Mate's Baby: Royal Dragon Curse

by Lola Gabriel

  Mate’s Baby

  Royal Dragon Curse

  Lola Gabriel

  Mate’s Baby

  Text Copyright © 2018 by Lola Gabriel

  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, 2018

  Publisher

  Secret Woods Books

  secretwoodsbooks@gmail.com

  www.SecretWoodsBooks.com

  Contents

  Prologue

  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

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Epilogue

  Preview: Code of the Alpha

  Other Books You Will Love

  Secret Woods Books

  Thank You

  About the Author

  Prologue

  500 Years Ago

  Never before had the dirt street of the England village been so packed. Every resident, from serf to lord, was in attendance. The crowd was so tightly jammed together that the air was hard to breathe and was thick with the pungent smell of body odor and manure. Perhaps even thicker than the air was the tension which hung in it.

  The voices were indistinguishable, the hysteria reaching a fever pitch as the accused was dragged by two strapping young men through the waves of screaming town-folk and into the center of the town square. People of all classes launched rotten food, rocks, and dung pies at the hunched, gray-haired woman. Her stance was merely to shield her face from the projectiles. There was no fear, shame, or guilt in her sky-blue eyes—only sheer rage.

  Shoving her up onto a platform, the elderly woman was presented to Reverend Tallant. They exchanged deadly glares, but only Tallant wore a smirk. One of the young men handed the reverend the iron chain which bound the woman’s hands together. With a sharp tug, the reverend moved to the edge of the stage and took the woman with him.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” his demanding and charismatic voice boomed, managing to break through the rumbling shouts. With just three words, the reverend sent a hush over the crowd—all eyes and ears were Tallant’s. Even with being hunched over and her wild hair in her face, the woman could see the excitement in the reverend’s eyes; no, the ecstasy.

  While the smugness grew, his smirk faded, and a stern, fatal expression dominated his face.

  “Kind and loyal subjects to the king, devoted servants to the one Almighty God, have you not been experiencing the worst luck of your lives, your father’s, of his father before him?”

  The town gave an agreeing roar.

  “Why do think that is?” he pondered, gesturing to the crowd to give answers. They all waited with baited breath for him to continue. “Do you think that God would turn his back on his devout, virtuous people?”

  It was replied by a resounding, unified, “No!”

  His voice then packed a fiery punch. “Would He cause such a drought in a country which is so righteous? Our God pours down pails upon pails of rain and blessing all year long upon us, why would this change?” There were more excited hollers. “If this was any sort of punishment for us, it is because His people are allowing these unholy women to walk among us!”

  If the crowd had reached a fever pitch before, it was then pure hysteria, screaming so loudly and vehemently, it didn’t even sound as though they were speaking English any longer. Just animalistic, deranged noises.

  “There is only one way to cleanse this sin from the land. We must find all of the witches and purify their bodies and souls, and hope that God has mercy on us and them!” The Reverend’s peculiar clay brown eyes fell back down to the witch, the smug smirk returning to his face as the crowd chanted to burn her.

  The woman’s wild eyes lifted to the crowd, manic and enraged. “Sheep! Sheep! You are all senseless sheep! You listen to any dribble that comes out of that man’s vile mouth! This heretic claims another in order to distract the masses from his own sins!” The array of projectiles began again, the woman lifting her arms to shield her face. They all began to chant, burn her, burn her! Just as their anger grew, so did hers. When she reached her own fever pitch, she spat, “You’re being fed lies, right from the dragon’s mouth!”

  The two young men who had brought her to the makeshift stage, who had a striking resemblance to the reverend, took the chain back from Tallant and jerked the woman back and toward the very center of the stage. A tall stake was there, surrounded by a bed of dry leaves, twigs, and coals. Her back was pressed against the wooden stake, and the heavy iron chain was wrapped about her and secured firmly.

  Desperately, she cried out, “Osric is a dragon, but he has disguised himself as a holy man! He and his entire wretched family!” Everyone booed at her and launched more dung and rotten food at her. No longer did she hide her face; instead, her cheeks grew red and smeared with brown. “If I did anything, it was protecting you people from them! They will eat your children! They will manipulate you just as they are now! They will be the end of you!”

  “Quiet, witch,” Reverend Osric Tallant said flatly, though the woman could hear the twinkle of amusement lingering in his tone. No one seemed to take notice when the torch Osric held caught fire on its own.

  Lowering the flame to the dry debris, the witch screeched. Her wild blue eyes watched as the fire rapidly moved through the twigs and brown leaves before it finally reached her bare feet, scorching her flesh. A guttural noise escaped her, but she clenched her teeth and begged herself not to scream. She would never give him the satisfaction.

