ass fireballs they shot at me when

I attacked them with lightning and rain. What

gives?

“Maybe we’re being presumptuous in assuming

they’re here to kill us, Dragon,” I say to my animal

as we keep a safe distance above the Black

Dragons. “I mean, we’re all Dragons, right? We

should be friends, not enemies! Should we go say

hello?”

Most certainly not. Something’s not right, says

my beast. These Black Dragons are not Shifters.

They are pure Dragon, and they should not be here

on Earth. They belong in the Outerworld. And

there’s something else about them . . .

My Storm Dragon hesitates, and I feel the beast

stiffen, almost like she’s scared. Scared? Why is my

she-Dragon scared when I’m not?

“What is it?” I ask. “What’s the one-more-thing

you were gonna tell me?”

These Black Dragons are all male, whispers my

Dragon. They are all unmated. They are all feral.

And they are all looking at you.

A chill goes through my heart when I realize what

my Dragon is implying. “You mean they’re looking

at you,” I say quickly. “And all they can do is look,

right? Didn’t you tell me that Dragons can only

mate in human form on Earth? So if they aren’t

Shifters, then we’re safe because they can’t take on

human form.”

In theory, yes, says my Dragon, keeping her eye

on the pack of Black Dragons that’s slowly

climbing in altitude, getting closer to us. But I can

smell their intentions from all the way up here.

Something’s not right. They know they aren’t

Shifters, but somehow they still believe they can . .

.

My Dragon trails off, but I complete the thought

like it’s my own. And now I’m scared again, scared

in a different way. Earlier I was afraid for my life.

Now I’m afraid of a fate worse than death.

I scan the horizon as I think of Fikus, and

suddenly I hate myself again for turning my back

on him. Then I immediately decide I hate Fikus for

turning his back on me!

“I thought Fikus and I were fated mates,” I

angrily whisper as those Black Dragons move

closer, so close I can smell their devilish desires in a

way that makes my scaly skin crawl. “How could

we each turn away from the other so easily?”

Fate demands faith, whispers my Dragon. Fikus

believed you would never accept him as a hobbled,

scarred man, so he reached for his Dragon so he

could prove his worth to you. But then you rejected

him when he displayed his strength by killing that

Black Dragon. Both of you showed a lack of faith,

and so fate will continue to test each of you.

“So this is fate testing us?!” I shout as the Black

Dragons move ominously close, so close I can see

their vile yellow eyes, their ragged jaws, gleaming

teeth. I look around desperately for Fikus’s Red

Dragon, and the despair floods my heart, which

only serves to make me pissed off at everyone, fate

included.

But then I feel something move past me, and I

gasp and whip my head around. I see nothing, but I

still feel it. I feel him. He’s here.

“Fikus?” I whisper, blinking my big she-Dragon’s

eyes as I search for him. “Where are you?”

“I’m here,” comes the whisper from close to my

ear. “I’m with you, Frannie.”

“I don’t see your Red Dragon,” I say, looking left

and right again, seeing nothing but Black Dragons.

“Are you wearing an invisibility cloak?”

Fikus laughs in my ear, almost making me sneeze.

“I think that’s from a different fairy-tale,” he says.

“No invisibility cloak. And no Red Dragon either.

It’s just me, Frannie. Just Fikus the man.”

“Did they kill you?” I whisper. “Is this your ghost

talking to me?”

“No and no,” says Fikus. “It’s sort of hard to

explain what I am right now, how I’m here with

you.”

I exhale softly as I feel his presence, the warm

presence of my mate, protective and strong even

though I can’t see him. “Listen, Fikus,” I say. “I’m

sorry I—”

“This most certainly isn’t the time for apologies,”

Fikus says. “Those Black Dragons are getting very

close, and you need to listen carefully and do

exactly what I say.”

“How about you Change to your Red Dragon and

we just break their necks,” I whisper through my

Dragon. “You clearly know how to do that. Show

me, will ya?”

