Dragon Passions: Three fiery & suspenseful paranormal romances!

by Anna Lowe

  Alaric raised his bushy eyebrows at her then at Tristan, who stood perfectly still. Then he turned back to Natalie. “One vampire attacking a mere human hardly constitutes a force outside my control.”

  Natalie ignored the sting in his words. “But that’s how trouble always begins, isn’t it? With small, creeping problems. Little threats that come back to bite you if you wait too long.” She winced and added, “No pun intended.”

  Thank goodness Hugo stepped forward. Was he hiding a grin?

  “She’s right, and you know it, Alaric. Paris is gradually slipping out of our control—”

  Alaric jumped to his feet, roaring, “Paris is not slipping out of my control.”

  Everyone backed away — except Hugo, who leveled his steady eyes straight at the man. Everything about him screamed loyal lieutenant — the kind of man who could point out stark truths no one else dared utter.

  Tense seconds ticked by, then a full minute. Natalie pictured a fuse racing toward a bomb, really to explode.

  Finally, Alaric spun away with an angry hmpf.

  Hugo shot Natalie a bolstering look, then stepped toward Alaric and spoke softly.

  “You’ve dedicated yourself to the city for decades, my friend. Paris is in your debt for the stability it enjoys. Not that any humans realize it. But even you cannot keep the dark forces at bay.”

  Another quiet minute passed, and Natalie stuck close to Tristan’s side.

  “Increasing numbers of vampires… Rogue shifters… The return of the Lombardi clan…” Hugo shook his head sadly. “We’ve done our best, but you know as well as I do that it’s been a struggle. And when our world destabilizes, the human world does too.”

  Natalie didn’t know about the supernatural problems Hugo mentioned, but she knew about the issues Paris had faced in recent years — terrorist attacks, riots, the rise of right-wing groups. Were they related to the problems of the shifter world?

  The less stable the shifter world, the more human conflicts escalate, Tristan had said.

  “Look,” Hugo finished, touching Alaric’s shoulder. “She’s here now.” Then his voice dropped to the lowest possible whisper. “And I believe she may be The One.”

  Natalie frowned. The one what? Her knees trembled, because Alaric was staring at her. She edged toward Tristan, doing her best to conjure up her tough, business side. How many times had she appeared before the board of directors to propose a new community service project or to extend the level of staff insurance coverage? Those guys were blustery too, but she’d always held her ground.

  She took a deep breath and ordered her hands not to tremble.

  “We’ve searched for a Fire Maiden for so long,” Alaric whispered.

  Natalie didn’t know what was more frightening — his haggard expression or the flicker of hope in his voice. Did he mean her?

  “Fire Maiden…” Marcel echoed.

  And, damn. Even Tristan gave her a funny look. Her and the crystal that dangled from her necklace. Natalie looked down. It was glowing a golden yellow, but so what? Crystals reflected any light they caught.

  But Hugo nodded as solemnly as if she’d marched in with the Holy Grail.

  “Fire Maiden,” Morfram whispered. “Finally, our efforts have been rewarded.”

  “Her? You must be joking,” Jacqueline muttered.

  Albiorix wrinkled his nose. “But she’s a foreigner. How can that be?”

  Natalie looked around, bewildered. What was going on?

  Hugo shook himself a little and shot her a thin smile. “Apologies. This is all new to you, no?” Then he called out. “Clara?”

  Light footsteps tapped into the room, and Natalie turned to see a gray-haired woman — the type who defied nature and grew more beautiful with age. A warm smile played over the woman’s lips, and her eyes sparkled.

  Hugo’s face warmed. No, it beamed. Clara had to be his wife, confidante, and lifelong lover. Nothing else would make a man glow at a woman in quite that way.

  Natalie found herself glancing at Tristan and, whoa. He was looking at her — plain old Natalie, whom he’d only recently met — the same way. Her heart skipped, and a sequence of images flashed through her mind. Scenes she’d dreamed of her entire life, featuring her and a man, both impossibly happy, sharing joyous days and steamy, satisfying nights. Working side by side, growing old, not regretting a thing. But her dreams had always kept the man’s face blurry.