  Her eyes locked with the Reverend Tallant’s. His pupils transitioned into reptilian slivers as he watched the flames traveling to her ankles with vicious amusement, and the smell of her burning flesh hung in the already nauseating air.

  As she stared him down, the witch found the strength within herself to speak. Her words were in an ancient language, one foreign to the reverend’s ears. However, with the look in her crazed eyes, he knew it was a deadly attack. Osric paced backward, eyes widening.

  The flames slowly overtook her body, and the hateful, intimidating chant spewed from her lips repeatedly until the pain transitioned into shock and overrode her senses. Her body locked into place, her face towards the sky as her life left her body.

  Osric only stared in horror, wondering what the hell that spell meant. What had he done?

  1

  Present Day

  The glass was cool against Asher’s forehead, but he wasn’t in a state of mind to pay any attention to it. His mud-brown eyes were fixated on a specific spot in space, and yet he wasn’t looking at anything in particular. His body over the past six months had transformed into a vessel of numbness and depression. Nothing at all brought him joy. His smile was as rare as an eclipse.

  The town car had been stationary for several minutes before Asher even took notice. Blinking rapidly, he shook his head and wrapped his long, slender fingers around the door handle. Despite Asher’s immense strength, every small task involved a great deal of effort from his sluggish form. He had to pres
s his side into the door to open it before he could finally emerge onto the busy city sidewalk, his eyes turning up to the family business, housed in a skyscraper.

  Perhaps it was time for him to get more involved in the company; it could provide him with a distraction and a sense of normalcy. Then again, it wouldn’t exactly be normal. The family all had designated roles, but none actually did anything on a regular basis, and they all did their best to avoid the limelight. Even the thought of trying to get more involved exhausted him.

  With the same flat expression on his face, Asher moved into the lobby of the building. To his left, a member of the staff approached him with an iPad in hand and a cheesy, fake smile plastered on his clean-shaven face. The name of the employee escaped Asher, but he remembered him being obnoxiously chipper—and Asher certainly wasn’t in the mood for that.

  “Good morning, Asher, glad to see you made it in today!” the employee said in a sing-song, grating tone. Asher moved past him, pointlessly hoping that the man wouldn’t follow. “Of course, I’m sure you’re aware that the meeting will be held in the top floor conference room. To my understanding, it is a closed meeting with only the chief financial officers—” Theo and Eden. “—the public relations officer—” Sebastian. “—and legal advisor,” he finished with a chuckle.

  That was Asher’s assigned role, complete with a law degree that his father had paid for a few years back. Asher’s only duty was occasionally showing up to the campus to give the appearance of being a student. There truly were seldom things in life that money couldn’t buy. “Oh, and Mr. Tallant himself, naturally.”

  Asher wasn’t quite sure why the young man felt the need to list off everyone, wondering if it was in some sort of weird way to impress him by all that the man knew, or perhaps because it was unprofessional for him to call it a family meeting, which was what it was. It would probably give a bad look and spread rumors of nepotism, as if that was something foreign to their company or any others like theirs. The people who actually did the jobs that he and his siblings were titled with were paid well enough to where a title just didn’t matter to them. At least it hadn’t so far.

  “So, I can only assist you to the floor,” the man added, derailing Asher from his train of thought. When the private elevator door opened, Asher stepped inside and produced a dry, false grin.

  “I don’t need assistance up an elevator shaft, thanks.” Before the expression on the once-chipper man’s face could change, Asher pressed the close button and disappeared behind two silver doors. It was probably arrogant, or something of the sort, to dismiss an employee like that. But he had no interest in playing office politics, knowing all too well that guy was trying to get sweet on Asher in hopes of getting a job above greeter and coffee-fetcher. Perhaps a year ago, Asher would have at the very least entertained it, but he had been in no mood for it. He never was anymore.

  Asher had zoned out during the long elevator ride, and his mind found its way back to images of light brown hair and olive-green pools that he had always wanted to dive right into and stay forever. The thoughts were inviting and attractive, and yet they struck a chord so sensitive and so deep that tears instantaneously collected in his eyes. A distant, faint musical laughter sounded from somewhere in the back of his mind, but it felt like it was in the room with him.

  The small chime of the elevator arriving on the floor brought him out of his trance. Stepping off the elevator, Asher straightened his sand-colored suit jacket, cleared his throat, and made his way to the conference room. All of his siblings, as well as his father, were already sat at the long teak table, their eyes on Asher as he sauntered toward an empty chair.

  “Glad you decided to join us,” his father called over, bemused. Asher didn’t respond, simply spinning his chair around and plopping down. Picking up a remote control from the tabletop, the patriarch closed the blinds to the office. No one at that point was supposed to be on that floor, but just as the greeter had done, people were always lurking around for opportunities to advance their careers—whether that was done nobly or through other means.

