My Dragon Lord (Broken Souls 1) - Dragon Shifter Paranormal Romance

by Alisa Woods

  Animals. Last night I met a man who is literally an animal, and he’s a better human than any of them.

  The project was our way—Cinder’s and mine—of fighting a terrible wrong.

  That’s what I do.

  I can’t just drop all that to go around the world kissing dragon men. And repopulating the dragon race. It’s just… crazy. The whole thing is crazy.

  A light knock at the door snaps me out of my thoughts. I grab my flats on the way to answer. It’s Nikolais, with shadows under his eyes too, like he’s been up all night, but his eyes still light up when he sees me.

  “I hope I’m not too early.” He’s dressed in different clothes—not the borrowed stuff from yesterday, so at least he’s changed—and he fills out those jeans like they’re custom made.

  “I just finished breakfast.” I gesture to my clothes. “Thanks for all this, by the way.”

  He smiles. “My pleasure.” Then he gets serious. “I’m afraid I have no news yet about your sister. But my contact at the NYPD says she can put out a bulletin and she’ll push to open a real investigation, see if they can track exactly where and when she went missing. She says they’ve got a new AI program that can search surveillance footage and this would be a good test case.”

  “You have friends in the NYPD?” This seems implausible; not least because the city’s six hours away.

  He smiles again. “There’s a lot about us I’m sure you’d find interesting.” He cocks his head. “If you’re willing, there’s something I’d like to show you.”

  I want to keep searching for my sister, but I’m fresh out of ideas, and it seems like Nikolais Lord has many resources of which I’m not aware. “Sure. Lead the way.”

  He smiles even wider and ushers me down the hall. “We won’t be traveling by dragon this time if that’s all right with you.” He's too cheeky for this early in the morning.

  I glance around. The corridor is empty. I lean closer and whisper, “I thought we weren’t supposed to use the d-word out here in public?”

  “Everyone’s still sleeping,” he whispers back.

  I lean back. “Not you, though.”

  His expression loses its humor. “I had a lot on my mind.”

  “Yeah.” I avoid his too-serious examination of my face and lapse into silence again. There’s just too much churning around in my head for verbal banter with Mr. Hotness.

  He brings me down a back staircase to a large garage at the rear of the castle. There’s a fleet of cars, but we take what looks like a luxury golf cart instead. A short ride brings us to a long dock that extends out into the water surrounding the island. This isn’t the dock where I arrived yesterday with the rest of the catering company—this is on the other side of the island. Several boats are lined up—a party barge, a sailboat, two yachts—but again we end up in the smallest one, just a modest motorboat. Soon we’re motoring away from the castle, the wind drying my hair as it flaps behind me. I stand next to Nikolais at the steering wheel, absorbing the rhythmic rocking of the boat with my body, and for a moment, I let all the worries float away on the wind. I close my eyes and tip my face up to the sun and just soak in the warmth and the buffeting wind and the smell of clean, living things. There are worse ways to spend your life, living at the top of the world, literally and figuratively, in your opulent castle. A lot of women—specifically the ones I’ve been filming for my documentary—can barely imagine this kind of life, except as the disposable plaything of the kind of men who live in castles like this. At a minimum, I need to know Nikolais isn’t one of those before I sign up to help him. Although, to be honest—his help with my sister has already slotted him into the Good Guy category in my head. But I need to be careful.

  The motor spools down, and I open my eyes and squint. We’ve arrived at another island with a castle on it.

  “Is this your private retreat?” I ask Nikolais as he pulls up to the dock. I have to shade my eyes against the bright early-morning sun.

  “No, this is a separate facility.” He’s busy with the controls that cut the motor, then he hops out to tie up the boat to the dock cleat.

  I gauge the rocking of the boat then climb out. “How many islands do you own?”

  “A few.” He smirks. “Dragons are good with money. And we have a really long investment horizon.”

