Dragon Protectors: Shifter Romance Collection

by Lola Gabriel

  “I’m sorry your father was ill and missed the festivities,” King Henry said, sitting back in his chair, his clear blue eyes fastened on Maximus. The dragon tensed at the sound of his father’s name, but he made no indication of the mounting stress in his body.

  “He is sorry he missed this, too,” Maximus replied smoothly, wiping his face with a white linen napkin. “And my brothers.”

  “You know,” Poet’s father continued, apparently determined to drive his point home. “You can tell a lot about someone by their family.”

  “I would normally agree,” Maximus said, shifting his gaze back toward Poet. His heart skipped as it tended to do whenever he caught a glimpse of her beauty, but he had never seen her look as lovely as she did at that moment, the dusky light bouncing off her up-do, her white wedding dress glimmering against the jewel-like waters of the ocean beyond.

  She doesn’t seem real, Maximus thought, his eyes glimmering when Poet looked up to catch his eye and wave him toward her.

  “But?” King Henry asked. “Sounded like you were going to add a disclaimer following that.”

  “Well, I don’t know, sir,” Maximus said, reluctantly glancing at the man across the long, festive table. “I don’t think I would ever have guessed that Poet was your daughter, knowing what I know about her now.”

  King Henry chuckled, but Maximus somehow sensed there was little mirth in his laugh. “I’m not sure if that was an insult or a compliment.”

  Maximus shook his head. “Neither, sir. She does not fit the profile of a princess, does she?”

  “No,” the king admitted. “She does not. She never has.”

  Maximus rose to his feet and looked at the king apologetically.

  “I’m afraid my wife seems to be summoning me with her eyes,” he told the man. “Shall we continue this later?”

  “You can count on it,” King Henry replied, and his tone was unmistakable.

  Maximus slipped away from the wedding table and headed toward his bride, who waited for him on the beach with her hand outstretched. Not that he could blame the king: if some strange man swept into his daughter’s life in a whirlwind and married her after three months, he would surely be suspicious, too.

  He knew the king had run background checks on him, but there was nothing that the old man could find that would cause him alarm—not really.

  I may not be a billionaire like some of my brothers, Maximus thought, but my descent from royalty is carefully documented, and it is enough to please any king. There is no reason for him to suspect me as anything but a good match to Poet.

  As he wandered toward her, the feeling of sand between his bare toes, he still could not help wondering if he was a good match for her or if he had unnecessarily put his bride in danger.

  “You have that look in your eye again,” Poet murmured once he was within her reach, taking his hands.

  “What look?” Maximus demanded, but he knew exactly what she was talking about.

  “The one that says you regret ever finding me and stalking me.” The teasing in her voice only partially masked the sound of wistfulness beneath it, and Maximus yanked her body to him as the nearby guests cooed at the couple, snapping pictures at their exquisiteness.

  “I never stalked you,” he reminded her, laughing. “And I don’t regret a single minute of being with you—while you’ve been safe.”

  “You act as if your presence has caused me nothing but pain,” Poet whispered, her sparkling eyes filled with adoration for him. “And we both know that’s not true.”

  “It’s our wedding day,” Maximus said firmly. “Let’s enjoy it without it being overshadowed by a bunch of ‘what-ifs.’ We do that enough to ourselves day-to-day.”

  “No,” Poet corrected. “You do that to yourself. I am constantly grateful for the fact that you have found me and kept me safe, despite the risk and loss you have endured.”

  They stared at one another, their eyes an identical shade of crystalline blue.

  “I promise to start looking at the future with optimism,” Maximus vowed, his lips brushing against hers. “After all, you are my future, and all I can see is light in your eyes.”

  Poet threw her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply as the crowd erupted into a sea of applause.

  “They think we’re putting on a show for them,” Poet giggled. “Imagine how disgusted they’re going to be when they realize that we are going to be like this forever.”

  Maximus’ heart paused at the word. “Hopefully,” he murmured. “Hopefully forever.”

  “Stop it,” Poet scolded him. “Ruby will find a way.”

  Maximus forced a smile, but before he could answer, a sharp bark at their feet caught his attention. Chauncey growled angrily and yapped at them.

  “Do you think this mutt will ever get used to me?” Maximus laughed, leaning down to tease the Cocker Spaniel. Chauncey barked louder and backed away as Maximus’ palms neared his face.

  “He’ll come around,” Poet assured him, eyeing her pet with affection. “He still has to get used to the idea of sharing my love with anyone else.”

  But Maximus was no longer listening, his gaze fixed on the small dog. As Chauncey bared his teeth, his breath caught in his throat.

  “Poet,” he whispered, pointing at the animal. “Look…”

  She turned her head to glance at where he was looking. “What is it?”

  Maximus could not speak, watching as Chauncey’s eyes began to glow a bright amber, his tail becoming elongated.

  “Oh, my God…”

  Without thinking, he snatched the dog under his arm and bolted down the beach, Poet in hot pursuit, the train of her dress trailing in the white sand.

  “Where are you going?” one of the guests called. “It’s almost time for cake!”