  Quite frankly, that was the first time in over a year that Asher had attended a family board meeting, other than the one where…

  Asher pushed the memory away before it could fully resurface. Would his wounds ever heal? Clasping his hands firmly together, he gritted his teeth and focused on his father’s face. Carlyle Tallant was ghostly pale, and yet it didn’t age him. He had actually dyed his hair on the sides to give him a more distinguished and aged look with a touch of artificial gray. His hair, the faintest lines on the sides of his clay-colored eyes, and the single line above his brow were the only physical features which separated their father from his offspring in age. His curly raven hair was thick and glossy, his skin flawless and smooth; his knuckles were without the tale-tell signs of arthritis, and his physique was still the same build of a man well in his twenties.

  Objectively, Asher knew his father, along with the rest of his family, was strikingly attractive. Perhaps it was why their lack of aging was never called into question. The few times it had, they had easily charmed their way out of it. Asher had even seen his father make a grown man blush.

  “I’m assuming, since I’ve required all of us to be in attendance, that you know this isn’t a meeting about stocks or a public relations fiasco. This is a more serious matter.”

  Postures all around the table straightened, knowing he meant this had something to do with the Kingdom. Meetings weren’t often called for anything beyond business, because nothing outside of it ever really changed. Not a word was said, all waiting in anticipation of what was to come. Asher could tell his father was relishing the moment. What king wasn’t power hungry? The silence seemed to last an eternity, a slight smirk tugging at the king’s lips. Once he had his fill, he spoke.

  “As you know, the threat of witches hasn’t been present for hundreds of years. However, we don’t simply stay defenseless. We have scouts spread throughout the region to be sure those foul beings don’t attempt anything.”

  “We know this,” Eden interrupted. “Get to the point.”

  Asher held his breath, waiting for his father’s vicious temper. But, it never came. He and his brothers were accustomed to fury from their father when stepping out of line, even by a hair. However, Eden was protected by two things: being Carlyle’s only daughter and being the spitting image of their belated mother.

  The most his father did in response was hold up a hand to gesture her to be quiet. “Our scouts claim to have crossed paths with a mortal woman who smelled of dragon.”

  Gasps sounded, and jaws dropped. It didn’t need to be stated why that was so shocking. There was only one reason a human woman would ever smell of dragon: she was pregnant with a dragon’s child. But there hadn’t been a newborn dragon in five hundred years. After their grandfather had burned an important leader of the witches at the stake, their people had been cursed, unable to bear children. This couldn’t be real, it had to be a rumor; it was an interesting one at that.

  “Why give something so absurd attention?” Eden scoffed once the look of shock was wiped from her face.

  “This is not just some rumor being spread about. This was the account of two high-ranking scouts who swore it to be true. They both know I would have their heads on a spike for lying about something like this, not to mention wasting my time,” Carlyle actually snapped before straightening his tie and clearing his throat. It was obvious he was uncomfortable getting upset with Eden at even the lowest level. “I understand that, while it may be quite shocking, it is not something I am willing to turn away from on the off chance it is true. Because if it is, we need to figure out how.”

  “Well, this is exciting news, but what do you want us to do about it?” Theo pondered.

  “I don’t want word getting out about this, especially when it hasn’t been confirmed. We must get to the bottom of this before letting anyone know.”

  There was an intense silence surrounding them all,
no one sure what to say or do. It was a matter of awaiting their father’s instructions. Once again, Carlyle savored the moment, knowing that any action that followed would do so because of his word. No matter the request, and no matter who it was given to, his command would be fulfilled. Their family and Kingdom knew all too well what happened to people who went against Carlyle Tallant.

  Finally, Carlyle’s eyes landed on Asher. “Since this is to be kept private and you obviously need something to do, I want you to lead the search for this woman.” Before Asher could protest, his father inserted, “You and Sebastian gather the men who first spotted her, and just a few more. As little as you can manage. One of the men who noticed this woman stayed there to try and pick up on her scent again.”

  Why me? Asher wanted to question him. He hadn’t been put in charge of anything since Olive had left him—he had been too deep in depression. Then again, he supposed that was the point. Carlyle wasn’t going to let him stay in this emotional and useless state forever. Doing his best to mentally accept all of this, he nodded and asked, “Is there a description of the woman?”

  “No,” his father sighed. “They, unfortunately, didn’t get a good look at her. The woman was in a crowd. They caught onto the scent, and no other of our kind seemed to be around. It had to have been a mortal.” Standing from his seat, Carlyle glanced at his children before sauntering to the door. “Take Sebastian to lead the charge with you. I want full reports every day and notice of any action taken.”