“We can’t live the way it is, always worried, constantly looking over our shoulders, or being scared to death if one of us has to go somewhere alone. That’s living in a prison of fear.”
Jace looked in the rearview mirror at Beau. “What do you think?”
Beau gazed back. “I think you picked the right woman as our mate.”
They drove down the mountain in tempered silence that felt filled with hope. As they approached the outskirts of the city, Devon dared to speak. “I can’t believe Vorden hasn’t shown up yet.”
Jace stared straight ahead. “He will.” A wooden barricade blocked the road; an orange detour sign pointed left onto a narrow one-way alley. He turned down the alley. “Damn, it looks like we’re going to have a hard time driving into midtown. There’s construction or something big going on. This is our bad luck. Maybe we should get out and walk?”
A weird chill passed through her. Devon glanced over her shoulder. A huge black SUV turned onto the alley and roared toward them. “Jace, hit the gas!”
Jace stomped on the gas just as a second SUV pulled in front of the alley’s exit and blocked it. “Oh shit.”
“Don’t stop!” Beau braced against the seat. “Ram them! Push on through.”
Jace steered hard to avoid hitting a trash can. “It doesn’t work that way.”
Beau pounded his hand on the seat. “Do it. Make them move! We’re going to be a slam sandwich in a second.”
“Cover your face.” Jace sped toward the parked SUV and struck it hard. The airbags inside the four-wheel drive exploded on impact with a loud hiss. The sharp edge of the air bag’s plastic shield flew past Devon, grazing her cheek. The inflated airbag filled her field of vision. The SUV’s door crumpled, and the vehicle lurched to the side just enough for Jace to squeak past onto the sidewalk. The second SUV speeding behind them skidded and crashed hard into the first and spun sideways.
Devon struck the billowing airbag with her fists. “Can you see?”
“Not really.” Jace rolled down his window, peered out, and kept driving. The car shimmied violently. “But it doesn’t matter because the front end is messed up, and we have a flat.”
“Get out and run!” Devon opened the passenger door while the car was still rolling and raced down the empty city street with Jace and Beau close behind. She shouted over her shoulder, “If I were you, I’d be stripping down and getting ready to shift.”
“Here?” Beau tugged his shirt over his head and tossed it aside.
Devon darted around an idling city bus filled with morning commuters. “Does it matter if the show starts a little early?”
The bus pulled away from the curb. A few gawking passengers peered out the windows at the strange events unfolding in front of their eyes.
Devon looked behind. “Vorden and a couple of his zealots are chasing us!”
Jace stopped, unzipped his pants, and stripped them down his legs. He crouched down and shifted to dragon form.
The startled driver drove his bus onto a sidewalk and struck a fire hydrant. A fountain of water shot high in the air.
Beau stripped and shifted too.
Devon climbed onto Jace’s back and grabbed hold of his neck spikes. “Fly us in.”
Jace hopped forward, flapping, and leaped into the air. Within a few powerful wing beats they were gliding down the hilly street and rising to roof level with Beau flying at their side.
They rose above the buildings into open sky.
The whirring thump of helicopter blades behind them grew louder. Three police and news helicopters circled the International Explorer building. She silently sent the thought, “Watch out, Jace! We have a lot of company in the air.”
Jace answered within the link. “We have a lot of company on the ground too. Look.”
Devon glanced down and saw the streets filled with police cars, news vans, fire trucks, official vehicles, paparazzi on scooters, and just plain people milling around, staring upward in enraptured awe. “Tell Beau to treat the crowd to a big dragon shriek.”
Beau opened his mouth and released a booming, primal call that echoed between the buildings and made the windows rattle.
Devon patted Jace’s throat. “Okay, they know we’re here. Let’s land on the roof.”
Jace circled above the International Explorer building and glided downward in front of a gape-mouthed camera crew. Beau landed beside him.
“Hi, Kurt!” Devon waved as she slid from Jace’s back. She pointed to Jace and Beau. “These are two of your coworkers, though you might not recognize them because they work in different departments than you.”
Kurt stared in shock. “Oh my God, it’s true.” He rushed toward Devon. “The weirdest thing happened. I called a few local news stations like you asked me to and told them that Devon the Dragon Lady had an exclusive, and we got slammed. The story spread like wildfire. It’s gone viral, almost like someone had already set this up, and the smallest announcement just lit the fuse. The Secret Service is all over the building. Interglobal News is reporting that people claiming to be dragons are walking into public places and city squares all over the world and shifting. There have been hundreds of reports in New York, Frankfurt, Athens, Tokyo. It’s overwhelming. At first we thought it was a publicity stunt or a War of the Worlds hoax, but it just keeps coming.” Holding up his phone, he hit Play. “Look at these pictures. Dragons everywhere.” He moved a little closer and eyed the dragons warily. “So who are these guys?”
Devon stroked Jace’s head. “This is Jace our producer, and Beau from IT.”
