by Kayla Wolf
Kidnapped by the Dragon
A Paranormal Romance
Kayla Wolf
Copyright © 2019 by The Wolf Sisters Books.
All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of the book only. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form, including recording, without prior written permission from the publisher, except for brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
About the Author
Books by The Wolf Sisters
Chapter 1
The dragon in front of him wasn’t used to his human shape. Owen could tell that from looking at him—knew from the way he kept shifting his shoulders around, missing the broad spread and sweep of wings. It was clear from his terrible balance, too, the way he stood a little too wide on his two legs as though compensating for the lack of forelegs. He fidgeted clumsily with his hands as he spoke to Owen. Some of it was fear, too, Owen knew that—but fear he was used to. There weren’t many people who looked at him without any fear at all hiding in their eyes.
“The Alpha will be back soon,” the dragon was saying, bobbing his head nervously. That was a common tic, too, for dragons who didn’t spend enough time training in these bodies. Their draconic forms had a much broader field of vision, with their eyes set on each side of their heads, not together in more or less the centre. This guy felt trapped without his peripheral vision. It made him seem weak. Was this really the best guy they could get to greet their newest employee?
But something had caught Owen’s interest, and he raised one hand to stop the guy in his tracks. “Alpha?”
”She’s out dealing with some trouble with the locals,” the dragon started to explain, but Owen waved him silent again, frowning.
“Alpha. You call your monarch Alpha? This a wolf pack?”
”It’s a long story,” the dragon stammered.
”Seems like we’ve got time for a long story.” Owen looked around the square they were standing in. He knew these dragons had only been here for a couple of years or so, but they seemed to be settling in just fine. A huge, freshly-built building took pride of place in the centre of town, a kind of all-purpose hall, from what he could make out. A couple of nice-looking cottages, probably reserved for the more powerful members of the community, and then a few paths running off the main square here, leading to more modest cabins dotted through the woods. No access via road. For all anyone on the outside knew, this was just forest—a national park just over the Canadian border. Owen had even packed his passport, just in case he ran into trouble with humans. He hadn’t needed it. This place had decent security.
He supposed that made sense, given what had happened to their last settlement.
”King Val was our leader before Violet. But since that bear ripped him up—well, he had no heirs, no line of succession worked out or anything. And Violet said she didn’t feel right being a Queen, not without his blessing. We’d been running with a wolf pack for a while, and they suggested she be Alpha, instead.”
”And nobody objected to that?”
”Well, no. She said anyone who wanted to could fight her for it. It was pretty democratic, all told.”
”So you held fights?”
”W—well, in the end, nobody challenged. But they could’ve, that’s the thing. So everyone’s pretty happy with her being Alpha.”
”What’s the difference?”
”What’s that?”
”The difference between an Alpha and a Queen.”
”I’m not really sure,” the dragon said desperately. He looked like he was about to cry, the poor kid. Was Owen really that scary, he wondered remotely? He’d been at the College for so long that he’d lost touch with the kind of impact he had on regular folk. It’d been a while since he’d had an away mission. Years? Decades? Couldn’t remember. He tried a smile, which didn’t seem to help much with the young dragon’s case of nerves, then sighed. Kids at the College were a more resilient breed. He’d gotten too used to that.
“C’mon, buddy. I’m here to help you, not hurt you, right? Calm down.”
”Sorry,” the dragon stammered, tensing even more. What was he supposed to do with that?
Thankfully, he was pulled out of having to make any more agonizing small talk by the blurring of white wings in the sky above him. A white dragoness, winging her way down to land. They were a nimble strain, these guys—about the size of a horse, they were dwarfed by most other families of dragons, but they made up for it in speed and ferocity. And those razor-sharp teeth must come in handy, too, he reflected, looking at the bloodstains that hadn’t quite cleaned off the white dragoness. Had that been intentional? A bit of a show of force for the visitor? She needn’t have bothered. Owen had no interest in how strong or weak these dragons were. But he made a point of bowing low, just to make her feel a little better. This community had been through hell—the least he could do was play nice.
