The Moorigad Dragon: (An Urban Fantasy Series) (Age of the Hybrid Book 1)

by Debra Kristi

  Her skin heated as she observed the two of them together. Ashlyn was young and beautiful with silvery hair flowing like a stream across her perfect skin. Everything she did had a way of looking sensual. Marcus was only male, no doubt powerless against her supernatural ways. And no matter how much she didn’t want to admit it, that irritated Kyra like a spike in her dragon’s tail. And it irritated her that she cared at all, because honestly, why should she care what Marcus did? Again she found herself scratching her head at this new lack of understanding or control over her emotions. And, it would seem, her actions too.

  She wanted to walk over and punch him, and then claw poor Ashlyn to pieces, even if it wasn’t her fault. Ashlyn couldn’t help what she was any more than Kyra could help being a Moorigad.

  Lurking in the background, amongst the debris and filth like a hungry hyena, moved the Magician. Stiff and awkward were his steps, a glint betraying his curious eyes hidden in black shadow beneath the brim of his hat.

  Kyra shivered, looked away. She knew what he wanted. Jealousy and irritation excreted from his body like a ruptured water main. It was undeniable, and thankfully Kyra wasn’t the object of his obsession. He made her skin crawl, and the hairs on her arms rise. Would he hurt Marcus over a silly girl?

  Kyra heard her name called from a distance. No, not a distance—right next to her. She turned back to Sebastian and pushed the thoughts of Marcus out of her head. So confusing, probably rude and selfish too, to be consumed with her own issues in the midst of discussing Sebastian and Chelsea. She must’ve spaced.

  Now what had Sebastian said? Can’t you smell it? Kyra sniffed the air. She was overcome with the acrid scent of ash, melted plastic, and just about every kind of burnt item one could think of. The grass was now dewy and she smelled that too. She didn’t know what smell he meant, so she shook her head.

  Sebastian leaned forward and whispered, “Cancer.”

  Kyra jerked back. “You can—?” She threw her hand over her mouth, stopped mid-sentence.

  Chelsea joined them, stood awkwardly between them. “What did I miss?”

  “Sorry. I had to make sure Kyra was okay.” He spoke without moving his gaze from Kyra.

  Chelsea dropped her head onto his shoulder. “I get it.”

  Kyra’s lips twitched, giving Chelsea the best fake smile she could muster. Despite his words, Sebastian was finally giving the girl attention, even if he’d been quick to push her aside. At least Kyra understood why now. Or thought she did. It was possible Chelsea had figured out some time ago that he knew she was ill, and that was why she was being such a good sport about his treatment of her. Does she know she’s dying?

  Seeing Sebastian and Chelsea together made Kyra’s heart clench with an indescribable ache, and she had trouble distinguishing the reason why. Was it because she was lonely? She massaged her shoulders and turned away. Maybe it was the visual of finality Chelsea represented, or the new addition in her life. Marcus’s life was so fragile. Yet, he had promise of something great, something stronger.

  Ashlyn was watching Kyra when she looked back, a deflated yet teasing smile settled on her face. Marcus was no longer at her side. The mad Magician had yanked Ashlyn away and wrapped her protectively within his cloak, like his most precious possession. Cold shivers ran across Kyra’s inner scales. Not because it disturbed her in the darkest recesses of her core, although it did that too, but because she recognized a piece of herself in the action, a bit of what she was becoming. And what she saw tasted bitter and ugly.

  She ground her teeth and focused on Marcus. He made his way toward her, shirt in hand, dabbing at the sweat on his brow. Kyra wondered about Ashlyn’s smile. She wondered about rumors that Ashlyn waited at the carnival for her one true love, the man who never came. And she wondered if the new pull she was experiencing was destined to turn her twisted and crazy like the Magician. Sudden panic took hold of her. What if Marcus was the man Ashlyn waited for? Would that explain the Magician’s presence in front of her trailer earlier? Ferocious butterflies fluttered a mad choreograph around her insides, and fear gutted her. She fought the emotions the pull created, but they were stronger, or she was weaker. Her gaze shot to Marcus, and that’s when she saw it.

