Dragon Marked: Quicksilver Dragons Book 1

by Amelia Jade

  The bar erupted in savage howls, and men rushed the doorway.

  “Come to Daddy,” he grinned as the wolfpack charged him.

  They were one of the few allowed to live inside the mountain range at the behest of the dragons. Most other shifters were kept out, the tiny neutral country a front for the powerful dragons that had run it from the shadows for so long. Still, some links were necessary to the rest of shifter-kind, and so a few clans were allowed in.

  Hel grinned as the nearest one speared him in the stomach and they went down. Elbows flew left and right, and he kicked out at one particularly feral creature who tried to bite him. That was rude.

  “No teeth!” he shouted a second before a fist connected with his jaw. “Now we’re talking!”

  He got his hands and knees underneath him and flung himself upright. Men flew back, some into the bar, some into the streets. Chairs crunched, beer spilled everywhere, and a second later glass shattered as empty mugs hit the ground. One of the lights flickered out as Hel tossed a man into the fixture with just a bit too much gusto.

  At the back behind the bar the owner just stared tiredly at the destruction. Hel knew that he had stacks of chairs and tables just ready to replace the damaged ones, and boxes of new mugs, pitchers, and the like. This was far from the first time people had brawled at his place, but it had probably been quite a while since one of them had been a dragon looking for a fight.

  “Punk-ass dragon bitch!”

  “Think you can just come in here and insult us. We’ll show you!”

  Hel’s open-palmed strike shattered the mans jaw, and he rolled away squealing in pain. “You’re all a bunch of nipple-twisting virginal failures who enjoy a mud bath with cucumber over your eyes!” he shouted, taking one man and lifting him high into the air.

  “What’s wrong with that?” one pack member asked.

  And just like that, Hel had a recipient for his airmailed delivery. He tossed the hapless shifter at the confused man and the pair of them slammed back into the wall, sinking down limply, unconscious.

  “Is this the best you’ve got?” he chortled, ducking another swipe, taking a blow to his stomach, then his back and both kidneys in quick succession. Pain sliced into his brain but he didn’t stop. Instead he spun on one foot, moving in a circle as he deposited a quartet of men on their asses by sweeping out their feet.

  The wolves backed away from him.

  “Oh come on,” Hel taunted. “You’re really growing soft these days, Mike.”

  The Alpha, a giant nearly Hel’s height only leaner, got to his feet and took a step back toward the bar. His only response was to grin.

  “I can’t believe you can’t hit any harder than that. You’re a bunch of weakli—”

  Something hit Hel from the side so hard he did an involuntary cartwheel. Then his head smashed into the cobblestone pathway and he only knew darkness.

  Light returned abruptly a moment later and he groggily tried to get to his feet, weaving unsteadily. “Who the fuck is that?” he snarled, trying to pull his hands to his face to guard from another blow.

  He was still on all fours however, and this only ended up dumping him on his face in the middle of the street. The laughter of the pack echoed loudly in the night. Hel stayed still for a few minutes. This was not how the night was supposed to have gone. Instead of brawling with the local pack, he’d just had his ass handed to him in one go. There weren’t many people around who could do that, and even fewer who could have arrived so quickly.

  “Hello, Stoen,” he said, pulling himself to a sitting position. “Fancy of you to show up.”

  “Pull yourself together. You’re an embarrassment,” a gruff voice responded.

  Yup, definitely Stoen.

  “I thought he’d put up more of a fight to be honest.”

  Hel frowned. It was another voice, and it wasn’t one of the other shifters. Another like him. It was tantalizingly familiar as well. If he could just clear some of the stars and pain from his head maybe he could figure it out.

  Stoen was the local dragon assigned to Cherne, tasked with keeping order among the shifters and keeping their secrets. He was a Quicksilver, just like Hel. He also didn’t have many friends. Which meant…Which meant...

  “That must be Kase who sounds like he’s got a hot dog in his mouth.”

  Neither of the pair, both Quicksilver shifters, seemed to find that funny.

