Sirens and Scales

by Kellie McAllen

  More on Kiki’s and Djibril Vasiliev’s rocky love lives on our website.

  The End

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  About the Author

  Natalie G. Owens

  Pink velvet and black lace. Light and darkness. A world of contrasts exists in Natalie’s stories because every rose has its thorn. Her favorite stories to write are romances with a dark edge featuring brooding heroes, strong heroines, an intriguing mystery, and a good dash of fantasy.

  Married, with one son, she now calls the beautiful island of Malta home after eleven good years in Atlanta, GA. As a professional editor and author, her days are always busy, but when she’s not working—or muttering to herself about her book plots like a batty old maid—she enjoys spending time with family and friends (both online and offline), sipping on a good shiraz, reading, cooking and entertaining, watching a good movie, travelling, and ogling shoe store displays. Most of all, she loves to meet and communicate with other authors and readers.

  Read More from Natalie:

  www.nataliegowens.com

  Zee Monodee

  From always choosing the storytelling option in English & French classes to sneaking a Mills&Boon romance under the desk at school, Zee went on to make a career out of writing the kind of emotional romances all young girls junk on.

  Of Indian origin & a 2x breast cancer survivor, Zee lives in paradise (aka Mauritius!) with her long-suffering husband, their smart-mouth teenage son, and their tabby cat who thinks herself a fearsome feline from the nearby African Serengeti plains. When she isn’t in her kitchen rolling out chapattis or baking cakes while singing along to the soundtrack of Glee or the latest Top Of The Pops chart, she can be found reading or catching up on her numerous TV show addictions. In her day job, she is an editor who helps other authors like her hone their works and craft.

  Read More from Zee

  www.zeemonodee.com

  Dragon Wings

  Konstanz Silverbow

  Dragon Wings © copyright 2017 Konstanz Silverbow

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  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without prior written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to a real person, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Dragon Wings

  The world against dragons. One girl against the world.

  There are dragons in the mountains, and Alita Drake is the only person who knows it. No one believed her at five years old. They certainly wouldn’t believe her now, not that she’s allowed to tell anyone—Yackros made it clear that the other dragons can never know about the human who visits their hidden forest, and of course telling her friends or family is out of the question.

  But nothing stays secret forever.

  Now Alita must accept that she’s the only one who can save her dragon from the dark clutches of Ruxsiu, a false king acting as ruler. Only finding the true dragon king can save her best friend.

  Relationship trouble and a stalker stand in her way, and determination can only get her so far. Sometimes it’s only possible to find the truth when all is lost. It comes down to the dragon’s pearl, the king, and a good dose of courage. Yackros’ life is in her hands, and she only has one chance before she loses him forever.

  1

  Yackros

  Lying on the cliff’s edge, the heat of the rock is warm against my belly. The direct light on my back, the slightest breeze filling the air with the smell of wild flowers growing in the fields of tall grass and large trees on the other side of the precipice. I could not be more at ease.

  A soft snore escapes me. I wriggle, scratching my scales against the ground before settling in deeper, allowing my eyes to close, with a smile pulling at my lips. An odd sensation, really, considering it’s been so long since I’ve had anything to be happy about.

  Too many years to count have gone by, wasted. Trapped in a world too small for our kind. One eye opens. I watch the surroundings, ensuring nothing is happening before flipping my tail around, resting the fins over my eyes for shade.

  Nothing ever happens.

  The wind changes directions, and a fluttering of wings rushes by as small birds fly over my head, their shadows on the ground in front of me. The scent of daisies and tulips is gone. A violent sneeze erupts from my nostrils as they begin to itch.

  Something with the scent of sugar is carried through the air. A trill of laughter follows, but it’s a sound that hasn’t been heard by dragon ears in several hundred years.

  I jump to my feet, more alert now than I’ve been since we were banished to this forest of solitude. Listening intently, I follow the sound, searching for the source.

  Scurrying as fast as one my size can between and around the branches, my tail brushes against the vegetation, not being so careful, as I seek out the source. No human can enter the dragon lands. Even if one could break through the barriers put in place by the greatest sorcerers to live, it would destroy every sacred trust prepared by the ancient dragon lords of old.

  The sun shines in patches where the trees are sparse enough for the light to filter through their leaves. All is silent, as every creature knows I search. Is aware that their guardian is on the hunt. I look, prowling, begging for the noise to be that of any other living creature than the one I fear it is.

  I find myself at the wall of weeping willows. A line of their curtain-like vines blocks my path. More so, the magic over those vines stops the inhabitants of this world from leaving, and the occupants of other worlds from coming in.

  There, standing on a singular rock—as if placed there as a stepping stone aligned with other rocks, stands a young girl no older than five in human years. Her blonde hair falls in ringlets down to her shoulders waving in the wind, her yellow dress swaying about her thin legs.