Fikus laughs once, and then he goes silent. “I lost

my Dragon when I gave up the Red Diamond,

Frannie. But I found something else in me, another

power that flows in my blood, is part of the man I

am. You can’t kill these feral beasts on your own.

Even both of us in Dragon form would eventually

be overpowered. But I can kill these beasts as a

man, Frannie. I can protect you as a man if you do

what I say, if you trust me to protect you, have faith

in our fate.”

I feel the strength in Fikus’s voice, and somehow

I sense the personal journey he’s been on during the

time we’ve been apart. I don’t know what

happened, but I know Fikus found something,

found something in himself.

“All right,” I whisper. “Tell me what to do.”

“I need you to lead them down to the ground.

Then I need you to Change back to the woman.”

“Um, sorry?” I say, feeling my Dragon tense up at

the thought of us in human form surrounded by a

bunch of horny dragons. That might work in a

smutty fairy-tale, but it’s not so cute in real life.

“These Dragons need to Change to human form

before they can touch you,” Fikus says. “And I

need them to Change to human form before I can

kill them. The only way they’ll stay in human form

is if you stay in human form. The moment you

Change back to your Dragon, their Black Dragons

will come forth and they will rip me apart and then

ravage you.”

I frown and raise a big she-Dragon eyebrow.

“Um, so the plan is I make myself totally helpless

and vulnerable like bait in a King-Kong movie?

And then you kill all my attackers like a studly hero

while I cover my eyes and scream?”

Fikus is silent for a moment. “Er, yes. Though

you probably won’t be covering your eyes,” he

says. “Remember, once you Change to the woman

you’ll be naked, so you’ll need your hands to cover

your . . . um . . .”

“My boobs?” I snap. “Ohmygod, is this how our

story is gonna play out? I’m a firefighter, Fikus. I

bust through doors and jump out of windows!”

“Why do you jump out of windows?” says Fikus.

“Don’t they have ladders you can use?”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you!” I shriek.

“And I don’t have to explain myself to you,”

Fikus growls. “This is the only plan, Frannie. I

don’t have my Red Dragon, and so you’re going to

have to trust the man in me. Can you do that,

Frannie? Can you trust the man in me? Do you

understand that no creature of heaven or hell will

even breathe on you, let alone touch you? Do you

trust your mate, Frannie? Do you trust our fate?”

I stare into the darkness as Fikus’s confidence

fills my heart, makes me want to believe that the

broken, scarred man I saw huddled in that burning

building will claim our fate from a pack of feral

Black Dragons who want to put me in a sex-

dungeon and turn me into a baby-producing

machine. I almost see the irony in it, and when I

think about it some more I realize with a gasp that

I’m being tested again, aren’t I?

I’m being tested to see if I’m willing to let my

man fight for me. My whole life I’ve been the

fighter, the kickass heroine who saves grown men

who are whimpering like babies. Even the thought

of a man “protecting” me would have made me

snort and scoff and everything in between. But now

I’m being asked to put myself in a position where

I’m truly vulnerable, totally outnumbered and

overpowered, with nothing but one man standing

between me and hell.

Just one man.

My man.

And as I finally understand how perfectly fate

plays its little game, my heart is flooded with a

warmth that I know is love, love for a man who

overcame his own doubts, faced his own

weaknesses, fought for his fate, is fighting for his

mate.

So without a word I send my Storm Dragon into a

spiral-dive that kicks up a little tornado, and I lead

the Black Dragons on a merry ride across the dark

wilderness of the countryside.

“There,” whispers Fikus, and I see what he’s

talking about: A solitary barn that must have been

used when this land was being worked as a farm.

I crash in through the side wall, almost taking out

the entire barn with my big Storm-Dragon. I land

and turn around, screeching as my wings knock

down beams and bales and rusted farm equipment.

I don’t see Fikus, and I don’t hear his voice

anymore. I know what he wants me to do, but when

I see those Black Dragons land one by one outside

and stomp towards me, I swallow hard and back my

Dragon up.

