Dragon's Successor (BBW/Dragon Shifter Romance) (Lords of the Dragon Islands Book 2)

by Isadora Montrose

  “What the hell?” Her hands were on her hips. Her face and neck were still mottled with desire and her short black curls were tousled by their grappling. But she still looked disbelieving. How on Earth could he convince this stubborn witch of her danger?

  “Four years ago I told you I must marry a virgin in order to have children who were dragons,” he began.

  “After you turned me into a dragon,” she pointed out temper rising again. “After we had sex. Which was after you asked me to be your mistress — like I was some fricking tart. An offer, I will point out again, that I refused.”

  Roland swallowed his pride. “I loved you even then. But I had no thought that a woman — a feminist — would turn out to be a virgin. Not a modern, western woman. If dragonesses were not rarer than hen’s teeth, we would not look for virgins to turn.” He stopped, because his explanation was making things worse. Kayla’s pretty pink lips were hard and a muscle beat in her neck.

  “I don’t know what all this rubbish about enemies and dragonesses is. But neither Aidan nor I are for sale.”

  “Kayla, Beloved, will you not listen to me?” he begged. “Forgive me.”

  Her hazel eyes narrowed. “Forgive you for what?” she snapped. “Trying to abduct my son?”

  “On my honor, Kayla, that was not of my doing. My men have been guarding you since you first came here, and last night was the only time that there has been the least sign of danger. I swear it.”

  “And that’s another thing: You’ve been having us watched!”

  One of them had to be calm. He swallowed hard. “Only to protect you. And Aidan.”

  “Who the hell hates you enough to attack us?”

  “The former High Marshal of the Grand Council of Dragons,” he admitted wryly.

  She rolled her eyes again. “Get real.”

  “Kayla, you can become a dragon when you will. Last night, Rongo Te Paka witnessed you take dragon in defense of your child,” Roland said earnestly. “The truth of what I say is in your own transformation. You are a prize beyond measure to any dragon now. It is not just my fireling you can bear. To Vadim of Montenegro you are at once a treasure and a weapon to use against a rival.

  “You must come with me to Tarakona where you will be safe. You must marry me before witnesses. Once you are known to be my bride — the Lady Voros — none will dare touch you. It would mean exile or death.”

  “And this Vadim of Monte whatever would stop trying to kill Aidan?” she asked skeptically.

  “I will not lie to you again, Beloved. You will be safer if you marry me. But Vadim is a vicious worm. He may well come after our fireling again. But if he does, I will make him long for death,” Roland vowed.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  There was a sharp rap at the front door. Kayla ignored Roland and went to answer it. To her surprise an old Maori man stood proudly there. At his back was a crowd of the island villagers. The elder’s face was unlined despite his gray hair and long, carved walking stick. The curving tattoos on his cheeks, forehead and chin announced that he was a man of high rank. The deference of the assembled Maoris confirmed this.

  “May I enter, Granddaughter?” Watatoni Te Kanewa asked graciously.

  Kayla heard Roland’s indrawn breath. So he had not expected this man either. She stood back politely to let the unknown elder enter. Amiria came behind him with Aidan wiggling in her arms. Rongo Te Paka and Tane Te Mahuta strode in behind and stood like sentries on either side of the wide open door. Outside the mass of Maori villagers was silent and respectful. What the heck was going on?

  She turned to look at Roland. He was bowing deeply and respectfully to her visitor. “Grandfather,” he said with real humility in his voice, “You honor us.”

  “I have come,” Watatoni roared, “Because this obstinate foolishness of yours has gone too far, Roland. A week ago I warned you of this danger, and yet my granddaughter is yet unwed. You will be married at once. Now. This hour.” He banged the huge staff in his right arm on the floor.

  Kayla’s mouth fell open. “Who are you?” she managed to gasp.

  Roland was fetching the larger of her two armchairs. He placed it deferentially for the older man who looked at it and sat unhurriedly. “I am Watatoni Te Kanewa,” the old man said with magisterial calm. “I am your great-grandfather and this man’s adoptive grandfather.” He waved a brown hand imperiously at Roland.

  “My g-g-great-grandfather?” Kayla’s eyes were wide with wonder. Could they really be related?

  “And the child is my eldest great-great-grandson,” Watatoni said with pride. He held out his immense arms and Amiria quickly came forward and placed Aidan on his lap.

  The boy did not seem the least discomposed by this. He put his tiny white hands on either side of Chief Watatoni’s face and gave him a kiss on his nose. The old man laughed delightedly. He bent to sniff the boy’s nape and what he smelled must have pleased him more for his lips stretched into a smile that turned his ancient blue-gray tattoos into even more terrifying designs.

  “Stand before me,” he commanded. Amiria nudged Kayla so she moved before Watatoni.

