Dragon Star: A Powyrworld Urban Fantasy Shifter Romance (The Lost Dragon Princes Book 1)

by Anna Morgan

  "Have we gotten off the topic?"

  She waved a hand. "Yes. But what I was saying, is you have that same energy around you right now. The energy of change. Take advantage, Mateo. I will help you. Whatever consequences you'll face—the weight of the Dragon Court will be behind you. That is no light offer."

  Mateo sighed, and touched her cheek. "Calla, Calla. It all still boils down to one point… you want me to betray my family over a woman."

  "At least I'm not just any woman."

  The hand on her cheek slid to the back of her neck, gripped, as his eyes hardened. "Political asylum doesn't interest me, Calla."

  "We could make use of your skills. Rank, compensation commensurate with—"

  "You already said that." His hand tightened, a smile playing on his lips. The wicked, playful rock star smile, but this time tinged with a hint of cruelty. "You're putting together such a wonderful package for me, First General. But I want more than a handshake and an offer of gainful employment."

  She had to breathe, because breath was required. The tension between them shifted. He deliberately changed the feeling between them from one of waiting to… one of taking. Calla hovered on the cusp of something she'd been considering for days. It would be a risk—not just to her body, but inexplicably, to her… heart? Not quite. She wasn't in love with Mateo, and she hadn't begun to unravel the skew of complicated feelings and thoughts and reactions he invoked. That this situation invoked. Hadn't begun to analyze why her rage seemed dampened. She should have been fighting him tooth and claw—even if only in human form—but instead, she was trying to convince him to… change? Come home with her? Was she so lonely she'd subconsciously decided to pick up a stray vampyr assassin? It made no sense.

  But if she'd learned one thing over the years, it was that sometimes she just had to roll with the reality of things, rather than stand still in time, stalled, confused.

  "What do you want, Mateo?" she asked.

  "Don't play games with me, woman."

  She pulled away from his grip, taking several steps backwards—in the direction of the bed. "What do you want?"

  He lunged forward—God, he was fast—and whirled her around, backing her against the nearest wall with a possessive growl that vibrated straight to her core. He dragged his nose up her neck and cradled her cheek in one hand. Her heart galloped in her throat but she wasn't afraid. His voice was gravelly and low. "I want you."

  Calla arched against him, a fiery need sweeping through her that she'd never felt before. This was just the edge. She knew if they let go, their meeting would be explosive. And she wanted it. Her dragon roared in her chest, the powyr sweeping around her like wind since the bracers kept it in check.

  Calla ran her hand up Mateo's neck and tugged on his hair, pulling his face away from hers. His face was a snarl of need and she wanted to meet it.

  "Let me go and I'll be yours," she said.

  She wanted him to choose freedom. She was a warrior and only another could match her in every aspect. If he wasn't her enemy, Mateo could be that match.

  He snarled and yanked himself away from her, putting as much distance between them as the small room would allow. Calla dropped her hand to the wall and willed her body to calm.

  "Could you do it?" She met his eyes, voice steady. "When your client gives the order to kill me, will you be the one to take my life? We both know that's where this is heading if you don't change your fate." She held out her hand, cupped. "My fate is in your hands as well. How many men can say they have a chance to command the destiny of the First General of the Dragon Court? How do you want history to remember you, Mateo?" Her voice lowered. "Do you want my last memory to be of my death at your hands?"

  He turned on his heels and strode out, slamming the door behind him.

  Calla slumped, relieved and disappointed all at once. She didn't think she'd misread him, but perhaps his loyalty had been bought with a currency she couldn't match. She would have to continue biding her time.

  She returned to the small table and the black rook and took her white knight. The white queen took the black rook. In two more moves, she gently pushed the black king over with one finger. Checkmate.

  8

  He had rehearsals, and meetings, and the other business of his public persona to deal with. But her words haunted him, acted as fuel on a fire that had been simmering long before he'd ever set eyes on her.