  Kyra’s breath caught in her throat. Glowing in the moonlight across his broad chest was the dragon’s crest. The symbol of royalty. Another trait, another clue, another piece to his puzzle. She’d seen his eyes, he had survived the smoke, he smelled of Serpicose, and now the crest. But there was no sign of his actual dragon. Where did his magnificent beast go? The men on the bridge shouldn’t have gotten the better of him, and Marcus should have easily saved himself from the lake and her trailer. It didn’t make sense. The man was a puzzle.

  Marcus came to a stop in front of her and exhaled. “The rain seems to have put out the fire.” He rubbed his eyes, looking two days spent.

  He was right, the fire was nowhere to be seen. She breathed in the night air and looked up to the sky. Was it her imagination, or were the stars twinkling extra bright? She thanked the rain, releasing it from service. The smell of charred remains overwhelmed the underlying rich, dewy bouquet of peat moss and crabgrass, and was a secret welcome to her senses.

  Another scent snaked in, mingled with the mix. Serpicose again. It smelled of smoldering moss and warm, wild berries. Kyra inhaled it. Savored it. Followed it. It led her straight to Marcus. Earlier today she would have said the possibility of Marcus being anything but human was impossible. Now she no longer felt the same. She scrutinized him, and he stared back with an incredibly strong gaze. It stripped her to the bone, destroyed all her carefully constructed barriers.

  Sebastian cleared his throat, commanding Marcus’s attention. “I see you made it out in one piece.” He made no attempt to hide the snark packed heavily into his words.

  “Yeah. I have Kyra to thank for that.” Marcus looked at Kyra with a gaze resembling an inside joke, something private between just the two of them, and she saw the mischievous twinkle in full force. “She’s really something.”

  Something in Sebastian’s eyes glinted. “Yes, she is.” He turned and took Chelsea’s hand. “Come on. Let’s go.”

  Kyra watched them walk away, her chest constricting and stomach churning with acidic dragon’s fire. She couldn’t help thinking their exit was rather abrupt. Shifting her weight, she twisted to face Marcus. “What was that about?”

  He brushed a stray hair from the side of her face, ran his thumb down her cheekbone. She startled and he pulled back, looking apologetic. “Don’t know exactly. Jealously, maybe?”

  Kyra scoffed. That couldn’t be right. Could it? Her heart flipped at the thought. Maybe she wanted Sebastian to be jealous. Her gaze wandered to Marcus’s neckline, then to the unique markings on his chest. This time her fingers followed.

  All kinds of emotions warred within her and she didn’t know what to make of them. Or what to do with them. On the one hand she was pulled to Marcus, and on the other it was clear she needed to figure out what she felt for Sebastian. Right now, though, her calling was clear. The damn, stupid pull.

  Slowly, with deliberate lines, she traced the tooth he had tied around his neck, certain it was the tooth of an immensely old dragon. She couldn’t say exactly how old, but it was definitely up there in years. Her fingers ran over it, feeling, sensing—nothing. No magic vibrated from the pendant that she could discern.

  “This is a pretty interesting piece.” Kyra twisted the tooth between her fingers.

  Marcus laughed, one quick snort. “That old thing has been in the family for ages. It’s become kind of a joke, actually. You’ll laugh at the story that goes with it.”

  A wicked smile fought to take hold of Kyra’s features. “Try me.”

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. The family has this story about descending from dragons. This thing,” he removed the tooth hanging from his neck and held it out in front of him, “is supposedly the tooth of some great ancestor. Before tonight, I never considered
it possible.” He fixed his gaze with hers, then pressed his hand to hers with the tooth between them. “Laughable, isn’t it?”

  “Does it look like I’m laughing?” The fingers of her free hand traced the faint lines glowing across his chest. Lines only visible in the moonlight. They stretched out like the expanded wings of a large dragon. Marcus shivered, but didn’t pull away. Instead, his hand grasped her hand, held it to his chest.

  His eyes narrowed. “No, it doesn’t. And in light of things I’ve seen recently, it doesn’t sound so crazy anymore.” He pressed the tooth into Kyra’s palm and closed her hand around it. “I want you to hold on to it—after saving my life countless times I owe you this and more.”

  Kyra looked down at the ancient piece she now held. “I can’t…”

  “I insist. Besides, I think you’re more deserving than I.”

  “Kyra! Marcus! Get over here.” Higgins’s voice broke through sharp and urgent, invoking a gut-curdling urge to respond.