  Until now. She held her breath and nearly breathed, Tristan…

  Everything but Tristan’s glowing eyes grew dim and distant, and her heart thumped.

  The older woman touched her shoulder, and Natalie blinked.

  “I think Clara will do a better job explaining than any of us can,” Hugo said. “Will you, my dear?”

  Clara patted Natalie on the arm. “Oh my. You look like a doe in headlights.” She pinned each of the men in the room with a stern look — even Alaric, who didn’t seem to faze her one bit. “How many times have I reminded you not to treat everyone like a foot soldier in Napoleon’s army?” Clara sighed and turned away, pulling Natalie with her. “Never mind them. Come with me, sweetheart. I’ll explain.”

  Natalie looked back. As kind as Clara seemed, the only one who really put her at ease was Tristan. Then again, he confused her, too.

  Clara followed her gaze and chuckled. “Ah, I know that feeling.” Her eyes bounced over to Hugo and sparkled.

  Then Jacqueline cut in, claiming center stage again. “I’ll help explain.”

  Her words held a menacing edge, and Natalie got the impression explaining might mean scaring away.

  “Jacqueline,” Tristan growled.

  Jacqueline turned toward him, giving her skirt a flirty spin. “Yes?”

  But Alaric waved them away, and Natalie had no choice but to go.

  Clara patted her hand and whispered, “Believe me, they’re all bark and no bite.”

  Natalie studied the older woman’s face. “I hope that’s a figure of speech.”

  Clara laughed, and nervous as Natalie was, the sound put her a little more at ease. “I promise, I’ll explain.”

  Chapter Ten

  Half an hour later, Natalie stood stiffly, staring at Clara. Shifters? Dragons? Fire Maidens?

  “Fire Maidens,” Clara repeated from the couch in the sumptuously appointed parlor they’d moved over to for their talk. “Women descended from Liviana, the mightiest dragon queen of all.”

  Natalie’s mind spun. She’d tried protesting that she was from Philadelphia and an unremarkable family line — a little Irish, a little German, a smattering of French…

  But Clara had just shrugged. “Fire Maiden blood can slumber through generations before it flowers.”

  Jacqueline muttered something Natalie didn’t quite catch, but she got the gist. Flower? This woman? Don’t make me laugh.

  Clara went on stirring her second cup of tea. Natalie’s was still on the ornate ebony table, as cold as her fingers felt.

  “Liviana…” she whispered. “That was my great-grandmother’s name.”

  Clara nodded. “Families tend to carry on traditions without even realizing it.”

  “Coincidence,” Jacqueline muttered from beside a huge Oriental vase in a corner of the room.

  Natalie was inclined to agree, but somehow, her gut told her otherwise.

  “The name goes back to Roman times,” Clara explained. “The root word is jealous. Not that Liviana was jealous. Rather, other women were jealous of her power.” Clara slid a sidelong glance at Jacqueline. “The Liviana of legends lived in medieval times. Back then, the greatest dragons were females, with male consorts to do their bidding.” Clara’s eyes twinkled. “Those were the days.”

  If circumstances had been different, Natalie would have laughed. But she’d just been informed dragons were real and that royal blood ran in her veins. Not enough to make her a shifter, but enough to be detected by a vampire’s sensitive nose.

  It would explain why the vampires wanted you
, Clara had said.

  But Jacqueline had just huffed. Maybe they just wanted a quick meal.

  Natalie shook her head, reeling. “Vampires…shifters… Where did they come from?”

  “Some, like my mate, Hugo, are born shifters,” Clara explained with a warm glow in her eyes.

  Mate. The word kept jumping out at Natalie. What exactly did it mean?

  “Others are humans turned shifter, like me…”

  Natalie was too frightened to ask what that entailed.

  “Other than wolf shifters, there are bears, lions, and eagles. Gargoyles too, like Albiorix. And dragons—”

  “Like me,” Jacqueline said, tossing her chin.

  Clara waved a hand, unimpressed. “All kinds. Like humans, shifters were embroiled in feudal wars throughout the Dark Ages. But occasionally, a leader emerged who used his or her power to unite all shifters in a common cause. They repelled evil forces, established law and order, and raised the quality of life for all — including humans. Liviana was the mightiest of those shifters, and she placed her daughters in each of the major cities of Europe to continue her work.”