  “Let’s go, Hel. You’ve got an appointment with the Magistrate.”

  “Fuck you, I’m not going anywhere.” He got to his feet, squaring off against the pair. As he did the world spun. “What the fuck did you hit me with?”

  Stoen hefted the worksmith’s hammer of pure quicksilver he held in one hand. “This. Which is what I’m going to hit you with again if you don’t stop.”

  Hel spat in their direction.

  The fight, if it could be called that, was very short-lived. Stoen was right. He did hit him again with it. Several times.

  ***

  This time when Hel came around he was seated in a chair in a small cavern in the Enclave. Being underneath a mountain should have felt reassuring and welcome, the press of hundreds of millions of tons of rock all around him like a warm hug.

  Instead, the violet-eyed elder dragon sitting in the chair across from him dispensed with all that. There was only a small metal table between them. Hel wasn’t chained down or anything; he needn’t be. Dragons as they aged grew in strength and power, right up to the day they died. They didn’t get senile and inferior.

  Coltaine was nearly nine hundred years old. He’d seen a lot, and he’d learned a lot. If Hel tried anything he’d be toast faster than he could blink. It just wasn’t worth it.

  “Hello, Hel. You’re making a habit of this.”

  It wasn’t a joke. Coltaine was furious. This was the third, no, fourth time that the two of them had met in the past year. For a dragon that was almost like seeing him every day.

  “Sorry. I didn’t intend for it.”

  The elder crimson dragon leaned back in his chair. “Really. And just what did you think would happen? Wait, let me guess. You weren’t thinking. Something you’ve been doing more of lately.”

  Hel snarled angrily. He knew what that insinuation meant. Like all Quicksilvers, he was exposed to a genetic disposition toward losing his mind. Something in the makeup was different than the other dragons. Nobody knew exactly what, but Hel wouldn’t be the first that had to be stopped before it got too bad. Others went undetected, and ended up like Morgan or Liam. Insane, and now dead, at the hands of other dragons.

  “I am not losing my mind,” he snapped when Coltaine made no move to speak. “I was just trying to blow off some steam. To clear my mind.”

  “Clear it about what?” The elder dragon’s voice was softer, almost inquisitive.

  Hel recognized the tone and clammed up. “None of your business.”

  Coltaine tried several more times, but Hel wasn’t saying anything more. At last he leaned back. A judgment had been rendered.

  “We won’t have you removed yet. But,” he leaned forward, and his hair erupted in flames that lined the rest of his body, a subtle reminder of his power. “This is your final warning, Hel. Get your shit together. Find a mate. Settle down. Otherwise we’re sending you overseas to fight the Outsiders. Understand?”

  “Yeah, I get it.”

  “I’m serious.” Coltaine rose. “Find yourself a mate. It’s been known to help your kind before.”

  I have found her. I know where she is. She’s about to marry some asshole.

  ***

  Later that night he sat in the room he’d rented at the lodge, looking back and forth between two pieces of paper.

  On one was a letter from Megyn, explaining why she wasn’t inviting him to the wedding.

  The other was an invitation to the wedding, no doubt sent as a victory token by Ian, without her knowledge.

  “Asshole,” he muttered, taking a drink of the fine bottle of b
ourbon he’d bought off the lodge bartender for a hefty fee, since they weren’t supposed to sell entire bottles.

  He was tempted to go to the wedding anyway, just to piss Ian and his clan off.

  “Coltaine would have my head for a snack though.”

  He reclined back into the leather chair in the room’s sitting area. Of course, Coltaine had then gone and told him to find his mate.

  How am I supposed to reconcile the two? Find your mate, but don’t do anything that will get you in trouble.

  There was no other way to achieve the first without committing the second. Where would he end up if he did something drastic in regard to Megyn? With a mate for a whole twenty minutes until Stoen and Kase dragged him back up to the Enclave? That didn’t sound overly appealing to him at all.