  He knew the truth of himself. He was dissatisfied. Restless. Disapproving of the less honorable contracts and methods the cognate used. He'd lost his taste, even, for the use of humans. He could glamour a female into thinking she wanted him, but underneath the glamour it was little more than coercion. The honest, straightforward energy of Calla made his skin crawl—because next to her he felt unclean.

  Her purpose shined from her, her grim determination and steely will. He didn't fool himself into thinking she was a paragon—no person steeped in war and politics was, and her hands were as dirty in their way as his were. But at least her dirt was for her country to not… profit.

  Was that why he was pulled towards her? He saw her as some form of redemption? A mirror of what he could be—using his skills for good instead of evil?

  Mateo snorted, filling in a few notes of his composition in progress. That female would bite a head off and happily chew. He wasn't sure if good was the right word. But she wasn't evil.

  Eyes closing, he brought her image up in his mind. Tall, strong. Golden eyes framed with thick lashes, a full, sardonic mouth. He wondered what her lips would look like swollen and red from… kissing. He'd provided basic clothing for her—soft leggings in bright colors and comfortable tunics. The kind of fabrics that clung and molded to the curve of breast and hip when she moved, giving him a flash of what was beneath. And what was beneath was all woman.

  Mateo set aside his guitar and rose, prowling the studio. His manager would be upset the track was late, but fuck him. He worked for Mateo, not the other way around.

  The decision would have to be made soon. He knew he wouldn't kill her. He knew that if he reneged on a contract, he would have to challenge Estophen in order to get out of the house alive with Calla.

  Could he trust her? Could she really be the key to building a new life? Because when he betrayed the cognate, every vampyr allied with them would be after his throat. He would need allies, even with the resources he already had. He would need to trust that her offer of joining the dragon court was genuine, and not a ploy.

  He would have to trust that if he gave away the life he knew for her, she wouldn't betray the promise she made to be his. If she broke her word, if she lied, he would make sure he wasn't the only one who regretted it.

  Mateo avoided her. Meals arrived with regular clockwork but for two days she had neither company nor conversation. She paced the room, not even seeing the elegant paintings and gilded edging anymore. A golden cage was still a cage.

  The door opened abruptly and even though Calla was relieved to have something, anything else to focus on, she frowned at the presumption. The damn vampyr could at least knock. She may be a prisoner, but she was still the First General of…

  Her haughty words died in her throat. It wasn't Mateo at the door. Instead, a man she didn't recognize prowled towards her, his face rippling into a fierce set of ridges. Fangs descended from his wicked smile and Calla tensed, shifting into a deceptively relaxed, battle-ready posture. Where was Mateo? He'd kept the others away from her all this time, so he must either be away on another assignment or something had happened to him? Had his sire discovered her attempts to subvert him? She'd considered the possibility of listening devices, but he hadn't seemed concerned, and it made sense there were none. Why bother bugging a room in his own safe house when he planned on killing the occupant? She was certain she wasn't being held for ransom, but for a kill order.

  "Who are you?" she growled. She might not be able to shift, but her human form was dangerous as well, trained in two-legged combat, and strong. She wouldn't go
down without a fight.

  "I thought you might be lonely," the man said in a rich, oily voice. "My brother hasn't been keeping you company these last few days. I came to offer myself as entertainment."

  Bullshit. She didn't like the way his eyes roved over her neck. That Mateo had betrayed her was a possibility. She'd hoped he wouldn't go for the undiscussed third option—that he not be the one to kill her, but send someone else to do it instead. She hadn't thought him a coward.

  Calla had few options. The room was dominated by a bed and side table without a weapon in sight. It didn't matter—even a side table could be a weapon. They weren't as smart as they thought because they'd left her in a room—and hadn't stripped it bare of even sheets. It was always nice when an enemy underestimated her. The vampyr was prepared to kill her. Calla wasn't ready to die. As soon as he stepped into her range, Calla lunged. The vampyr flinched. Calla had the element of surprise. How many victims had they taken who couldn't even hold the right end of a knife? She struck the first blow and had she been able to shift her hand to claws, would have killed him. He was one of those—not fully wary of her because she was female. Or maybe because she wasn't vampyr, and they were arrogant creatures.