The dragon who’d greeted him bowed as well, then scuttled off, clearly grateful to be out of the spotlight. Owen watched him go, one eyebrow quirked in amusement, and by the time he’d turned back to the dragoness, she was human-shaped again. The white irises common to this family locked with his, but where the other guy’s had been full of fear, hers were confident, cocky, almost challenging. She had a sharp, angular face, and white-blonde hair about a half-inch long. Apparently, she could shift while keeping her clothes on, something that required a lot of practice and discipline to learn as he knew from experience. A black leather jacket and ripped jeans made her look like a punk—but a punk with power. The impact was striking. If he hadn’t been a whole foot and a half taller than her, he might have been a little intimidated.
But Owen wasn’t really in the business of being intimidated. He’d never met a dragon he didn’t loom over, in either form, and his muscular frame added to the impact. Shifters steered clear of him. Humans, oddly enough, tended to gravitate to him. Asked him if he was a wrestler. He’d said yes once or twice, just to shut them up. But it wasn’t his size or his stature that made him scary. It was his training. It was the look in his eye that said he could take down anything and anyone who crossed him. And for those in the know, it was the reputation of the College that had trained him. Well… trained was one word. Built, maybe. Crafted. Hammered into shape like a sword on a forge.
“You must be Owen. I’m Violet.”
”Alpha,” he said, inclining his head again. “I understand you have a list.”
She laughed, a musical sound. “Nothing you’ll need to take notes for. Shall we?”
She was very gracious, this not-a-Queen of theirs, he observed as he followed her into the dining hall she’d gestured to. Charismatic. Good instincts for leadership. No wonder she’d held onto power, even in the wake of the murder of their previous monarch. Usually, that kind of thing would lead to a free-for-all, especially with the added instability of the shift in location. Most packs or clans that had to move wound up with a dozen leaders within the space of a few years. But these guys just had Violet. She was doing well. They’d be well s
erved by hanging onto her. Owen had encountered plenty of weak and useless leaders, and he knew how to pinpoint a good one.
”Now, I’m sure you’re aware that our previous settlement at Mossley was burned to the ground about four years ago.”
He nodded, his jaw set. It was always good to let people refresh you on things they thought you knew already. You never knew what interesting new information you’d glean that way.
”The dragons who did it live in the Rocky Mountains. It’s taken us this long to get a fix on their location—and of course, to save up what we needed to cover your fee,” she added with a gracious little smile. “Well worth it, of course, we’re all in agreement. We’d like a hostage. We’d also like you to track down a certain item they’ve got.”
That hadn’t been on the brief. Nor had the kidnapping. He’d thought they just wanted the monarch dead. Tit for tat, and all that. It seemed their plans were a little more elaborate than that. Fair enough. If his whole settlement had been destroyed and his King murdered, he’d probably want a complicated bit of revenge, too. And besides, if they were paying the College’s exorbitant rates, they probably wanted more than a simple assassination.
”From what we hear, it’s a little statue, carved out of the rock they live in. Topaz stones for eyes. It’s full of old magic. You’ll recognize it?”
A curt nod. He knew about the old magic. Artifacts still existed, but they were rare as hen’s teeth these days. It was beginning to make sense that these dragons had reached out to the College instead of just hiring a regular assassin or bounty hunter. “Its purpose?”
For the first time since he’d been talking to her, Violet’s eyes flickered a little—the tiniest break appearing in her guard. Interesting. She was embarrassed, on behalf of her people, about what the artifact did, about why they wanted it. “Size and strength.”
No sense in making her feel bad about it. He schooled his expression, kept it neutral like he’d been taught. “Done. Any hostage, or do you have someone specific in mind?”