  Neither did letting Megyn get married to that two-faced asshole. Hel seethed with knowledge he’d refrained from giving Megyn, not wanting to see her hurt.

  There was no clear answer to his dilemma.

  Hel eyed the bottle on the table. Maybe that would give him an idea that wasn’t absolute insanity.

  He doubted it, but it was worth a shot.

  Chapter Three

  Megyn

  “Megyn!’

  She blinked, pulling her attention from the window. “Yes?”

  Daria was looking at her funny. “Are you okay?”

  No. No she was not. It was her wedding day. Hair done. Makeup done. Dress on. They were in the limousine on the way to the chapel where the actual ceremony would take place, before the reception back at the lodge. Outside the mountains and endless greenery scrolled past as if it were on film. Endless majestic moments of snow-capped peaks and undulating meadows. It was beautiful. It and her future husband should have been all she was focused on.

  So why couldn’t she get her encounter with Hel out of her head? For two days now she’d thought almost nonstop about what he’d said.

  You can’t marry this guy. He’s not good for you.

  He’s not good for you. That line wouldn’t leave her head.

  Ian was a decent guy. Wasn’t he? Sure, maybe he had a bit of a fiery temper, and expected things to be done a certain way around the house, but was that so bad? He was wealthy, he spoiled her, and he didn’t embarrass her in public. He’d never hit her.

  But was he the right man for her? Was there someone better out there? Maybe someone a little taller. With more muscle and a goofy grin that always made her laugh when it came out. Someone with eyes so brilliantly gray they were almost silver even during the day. Someone she’d known a long time.

  Daria slid closer to her on the limo bench and prodded her. “Are you okay?” she repeated in a quieter voice.

  “I’m fine. I’m just…ugh. Jitters. Nerves.”

  “Is that it?” Her best friend knew her well, and though Daria was almost as in favor of the wedding as her mother was, she was much more likely to listen than lecture.

  “I think so,” she confided.

  “This has nothing to do with whatever Hel said to you the other night, does it?”

  She looked sharply at Daria. “How did you know about that?”

  Her friend smiled. “I was going to come outside to check on you when you didn’t come in with your mom. When I got to the door I saw the two of you standing there, so I didn’t. I just sort of watched.”

  “Creep.”

  They both grinned.

  “I also saw…” Daria went silent. “I saw.”

  Megyn was well aware to what she was referring. “I don’t know,” she confessed.

  “What did he say?”

  “That I shouldn’t marry Ian. That he’s not right for me.”

  “That’s it?”

  She nodded. “Yeah. Then when I asked him to give me more reasons, he got quiet, couldn’t figure out what to say, and left.”

  “That’s odd. Why would Hel do that? He’s one of your best friends after me.”

  Megyn wasn’t sure if Daria was playing dumb, or actually couldn’t figure it out, but she chose not to explain it. “I don’t know. Anyway, that didn’t help with the pre-wedding jitters I was already having, you know? So I’ve had a hard time getting that out of my head.”

  Daria nodded. “And now you’re starting to wonder if he was right, if Ian isn’t right for you. Questioning everything about him and the like.”

  “Basically.” She hung her head. “I’m a horrible person.”

  “Not at all. This is natural. Getting married comes with all sorts of jitters. It’s perfectly normal that someone close to you saying something like that would trigger this sort of reaction.”

  “You think so?”

  “Of course!”

  The limousine pulled up at the chapel and they all piled out. Megyn’s heart was hammering in her chest, beating harder with each step she took toward the doors.

  This is wrong.

  Fighting it aside, she held her head high and walked into the chapel right on time as the music began to play, piped through small speakers throughout the semicircular room.

  Her bridesmaids all awaited her, and as she came near Daria gave her a tiny nod of support. She could do this. She would do this. Megyn had made a commitment that she now wore on her hand.

  The minister spoke and she responded where appropriate. It all flashed as a blur, until everything suddenly snapped into focus.

  “If anyone has any objections as to why these two should not be wed, speak now.”

  A soft rustle moved through the crowd.