“Producer?” Kurt blanched. “What the fuck? I know both of them and didn’t have a clue. Are they going to shift back to human form?”
“Not right now.” Devon shrugged. “They’re naked, and their clothes are lying on the ground near a bus stop. Sorry.”
Epilogue
Two months later
Devon gazed out the window of the new hilltop home she shared with Jace and Beau. “Do you think we’ll ever be able to go out to dinner or a movie and not be stared at, photographed, or chastised for being immoral?”
“I don’t know.” Jace glanced up from the couch where he sat with a laptop perched on his knees. “Maybe in a while. It seems like the novelty of dragons is already dying down, especially after everyone started putting together how average our human lives are.”
She scanned the backyard. “It’s a little weird always having someone from the Secret Service living in our guest house. I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to that.”
Beau stood from a chair and stretched. “Vorden is in prison, but the Order of the Knights of Saint George will always be loyal to the cause. It may never die out completely. I’m still getting over the fact that there are so many of us. I grew up an only child to parents who thought we were a dying race. This has been a mindblower to know there are so many Marduko all over the world and see how different we all are. We’re every color and in every country. It’s wonderful that I can pick up the phone and call my parents or my cousins. I didn’t even know I had so many damn cousins. Everyone used to be too terrified to come out in the open.”
Devon strolled across the room toward a bold abstract canvas painted with fat brushstrokes and rich shimmering colors. “Alair’s painting looks perfect here.” She glanced at Jace. “Your mother’s so smart. She must have spent years setting up that underground network.”
Beau approached Devon, wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and hugged her. “Alair was very clever to spy on Vorden and hack into his files. She looked where he was already searching for Marduko. He did most of the footwork for her.”
Jace became serious. “She was smart, and she kept it a secret so no one could inadvertently betray another until the time was right.” He set the laptop aside and gazed at Devon with admiration. “You’re like her. You both think big and put others first. By the way, Alair and Kostas are visiting this weekend.”
They might be living under virtual house arrest, but they were
never lonely. The trio had Marduko visitors on an almost daily basis. All over the globe, families were coming together and reconnecting with long-lost loved ones. Alair had played a huge part in making sure everyone had the resources, information, and even legal protection they needed to safely come into the open. “Your mother’s visiting? When were you going to mention it? I need a little warning. I want to be ready.”
Jace laughed. “Don’t panic. They’re just dropping something off and leaving. They have other places to go.”
More than anything she wanted to please her new mother-in-law. A touch of panic brewed. “Alair’s the new Marduko royalty! She’s like our new queen, and she’s French. What do I wear for a casual visit? Should I make a dessert or order from a good bakery? What do I do? Help me.”
Drawing her near, Jace gave Devon a gentle squeeze. “Relax. My mother already loves you. Casual dress is fine, and they’ll only stay for coffee and a quick hello.”
She felt reassured. “Okay, but Beau will make the coffee. Not you.”
“Is that any way to talk to your alpha?” Jace’s thick brows creased, and she knew what he was going to say would likely carry a slight sting. “They’re meeting with a realtor and shopping for a home in our neighborhood.”
So this was to be the new Marduko Central? Could she bear the scrutiny that was bound to come their way? She’d have to….
A sweet smile erased Jace’s former sternness. “But don’t worry, we have today all to ourselves.”
Somehow, she knew they could handle this. One day at a time was her new mantra. Devon looked at her mates. Love filled her heart to the brim and then some. “Let’s go back to bed and pretend we don’t have anything important to do today.”
“Sharing a bed is important.” Jace rose and took Devon’s and Beau’s hands. “I love you both so much, and I’ll protect what I have.” He led them into the bedroom, leaped onto the sprawling king-size mattress, and rolled onto his back. “Come here.” He patted the bed. “I want you both beside me.”
Devon and Beau jumped onto the bed on either side of Jace and cuddled close, laughing.
An odd feeling came over her. She rubbed her belly. “I don’t feel like myself, and I can’t tell if I’m really hungry or a little nauseated. What do you think that means?”
Beau covered Devon’s hand with his and kissed her cheek. “I think it means Alair, Rhona, and Annie are going to be grandmothers.”
* * *
The End.
Curious about Arcona’s story? It’s an epic doozy crossing two lifetimes over two thousand years apart, and involves one very hot but still bitter immortal gladiator who wishes he’d never been turned into a vampire in the first place. You can read all about it in The Strix, Wish Stones book 1.
* * *
“Welcome to Villa Lupus Unguis, the house of the Wolf Fang.”
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While getting her fortune told in a Wiccan shop in Salem, Massachusetts, Arcona’s reality has a screaming meltdown. Her present life as a professor of antiquities collides with a past life as an obsessed Celtic witch and she’s flung headfirst into blood rites on a sacred island, captured by Romans, and sold in the markets of Pompeii as a pleasure slave to the sadistic owner of a gladiatorial school. Seeking revenge against Rome, the old Arcona lures a lonely Dacian gladiator into her bed and uses dark magic to turn him into an immortal blood-craving “Slayer,” a warlike vampire to be set loose on the Empire.