  Roland required no direction. Before Watatoni’s words had died away he was standing beside Kayla, a respectful expression on his normally arrogant face. Kayla looked sharply at him, but he seemed to be taking this elder quite seriously.

  “Take hands,” commanded the dragon chieftain sharply as she stood uncertainly before him.

  Roland clasped Kayla’s left hand in his. Even in the presence of all these people she still felt the zing of desire shoot straight through her body. Watatoni’s eyes narrowed as he observed this. His lips moved into another smile. Kayla felt her face turn even redder.

  “Have you a ring?” he asked Roland imperiously. Wordlessly Roland drew a small, black velvet sack from his pant pocket and opened it and removed a huge and glittering ring. Kayla tried to pull her hand away, but he slipped it over her left ring finger and engulfed her hand with both of his.

  “By the power vested in me by the State of Westland, I pronounce you husband and wife,” intoned Watatoni without further ado. “Where are the papers?” he demanded.

  Ruru Te Paka stepped inside from the porch and drew an envelope from his shirt pocket. He bowed deeply. “I have it here, Grandfather.”

  Watatoni pulled several folded sheets from the envelope and spread them out. He still had not put Aidan down. “You must sign these, and Tane and Rongo can witness them. Where is my seal?” he asked.

  A tall, handsome stranger, even more elaborately decorated than Rongo and Tane, stepped into the cottage. He bowed to the chieftain and handed him a red wax circle and a metal tool with both open palms. Watatoni took these objects with a dignified nod.

  “Thank you, Arana. Well,” he said impatiently to Kayla and Roland. “Sign. I want this matter settled so we can celebrate.” He cuddled Aidan against his powerful chest. The boy was completely relaxed and showed no sign of the impish restlessness that normally characterized him.

  Kayla opened her mouth to protest, but one glance from Watatoni’s fierce black eyes had her docilely signing under her name. Roland did the same and Tane and Rongo added their names as witnesses. Watatoni smiled with satisfaction. He signed the marriage certificate as officiant and crimped the red seal in place. He handed the tool to the waiting Arana and stood up with Aidan in his arms.

  “Now we will dance,” he declared.

  * * *

  “I don’t see how I can be married to you,” Kayla hissed in a desperate undertone as they stood in her now empty cottage. “I didn’t even say ‘yes’. And I’m wearing old shorts and a tee-shirt!”

  Roland laughed ruefully. “I don’t know if we are married according to the laws of the Guild of Dragons,” he admitted softly, “But Watatoni Te Kanewa is a bona fide minister of religion, and we are married according to the laws of New Zealand—and those of the Maori dragons. However hasty and unromantic you found the ceremony it is binding.”

  K
ayla swallowed hard and looked out at the beach where wild feasting and dancing were taking place under the benevolent gaze of Watatoni who still held onto his great-great-grandson with effortless ease.

  “Do you think I’m really his great-granddaughter?” she asked skeptically.

  Roland nodded. “He’s too proud to lie. You’re one of his. Haven’t you ever wondered who your birth parents were?”

  “Of course.” She peered out her front door. “I just never thought my family would be a traditional warrior clan.” Her voice trailed off uncertainly.

  “I’m sure that now he has had his way, Chief Watatoni will be willing to elaborate on your heritage. He seems very taken with our son.” To Kayla’s sensitive ears, Roland’s voice was both awed and triumphant.

  “So what are we going to do?” she asked.

  “When we are called for, we will join your family in celebrating our marriage, and then we will leave for Tarakona where I can keep you safe.”

  “Why can’t I stay here on Ngaire? I have a job to do. And why Tarakona? I’ve never heard of it.”

  “Tarakona is the Maori word for Dragon,” Roland told her. “Tarakona Island is mine and it is secure. And it is scarcely a half hour flight from Ngaire. You know that you and Aidan cannot spend another night here.” He looked her right in the eye. “Despite our marriage, the threat to you remains.”

  “How can I leave my research?” she complained afresh.

  “It will wait,” he said impatiently. “You wanted to go to Auckland this morning,” he reminded her.

  She ignored his argument. “I could lose my sponsor,” she objected valiantly. “My grant says I must report weekly.”

  Roland’s high cheekbones burned red again. “I think that your sponsor will understand if you abandon your research temporarily.”

  “Really?” Kayla was freshly suspicious. “Tell me that I didn’t land the job of my dreams because you pulled strings for me.”

  “I pulled no strings. I instructed.”

  “Instructed?”

  “One of my companies funds your research here on Ngaire. I made sure you had interesting work in your field. And you must admit that those crabs of yours have benefited.”

  “I thought I got the job on merit,” she said looking stricken.

