Dragon Fever: Limited Edition Holiday Romance Boxset

by Serena Meadows

  “This is Mr. Sasha Bobrovsky,” the colonel, Nick Donovan, assigned to instruct them said briskly. “He is currently the Russian PM and dictator for life. He is not a nice guy, so do not be fooled by his baby blues. He is one mean son of a bitch and employs men who are just as vicious as he is.”

  Outside the building, thunder rumbled, a sharp coughing bark that rattled the windows. Drake glanced at the darkness outside, though the time was only two in the afternoon. Rain slashed down the glass, creating miniature rivers that flowed to the ground below. The storm had arrived nearly an hour before and made no signs of letting up.

  “Now, at last count,” Donovan continued, pointing at Bobrovsky’s picture, “he weighed over two hundred pounds while standing less than five foot nine. Unless he discovered the merits of the Keto diet, he’s a short dude with a big belly and an ass like a Quarter horse.”

  “The latest Internet and news shots of him showed that he was still overweight,” Smithfield added from his perch on the side of the room. “Those were only yesterday. He may try to raise his height with lift shoes to disguise himself, but he should still be easy to spot.”

  “Um, what’s a Quarter horse?” Ronan asked, sheepish.

  “Stick around down here in Texas a while, and you’ll see plenty,” Donovan replied. “Until then, just imagine a big butt. Now, let’s have a look at Mr. Moon.”

  His laser pointer flicked onto the other picture. “This is our beloved revered leader from North Korea. Short lil man with a huge ego, but the ego might be hard to use to identify him. He might be easier to spot by this here birthmark on his neck.”

  The pointer circled over the small half-moon shaped birthmark on the round-faced Asian’s neck. “He may well cover that with makeup, or he may not. It’s too high up to cover it with his shirt and tie, and his ego may forbid him to hide it. But others before us have used it to identify him in past assassination attempts.”

  “Then we should expect him to cover it,” Kane remarked. “It’s foolish not to.”

  “But as it looks like a moon, and that happens to be his name,” Donovan replied, “he thinks that mark makes him divine, descended from Buddha or some such. Hence, he may not.”

  Another crash of thunder, sharp and cracking like the whip of the gods, punctuated Donovan’s words. He jumped with a muttered, “Shit, that was close,” while almost every head turned to glance out the window. Lightning flashed amid the dark storm clouds, and another barking cough rattled the glass.

  A soldier in uniform entered the room and bent to whisper in Smithfield’s ear. He stood, glancing at Drake and his companions. “We have an emergency. I will be right back.”

  He and the soldier left the room. Donovan continued as though there had been no interruption.

  “Now, while these gentlemen won’t be accompanied by their respective security forces, as that will draw unwanted attention, they will travel with bodyguards and advisors.”

  Clicking a remote, Donovan brought up another series of photos. “This is Sergei Antonov, Bobrovsky’s right-hand man. He is absolutely loyal and must also be eliminated. Memorize his face, boys and girls; he is as dangerous as his master. If he remains alive, he can still trigger a nuclear war.”

  Drake studied the man’s face, his dark eyes as human as a reptile’s. “I will know him again.”

  “As will I,” Neil added. “He looks like a snake.”

  “Possibly because he is.”

  Donovan began explaining the other faces of Bobrovsky’s guards, as well as those of Moon’s. “These guys will kill you as soon as look at you—”

  Smithfield returned to the classroom. “Sorry, Colonel, but I need your students.”

  “Of course, General.”

  Drake eyed Smithfield in curiosity as he made his way to the front of the room, his shadow eclipsing the faces on the screen. “This city of San Antonio is experiencing terrible floods right at this moment,” he said. “Unfortunately, the local fire and police departments are handicapped, and no choppers can fly in this heavy wind and rain.”

  Drake met Jude’s eyes, frowning. “You need us to fly in it?” he asked.

  “Yes. The local creek running past this base has overflowed its banks, and several civilians are trapped. They will die if they aren’t rescued.”

  “You do know we’re supposed to keep folks from knowing we’re dragons, right?” Kane snapped. “We fly in there and hoist people to safety, it’ll be all over the news that dragons exist.”