”Get the princess,” Violet said darkly, an unbelievable amount of venom suffusing her voice, making her young face seem ugly. “A young woman who lives in the Palace along with the rest of the royal family. Our source told us her name’s Angela - they’ve been pretty secretive about her. Probably worried about a kidnapping.” Violet grinned savagely. “Blonde, in her human shape. She’s the one we want.”
”Consider it done. Give me a few weeks. May need to infiltrate the settlement to track down the artifact and track down this Angela.”
”Take your time. Keep us in the loop.” He had their contact information saved to his phone. Thankfully, these weren’t the kinds of dragons who’d rejected human technology. Always frustrating, trying to keep in touch with clients who were still in pen-and-paper days. “We’ll be waiting.”
They shook hands, after which he left her sitting at the oddly formal dining table that stood on a raised stage above the rest of the hall. He glanced back over his shoulder at her before he left, saw her standing with a look he knew quite well gleaming in her eye. She was looking forward to whatever twisted revenge she had planned for this captive. If he were to let himself feel anything, he’d feel a bit sorry for this so-called princess.
When he stepped back out into the settlement’s main square, it was to find a whole gaggle of the white-eyed dragons loitering about. They all immediately disappeared into conversations, a rather transparent attempt at pretending they hadn’t been waiting to catch a glimpse of him. He didn’t mind, really. His reputation had proceeded him by design. The College liked their reps to be big and scary. That was why they did what they did with their eyes, the graduation ceremony. He blinked involuntarily at the memory. He still forgot, sometimes—forgot what people saw when they looked at him. No wonder they avoided eye contact whenever they could. It was dramatic, sure, but it was a bit of a problem when his work called on him to go undercover. And this work did. He’d have to wear contacts when he was human-shaped. And he’d have to be careful they didn’t see him shift until he’d decided to break cover.
That being said, from what he’d heard about this colony, they may not recognize what his eyes meant. They’d been isolationists for centuries, hidden away—most of the rest of shifter society had assumed they’d died out years ago, when they thought of them at all. But lately, they’d been putting feelers out, it seemed, trying to rejoin the world. That had been a hell of a stunt they’d pulled a few years ago, that was for sure. News was scarce about what exactly had happened, but it had involved bears. All the big dramas of shifter history seemed to involve bears, from what Owen could figure. He knew a few bears. A couple of his students, plus a couple of College graduates, colleagues now. They were a weird bunch. It didn’t surprise him that their people got into trouble as often as they did. Too much power, not enough control. An odd little quirk of nature.
The white dragons were still gathered, peering over at him as though he couldn’t see them. Let them look. It was good PR for the College, anyway. He stretched his neck from side to side, then shoved his straight black hair back into place with the heel of his hand. Enough room to shift, here? When he’d arrived, he’d landed a few hundred paces into the forest and shifted there. But he hated to disappoint his little cluster of fans, especially when they’d clearly taken time out of their day to come and see what the big deal was.
He could almost hear his combat instructor’s voice in the back of his head. The old wolf had always had a soft spot for him, but all that had meant was that he was even harsher on him in sparring, in drills. Half his scars were thanks to that old bastard. Don’t show off, Owen. It’ll get you killed one day.
Well, Tarik wasn’t here. And if he couldn’t show off, then what was the point of being such a freak? He took a deep breath and felt his odd eyes glow as he transformed. Audible gasps from the dragons assembled, and he felt his private grin split his jaw open as his head bulged and shifted form. His shoulders hulked and expanded, his wings unfurling, and within minutes he stood proudly in the town square. He knew what he looked like. Owen had never met another dragon like him—it was why the College had taken him so young, why they’d persisted with his training despite how prone he’d been to emotional outbursts. Thankfully, he’d had that under control for decades, now. Centuries. Ironed out all the weak points, trained himself into the remorseless killing machine that now stood before his assembled fan club, wings curled against his back. Sleek as gunmetal, his body—where most dragons he’d met had scales, his own body was covered in incredibly tough hide, bulletproof and almost impenetrable to tooth and claw. And though most other dragons were eye-catching in color, he was colored for camouflage, a shade of dark gray that blended seamlessly with the night sky.