  Kyra looked to Marcus, then casually let her gaze wander to Sebastian. The men wrestled with the twisted remains of a trailer in an attempt to free a fellow carnie. Cries of the girl trapped within the rubble were audible all the way to where Kyra stood. The little vortex beast, so inexperienced. She probably accidentally sucked all the destruction in upon herself.

  Kyra and Marcus thought they had gotten away. They had actually walked away, but Higgins had called them back to help. Now Kyra stood to the side, watching Sebastian again. Watching both Sebastian and Marcus, a painful pang attacking her heart like a sour case of indigestion. Throwing a flash-fire on her open sore, Chelsea stood beside her, a constant reminder Kyra had thought it a good idea to play Cupid. She tried not to think about Chelsea. Kyra had been dumb enough to push Sebastian toward Chelsea in the first place. Instead, Kyra busied her mind with other things.

  The conversation with Marcus about dragons played in her mind. Clutching the tooth Marcus had trusted her with in her hand, she squeezed it before shoving it deep into her front jeans pocket. It said a lot he trusted her with his ancestor’s canine.

  “I need something from you,” Kyra said to Chelsea, then turned to look at her.

  Chelsea met Kyra’s gaze. “Anything. Just name it.”

  Kyra had expected this response, suspected Chelsea would be eager to please Sebastian by helping his best friend. That’s why Kyra had chosen her. To keep it quiet, for Sebastian’s sake.

  “Can you come with Marcus and me? I need someone trustworthy. Someone needs to keep an eye on Marcus and tend to his wounds while I take care of something.” Kyra returned to watching her men. “I shouldn’t be long, and you’ll be at Marcus’s place, so there shouldn’t be any danger. Do you think you could do that?”

  An awkward silence fell between them. Kyra sensed something wasn’t right, causing an unpleasant sensation to stir in her gut. And though Chelsea spoke not a word, her face soured. She pressed in on her abdomen, and Kyra got the nagging suspicion Chelsea shared in the queasy stomach syndrome.

  “Okay.” Chelsea’s voice was low and lacked her usual conviction.

  Kyra knew she should question the matter, but she didn’t. The fear it would throw her into relationship territory was too great. The last thing she wanted was to stand there with Chelsea discussing feelings regarding Sebastian, because honestly, she didn’t know where hers lay anymore. Instead, she snatched Marcus away from Sebastian and vortex girl, and made a beeline for the portal at the carnival’s front entrance, Chelsea at their tail.

  “Hey! Where ya going?” Sebastian’s voice called from behind.

  “Quick errand. Nothing more. I’ll be back before you miss me.” Kyra’s words were sharp, had bite. She glanced over her shoulder to glimpse his face. Dark, glistening pools of onyx stared back at her. She snapped her head forward. Didn’t want to see anymore. Didn’t want to hurt him. His emotions were not her responsibility, she reasoned.

  Dammit. Dammit. Dammit.

  Sebastian hadn’t flirted with Ashlyn, made her mad—that was Marcus. Part of her wanted to be mad at Marcus for falling under Ashlyn’s spell, except the logical side of her brain knew he couldn’t help it. It was Ashlyn, after all, and all men tended to be powerless in her presence. All men who weren’t Sebastian, that was. No, Sebastian had done nothing more than be nice to Chelsea. Now Kyra was reacting like a soulless fire demon. She needed to pull herself together.

  She pushed down the havoc-inducing swirl of emotions within her and pulled Marcus through the magical gateway. Promising herself with the first step away from the carnival she’d smooth things over with Sebastian soon. Or later. At least before late became too late and the festering turned to crusted rust.

  Kyra, Marcus, and Chelsea soon stood on a quiet, tree-lined street in Philadelphia, where they began their trek toward Marcus’s apartment.

  It was elegant for a bachelor’s pad. A well-cared-for brown leather sofa set filled the center of the room. Smudge-free glass coffee and side tables adorned. Few accessories on surfaces and pictures on the wall. It was a minimalist’s look. Beautifully impressive, especially for a man living alone. Not a single empty beer can or slice of cold pizza in sight.

  Marcus Blackall tossed his keys on the rustic marble counter, told the ladies to make themselves comfortable, and disappeared into the bedroom. The sound of water soon came from the bathroom beyond.