  “We’ll have to risk it,” Smithfield went on. “It’s dark and raining heavily. We’ll rig you with ropes, and you can lower rescue baskets. They may not realize they aren’t being rescued by choppers.”

  “We can’t fly with added weight,” Jude protested. “Just how far do we take them?”

  “Only to the nearest high ground,” Smithfield answered. “Lower them to safety, then release the ropes. And get out of sight.”

  Kane looked toward the ceiling at the sound of yet another round of crashing thunder. “It’s dangerous for us to fly in this weather, too. But what the hell. Let’s go, lads.”

  Drake stood up as Emily seized his hand. Gazing into her deep and worried blue eyes, he cupped her cheek with his palm. He smiled. “I’ll be back.”

  “Be careful.”

  He winked. “You got it.”

  Striding beside Jude, Drake speculated on why Smithfield would willingly risk the knowledge of their existence getting out. “Why us?” he asked.

  “I’m asking myself the same question,” Jude replied. “Maybe we’re simply convenient.”

  “And their own people can’t rescue these folks?”

  Jude grinned. “I’m up for the challenge.”

  Smithfield led them out into the driving wind and rain to cross the tarmac to an airplane hangar. Blinded by the cold wet, soaked to his skin in seconds, Drake ducked his head to keep the rain from his eyes. Thunder crashed overhead, and the thought of lightning striking as they ran in the open flicked through his mind.

  In the shelter of the hangar, he stood dripping, wiping water from his face, and glanced to where uniformed airmen laid out straps and ropes on the cement floor. Oblong wire baskets had already been attached to them with heavy clips. Smithfield led them to the assorted rigging, then turned to say, “I’m told the people are trapped on top of their vehicles in the creek, and the water is rising fast. They are just to the south of the base, so you should be able to locate them easily.”

  “I’m not sure I like this,” Drake muttered. “It’s almost like some sort of test.”

  “Maybe it is,” Jude replied as Kane shifted into his dragon.

  The airmen paled, their eyes bugging from their heads, and several backed away from his huge form. Others stood their ground, yet when Ronan also shifted, they, too, seemed ready to flee.

  “They won’t harm you,” Smithfield barked. “Get those ropes rigged to them, pronto.”

  Drake and Jude also shifted, padding over to the petrified airmen, looming over them as they stared upward in near panic. Without the ability to speak and reassure them, Drake simply lowered his bulk to make it easier for the humans to throw the ropes over his broad shoulders. Once the men were occupied with their task, they seemed to lose some of their fear.

  Kane led the way from the hangar, his great wings beating strongly to carry him out into the raging storm. Drake followed on his tail, yet soon lost him to sight once he hit the skies. Forced to work much harder than normal in order to not be blown head over ass by the wind, Drake turned south.

  Blinking cold rain from his eyes, buffeting by the horrible wind, he swooped low over the ground. The creek flowed just under him; a mass of gray rushing water choked with debris. Further downstream, he caught a glimpse of Jude fighting the wind to hover over a car nearly buried under the water. Two people stood atop it, at risk of being washed into the flood.

  Observing yet another vehicle with a female and a child standing on the submerged roof, Drake banked
toward them. The basket bumped in his wake, tossed about in the powerful wind. Angling the contraption so the wind carried it to them, he beat his wings hard to keep himself in place.

  The rushing water up to her knees, the woman fought to maintain her balance, her child in her arms. As the basket dropped into the water and rushed toward her, Drake lowered his head.

  Let’s go, lady, I can’t hover for long. Through the heavy rain, he watched her all but throw herself and her child into it. The ropes tightened painfully across his shoulders once their weight settled into the basket.

  Their combined heaviness was almost too much for him. Drake beat his wings hard to gain enough altitude to get the woman and child free of the overflowing creek. Banking east, blinking the rain from his eyes, he saw a number of people standing near emergency vehicles, their lights flashing in the gloom.

  Let’s hope no one looks up. Heading toward them, Drake cleared the creek, and banked over the road. He lowered his body, and thus the woman and her child, until the basket rested on the pavement. Then he jerked on the tether with his talons.

