* * *
Color-- -1- -2- -3- -4- -5- -6- -7- -8- -9-
* * *
Text Size-- 10-- 11-- 12-- 13-- 14-- 15-- 16-- 17-- 18-- 19-- 20-- 21-- 22-- 23-- 24
* * *
The Black Dragon
By
Allyson James
* * *
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
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
EPILOGUE
* * *
Praise for the novels of Allyson James
"Sweet, funny, and deliriously erotic."
—Romance Reviews Today
"Enchanting… Unique… Hot and steamy… [Ms. James] is a talented author who has written just the kind of story I love to read."
—Coffee Time Romance
"Masterful… The characters and their story captured both my imagination and my heart."
—Fallen Angel Reviews
"Extremely satisfying… Ms. James has created a masterpiece."
—Just Erotic Romance Reviews
"Very carnal… Intense."
—The Romance Studio
"Funny and lighthearted… thoughtful, serious, sexy… it has everything! One of my all-time favorites."
—Cupid's Library Reviews
* * *
* * *
THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA
Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada
(a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)
Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
Penguin Group Ireland, 25 St. Stephen's Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.)
Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia
(a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.)
Penguin Books India Pvt. Ltd., 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi—110 017, India
Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, North Shore 0632, New Zealand
(a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.)
Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196,
South Africa
Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
THE BLACK DRAGON
A Berkley Sensation Book / published by arrangement with the author
PRINTING HISTORY
Berkley Sensation mass-market edition / November 2007
Copyright © 2007 by Jennifer Ashley.
ISBN: 978-0-425-21844-0
BERKLEY® SENSATION
Berkley Sensation Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
BERKLEY SENSATION and the "B" design are trademarks belonging to Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
* * *
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thanks go to Kate Seaver, my terrific editor; to Allison Brandau, editorial assistant; and to all those at Berkley who make books possible. Special thanks to Kendra Egert for her excellent graphics and videos that bring the dragon books to life (www.myspace.com/allysonjamesauthor). Thanks also to all the readers who love dragons!
* * *
Chapter 1
When Saba Watanabe was four years old, she woke screaming from a nightmare. In it black smoke pursued her, thick inky tendrils that threatened to devour her at every step. She ran and ran, her small legs pumping, her straight bangs flopping into her eyes and blinding her.
She was in a cavern, a huge place cut of solid rock that glittered and glowed with gems and veins of pure gold. A beautiful place but for the nightmare that pursued her.
She dashed down a corridor pocked with round niches that seemed to contain interesting things like fat old books and scrolls of paper. She didn't have time to stop and examine this wonder, because the black curls of smoke would catch her at any moment. She knew it would wrap tendrils around her ankles and pull her down, and then the smoke would flow over her and smother her.
Panting, she raced around another corner, somehow knowing that a way out was near but unable to find it. She ran and ran, and suddenly the corridor ended in a blank wall. Sobbing, she beat on the wall with her small fists, crying in gasps.
She turned and faced the evil pursuing her, trying to summon the strange feelings deep inside her that she could sometimes use to prevent bad things from happening to her. She brought her shaking hands up, palms out, and said to the darkness, "Stop."
The inky black tendrils reared up, as though surprised, then she heard laughter. Gathering itself into something that looked like a mouth, it launched itself at Saba's small form.
Saba screamed, then she gasped and sat straight up in bed. She shook all over and her hands sweated, but it had been a dream. Only a dream, her father would say. It can't hurt you, Saba-chan. It's not real.
Usually she would take comfort in papa-san's words, pull the covers over her head and go back to sleep, but tonight the darkness of her bedroom seemed to stalk her. The comforting yellow glow of her night-light had gone out, and the darkness was absolute. Her heart raced as she saw the blackness from her dreams gathering on the floor, thick like oily smoke.
"It's not real," she whispered. "It's only a dream."
But the dream raised its head, chuckling, blackness ready to consume her. She started to scream, but the sound cut off as the darkness rose to form a canopy over her bed.
Slowly, slowly it began to settle toward her. When it reached her bed, she would die; she knew this better than she'd known anything in her short life. She watched it come, unable to speak, unable to breathe, hands clenching the bed covers until they ached.
She seemed to hear the voice of her Japanese grandfather whisper in her mind. Old Ojii-san had a small, wrinkled face and a gold tooth that showed in his frequent smiles. He'd taught Saba Japanese words and told her fairy stories, some funny, others frightening, but they always contained a beautiful maiden and a happy ending.