  The weight of inevitability dropping upon Kyra’s shoulders, she notched her hands on her hips and turned on Chelsea. “What’s going on? You’ve been quieter than usual.” She crossed her arms and tilted her head to the side. The foul scent of irritated dragon smoke clogged her nostrils. “Please tell me this doesn’t have to do with Sebastian.”

  Plleeeaassseee!

  Chelsea began to spin a hand in front of her face, as if willing words that wouldn’t come. Kyra took her actions as a ridiculous bid for time. She didn’t know if she should smile, laugh, or what?

  “I’m sorry,” Chelsea said, her face turning brighter than Kyra’s hair. “I haven’t been completely honest with you, and I’m afraid it will affect what you’re trying to accomplish by having me keep an eye on Marcus.”

  Kyra raised an interested brow and remained silent, waiting for the girl to continue.

  Chelsea bit her lip, reluctant, then continued. “The first time I came to the carnival I thought it was a dream. One marvelous, impossible dream. Then I met you and Sebastian, and I kept coming back because I wanted the dream. Things felt, tasted, so real. I began to believe they were, miraculously as it may seem, truly real.” Chelsea’s big, remorseful eyes bored into Kyra. “But I only come to visit when I’m sleeping, you see? When I wake up, back home, I leave this place.” Chelsea wrung her hands together. “What happens if I wake up?”

  Kyra stared at Chelsea, her head buzzing with thoughts and possibilities never before considered. She remembered the cancer, wondered how it factored in. Kyra shivered. Tried to play it off, work it into a roll of the shoulders, not wanting Chelsea to see her reaction. Maybe the cancer was changing her. Maybe her carnival visits meant more than Chelsea realized. There were a lot of maybes.

  Still, Kyra didn’t smell anything other than human girl on Chelsea. But she did see the girl differently for the first time. “Are you telling me you’re asleep right now?”

  Chelsea nodded.

  “Then whatever you do,” Kyra said, “don’t wake up.”

  Chelsea gulped, embarrassment slowly draining from her face, replaced by resolve.

  Sebastian’s words rang in Kyra’s ear—cancer. Images swam through her head. Pictures of Chelsea in a hospital room hooked up to machines, with daily nurse visits and IV drips that kept her under, kept her at the carnival. Kyra cringed.

  Marcus entered the room and she snapped into the now. Fitted jeans and a light blue t-shirt hugged his chest and upper triceps. He looked good, if you looked beyond his many bumps and bruises: cheekbone, nose, and arms. The colors in his outfit brought out the blue in his eyes. S
he fought the desire to smile a little too wide. “Very nice. Don’t let that go to your head, though. I suspect you hear that a lot.” The devilish grin she received in response was confirmation enough. “That’s what I thought.” She shook her head and rolled her eyes closed. Only for the count of a wing’s flutter. “I have to go for a bit. You’ll be good if I leave Chelsea here?”

  Marcus closed the gap between them, placing himself dangerously close to Kyra. “We just got here.” He looked puzzled and in need of a solid answer.

  Kyra stole a glance in Chelsea’s direction. “I know. Will you be good, though?” She rubbed her palms down the front of her jeans and hoped he’d understand. She was uncomfortable with him getting so close. Especially in front of Chelsea. Her pulse increased and she began to perspire. The tension was too tight across her shoulders. Oh, how her wings wanted to stretch. Her hands began to knead at the pain and she took a miniscule step back.

  He glanced to the side, to Chelsea, then back. “Fine, but I don’t need a babysitter.” His eyes darkened and an impenetrable veil pulled down over them. The lines across his forehead deepened and his face flushed, if only slightly. He was trying to hide his irritation, ineffectively so.

  She could play the lonely puppy-dog look on him, only it wasn’t her style. She was more of a breathe-fire-directly-at-the-target kind of dragon. “Humor me,” she said, her tone coming across flat, even though she didn’t mean it to.

  Marcus stared at her, his eyes serious, giving no indication they would soften anytime soon. He huffed and looked away. “Are you coming back?”

  Energy pulsed through her veins at a fierce rate. He may not possess his beast, but there was no doubt in Kyra’s mind he was a dragon. He exuded the pure force of a royal giant. “Promise,” she said.