Now’s the time, hon, whispers my Storm-Dragon.

Find your faith. Change to the woman, and the

Black Dragons will Change to men. If you don’t do

it before Fikus appears, the Black Dragons will rip

him apart. He can’t appear until you do your thing,

Frannie. You have to trust that Fikus will show up,

that he won’t forsake you, won’t let you down. This

is fate’s final test, Frannie. The universe wants to

know if you believe in a love that’s nothing like

human love, a love that’s animalistic and primal,

protective to the death, all-encompassing and all-

powerful.

I spread my Dragon’s wings and take a deep

breath. Then I nod and lower my neck, cover my

body with my wings, and surrender to my fate, trust

myself to my mate.

12

FIKUS

I explode onto the scene, naked as the day I was

born, my body burning with ferocious

protectiveness. That protectiveness is what gave

wings to my Dark Magic, and now I know that this

sort of fire comes from the man in me, not the

Dragon. I needed to learn that lesson, see that the

strength to claim my fate comes from the human

heart, not the dragon claw.

I knew that I was risking my life as much as

Frannie is risking hers, because if I showed up here

as a man while the Black Dragons were still in

dragon form, I’d be torn to shreds, every last

fingernail and tooth eaten by those beasts. I had to

trust Frannie as much as she had to trust me.

Doesn’t fate weave a beautiful tale?

But we’re not at the end yet, I remind myself as I

see Frannie sitting behind a bale of hay, naked but

covered, vulnerable but unafraid. She looks radiant

like the sun. She’s glowing like the moon. She’s

beautiful, and she’s mine.

“Mine!” I roar, my powerful fist cracking the first

man’s jawbone like I knew exactly where to strike.

I blink in surprise at how strong my blow was, how

tight my fist feels, how heavy and solid my bones

are. I look down at the human form of the Black

Dragon I just killed with one blow, and I’m not

surprised at what I see.

It’s Beardman.

They’re all Beardman.

“Clearly you guys don’t have much variety when

it comes to human disguises,” I grunt, grabbing one

beast in a headlock and kicking another right in his

bare balls. Clearly the ball-strike hurts like it would

any man, and I savagely kick another Beardman as

I tighten my headlock until that fucker’s neck

snaps.

And then I lose track of myself in the battle, and I

feel my human body become an instrument of

deadly perfection, responding to my every thought.

Every step I take is graceful, every turn of my body

is perfect, every blow I strike finds its target with

lethal precision.

The Black Dragons keep coming like Beardmen

being shot out of a cloning machine, and I roar in

delight as the bodies pile up around me. There’s

blood on my face, bone splinters in my knuckles,

and everywhere I step I’m crunching on bodies. I

can’t even imagine what Frannie’s thinking as she

watches a death-battle where all the men are

naked. Perhaps this was what it was like in ancient

Greece, I think as I grab one of them by the beard

and twirl him over my head before impaling him on

a rusty old pitchfork that seems delighted to be put

to use again.

Blood rains down like a monsoon, and finally I

finish the last man off. I look around to make sure,

and then I raise my blood-spattered arms and grin,

breathing heavily as I stand atop the mountain of

bodies and show off my bloody fists like this is a

fantasy of pure machismo. I wipe my brow, and

only now do I realize I’m grinning like an idiot, my

naked body glistening with sweat, my muscles

pumped and primed with the juices of battle.

“You were magnificent,” says Frannie, her head

peeking up from behind the bale of hay. I can tell

she’s being playful and vaguely sarcastic, but I

know she’s doing it to mask the feeling I see in her

brown eyes.

The feeling of a woman who knows she can trust

her man.

Trust her man to be a man when it counts.

“Sorry for the mess,” I say, stepping on a dead

Beardman’s neck and then stomping on another’s

smushed skull. I glance at the Beardman I impaled

on the pitchfork, and then I scratch my head when I

see another cleaved in half by an old farming

sickle. “Did I do that?” I say. “Huh. Don’t

remember that at all.”