  The ropes slid free of his body. With a groan of relief, Drake rose sluggishly into the storm. The woman disentangled herself from the fallen ropes and picked up her child again. The emergency workers ran toward her, and as far as Drake could tell, none looked up into the storm to witness that a dragon and not a helicopter had rescued these people.

  Rising higher, he noted Jude and Ronan also lowering their burdens not far from the ambulances and firetrucks. Kane flew free, banking toward the base while Neil flew toward the safe ground with a shivering human at the end of his ropes. Trying to circle, Drake watched him also lower his cargo to the asphalt not far from the emergency vehicles.

  As Neil, Jude and Ronan released their ropes to fly higher and out of sight, Drake banked into the wind to follow Kane. Feeling satisfied with what he and his friends had done, he was glad to have saved the woman and her kid. She wouldn’t have lasted very much longer. They both would have drowned. All of them would have died this day.

  A bolt of lightning sizzled close by, blinding him at the same instant he felt a solid thud strike him like a huge hammer. Unable to keep his wings working, stunned and numb, Drake felt himself falling, dropping from the sky. Fighting against gravity’s evil pull and to remain conscious, he hit the rushing floodwaters of the creek.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Ronan

  Drake!

  Ronan watched the floodwaters close over Drake’s body, tumbling him helplessly along the deep flow of the creek. Roaring, flaming the alarm, Ronan dove toward his friend, not knowing if Drake was even still alive. The lightning hadn’t struck him fully, Ronan thought, but had hit close enough to maybe knock Drake unconscious.

  His roar and flames got the attention of Neil and Jude, both of whom banked around toward him, fighting the wind. Not knowing where Kane was, Ronan circled low over the creek, searching for any sign of Drake. Unable to see him, he feared the savage current had pulled him under and trapped him below the surface.

  There. Drake’s dark form partially rose amid the debris as it tumbled out of control. Diving toward him, Ronan flared his wings as he neared Drake’s body, slowing his pace in order to grab him with his front talons. The fierce current dragged Drake below again, making Ronan curse inwardly. Where are you?

  Suddenly joined by Neil, Ronan met his anxious gaze, then turned back to the rushing, deadly creek. Circling as best they could under the onslaught of the wind, blinded by the rain, they both watched for any sign of Drake. Then Jude appeared further down the flood, his flames signaling for Ronan and Neil.

  Drake surfaced again, now lodged firmly against something under the floodwaters. His wings, buffeted against the current, were too fragile for Ronan and Neil to seize. Had they grabbed Drake by his wings, his own weight would shatter the fragile bones within and their talons would rip into the membrane that allowed Drake to fly.

  We need to grab him by his shoulders.

  Dipping down, hovering under the powerful force of the wind, Ronan grabbed Drake by his right shoulder, just behind his neck. Neil seized his left, and together, their wings overlapping and interfering with one another, they lifted Drake’s unconscious body.

  Gritting his teeth, Ronan thrust himself into the sky, hardly able to get airborne. Kane and Jude dove under Drake, pushing upward with their shoulders to give added lift. Gasping for breath, nearly blind from the pounding rain, Ronan headed for the airbase they had left barely fifteen minutes before.

  He’s too heavy, we can’t do this. Struggling on, his wings striking Neil’s, Ronan gasped for breath. Managing only about fifty feet in elevation, enough to cross the base’s fence line and nearby houses, the four of them half-carried and half-dragged Drake’s limp body toward the hangar. What if he’s dead? I can’t hear him breathing.

  The hangar doors were still wide open as Ronan, Kane, Neil, and Jude flew inside. Smithfield and the airmen ran toward them as Kane and Jude ducked out from under Drake and changed their forms the instant they landed. Lowering Drake’s black body to the cement floor, Ronan alighted beside his bulk and furled his wings.

  “What happened?” Smithfield yelled, reaching Drake’s prone body.

  “Lightning hit nearby,” Jude explained, his voice tense as he squatted at Drake’s head. “Tossed him into the creek. He’s not breathing. Ronan, push on his chest, like CPR.”