To his surprise, the white dragons were shifting, too. They looked even smaller standing beside him, and he rumbled draconic laughter as they lifted off, buzzed around him like rowboats around a battleship. He spread his great wings and with a couple of massive downstrokes, he leapt aloft, great shoulders powering to keep him above the ground. The white dragons came with him, dodging and circling around him, chasing each other in the drafts created by his enormous wings. He could hear them chattering between themselves, animated, trying to show off to each other and to him.
Nice moves, little brothers and sisters, he chuckled—then accelerated. Before long, he’d left them all in the dust, gaining altitude and speed at a rate they couldn’t hope to compete with. He could hear them all farewelling him as they fell back, and the last thing he heard before they were out of range was a voice he suspected belonged to the first dragon he’d spoken with, the nervous guy who was clearly much more at home in his draconic form than his human one. His telepathic tone dripped with envy and admiration.
Wish we had black eyes like that.
He probably wouldn’t envy them so fiercely, Owen thought to himself, if he knew what these eyes cost their owners.
It was a long flight south. Thankfu
lly, he had the resources of the College behind him so he wouldn’t need to search every single inch of the hundreds of miles of the Rocky Mountains to find a single dragon colony hidden among the rocks. Shifters had a way of emanating a kind of magical frequency that was detectable at a distance if you had the right tools, especially when they clustered together, and it wasn’t long before his colleagues had figured out a certain rocky valley where there seemed to be a lot more residual energy than there should have been. He was on his way. It would be a few hours before he got there, though, and in the mean time, he could adjust his cover story to fit with the new information he’d gotten from the dragon Alpha. Dragon Alpha, Owen chuckled to himself. Wasn’t that just a sign of the times. Wolves and dragons were meant to be mortal enemies, but here they were, borrowing political systems from one another. It had been strange enough to learn that there were wolves and dragons who intermingled with each other without war. Now, this. Well, the world kept on turning. None of his concern, so long as he kept getting work. No matter how peaceful and friendly shifters got, there would always be work for bounty hunters and assassins.
And Owen was the best of both. He wasn’t vain about it—he just knew it to be true. The College where he’d spent his upbringing and most of his adult life trained shifters into killing machines, and he was their star pupil. He even did a little bit of teaching these days, though it made him feel a little strange. He could remember being where his students were, that was all—remember being young, and vulnerable, and lost. So full of anger, and grief, and other things that made him weak, sapped his focus, wasted his time. The training had gotten him through that, gotten him over that, and he’d always be thankful for that. It was a beautiful thing to share with the next generation of killers, that’s what he told himself. Still, he’d been grateful for the opportunity to take a bit of time off for this job.
The Rocky Mountain dragons, they were a sore spot for the College administration—that was the impression he’d gotten, anyway. Hard to get much of an impression of all from the College admin staff, strange blank-eyed bureaucrats that they were, but there had to be a reason they’d picked him, one of their oldest and most well-regarded Hunters, for what sounded on its surface like a pretty good job for a rookie. Take a prisoner, steal a statue? Beneath his pay grade. But the College didn’t make mistakes. So he was taking it seriously. There might be information to glean about these isolationists, these dragons who’d emerged long enough to torch another settlement to the ground before retreating to their diplomatic distance. Alexander was the name of their King, he knew that much. The rest of the intel he’d gotten was just rumors. Bears and wolves and humans living in some kind of weird hippy harmony up there, that kind of stuff. Maybe true. Stranger things had happened, he was sure. And he knew a few humans. Not many, of course, but the bureaucracy at the College, in particular, had a couple of humans in it. They didn’t make a big deal about it, but you could smell it on them. He often wondered who’d been the first one that got let in. There was a story there, he could imagine.