The whole scene feels surreal, like a gruesome

masquerade party, a morbid fairy-tale. But the

moment I step past the last of the bodies, I feel the

morning sun shine on us through the broken walls

of the old barn.

I look down at my body, and I stare as all the

blood from my victims dries up like mud until I can

simply brush it off like dust. In a moment I’m clean

and shiny, and when I look at my mate standing

behind a bale of hay I know this is magic.

Not Dark Magic.

Not Dragon Magic.

Just human magic.

The best kind of magic.

The magic of love.

And so I step forward with all the man in me, and

I sweep my woman off her feet, dip her low like

this is a hay-filled dancefloor, and kiss her hard like

I mean it.

“God, that was a long time coming,” I whisper

against her smooth cheeks before devouring her

soft lips again. “Come here, Frannie. Come here

and stay here.”

13

FRANNIE

“I’m here,” I whisper, smiling through the kiss, a

kiss that certainly was a long time coming. But it’s

here, and nothing’s gonna stop us now. Fikus knows

who he is, and I know who Fikus is:

He’s mine.

He’s mine, and I’m his.

“I can’t believe you’re mine,” he whispers as I

swoon in his big arms, look up into his handsome

face that still carries the scars of his youth, scars

that make him who he is.

I run my hand down his hard stomach, marveling

at the way his body straightened out. But I still see

the broken Fikus I saw huddled in the flames. I see

it because I know that was the source of his

strength, in a way. To have his power and beauty

stolen at a young age almost broke him, but he

somehow hung on until I bounced my ass onto the

scene, fire-ax in hand, kicking down doors and

jumping from windows.

Of course, then I ended up hiding naked behind a

bale of hay while my man engaged in a bare-naked

fight to the death with like a hundred bearded

clones.

“There aren’t any more, are there?” I whisper as

Fikus runs his hands down the small of my back

and firmly grasps my bum. Slowly he spreads my

rear crack, and I gasp and groan and try my best to

stay coherent.

“There’s at least one left,” Fikus growls into my

hair. “Once we kill him, we’ll need to close the

portal to the Outerworld so no more of these feral

beasts get through. But the Outerworld can wait. I

need to explore your Innerworld first.”

“Um, I think you’re the feral beast I need to

worry about right now,” I moan as Fikus fingers my

rear like he’s the wildest of them all. “Did one of

those Black Dragons bite you and turn you into a

sick monster? I thought you were a Scottish

gentleman.”

“Do you see a kilt?” Fikus rasps as he fingers my

asshole and licks my face.

“Could you wear one sometime?” I mutter, my

eyelids fluttering as the most filthy arousal rips its

way up my spine. “No underwear, please.”

Fikus kisses me deep and hard as he presses his

erection flat up against my stomach, his heavy balls

rubbing against my mound in the most delightful

way. “No man worth his balls wears underwear

beneath a kilt,” he mutters.

I almost come at just the thought of my powerful

mate wearing nothing but a kilt, his masthead

raising the tartan like a battle-flag as he charges in

for a full-blown Scottish invasion of my Inner

World.

The thought makes me giggle, but it quickly turns

into a gasp when Fikus grabs my buttocks, lifts me

off the ground, and tosses me into a haystack.

Immediately he grabs my ankles and raises my legs,

and before I can sound the alarm his tongue is

already setting my bushes on fire.

“Oh, hell, Fikus,” I groan as he holds my legs up

and spreads me so wide it’s filthy as fuck. He licks

me with the flat of his tongue, each stroke rough

and hard. My slit is so wet I can feel myself

dripping down to my asscrack, and when Fikus

slides his stiff tongue into my cunt I arch my neck

back, bite my tongue, and come like a she-beast in

the prime of her heat.

Fikus roars as I squirt all over his scarred face,

and then he rams his face into my bush and drinks

from me like I’m a river, lapping and swallowing

my juice like a depraved creature of the night.