  “I guess.” I just shake my head and peer up at the castle. It’s smaller than the sweeping estate that’s the lair’s central operation. Or just Nikolais’s? It’s not clear what the hierarchy is here, but he certainly seems in charge.

  We take another fancy electric cart through a winding, tree-lined path to the castle, but this stone structure is more modern-looking and practical, with lots of windows like a hotel. We enter through a plain door at the rear, and the guy stationed inside is hot. I’m wondering if hotness is part of the dragon genome. He tips his head to us and buzzes open the double doors just beyond him.

  Inside is nothing like I expect. It’s a hospital ward.

  Down the brilliant white-and-blue corridor, at the end, is a nursing station. It’s tricked out with all the latest monitoring equipment and staffed with two nurses in scrubs. The corridor is lined with individual medical suites, some with doors open, some closed. A young woman emerges from one, beams a smile at us, then scurries toward the nursing station. She’s not dressed in scrubs but has a light-purple smock that looks like a uniform.

  Nikolais touches my elbow to pull me to the side of the first room. It’s dark, and there’s no one inside, but the empty bed is surrounded by medical equipment on poles.

  He keeps his voice low. “As you’ve already noticed, dragons don’t age the same as humans. Our natural healing ability keeps us looking fairly youthful throughout our entire lifespan.”

  “But you do eventually die?” I ask. “Or do you… get sick?” This is all baffling. And it feels intrusive to ask.

  “A little of both.” His brow furrows. “I debated whether to bring you here, but I think you should see everything. All of what we are and what we’re up against.”

  “Tell me.” I mentally nudge Nikolais a little further into the Good Guy category. I like that he answers my questions and doesn’t appear to hold back. I’ve interviewed a lot of people, and it’s easy to tell which ones are keeping secrets versus which ones share with an open heart. He’s already revealed what has to be the biggest secret of his life… and here he is showing me the ugly parts. The hard parts. That takes courage. Or perhaps desperation.

  Nikolais nods like he expects this from me. “Mated dragons live longer. There’s a rejuvenation that occurs when you find your soul mate. A healing of body that comes from the healing of soul. The opposite happens if you never find your mate.”

  “You die if you don’t find your mate?” I lean back. That brings a whole new horror to the deal. “Like, how long does that take? I mean, how long can you live without your mate?”

  “Oh, quite long.” He says it like that’s supposed to reassure me. “I’ve lasted a couple centuries without mine. But that’s near the limit. It varies from dragon to dragon, of course. But eventually, the soul stops waiting and, well…” He frowns. “We call it the Withering. It only lasts a few weeks, but once it starts, it’s irreversible. Essentially, the body shuts down. The regeneration stops. All those decades catch up in a hurry.” He gestures to the row of private rooms that I’m just now realizing are hospice not hospital. “We continue to research ways to avoid it, but nothing promising so far. We have this facility for their final days. It’s close to the lair, so they can accept visitors.” He gives me a small smile. “Unmated dragons are all male. But we have some women who volunteer to bring comfort to the dragons here at the end of their lives. Sometimes, it’s the dragon they’ve fallen in love with while mate-seeking. Sometimes, the women just don’t want to return to the outside world. The nurses are all professionals, but we’re grateful for everything the volunteers do.”

  I’m not a crier, but I’m having to blink a little to
o much. “You’re saying some women fall in love even if they’re not soul mates.”

  He smiles. “That’s how it happens with humans, right?”

  “I mean, yes, but—”

  “The heart wants what it wants.” He shrugs. “It’s a risk for the dragon and human both. Pregnancy could be fatal. And what if his soul mate shows up after he’s settled into a life with someone who’s not his other half? Then again, what if you let your one chance at love slip away while waiting for someone who may never come?”

  I’m choking up way too much.

  He tips his head toward the next door. “Let me introduce you to one of my brothers.”