Ojii-san had told her one particular story about nightmares, and the memory of it flooded her now. Unclenching the blanket, she clapped her stiff hands three times and shouted, "Baku, Baku! Come and eat this dream!"
She had no idea if the Baku, a Japanese god, would come all the way from Japan to California to save her, but she clapped and shouted again, liking the strength of her words against the darkness.
There was a hiss and a blinding flash, and then a creature more bizarre than any she'd ever seen appeared beside the bed. It had a lion's head, a row of hideously pointed teeth, a horse's body, a tiger's legs, batlike
wings, and a long, hairy tail. He was horrible, but Saba felt no fear, even though he was more than six feet high and nearly overwhelmed her small bedroom.
The Baku snarled and lunged at the darkness. He snuffled and snorted as he gobbled up the darkness, pursuing the inky blackness around the room as it tried to disperse and flee. Saba watched, round-eyed, as the Baku chased the darkness in its almost comical attempt to escape.
The Baku cornered the remainder of the black smoke against the closet door, opened its mouth, and sucked the blackness in past its gleaming teeth. Saba heard a keening wail, and suddenly the darkness was gone. The night-light came back on, and the room felt right again.
The Baku raised itself up on its strange tiger's legs, patted its stomach, and gave a loud belch. Saba laughed.
The Baku padded to the bed, lowered its head and snuffled Saba's cheek, tickling her. She laughed again and patted its nose, and the Baku gave her a loud, smacking kiss.
It moved away a few steps, waved its paw, then went into a tumbling back flip and disappeared with another flash of light. Saba clapped in delight.
Not a moment later, her bedroom door flew open and the worried faces of her mother and father peered in. Saba's mother was American, very beautiful with brown hair and lovely eyes. Her father was Japanese and had been born in Japan. He was the same height as her mother and had wise brown eyes like Ojii-san.
"What is it, sweetheart?" her mother asked. She sat on the edge of the bed and gathered Saba to her. "Were you dreaming?"
Saba pushed away, too excited for the embrace. "Mama-chan, I saw the Baku! I called for him and he came, just like Ojii-san said he would."
Her mother's smile turned indulgent. "That's nice, sweetheart. Do you feel better now?"
"He ate the nightmare and kissed me good night."
"I'm pleased, darling." Her mother stroked fingers through Saba's fine black hair.
Her father peered over her mother's shoulder, eyes warm with excitement. "You saw the Baku?"
"Yes, papa-chan. He came and ate the nightmare."
Her father beamed with pride, his smile wide. "It is not everyone who can see the Baku, Saba-chan." He patted her head. "You will grow up to be a very wise Woman, a very wise woman, indeed."
Twenty-four years later
As the Bay Area Rapid Transit train descended into the tunnel beneath the bay, the few inhabitants of the car drifted into the next compartment, leaving Saba alone. That was fine with her, she thought, blowing her bangs from her forehead, trying to find coolness in the stuffy car. Her eyes were sandy after the all-day seminar she'd attended in Oakland, the drab dinner she'd been taken to at a generic hotel, then the late ride back to San Francisco on a train with the heat cranked too high.
All this after a night of magic performed under the full moon in the park across from her apartment house on Octavia Street. She'd drawn down the moon and consecrated some new stones and enhanced the protection around her apartment house, because she'd become uneasy of late. Too much darkness in the shadows, too many feelings of being watched when no one was there.
Working strong magics always tired her and getting up early on top of it made her more than ready for her soft bed and a good night's sleep. Cool linen against her skin, warm blankets to keep out the chill, pillows scented with lavender. Malcolm's energy lingered in that bed, no matter how many times she changed the sheets, his dragon magic imprinted there, notwithstanding he was permanently out of her life.
The energy he'd left behind manifested in her dreams sometimes, and she'd see Malcolm, a tall man of honed, naked muscle, intense eyes darkening as he pinned her with strong hands and laid his body over hers.
Mmm. Her tired mind turned to sexual fantasy as the train swayed in darkness under the waters of the bay. Malcolm had known how to touch her with skill, how to bring her to climax with his fingertips until she was screaming with it. Even now the memory triggered heat between her thighs.
She willed herself to stop thinking about him. Malcolm was gone, returned to Dragonspace without regret eight months ago, and Saba needed to get on in her life without him.
Easier said than done. The dragon turned man haunted her dreams and her daydreams and wouldn't let her be. She even still carried, in a silk pouch in her pocket, the diamond-hard crystals he'd given her—dragon's tears, he'd called them. They would summon him to her if she was in dire need, or so he'd said. She'd never been bold enough to use them and find out.