  Her eyes are the color of the sky, and everything is reflected back in them as she marvels at all that around her. A smile pushes her plump cheeks higher up, and I cannot help but marvel at the beauty and innocence of the child.

  I prepare myself for the wails of terror, but as the girl’s eyes look at me, it is not a look of fear, but almost the look a child would give to something such as a kitten. Not a dragon.

  “You’re so beautiful!” she shouts and walks toward me. “Magic?” she asks as she touches a scale on my leg.

  “I am Yackros. A dragon, which is most often depicted as magical to humans, yes—though truly, I am just an ordinary dragon. A guardian. Which is why I am here. You must—” I try explaining, but the child cuts me off.

  “Sparkles!” She jumps with glee before taking a step closer, reaching out her hand.

  “No, child, Yackros. Not Sparkles. Though, given your young mind and the inability to say Yackros, you could infer that my name is Sparkles.” I don’t like admitting that this human scares me. Despite her small stature and age, she broke through an unbreakable barrier.

  But I can’t seem to move—perhaps from that fear, or because I don’t want to startle her. Her hand makes contact with the scales on my arm. And as odd as it seems, she’s so gentle, as though afraid of hurting me.

  She does her best to wrap her short arms around as much of me as she can, her cheek snuggled against the crevice of two scales, and I can feel the smile
on her face. “Sparkles, you warm.”

  A surge of emotion courses through me. An unmistakable feeling. “Child, what is your name?” I step back, breaking the contact as I look at her sweet, unknowing face.

  “Alita. It not as pretty as Sparkles.”

  “Alita.” I lean down so my face is closer to eye level with hers. “Winged,” I snicker to myself. “An odd thing to name a creature that does not have wings. If it were the days of old, I would call you Little Wingless, child.” All of my willpower is consumed as I remain calm in the face of the greatest danger I’ve encountered. “Alas, you must return home. You must leave this forest, forget how you found it, and never come back.”

  For a moment, she just stares at me, and then her bottom lip trembles. “But I don’t want to leave, Sparkles. You my friend dragon.”

  I shake my head. “I’m sorry, child. Once upon a time, I would be your dragon, and you would be my human. But that can never be. Our bond can never form. We can never meet again. There are rules we must follow, and you being here breaks every one of them.”

  Ten Years Later

  2

  Alita

  Ten Years Later

  Pulling my phone from my pocket, I barely glance at the screen before looking back up to see the bounce of dark brunette curls bobbing up and down as Max disappears over the hill and beyond my view, taking all my notion of safety with him. Stuffing the device back in my jeans, I follow after Max, afraid of losing him. I want to call after him, but fear seizes up in my throat, and I remain speechless.

  Too afraid to make a sound and alert any wildlife to my presence. Who knows what could be up here? The path is jagged and uneven. One second, I can see the whole valley, and two steps farther, I’m lost in a pit of angst as I work my way back up.

  Following after Max, I watch my every step, avoiding the creepy bugs—fire ants in swarms, large vivid red critters I haven’t a clue what they are, along with other various creepy bugs—covering the ground.

  Every part of me itches like those little creatures are crawling over me. With all my might, I try to ignore it, repeating the bugs aren’t on me in my head. I nearly say it out loud numerous times, but I’m trying to be strong because the last thing I want is for Max to think I’m some pathetic weakling.

  “Alita, you coming?” He reappears in front of me. “We need to catch up before we lose the others,” he says, offering me his hand. I take it, loving the feeling of his strong fingers wrapped around mine. His hands completely engulf my own, which is no surprise given that he’s a foot taller than me, though that’s not hard considering I’m barely over five feet. He pulls me along at a pace I’d really rather not be going, but I can hardly catch my breath, let alone argue.

  “I can’t imagine that your parents wen—”

  “Foster,” he snaps.

  I sigh, wishing he wouldn’t correct me like that. “I’m sorry,” I mutter before continuing. “I can’t imagine that your foster parents went too far ahead if they were worried about us getting lost.”

  When he stops hard, I nearly fall over. Looking ahead, I see the broken tree across the path. He looks at me just as I glance at him. “Do you think we’ve gone the wrong way? I don’t think Sherri would let John take us on an unsafe trail.” He runs his hands through his thick hair. It’s so gorgeous, I’m jealous of it.

  Off topic, self. Pull it together. I shake my head and bring myself back to reality. “Um, I’m not sure. Maybe they wanted to go on an adventure. They weren’t planning on us falling behind.” I don’t know why they wouldn’t, though, if they understand Max at all.

  Either way, when he turns and faces me, the draw of his downturned lips, furrowed brows, and his thumb hooked in his belt loop tell me he’s genuinely concerned.

  “I think we should split up and search for them. I don’t know what else to do,” he says, exasperated, throwing his arms up, no longer looking at me, but gazing intensely at our surroundings.