  Natalie nodded dumbly, still shell-shocked. But it did make sense. The royal families of Europe had done a similar thing, preserving their power by intermarrying with other royal families. Marie Antoinette had been a Hapsburg, and Catherine the Great was born a Prussian princess. The Windsors of England stemmed from German royalty. Of course, those efforts were mostly to preserve power and royal bloodlines.

  Natalie gulped. Did power and royal bloodline apply to her, too?

  “Those were the days of powerful witches and warlocks…” Clara continued.

  The blood drained from Natalie’s face, but Jacqueline laughed. “Don’t worry, they’re all gone now. None but a few with very weak powers. Not like dragons.”

  Clara heaved a theatrical sigh. “If only dragons still had the power — and wisdom — they did in Liviana’s day.”

  Jacqueline seemed to miss the dig, and Clara went on.

  “Liviana hired the best witches of the era to cast a spell of protection for her daughters — and her daughters’ daughters, and all female descendants of her family line. As long as one of Liviana’s descendants resided in the city, shifter power remained strong, and a single good leader, like Alaric, could keep things running smoothly. But without one of Liviana’s descendants…” Clara trailed off, frowning.

  “Wouldn’t the descendant have to be a dragon for the spell to work?” Natalie asked.

  Clara tilted her head from side to side. “Yes and no. The spell is at its strongest with a female dragon shifter descended from the royal family. Alas, female dragons are few and far between. Dragon shifters have a notoriously difficult time breeding, and when they do, their offspring are usually males.”

  “There are, of course, some fortunate exceptions.” Jacqueline fluttered her eyelashes. “Like me.”

  “True,” Clara conceded. “But you are not of royal blood.”

  Jacqueline’s eyes grew stormy, but Clara chuckled.

  “It’s not an insult, my dear. Just the truth. Alas, you are no more noble than me.”

  A deep scowl made it clear Jacqueline didn’t entirely agree.

  “In any case,” Clara went on, “the bloodline thinned over time. Some of Liviana’s descendants mixed with humans or other shifter species.”

  Jacqueline made a scoffing sound.

  “Yes, plain old humans, as I once was. Imagine that.” Clara winked. “Others left the cities, and consequently, their power waned. For a few generations, the residual power continued to protect the city from strife.”

  “When was the last time Paris had a Fire Maiden?” Natalie asked.

  “After the Second World War,” Clara said. “Amelie. She helped Europe rise from the ashes and rebuild partnerships. But she didn’t have any children, and Paris has been without a Fire Maiden since then.”

  Clara’s eyes drifted to Natalie then moved away again.

  Natalie gulped. Her middle name was Amelie. Another coincidence?

  “For a time, Alaric managed without a Fire Maiden, thanks to Hugo’s support and alliances with Morfram and Albiorix,” Clara said. “Lord knows we’ve done our best.”

  Her weary face said more than her words, and Natalie remembered the heavy bags under Alaric’s eyes. Maybe he wasn’t so much a tyrant as an overworked man doing his best to shoulder overwhelming responsibilities.

  “But we’re getting older.” Clara sighed. “And, frankly, we thought we’d have someone to pass the torch to by now. You know, so we could enjoy a quiet retirement…”

  Clara flashed a sentimental smile, and Natalie pictured her and Hugo on a sunny farm in the south of France. Alaric, she could imagine in a remote castle at the edge of the Alps, and gargoyles would probably find themselves a medieval church somewhere far from the tourist crowds of Notre Dame. How vampires retired, she had no idea. Hopefully, they went somewhere far, far away.

  But fitting herself into that equation, she just couldn’t do. Tristan, on the other hand, struck her as the perfect successor to Alaric, especially if the older dragon mentored him for a few years. Tristan had all the makings of a great leader, even if he was too modest to suggest as much.

  But as for her… She was a foreigner. A human. A nobody.

  “I am the least royal person I know, and my family is beyond ordinary. I wish I could help, but you must have the wrong person. I’m just me.”

  She looked out the window. In some ways, she wanted nothing to do with the supernatural world. But Tristan was part of that world, and her heart ached at the prospect of parting. How exactly would that go? Would he see her off at the airport if she decided to return to North America?