I come again as Fikus drives two fingers up my

rear as he sucks my clit and makes me claw at the

haystack like a witch about to be burned. Then he

rises up and clambers onto the haystack, straddling

me with his thick thighs as he massages my breasts,

pinches my nipples, strokes my neck, and finally

leans in for a wonderfully wet kiss that’s sweet with

the flavor of my own tang.

Fikus towers above me as he presses his knees

down on either side of my body. I’m totally held

down, and I love the feeling that I can safely submit

to this man. I watch as he rubs his heavy, dripping

cockhead all over my nipples, coating me with his

pre-cum, marking me with his seed. His cock is

thicker than my wrist, and I just stare open-

mouthed as he drives it between my boobs and then

snakes it up along my neck, past my lips, and

straight down my throat with such power my eyes

almost pop out of my head.

Somehow I manage to hold on, and when he

draws back halfway I fist his cock with one hand

and cup his balls with the other. Fikus arches his

scarred body back and lets out an unholy roar as I

massage his big balls. Then he caresses my cheek,

strokes my hair, and slowly entwines his fingers in

my tussled locks.

We move in rhythm as the sun rises behind us,

and Fikus carefully fucks me in the mouth as I look

up at him in wide-eyed ecstasy. He’s so deep his

balls hit my chin with every stroke, and when he

comes it’s all I can do to keep my throat open and

swallow what feels like a gardenhose exploding in

my mouth.

Fikus pulls my hair and shouts as he finishes

down my throat, but when he pulls out I’m stunned

to see he’s still hard as a rock, his cock throbbing

like it’s only just getting started, his balls heavy like

there’s a lot more seed he needs to put into me—

put into every part of me.

“I need to claim you completely, Frannie,” he

groans as he drags his oozing cock down past my

stomach. He taps his cockhead on my clit, making

me yell in pleasure while he fingers my slit until I’m

dripping for him. Then he sets himself up at my

ready entrance, and with a powerful thrust of the

hips he’s inside me. All the way inside. All the

damned way.

14

FIKUS

I’m so deep inside I swear I’m claiming new land

in her, breaking new ground, going where no man

could ever go. She’s mine so completely I can

barely control my shouts and roars, most certainly

cannot control how deep and hard I’m driving into

her.

I hold her wide, strong hips down on the hay and

pound her with everything I have. She’s a Storm

Dragon, and I know she can handle all my thunder.

So I shout again and ram deep into her warm pussy,

taking her again and again until finally I can hold

back no more and I explode in her depths, flood her

valley with my seed, fill her so completely she’s

overflowing down my shaft, all over my balls, down

to the dirt floor of the old barn.

I finish with a groan, and I hold myself inside her

and caress her curvy body as she shudders through

her own climax. I watch her pretty face twist into a

grimace of ecstasy, and when I see her groan and

open her eyes, I smile and then pull out.

I’m still hard and ready, and the urge to claim her

once more burns through my body. In the

background I feel a fiery energy, and although I

sense that my Red Dragon is drawing near once

more, will rejoin its human once I have claimed my

mate, I could not care less. Yes, I am delighted to

have my Dragon back, but I also know what the

man in me can do.

Still, the Dragon is most certainly back in me, and

I smile wide as I feel the beast’s animal energy join

with the Dark Magic that flows in my blood. I look

down at my mate, wet and delicious, moaning and

writhing in the throes of passion, and I know I have

to take her where she hasn’t been taken yet, claim

the forbidden territory of her glorious rear.

So I flip her over on the haystack, raising her bare

rump and bringing my cupped palms down smack

on her bottom. She yelps and turns her head, and I

massage her ass until she flashes a shuddering smile

and then hunches forward so her butt sticks up for

me.

I spank her twice on each cheek, firmly and

carefully, watching in delight as they shudder and

shake in the most wonderful way. Then I grab her

rear cheeks and spread her to reveal that perfect

dark pucker that shines like the full moon in a

nightstorm.