  A shudder runs up my spine. I don’t like the idea of being out here alone. The sun is setting, the light only barely visible above the mountains in the distance. And with the fact that the mountain we’re on is ridiculously uneven, it’s more likely I’ll get lost alone rather than finding anyone else. I don’t want to leave Max, but he’s already started walking in the opposite direction.

  “Oh, okay. But don’t go too far. We really should stick together.” The last part comes out barely audible because I realize I’m talking to myself at this point. Max is no longer within my line of vision. Has that boy never seen any movie ever? Come on! Split up? Is he serious? Has there ever been an instance where that actually worked out?

  I run my hands over my goose-bump-covered arms and turn back. Watching where I’m going, I carefully step over the fallen log and continue on the path Max led me down.

  I can see where the path dips, leading into what used to be a river that led to the spring. And the sharp, jagged path leading back up into the mountain pass.

  This was the direction we saw everyone walking. If it wasn’t for the rolling hills. I could probably see them ahead in the not-so-far-off distance. Moving forward, I see that something sparkles on the path, reflecting the last glimmer of sunlight. I reach down to grab it, but it’s gone. Or more like, once I moved, the reflection wasn’t there to show me where it was. And the path has turned in a new direction, disappearing into a grove of trees.

  The air has changed, though I don’t understand how. It’s no longer as hot, and it seems cleaner, which doesn’t make sense. I’m not even sure what it means. But everything feels … off. I spin around, looking for any indication of what just happened. “Trees?” In Arizona? Sure. But big, beautiful and tall ones in Dragoon? I don’t think so. Given their tall stance, brown bark, and bright green leaves that don’t look deadly, no way. They aren’t ironwoods or Palo Verde.

  “Max?” I call out, hating the tremble in my voice.

  There’s no response from him. I turn around again, movement in the corner of my eye catching my attention. I equally do and do not want to know what it is. I do, because then I’ll at least know what I’m up against out here all on my own. And I don’t, because who knows what I could be facing in a moment.

  I run my hands over my face and take a timid step forward. Another chill runs through me. I feel like crying. “Nothing bad has happened. I’m perfectly fine,” I reassure myself out loud. “Max is just down the path, and it’s only a matter of turning around and walking back the way I came to find him again.”

  He wouldn’t leave me out here. Surely he’s coming back. Maybe he’s already found his family and they’re all looking for me now. Of course, that would make sense, given my luck. So perhaps I should just stay put …

  Another rustle of the bushes and the flash of something bright disappearing within the meadow pulls me closer, though I don’t understand how. I want to get away from the dangerous moving critter, not approach it.

  “Hello?” I call out again. Perhaps it’s one of Max’s siblings—or, as he would correct me, foster siblings. “Carly? Hanna?” Taking a deep breath, I continue forward, making note that if it is them, they won’t relent until they’ve had their fun. Once they get a good scare in, eliciting a jump and a high-pitched squeal out of me, we can go home.

  “I’m coming in there, Wendy, Nick, and/or Kelly.” I don’t understand the change in scenery at all. These trees, whatever they are, shouldn’t be here. They don’t fit in here. “Let’s just get this over with and get back, okay? My parents are certainly wondering where I am by now. It’s dark. Past my curfew, I’m sure. And I don’t have my phone with me.” That last part is a lie. But I don’t have service, so it might as well be true.

  Almost out of reflex, I pull the device from my back pocket to check. No bars. Zero signal. I take a deep breath and store the phone away again.

  Beautiful flowers in the most vibrant reds, oranges, yellows, blues, and purples unlike anything I’ve ever seen before line the walkway to the meadow.
It’s almost like someone planted them that way. A pathway leading to something exciting. I want to stop and pick one, but I’ll have to come back later for that. It’s not important right now. I reach the circle of trees. Pushing back some leaves, I enter what looks like a whole new world.

  Fireflies create a magical show in the air. Even more mystical flowers cover the ground, their colors so majestic, they’re out of this world. It’s like looking at a painting because surely it can’t be real. A giggle escapes me as I spin around, enjoying the beauty of this small retreat in the middle of the Dragoon Mountains.

  I turn on my heel, and two bright flashes disappear from my peripheral vision. “What was that?” I don’t mean to ask aloud, but I do, because it’s unsettling to think about. It almost looked like cat eyes, the pupils vertical and almost like they’re on fire, level with my own eyes.

  I cut through the fireflies’ little air show and push through the foliage covering the path, going after whatever I saw. I don’t know why I’m chasing after it. What am I doing? My heart hammers against my ribcage. It’s a clichéd thought, but it literally feels as though it could beat itself out of my chest cavity.

  Tears form in the brim of my eyelids, threatening to spill over. A kind of panic too deep to talk myself out of begins to set in. Unsettling fear grips at me, threatening to choke me because it’s so tight, like a ball stuck in my throat. I can’t breathe.