Two millennia and an exploding Mount Vesuvius later, Tyr is still pissed off about being forced to spend eternity as a vampiric mercenary. Desperate to break the Slayer curse, he kidnaps Arcona, intent on learning the secrets carried in her blood. But they’re both in for a surprise. Once these two damaged souls share their stories, the possibility of redemption—even love—is offered. When another Slayer tries to claim Arcona as his blood slave, Tyr has to be her hero one last time. He loved her once but can a vampiric Slayer ever forgive his maker?
* * *
This is an epic tale of witchcraft, vampires, reincarnation, and a healing act of love.
Author Bio
Katalina Leon is a USA Today bestselling author who can't commit to a single romance subgenre. Her favorite playgrounds are Urban Fantasy, Dark Fantasy historical, and most of all Paranormal Romance. Lately, she has dragons and vampires on the brain. Katalina brings a sense of adventure and a touch of the mystical to romance. She believes there's a daring heroine inside every woman who wants to take a wild ride with a strong worthy hero.
Join my newsletter: http://eepurl.com/bzR1d9
Slayer in Lace
The Lace Revolver Chronicles - Book Zero
D.D. Miers & Jessica Soucy
Slayer in Lace © copyright 2018 D.D. Miers & Jessica Soucy
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All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.
Slayer In Lace
Proper. Polite. Utterly ruthless.
Emma Clearwater isn’t your typical lady and the revolver holstered under her skirts proves it. Emma is a slayer. The last in a long family legacy of those who protect the world from a powerful race of dragon shifters with enormous amounts of magic, the dragonborne.
When a slayer turns up dead, the fragile truce between the dragonborne and the slayers shatters and retribution is on the slayer’s to-do list.
Fierce and handsome, dragonborne Callom Smythe is the heir to his father’s throne. Determined to uncover the true culprit trying to frame his people, Callom aligns himself with his mortal enemy.
But when these two adversaries meet, an unexpected desire forms.
History forbids their romance; while destiny demands it. As darkness grows and more bodies turn up, they’ll have to trust each other to defeat the shadowy creatures that prowl Victorian New York.
1
New York City, New York 1885
Damn these skirts!
Emma Clearwater grunted as she raced down the alley. Her nose crinkled at the smell of the day’s waste, tossed out windows to the streets below. She stopped to catch her breath and bent forward, ripping at the layers of her dress to free her legs. Back at the chase, her booted foot had sloshed a puddle onto her newly exposed calf. Her adrenaline and blood pumped and throttled her forward. Only a few activities were more thrilling than a good chase, none of which were considered proper for a young “lady.”
The weight of her gold-plated, double-barrel revolver with the Clearwater emblem emblazoned on the frame, felt natural in her hands. A custom designed birthday gift from her father and everything a slayer ever dreamed of. She rounded the corner of the alley onto the city street. Her target darted past a motorized carriage. Bronze gleamed in the moonlight as Emma passed the medievalesque transport and she came too close to the guard spikes that decorated its sides.
A bead of blood ebbed down her shoulder and she cringed.
Bastard, you will pay for that.
She didn’t care that he wasn’t directly responsible for her injury, but his questionable behavior and night stalking for two months now had placed him on Emma’s radar. Clearly, it was his fault she was out here hunting.
A woman’s head covered in perfectly coiled curls poked out from the carriage’s open window. Aghast, she shrieked
at the sight of blood on her carriage rather than on Emma. “Heathen child!”
“Do I look like a child?” Emma snapped as she dashed off, leaving the sputtering woman stuck in the horse-clogged streets.
Filth clung to her hem as she followed her mark down a narrow alleyway. The stench of rotten garbage and city smog assaulted her nostrils, but what would fell most proper ladies was merely a nuisance for her.
She would slay the man the moment she got her hands on him.
He came to an unexpected halt. Passing by at the end of the alleyway just ahead of him was a gaggle of excitable schoolchildren with bags slung over their shoulders and candies stuffing their pockets.
It was the perfect opportunity to kill the distance between them and catch up to her lead, but even the respectable Emma Clearwater had limits. She skidded to a halt at the man’s side as she offered the last passing child a warm smile.
“’Ello, miss!” the little boy announced before he scurried to catch up with his friends.
For a split moment Emma’s eyes connected with her target, revealing his palpable fear before his feet set off at a sprint back through the busy street.
“Oh, seven hells,” Emma muttered as her fingers clung to the weight of her skirts to keep them from tangling in her feet. She wished it was proper to wear trousers.
Her swift chase startled a passing bicyclist, sending the elderly gentleman crashing to the ground in a twist of metal and cry of surprise. She heard witnesses gasp, and had she been doing anything but putting on a chase, she would have stopped herself. This was far too important, though, to give it up for anything else.
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