  Oh no.

  Before she even looked away from Ian, Megyn knew exactly what was happening. Hel had come to her wedding, and now he was standing. He was about to object in front of everyone. So why was she only partially upset about that?

  “I have an objection.” Hel’s voice rang out loud and clear, silencing all ninety-three people in attendance.

  Growls erupted from Ian and his groomsmen. Half a dozen members of his family stood as well, lips pulled back and teeth bared. Some of them started undoing the cuffs of their suits.

  The minister was gaping at the scene, completely overwhelmed.

  Hel, however, bulled forward. “This marriage cannot happen, because this ceremony is built on a flawed premise.”

  Megyn frowned. What the hell was he talking about now? That wasn’t where she expected him to go with it.

  “Get out,” Ian snapped, pointing at the door. “Now. Before things get ugly. You’re not going to ruin my wedding.”

  The fury in her fiancé’s voice startled Megyn. She’d never heard him speak quite like that. Such disdain and complete hatred for someone. It was new to her, even in regards to Hel. She glanced at him, noting the way his veins popped in his neck and down his temple. Spittle flew from his face as he snarled at Hel again.

  “She deserves to know,” Hel fired back, standing his ground, the calm at the eye of the storm.

  People were slowly ducking out of the way, moving to the back of the room as the confrontation grew in intensity.

  “I said leave!” Ian bellowed.

  The order just washed over Hel. He didn’t care. “If you won’t tell her, I will.”

  Megyn looked back and forth between the two. “Tell me what?” she asked, hands on her hips. “What the fuck is going on here?”

  Someone in the crowd started crying. It sounded like her mother.

  Ian took a step toward Hel, and the rest of the others standing did the same. More people hurried out of the way as everything came closer to blows.

  “Tell me WHAT?!” she shouted, trying to get their attention.

  “Be quiet,” Ian snapped at her, slashing a hand in her direction.

  “Excuse me?” Megyn was not about to let herself be talked down to like that. “Don’t you ever speak to me again.”

  Ian shook his head. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Let me deal with this asshole and then we’ll get married. You’re going to be my wife.”

  “Tell her!” Hel sa
id, speaking a little louder. “Last chance.”

  Ian and the others closed on him.

  “This engagement is a sham, because this man is a serial cheater!” Hel shouted. “And I have proof!” He held up his phone a moment before he was buried under a tidal wave of men in suits.

  “This is madness!” she screamed. “Stop it now! Right now!” Tears streamed down her face as her wedding was ruined. Men were flying everywhere. Hel picked one up and tossed him halfway across the room before catching a fist to the face and spinning around, where he lifted a foot and Ian’s best man went hurtling through a wooden pew, the old bench cracking under the impact.

  Had Ian really cheated on her? Why would Hel say that if he didn’t actually have proof? She crossed her arms and stepped back from the insanity in front of her, mildly content to watch Hel deliver a beating to a number of them. She wasn’t overly fond of a bunch of his family and groomsmen. They were kind of dicks, but she still winced when one of them took a knee to the junk. That had to hurt.

  Whatever proof Hel had, it was enough for him to cause her the pain of interrupting her wedding ceremony. Even if he couldn’t open up and be honest about himself with her, he felt this was serious enough to speak up over. Which meant he wasn’t lying. Hel had never lied to her, not once over the course of their friendship.

  Which meant that no matter what was on that phone, she couldn’t marry Ian today. Not until everything was sorted and the dust settled.

  Something snapped and a groomsman stumbled away from Hel, screaming in pain. His face was starting to get bloodied and bruised as he took as many hits as he could give, but Hel was putting up a magnificent fight.

  Megyn needed to leave. She needed to leave now. Backing away, she raced for the emergency exit behind her, while all her other guests streamed out the main doors. She emerged outside and tried to slam the door behind her.

  Only it didn’t. A massive hand grabbed it, held it open long enough for Hel to slip through, and then it closed.

  “We should go,” he said casually. “They won’t be far behind.”