"Blessed Be," said a deep male voice.
Saba jumped and opened her eyes. She hadn't heard anyone come into the car, and few strangers used the greeting of the Goddess. Saba wore a long raincoat against the January rain, which covered the Wicca tattoo on her arm, and she'd left off her pentacle jewelry today for the seminar.
She only signaled she was a witch to people she trusted, and she'd never seen this man before. He sat opposite her, clad in the mundane garb of jeans and raincoat and gloves. His white fall of hair, gathered at the base of his neck, was a pale smudge in the dim light of the car, but he was not an old man. His eyes shone pure emerald green, and his sensual mouth was red, his body strong and taut with muscle.
Saba sensed power inside him, a volatile, immense strength just contained by the outline of his body. She didn't need to give more than one glance to his square face and intense green eyes to know what he was.
"Dragon," she breathed.
"Witch," he countered, showing white teeth in a smile. "I have need of you, Saba Watanabe."
"What for?"
And what was he doing here? Dragons could not cross over from Dragonspace and become human unless a witch gave them strong magics to do so. Saba had reason to know that the spell to create a door to Dragonspace was difficult and draining; she'd attempted it herself once upon a time for Malcolm—and the magic had nearly undone her. The spell had failed, too.
The dragon looked annoyed at her lack of awe. One thing she'd learned about dragons was that they possessed astounding arrogance, even the good ones like Caleb.
"I have need of you," he repeated, voice hard. "I heard that a witch called Saba Watanabe knows of dragons. That she was once a minion of a dragon."
"And who told you all this?"
"A friend. One we both know."
Saba fingered a black stone in her pocket and let the back of her mind form a spell of warding while she tried to assess the dragon. True she had been under Malcolm's thrall, true he'd put his dragon mark upon her. She'd been under Malcolm's complete power, had helped him and healed him and stuck by him, understanding why he did what he did when others did not.
Malcolm had released her when he'd returned to Dragonspace, and that release had turned her heart inside out. She could not forget her pain when he'd turned away, eyes glittering with joy that his eight-hundred-year exile was over at last. He'd dived through the doorway to Dragonspace, putting everything human, including Saba, behind him, making it clear he never meant to return.
That had been eight long months ago. It could be that he had sent this dragon, a friend, to Saba because the dragon needed help.
Wait. Malcolm, friend, help. No, those words did not go together. Malcolm was a black dragon, creatures notorious for their coldness, vast intelligence, love of solitude, and disdain for all other life forms, including other dragons. The probability that Malcolm had a friend and had sent him to Saba was slim.
"What kind of dragon are you?" she asked cautiously.
"A powerful one," he said. "And I need your help, Saba."
"What for?" she repeated.
Another flicker of arrogance moved through his eyes. "Were you this rebellious as a minion?"
"I was. And I'm not fond of the term minion."
"Then I will have to do this differently."
He did not move, but Saba felt a slight push on her mind, white and silver threads trying to twine her thoughts, ready to entangle and ensnare her. He was sending a dragon mark meant to bind and enslave her to his will, just as Malcolm had done.
Saba clutched her stone and said three words of power. A sparkling shield rose between her mind and the dragon's, and the white thought threads clicked against it like wires on glass.
"You have power, witch," the dragon growled.
"Self-defense." Saba grabbed her umbrella and stood up, ready to find a more crowded car. "The first spell I learned after Malcolm left was to resist a dragon mark."
The white-haired dragon surged to his feet, and her heart beat faster. Dragons were powerful creatures, merely testy on their best days, out-and-out dangerous on others. The best course of action was to assume the worst and leave them well alone.
"You should not resist me," he said.
"I beg to differ," Saba answered and lunged for the door.
The dragon caught her before she'd gone two steps. Powerful hands seized her and dragged her to the far end of the car. This was the last car, with none behind it, no one to see him grip her throat and slam her hard against the glass. Blinding pain rocketed through her head and white danced on the edges of her vision.
"You should be pleased and proud to be my slave." He pinned her to the glass with his large body, his breath like stale apples on her cheek. "I need a witch to do magic for me, and you will obey and do it."
She gritted her teeth against pain. "I won't. I don't even care what you want me for."
His eyes Were hot and green, sharp like emeralds. "It would be much easier if you let me put my mark on you." His body pressed hers, the ridge of his hardness flat against her abdomen. "Believe the, it will be much, much easier on you."
The Black Dragon Page 1