  Well, thanks for saving me from vampires, she would whisper.

  My pleasure, he’d rumble.

  Their eyes would meet, and time would slow down, as it always did when they got close. Her breath would hitch, as would his. And then—

  She frowned, imagining the Last Call announcement being made for her flight.

  Bye, she’d whisper. Take care.

  Three little words. A world of heartache.

  You too, Tristan would say, slowly releasing her hands. The warmth of his touch would fade away, as would the hope in her soul. Somehow, she would have to force herself to board a plane and to say goodbye forever — not just to the man, but to Paris, too. Goodbye to her dream of living in the City of Lights.

  Clara stirred her tea, and the quiet tap of her spoon against the china pulled Natalie back to the present.

  “The wrong person? I think not.” Clara pointed to the crystal around Natalie’s neck. “May I?”

  Slowly, Natalie pulled off the necklace, confused.

  “You see?” Clara lifted the crystal, turning it this way and that in the shaft of light streaming through the window.

  Of course, I see, Natalie nearly said. But the crystal that had been so bright a moment earlier dimmed in Clara’s hands. Surely, that was just the way she held it, though.

  Regardless of the angle, however, the glow was gone. But the moment Clara pushed the crystal into Natalie’s hands, it glowed brightly again.

  “It only shines for you, my dear.” Clara stopped the housekeeper who had come in to check on the tea. “Marie, can you take this for a moment?” Clara rolled the crystal into the woman’s hand, then pointed. “Again, nothing. It doesn’t shine for anyone but you.” She held the crystal out to the only other person in the room. “Care to demonstrate, Jacqueline?”

  Jacqueline folded her dainty features into a deep scowl.

  “Take it.” Clara’s voice was firm. An order, not a request.

  The moment Jacqueline did, the crystal dulled, turning into an ordinary trinket instead of the shiny jewel it had been in Natalie’s hands.

  “See?”

  Jacqueline thrust the crystal back, muttering, “Stupid thing.”

  “Wait. I think it lit up,” Natalie tried.

>   Clara raised an eyebrow.

  “Well, a little, at least,” Natalie said, determined not to anger Jacqueline. But her words seemed to have the opposite effect, as did Clara’s explanation.

  “Jacqueline is a dragon, so yes, it might glimmer slightly. But for you…” She beckoned Natalie closer and placed the stone in her hand. “You see?”

  The crystal went from a dull yellow-brown to a brilliant, golden jewel.

  “But… But…”

  “Do you truly know nothing of dragons?”

  Natalie shook her head.

  “No old legends in the family?”

  She laughed. “The only legend in my family is the dog my mom had when she was eight. Harry. We have a million stories about him, but not a single dragon.”

  “Dreams, then. Any dreams you can’t explain?”

  Tons, Natalie nearly said. She dreamed of flying. She dreamed of vampires. But with Clara watching her so closely, she shut those thoughts away.

  “I dreamed of Paris.” That much, she was ready to admit. “But so do a lot of other people.”

  Clara shook her head gravely. “The city has been calling to you. Your blood has been calling. Your destiny.”

  Natalie wanted to laugh and point out that it had all started with Dean, the world’s most boring date.

  But when she thought about it, her dreams went way back. At twelve, she’d won a prize at the town fair and chosen a poster of the Eiffel Tower. She’d decorated her college dorm with Monet prints and minored in French for reasons she could never explain.

  Then she shook her head. That hardly gave her the power to claim a vacant throne.

  “See?” Clara murmured, touching her hand.

  Natalie had been too deep in thought to pay attention, but when Clara spoke, she looked up. The older woman was holding her hand over the candle that flickered between them. Natalie pulled away, startled.

  “You don’t burn,” Clara noted.

  Natalie looked at her finger. “Not easily, no. But surely… Wait!” she protested as Clara thrust her hand into the heart of the candle.

  “Does it hurt?”

  Natalie closed her eyes, fishing for an explanation. “Um, I think it’s starting to.” Which was a lie, but heck. She couldn’t exactly admit to only feeling a tickle. “It doesn’t work with bigger fires.” She’d learned that the hard way one summer at camp.