  Aw, shit. I nod anyway. Nikolais knocks lightly on the slightly-ajar door, but there’s no answer. He beckons me in. The shades are drawn, and the lights are low, but not off. A man lies in the hospital bed, asleep. His cheeks are hollowed out, and there are only a few wisps of hair on his head, but you can tell he was spectacularly handsome once. He doesn’t look old, not really—more like a young man stricken by cancer or some other disease that wastes him away.

  Nikolais goes around the far side of the bed, then gently takes the man’s hand, which is lying limp on top of the brilliantly white sheets. He holds it for a moment, but the man doesn’t fully awaken. “Grigore?” Nikolais calls softly. “Grigore, wake up, I’ve brought a visitor for you.” That rouses him enough to slowly blink open his eyes. He takes a moment to focus on Nikolais, but when he does, a smile stretches his already thin lips.

  “Niko,” he breathes. “You didn’t have to come.”

  “Of course, I did.” Nikolais’s smile falters. “We missed you at the party last night.”

  Grigore smiles more. “Had a date.” Then he coughs, but it’s so deep, it hardly makes a sound.

  Nikolais narrows his eyes. “Better not be with Nurse Simpson again. We don’t pay her to tend to your fetishes.”

  Grigore tries to laugh, but it just seems to wrack his body. Nikolais squeezes his hand and glances at me. He’d better not ask me to say anything because I’m barely holding it together.

  He looks back to Grigore. “I have some good news. Last night’s party brought us a Dragon Spirit. This is her—her name is Ember.”

  Grigore slowly, shakily turns his head until he sees me. I smile as brightly as I can because there’s no way I can speak. Grigore nods to me and twists back to Nikolais. “Holy shit, she’s hot.”

  Nikolais grins. “I know, right?”

  I sort of laugh and choke and cry all at the same time. I cover my mouth with my hand because I can’t figure out what else to do.

  “So, you see, there’s hope.” Nikolais isn’t even trying to stop the tears leaking down the side of his face. Grigore nods his agreement, but his eyes close. It’s clear we’ve exhausted him just with this tiny exchange. Nikolais squeezes his hand. “You rest, my friend.” Then he straightens, wipes his face, and motions for us to go. I scrub the tears from my eyes on the way out, but there’s still a huge lump in my throat. Once we’re in the hallway, Nikolais gestures us back toward the entrance. He stops by the empty room again.

  “I shouldn’t have…” He just shakes his head and gives a tormented look down the hall.

  “I’m so sorry.” I don’t know what else to say.

  “No, I’m sorry. You didn’t need to see that.” He gives me a pained look like he thinks he’s screwed something up.

  “I think maybe I did.” Not that it didn’t rip out my heart and stomp on it. But seeing hard things is part of what I do. Seeing them and telling the story of them. Only this isn’t a story.

  He gives me a questioning look.

  “How long has he been sick?” I ask.

  “Just a couple weeks.” Nikolais presses his lips tight, then says, “Grigore is younger than I am. We didn’t expect…” His expression flattens out again as he gazes in the direction of the hallway.

  “Did he have someone?” I ask. “I mean, does he have someone who loves him?” The man is still alive—I shouldn’t be talking about him in the past tense.

  Nikolais turns back to me. “He was waiting.”

  I frown. “Like you.”

  He nods.

  “Surely, in all this time… Nikolais, you’re gorgeous and amazing. There must have been someone who’s fallen for you…”

  That pained smile is back along with a short laugh. “I have to set an example. If I don’t wait, no one will. And then we’ll be the last of the dragons.” He lets out a sigh. “It’ll probably happen that way, anyway. Maybe it’s a mistake to—” He’s cut off by the door behind us swinging open.

  A man strides in with a girl in tow. He’s tall and so beautiful, I’m sure he’s a dragon—only this one wears his hair long and his beard rough. The girl is half his size, short and painfully thin. Her gaze darts between all of us without landing on anything but the floor. The three-quarter length shirt sleeves aren’t quite long enough to hide the bruises on her wrists. I know that look—this girl has been trafficked or at least abused. She seems underage, too.