  Standing over Drake, Ronan flattened his taloned hands on Drake’s ribcage and started to push. Too much and he’d break even dragon ribs. Too little and he’d not flush the water from Drake’s lungs. One, two, three; one, two, three.

  Fearing they were too late, Ronan kept on pushing, trying to expel the water Drake inhaled. Despair raised its ugly face to stare him in the eye. One, two, three; one, two, three. All around him, none spoke. Kane touched Drake’s closed eye, but Ronan didn’t know if he got a reaction or not. One, two, three; one, two, three.

  Under his hands, Drake’s ribs rose in a sudden jerk. He coughed, water gushing from his mouth in a torrent. He gave a huge whooping gasp, choking and heaving. Ronan backed off from him, giving him room as Drake rolled over onto his chest and belly to vomit up more nasty water.

  Relief flooded Ronan as he sat down, watching while Drake gazed around blearily. Ragged cheers rose from the grouped airmen, and Smithfield gave a most unmilitary like whoop. Neil and Jude hugged one another, grinning like fools, shedding their worry.

  Now that the crisis appeared over, Ronan observed Drake’s scored flanks and rear legs, surmising the lightning struck closer than he originally thought.

  “Shift back, Drake,” Kane told him, his hands on Drake’s muzzle. “Bro, you had us scared shitless.”

  Obeying him, Drake altered his form to that of his human, and Ronan followed suit. Swaying, his hair dripping, his flesh pale, Drake coughed, holding his chest with his left arm. “Who tap-danced on my ribs?”

  Ronan settled his arm over Drake’s shoulders. “I did. Come on, you should have those burns looked at.”

  Smithfield beckoned. “The infirmary is this way, but we’ll have to go out into the storm again. Can you walk, or I can get a stretcher?”

  “I can walk.”

  Drake did but needed Ronan’s assistance to do so. Kane, Jude, and Neil hovered close, none of them speaking. Nor did they need to. Ronan could not express in words his relief that he had not, after all, lost one whom he considered his brother.

  The storm had not let up as they struggled once again to cross the tarmac in the face of the driving wind and rain. Drake limped badly, but he made no complaint, nor did he stop until they reached the shelter of the main building.

  Their mates stood in a cluster near the doors. Emily charged forward with a low cry, her hands reaching for Drake’s cold, wet face. “What happened? You’re hurt.”

  Drake raised a weary grin. “Lesson number one, my love. Never fly in a thunderstorm.”

  Daryl slipped her arm around R
onan’s waist. “What can we do to help?”

  “I’ll have the doctor on duty take a look at him,” Smithfield told her with a faint smile.

  Smithfield led the way down a hallway, passing military personnel who stopped in their tracks to stand at attention and salute as he passed. Still holding Drake upright with Emily on his other side, Ronan paced slowly in his wake. Behind them, Neil explained to the ladies in more detail as to what had occurred.

  “You saved those people?” Natalie asked.

  “Every last one of them,” Jude answered. “I don’t know if they saw us or not, but they’re safe.”

  “You guys are all heroes,” Daryl declared. “They should pin medals on you.”

  Drake chuckled. “No thanks. My hide is sensitive.”

  Reaching the infirmary, Smithfield directed the doctor to treat his burns, although Drake was clearly a civilian. His clothes were cut from him by nurses as Emily anxiously hovered over the gurney, holding Drake’s hand.

  Ronan stood in the hallway, his arm over Daryl’s shoulder, watching through the window. “Hopefully, they won’t take X-rays,” he said, glancing at Kane and Taylor beside him. “They’ll be in for the shock of their lives.”

  “From what I can see,” Kane replied slowly, “he has just burns and bruising. The flood really battered him.”

  “No broken bones?” Taylor asked.

  “He walked okay, but unless Ronan here busted his ribs while saving his life, he should be fine.”

  “I tried not to.”

  Kane laughed and seized Ronan by the neck, bringing him in close and kissing him noisily. “You did great.”

  “Dude,” Ronan said, annoyed, “you really need to quit kissing me. Folks will get the wrong idea.”

  “I think it’s cute,” Daryl declared. “And I’m not getting the wrong idea about you two.”