  “We’ll be right back!” Poet promised, hurrying after her husband as he rounded the cove.

  It was not a moment too soon: the small animal began to transform before their eyes. His fur exploded into an armor of scales, a tiny shriek escaping his mouth now filled with razor-sharp teeth.

  “Holy shit!” Maximus gasped as Chauncey flew from his arms, his wings protruding from his back as he flapped over the beach. “He’s a dragon!”

  Indeed, the small dog had become a creature unlike anything Maximus had ever seen, his body pumping against the wind as he screeched at them in defiance.

  “How—how did this happen?” Poet questioned, but Maximus had no answer, only a sweeping sense of hope.

  “Maybe from when he bit me?” he thought aloud. He and his wife exchanged a look, Poet’s face registering the same burst of encouragement that he was feeling.

  “If Chauncey can become a dragon,” she whispered, slipping her hand into his, “then there must be a way for me, too.”

  Maximus nodded, his eyes transfixed on the beast flapping about almost comically.

  “We need to find Ruby and bring her Chauncey,” he choked, and Poet laughed happily, tears filling her eyes.

  “We’re going to make this happen,” she choked.

  For the first time since they had returned from visiting the witch, Maximus was filled with a true sense that they would be safe.

  If Ruby could figure out what had turned Chauncey, she could find a way to transform Poet, too. And if Poet was a dragon, King Rui would never be able to touch her.

  He may even learn to embrace her, given her royal blood, Maximus thought hopefully, though that might be a long time coming. First things first: Poet’s safety.

  “Get your dog,” Maximus instructed. “We have to get back to Ruby.”

  Poet looked at him with huge, excited eyes. “We’re going to be together forever,” she whispered, her face filled with awe.

  “We are,” he assured her. “Just like I promised you.”

  Poet buried her face in his chest, tears spilling down her cheeks, and Maximus stroked her back, staring out into the ocean as the dragon-dog swept through the salty air, learning his newfound po
wers.

  Maximus could finally appreciate the glory of the landscape, because it no longer held the threat of Rui appearing on the horizon.

  It’s over now, he thought, exhaling sharply as he held Poet tightly against him.

  “No tears,” he mumbled teasingly, kissing her forehead. “We have everything now.”

  Poet pulled back and wiped her eyes, smiling up at him.

  “Oh, you fool,” she laughed. “We had everything from the first minute you found me.”

  And Maximus realized that she was right.

  Dragon Fate

  Misty Woods Dragons

  Text Copyright © 2018 by Juniper Hart

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  First printing, 2017

  Publisher

  Secret Woods Books

  secretwoodsbooks@gmail.com

  www.SecretWoodsBooks.com

  1

  Time was of the essence.

  The mounting confusion swept through the castle as Titus pushed his way through the scared masses, his mind fixated only on one thing: finding her.

  The women and children had been placed in the turret, and each step he took brought him closer to the panic oozing from the high tower.

  They are terrified, he realized. They haven’t a clue we are all about to be saved.

  But were they? How could they know for certain? Titus had no reason to trust in Opal or her teachings. Her reputation preceded her, after all.

  No matter how she claims we have a common enemy, she is not worthy of good faith.

  She was a source of curiosity, an abomination, not someone schooled in the art of war. Yet, if what she had told them was true, she was the only chance they had. In any case, Titus was outnumbered. His brothers had spoken. Opal was permitted to do her magic.

  “Your Highness, what is happening?” Corinne cried, grabbing his arm as her small daughter clung to the hem of her skirts, their eyes an identical shade of blue terror.

  “Not now,” he told his cousin. “I must find Isabella.”

  “But Titus—”

  Titus ignored her, knowing that it was cruel to keep the women in the dark, but the others were not his concern at the moment. All he cared about was finding his beloved.

  He saw her sitting near one of the high windows, surrounded by young faces, her comely cheeks etched in serenity as though the realm was not in a state of chaos. As Titus neared, he paused, the crowded space seeming to disappear while he studied her stunningly lovely expression, her lips appearing to move slowly as time lost traction.

  An intricate headdress covered her reddish-blonde curls, nary a strand out of place despite the cramped quarters. Her face seemed unusually porcelain, crystalline emerald eyes glittering as her rosebud mouth uttered words Titus could not make out. He knew whatever she spoke was creating comfort among the castle’s children, who seemed captivated by every word springing from her pink lips. Her gown was a deep blue, a flattering color for her fairness, dipping low at the front to expose the swell of her ample bosom beneath the kirtle and falling into a flowing mass from the waist to the filthy floor of the turret.

  Isabella looked up and met his eyes, the soft smile freezing on her lips, as if seeing the reluctance in his gaze.

  I needn’t speak. She can sense the danger we face.

  Of course, it would be difficult not to recognize the peril they faced when the Northmen were so close, their options seemingly hopeless.

  Titus raised a hand to wave her closer, his fur cloak parting at the gold forged clasp. Isabella nodded slowly, reassuringly patting the children on their worried faces as she slipped away to join him. Titus could hear their cries of protest, followed by his lover’s assurances that she would return shortly.