“You are so damned beautiful,” I groan as I circle

her rim with my pinky finger, tap it with my thumb,

and then slowly push my middle finger inside until

she tenses up and then relaxes. “That’s it, Frannie.

There we go.”

I’m knuckle deep inside her, and I hold my finger

steady as I rub her wet mound from below,

gathering the clean, sticky combination of my seed

and her juices that still ooze from her slit. I lean

forward and kiss her rear pucker, lick that dark rim,

and finally coat her with our natural lubricant. Then

I place my big cockhead against her asshole, and

slowly open her up with my thick shaft.

It feels so tight and warm I’m coming before I’m

even all the way in. But my orgasm comes like a

neverending freight train that’s got no brakes, and I

spank Frannie’s upturned ass as I fill her anus until

she’s overflowing past my thrusting cock, down her

thighs, coating my balls as I pound into her.

She’s coming too, and we climax together as the

sun rises in the sky. When I finally collapse on the

hay and pull my mate against my heaving chest, the

sun is directly overhead.

We stare into the sun with wide-open eyes, and it

takes me a while to realize that this is the first time

in my life I’ve been able to do what Father could

do!

“It’s the mark of a Dragon,” I whisper, stroking

Frannie’s hair. “Father used to stare at the sun for

hours when we were kids. We’d all try to do it, but

couldn’t last more than a moment.”

Frannie looks up at me and then lays her head on

my chest. “You’re not just a Dragon,” she says

after a while. “You’re more than a Dragon.”

I frown down at her. Then I sigh and lean my

head back. “Yes. There’s something else that runs

in my blood. From my mother’s blood.” I frown

again as my hand rests on Frannie’s healthy round

belly. I already feel my seed taking to her ready

womb, and I know that according to the Myth of

Fated Mates, the first coupling always results in

children.

Children who will be the most powerful half-

breeds ever to walk the Earth.

Children with the combined power of three

magical bloodlines: Storm Dragons, Red Dragons,

and Dark Magi.

I smile down at Frannie, and slowly I tell her my

history, my tragedy, my story.

Which is now our story.

But when I get to the end, we both know that the

final words are yet to be written.

There’s still one Black Dragon roaming the Earth.

There’s still a pathway to the Outerworld that

needs to be closed with Dark Magic.

“But those final chapters are not part of our

forever-story,” I whisper as I cradle Frannie’s belly.

“Our duty is now to each other, and to our children.

We’ve won the battle for our forever, and the next

battle is another Dragon’s fight.”

Frannie places her hand over mine, and I see the

Dragon in her eyes, the soon-to-be mother-Dragon

in those eyes. She understands the all-

encompassing instinct to protect her young, my

need to protect my family.

“Another Dragon? You mean your third brother?”

Frannie asks softy.

“Gilfred. The youngest,” I say with a grin. “He’s

only a hundred and ninety-eight.”

“Where is he?”

I shrug. “Probably in some casino somewhere.

Don’t know for sure. But it doesn’t matter. His fate

will track him down.”

Just like our fate tracked us down.

Tracked us down and tested us.

Tortured us and tricked us.

But we’re still here.

And so is our forever.

EPILOGUE

LAS VEGAS

GILFRED

“This is taking forever,” I groan, tapping my

fingers on the green velvet cushion of the blackjack

table. I want to draw down on my account with the

casino, but the dealer is whispering something to

the pit-boss and they’re looking at a tablet screen. I

know what that means. It means I’m done for the

day. Fuck, cash goes fast when you’re losing,

doesn’t it?

I sigh and prepare to slide my big body away

from the table. I have plenty of loot in my vault,

but that’s way out in a desert canyon, and besides,

this casino isn’t going to accept a hunk of gold or a

big-ass emerald for a bet. Yeah, I’m done for the

day. Maybe I’ll head to the craps tables and watch

other people lose their money. That sounds nice.