  His guard came up quickly after that. He tried to grapple her close, jaw hinging wide to make room for his fangs. Calla dropped low and tackled him instead. Those teeth weren't going anywhere near her skin. They both crashed into the side table, splintering the wood and scattering chess pieces. The vampyr snarled. Calla growled, fury over the spelled bracers on her wrists renewed. This cognate would pay for interfering with her. It was only a matter of time, of cunning, of patience.

  Wind whipped through the room, the powyrful overflow of her attempts to shift. New hands grabbed her shoulders and threw her free of her foe. Calla flipped to her feet, hot blood pumping and ready. Mateo stood over the stranger in full vampyr form, his heavy fangs descended and sharp angles defined his face. He was fierce and beautiful.

  "What's the meaning of this, Kragen?" he snarled.

  Kragen regained his feet, dusting his pants as he stood. "My, my, little brother. It seems the rumors are true."

  Powyr ignited throughout the room like white-hot fire. Calla flinched away and put up a hand to cut the glare, but had to watch. The two brothers faced each other nose to nose, posturing with their auras like dragonlings before their claws came in. A useless waste of strength and will.

  Kragen smiled. Calla despised the arrogance in his eyes. "I'm here because our sire believes I am a better jailer since you have grown… too close."

  Too close? Mateo hadn't even spoken to her in the last two days.

  The words seemed to set something loose in Mateo, though. His fiery aura doubled, then intensified again, forcing his brother away and towards the door. "This is no one's concern but mine, Kragen. You go too far."

  Kragen stepped backward, cocky in the way he flicked his fingers. "I think our sire hasn't gone quite far enough." He winked at Calla, then turned away down the hall.

  Mateo grabbed her arm and marched towards the door. Calla yanked free. "What are you doing?"

  "It's not safe here." He turned on her, the angles of his face taut with anger. "We need to leave now."

  "Not safe—you don't say?" Did he even recognize the irony? "Especially since you were tasked with killing me?" At this point, she was almost certain that was no longer an option for him. If it had been, he wouldn't have defended her.

  "That might have been a mistake," he growled. This time when he grabbed her arm, it was with the full strength of a vampyr. Calla allowed it, though her two-legged form was an even match for a vampyr. As dragon? An entire cognate would have to take her down—and only if they managed to damage her wings first. It was why the powyr races tended to avoid conflicts with dragons. Powyr or no, it was hard to defeat something that could fly and roast her from above—or just sit on her.

  "Where are we going, Mateo?"

  He whirled, pushed her against the wall, hissing in her face. "You wanted me to choose, woman. I'm choosing! Don't make me regret it."

  She shut up after that, every atom in her body on high alert. She would say nothing, not even twitch in a way that might make him change his mind. They walked right out the door that had kept her confined for over two weeks. Mateo's face smoothed to human as they marched down the hall. His skin returned to its luster, the angle of his eyes softened, and the grip on her arm relaxed slightly. Fangs shrank back into place, hidden behind his pressed lips.

  Mateo shoved her through a doorway towards what was clearly a garage full of cars, and chose the flashiest hotrod available. She suppressed a snort. Even in flight mode, the playboy rock star reined. As they sped out of the driveway, top down, the wind whipped through her hair and she couldn't contain the fierce, smug grin that came to her face.

  9

  He took Calla to his personal safe house—its existence unknown to the cognate—and dropped her off. He had several scattered around the world for when he needed to disappear. Either to avoid killing someone who'd annoyed him, to take a vacation from his public persona, or simply to sleep in peace without the weight of his cognate on his shoulders.

  "Promise me you won't leave while I'm gone," he said, voice hard.