  I dash a look of alarm at Nikolais, but he’s already frowning. “Constantine, my brother. Who’s your friend?”

  “She’s from the outside,” Constantine says, and that has to be code for something because it’s kind of a weird thing to say. “I was scouting near the city. Saw her being walked into a motel. I, um, dispatched the man who held her. And the one who came for her.” Constantine glances at me but then goes quickly back to Nikolais. “She needs a place to stay for a while.”

  “There’s plenty of room in the dormitory.” Then Nikolais speaks directly to the girl. “You’re safe here. You can stay as long as you need.”

  She nods in a jittery way, like it’s reflexive, but she’s not sure what to believe.

  “I’ll get her settled then check back with you.” Constantine gives me another glance but then leads away his charge, down the hallway. I guess that’s the way to this dormitory?

  Nikolais waits until they’re out of earshot, then he leans in and says, “We send out scouts to look for the dragon spirited—or our best guess at who might be, based on noble traits—and invite them to the castle.” He peers at me to see what I think of this.

  “That girl was trafficked,” I say through my teeth.

  He lifts an eyebrow and nods. “Sometimes, we stumble upon an operation. We rescue who we can and give them a place to stay, here, separate from the castle. They need time to recover from the trauma, and the last thing they need is a bunch of dragons hulking around. As a rule, I don’t let the men reveal themselves to the ones we rescue—these girls and women don’t need that complication in their lives. That’s why I didn’t take too kindly to your earlier accusation.”

  It takes me a moment to figure out what he means—that I accused him of trafficking my missing sister. “Because you’re not trafficking anyone. You’re saving them.”

  “Trying to.” But he looks grim like he doesn’t think he’s doing enough. But he has no freaking idea how unique that makes him.

  “My sister and I are working on a documentary. It’s about trafficking. We’re trying, too.”

  He gives me an appraising look and a small smile. “I’m not surprised.”

  But I am. By him. By all of this. I turn to face him more fully. “You know what’s sexier than a man trying to save his people?”

  Now he’s surprised. “What’s that?”

  “A man saving people who aren’t even his own.” Then I reach for him, both hands. I run my fingertips over the light stubble on his cheeks then pull his face down to mine. He’s still surprised when my lips mash against his. It’s sloppy and awkward for a second, then his hands are around my back, pulling me into his chest, and we finally connect. His lips and mine. His tongue seeking mine. We tangle for a second, tasting, then his hands find my face and take possession of it. Tilting me, lifting me, deepening the kiss until he’s consuming me—he’s kissing me like he’s never hungered for someone as much as me, and i
t’s firing every nerve in my body. He walks me back two steps, and suddenly I’m up against the cool wall, his hand cupping the back of my neck, protecting me while owning my mouth with his. Then he reaches down and lifts me—like I’m weightless—and hooks my legs over his hips, pinning me against the wall, legs splayed, mouth wide, kissing me with his entire body. Something opens up inside me. The rest of the world has ceased to exist. There’s just his body and mine, his mouth and mine, his fingers digging into my bottom, his rock-hard erection grinding me against the wall.

  He breaks for air just as I think I might happily suffocate.

  “Oh fuck,” he whispers.

  “Don’t stop.” I claw my fingers into his hair, bringing his mouth back to mine.

  He groans deep, a rumbling sound that deliciously vibrates me all over. He’s back to devouring and grinding, just like I want him to—

  Something’s buzzing. I only vaguely hear it over his moan. Then it buzzes again, and he must have heard it this time because he pauses in the consumption of my body against the wall.

  He pants, hard, then pulls back, unhooking my legs and sliding them to the floor. “We can’t…” He’s breathless and dazed, looking at me with wild eyes. “We can’t just… Oh, fuck.”

  “What?” I demand, but then I realize where the buzzing is coming from: my pocket. My body is screaming for more contact with Nikolais, but instead, I fish out my phone and stare.

  “It’s from Cinder.” My mouth hangs open. I fumble the text message open, but it’s a video instead. I hastily tap it.