So I grab the couple of chips I have left and head

to the craps tables. But immediately I freeze in my

tracks, my toes curling up and almost ripping

through the shoe leather as my cock does the same

in my tailored pants.

“Holy Mother of Everything That’s Dark and

Delicious,” I mutter as I stare at the most beautiful

ass this side of the moon itself. Strong, luscious

curves, and hips a man can really dig his claws into.

Fuck, I need to sit down before I faint. Maybe I

should also tie myself down so I don’t put my

hands—and my cock—where the sun don’t shine.

I’m staring like a pervert at a peepshow, and I

think I’m actually drooling down my stubbled chin.

I wanna lean in and smell her hair, press my cock

against that curvy ass, reach around and squeeze

her boobs, line my King of Spades with her pretty

little slot machine and press every button until the

bells start to ring.

“My lucky day,” I say casually as I grab some

dude by the collar and yank him back from the

craps table so I can stand next to this honeysweet

jackpot of a woman.

She turns to me and glances down at the couple

of chips in my hand. “Doesn’t look like it,” she

says with a half-smile. Then she looks into my eyes,

and every bell and whistle, siren and signal goes off

in my head, my heart, and my fucking soul.

“You’re my . . .” I stammer, blinking and

swallowing like I’ve just been punched, slapped,

and kicked all at the same time. I don’t know how I

know something that I didn’t even believe was true,

but I know it. I fucking know it.

This woman is my mate.

I’m about to grab her hand and pull her away

from the table so we can talk. Of course, I don’t

know what the fuck I’m gonna say, but I sure as

hell can’t walk away from her.

“Listen,” I start to say, but immediately I’m

interrupted by a voice from the other side of the

table.

“Place your bets before the wheel spins,” says a

bearded man in a black suit. He’s wearing

sunglasses, like he doesn’t want anyone to see his

eyes. That only matters in poker, but whatever.

“Nah, we’re gonna sit out this round,” I shoot

back at him.

“Broke again, Gilfred?” sneers the man, and I

stiffen at the mention of my name. I’m something

known around town—mostly because I lose big and

keep coming back for more. But there’s something

about his voice that makes my skin crawl.

Something hollow in his voice, like he’s a man

without a heart, a creature without a soul. Just a

shell. A vehicle. A disguise.

“I’m never broke,” I growl. I know I should

ignore this fucker, but I don’t stand down. I’m

happy to leap across the table and pound his face

into pulp if it comes to that. Fuck, with this wild

energy flowing from the sight of my mate, maybe

I’ll do exactly that so I don’t waste time talking.

“Tell you what, Gilfred,” says the bearded man.

“I’ll front you this round. I believe in your luck.

Here you go. Catch.”

I blink in surprise as the man tosses something

across the table. But my reflexes are lightning

quick, and I catch it before I even know what it is.

“What the hell?” I mutter when I look down at

the hard, black object in my hand.

“Ohmygod,” says my mate. “Is that a . . . a

diamond?”

I nod as I stare at the black diamond that feels

strangely warm in my hands. Then I glance up

towards the bearded man, but he’s gone.

I scan the crowd, but Beardman is nowhere to be

seen. I’m still holding this black diamond, and my

head starts to spin at the strange coincidences that

just popped into my life. I remember my older

brother Easton talking about shit like this, weird

coincidences that appear like magic. That’s how

fate works, he used to say.

My frown cuts deeper as I absentmindedly rub

the black diamond, and then as if in a daze I let my

gaze wander until I’m staring into the shining stone.

I see my own reflection in the diamond, and to my

left I see my mate’s reflection.

But then, as I stare at the stone, both our

reflections disappear.

Disappear into pure darkness.

Disappear into nothing.

Poof!

And then they were gone.

FROM THE AUTHOR

OMG, I don’t wanna end this series!

But yes, the

DRAGON’S CURVY MATE

Series

will end with

Gilfred and Gabbie’s story

in

DRAGON’S CURVY GAMBLER

.

Hope you enjoyed the ride!

Love,

Anna.