  “I will come back,” she explained, “and I will tell you the tale of the bear and the beauty.” They haltingly allowed her to leave, casting Titus spiteful looks for taking away the fair maiden who had succeeded in distracting them from their fears. “What is it, my lord?” Isabella whispered as she neared him. “Have you come here to prepare me for death?”

  The words stabbed through Titus like a thousand blades to his heart.

  “Come with me,” he ordered her, grasping her hand and pulling her from the overcrowded tower.

  “Titus, what is it?” she begged, her voice rising an octave as she recognized the seriousness on his face. “We will not be saved, will we? You have come here—”

  “Hush now, my little dove,” he told her tenderly, pulling her down the stairs to rest upon the center landing. They slipped into the corner, and Titus gathered her in his arms, his grey eyes bright with worry and love as he stared into her face. “We might be saved,” he said. “The castle and the entire kingdom.”

  Hope colored Isabella’s cheeks, and she dropped her head against his chest.

  “Oh, praise the heavens,” she mumbled. “Who is it? Who has come to aid us?”

  “Opal,” Titus said. “It is Opal who will save us…” He did not add his doubts about the matter, even though they threatened to spill from his lips. I must not worry Isabella. She must have faith in us and our plan.

  “Opal?” Isabella echoed. “She is a witch, Titus! How can she save us?”

  “She has arranged to put the castle under a spell, keeping us safe until the threat of the Northmen has passed,” he explained. “It is only temporary, but we must be prepared for three days of changes.”

  Isabella stared at him, her jade eyes shocked.

  “You have agreed to a curse upon our heads?” she gasped. “You have sold us to a witch?”

  A flash of anger coursed through Titus.

  “We have not been sold!” he snapped. “She has come to us to help!”

  “Then you have merely given us away, souls and all!”

  “It is the only way to keep us safe!” Titus insisted. “You must not fret, Isabella.”

  “I will not stand by while a witch casts a curse upon us!” she protested, and Titus grabbed her by the shoulders, his eyes glittering.

  “You will do as you are told. Return to the turret while Opal prepares to lay the shroud of protection over the kingdom. I will come for you when the war is over.”

  “Titus—”

  “You will not argue!” he growled. “Back to the turret with the others!”

  Isabella lowered her eyes. “Yes, my lord,” she whispered, turning away.

  Titus seized her, guilt touching his heart. She is afraid. She is skeptical. I must show her there is nothing to fear. He dropped his full mouth against hers, and she accepted his kiss.

  “Please,” Isabella whispered. “Please do not allow Opal to do whatever it is you have agreed to do.”

  “Back to the turret now,” he ordered. “It will all be over soon.”

  Isabella cast him one last look, her green eyes wide with misty emotion.

  “Goodbye, my love,” she murmured, gathering her skirts to disappear up the stone stairs.

  It is not goodbye, he thought angrily, watching her go, but even at that moment, Titus could not suppress the sensation that her words were ominous.

  2

  PRESENT DAY

  A bizarre tune came from the radio, and Titus had to lift his head to look at the boom box, questioning what his ears were hearing.

  “What the hell is this?” he asked his border collie, but Janus only cast him a baleful glance, as if to blame him for the poor music choice. Titus grunted, placing a soldering iron down on the worktable before switching the stations. He had no idea how songs made it onto the radio anymore.

&
nbsp; Talent is an extinct trait, he mused. It seemed almost impossible to account for some tastes. His fingers worked to dial another station, and Janus barked abruptly as a shadow appeared in the garage.

  “Have you heard some of the crap that passes for music these days?” Titus asked without raising his head. “No one even tries anymore!”

  “I imagine you long for the days of The Clash and The Rolling Stones?” Marta, his housekeeper, offered, striding inside the garage-turned-workshop to place a cup of coffee and a sandwich at his side.

  Titus snorted but didn’t comment. He didn’t need to remind her that Keith Richards was still alive… somehow.

  I long for the days of minstrels telling stories of genuine pain and victory, not a bunch of teenagers crying about the angst of buying an avocado.

  “You need to eat something,” Marta told him.

  “I need to find a proper station,” he said, his fingers still working the dial. “I can’t work without something in the background.”

  “Tito,” she sighed. “No offense, but not only are you one of the richest men on the planet, you also own a cutting-edge tech empire, and you still use this blasted little radio when you could have a robot singing music to you. Hell, you could have a robot composing music for you.”

  Titus laughed and turned to wink at her. “I like to keep in touch with my roots,” he replied, but Marta only grunted.

  “Leave the radio,” she insisted. “Please eat something.”

  Titus grinned at her affectionately. “Thank you, Marta. I will eat.”

  She muttered something under her breath. but she turned away as he finally settled on a news station.

  “—considered armed and extremely dangerous. She was last seen at St. Francis Airfield, where she disembarked a private plane and disappeared. If anyone has any information leading to her capture, a reward is being offered. Please contact the South African Police Service immediately. Again, she should not be approached.”