  She looked at him, expression thoughtful. "Now why would I do that?" She settled onto a plush leather couch. "You're giving me what I want. And you will be rewarded, Mateo."

  Mateo snorted, and left, returning to the main house, certain no one had seen them leave. He cracked the oak door to his sire's hall with the force of his vampyr powyr. It blazed before him in a cleansing wave, sending the lesser vampyrs to their knees as he approached. He flexed his hands, clenching and unclenching as he struggled to keep the change away from the surface of his face. He was no fledgling.

  Estophen was bent over a twitching human, his long fangs sunk deep into the neck while his hands kneaded her breasts. She moaned with every pull of his mouth against her pulse, but her face was pale and her eyes fluttered weakly. Estophen drained her dry.

  Mateo couldn't wait for him to finish. His powyr flared wildly around him, uncontrolled and aggressive. The restless, beast-like feeling inside him threw everything off kilter, destroyed his usual smooth control. His face hardened, ridges as hard as bone surfaced above his brow. His nails lengthened into claws, his eyes burned with bright powyr, and his fangs descended.

  Estophen used the weak body of his meal as a shield against Mateo's powyr. The woman's clothes burned to ash and her skin tightened and cracked. She didn't bleed. She was already dead. His sire dropped her to the floor like trash.

  Estophen's face was tight with fury. "You dare flaunt your powyr in front of me?"

  Off to the far left, wisely out of range, Kragen laughed too loudly. "Now who's flashing his milk fangs?"

  Mateo snarled. From the moment he'd found Kragen in Calla's bedroom, it had been rising like a monster unleashed. Something had snapped deep inside him and the fury burned and burned and burned. Kragen had dared enter his woman's room, had thought to touch her.

  "Calla is mine." He hissed the words. "Why did you send Kragen?"

  "I rule here. Your place isn't to question my commands—only to obey."

  "Her contract is mine—she is mine." He stared at Estophen, face cold. Resolute. He'd made his choice. "The next vampyr who attempts to interfere with what is mine will fill my cup with his blood." The possession churning in his gut demanded nothing less. Calla was his. He shouldn't even be away from her now.

  "You would betray us over a dragon?" Estophen snarled. "A female?"

  Estophen's powyr rose, lashing out towards Mateo. Had he truly thought he could break with the cognate and not shed blood? He didn't want to kill Estophen. But Calla must not be harmed. The certainty of it solidified his intentions, hardened his resolve. He didn't understand why. It didn't matter why. It simply was.

  He blocked Estophen's feign easily. "I don't want a war with you. But my time here is done." />
  "You think you can break with the cognate and live? I took you from the squalor you were in, raised you, gave a position at my side, and you think to betray me?" His sire laughed scornfully, but a note underneath sounded like fear.

  Estophen must have been afraid. Mateo's powyr was strong, and the fury of his need to protect Calla strengthened it. Neither of them was sure what would happen in a direct confrontation—but Mateo was certain someone would die. Estophen couldn't afford the weakening even a single death among their members would cause.

  "I don't seek to betray you." How was following a new path betrayal? The words were ash in his throat. He may have hoped, in the recesses of his mind, that Estophen would release him to be free the way a father might. But his sire wasn't his father.

  "Then you will obey—and accept your punishment for your rebellion. I order you to release the First General to your brother."

  Mateo laughed, voice hard. "No."

  Estophen's flame surrounded him in chilly blue. "Then you will be the first vampyr to break a contract. You will sully the reputation of this cognate and my name. And you will pay with your life."

  Mateo's powyr blazed. If this was how Estophen wanted it to end, then he would ensure the entire cognate burned—

  "No!" Kragen strode forward, arm outstretched. He lowered himself to his knee in front of Estophen. "Sire, please reconsider. My brother is restless—confused. He has never taken a blood concubine and has never felt the headiness of pure desire. Indulge him in this, for now." Kragen cast a contemptuous scowl at Mateo. "All he needs is a taste of the pussy and he'll know it isn't worth it."