  “If I hadn’t thought you capable, you would merely be the assistant to some better biologist,” he informed her impatiently. “You are more than qualified to head this project. Dr. Whitcomb had orders to give you and Foster suitable work. Clearly he thinks well of you.” He shrugged. “Dr. Foster and your assistants can continue this project under your direction. That is what phones are for.”

  The tall seal bearer, Arana, knocked on the door jamb and looked through the screen door. “It is time,” he announced solemnly.

  It was Roland’s casual revelation that he had created the job of which she was so proud that shattered all Kayla’s defenses. She let herself be led protesting down to the beach to be fed and feted as a joyful bride. Amiria was all giggles and knowing looks as the women took her behind the palm screens they had erected and changed her into traditional bridal costume.

  Kayla’s shorts were replaced with a tan and black patterned flax skirt and her tee-shirt with a woven red, black and white blouse like the other women’s. Their shoulders and heads were bare, but around her shoulders they placed a bright blue feathered cape. A matching headband with a tall blue plume was tied over her curls. The other women looked splendid in their finery and Kayla wished she could see herself in this outfit.

  The village women chattered and laughed and when she was dressed, they taught Kayla the steps to the Dance of the Women. Despite herself, Kayla enjoyed the impromptu wedding reception. She danced wildly with her new-found cousins until the heat of the day faded to late afternoon and afternoon gave way to the long dusk of autumn. Down the beach Aidan danced excitedly with the men. Occasionally he was picked up and carried by one or the other and passed around like a precious and coveted burden.

  “Already he loves his father,” said Amiria proudly. “He is such a clever boy.”

  Kayla looked down the long sandy beach to where Roland stood triumphantly stomp-dancing with his son held overhead. Roland was bare chested like the other men and wearing the traditional flax loincloth. The tattoo on his breast had expanded to cover his entire shoulder, she noted. Otherwise, he was unchanged in four years. Her boy had been outfitted like a miniature version of the men and was plainly delighted with the fuss that was being made of him.

  Kayla glanced down at her left hand. The massive black pearl ring that Roland had placed there sat like some hard jeweled flower above her knuckle. A black pearl the size of a macadamia nut stood proud of a swirl of glittering diamond petals each one containing many small gems. Green and purple fire glowed in the heart of the pearl and complemented her golden skin. The ring was set in yellow gold and the brilliance of the flashing diamonds contrasted with the warmth of the huge pearl.

  She tugged hard at the band, but the ring that had slipped onto her hand so easily, would not budge. Amiria glanced enviously at it. “My lord must love you deeply to use so much magic to claim you,” she said in a hushed voice.

  Kayla could only stare at her. What could she mean?

  It was long after the stars were out that Watatoni signaled that Kayla was to be brought before him. Despite the late hour, the dragon chieftain was sitting upright and immense on a richly carved stool beneath an awning of palm leaves. A depression in the sand indicated where those favored with an audience had sat. Kayla took her place at her forbear’s knees.

  “It is well, granddaughter,” said Watatoni. “The boy will be a mighty warrior — like his father.” He sighed. He waved one arm, and his retainers moved out of earshot. “I have much to tell you, granddaughter,” he said slowly. “What do you know of your people — your birth parents, I mean?”

  “Nothing. But it’s always been obvious I have Maori blood,” Kayla said carefully.

  Watatoni nodded. “My fourth son betrayed his family,” he said as one admitting to grievous fault. “Tipene was betrothed to a virtuous maiden, but he deserted her to pursue a white woman.” He sighed as though this long ago grief still troubled him. “I had many other sons. I banished Tipene and cursed him.

  “This was wrong of me. Worse than wrong. My son Tipene died young, but he had a son named James with his woman. James was your father. He and your mother were riding on his motorbike when a truck hit them. You were left an orphan and adopted by the Coopers.”

  “Don’t you know my mother’s name?” interjected Kayla, tantalized by this sketchy information.

  “All in good time, granddaughter,” said Watatoni with majestic calm. “Today I reclaim you, great-granddaughter. You are to be known forever more as a daughter of the House of Te Kanewa.” He placed one huge palm on Kayla’s curls and pressed lightly. She felt a shock run through her whole body.

  Watatoni smiled into her astonished face. “Tonight you become the Bride of Voros. You will be the making of that dragon and your descendants will be dragons of great power. By the name of the Goddess of Fire will you be known to our people. I name you Mahuika.”

  Watatoni Te Kanewa stood up and four women appeared carrying traditional necklaces and bracelets carved out of mother of pearl. The women tied these glowing and intricate pendants around Kayla’s arms and wrists and neck. They drew Kayla into a circle of other laughing women and began to dance around her with undulating cries of victory.

  When she finally caught her breath enough to look around, Watatoni, his stool, and his retinue had vanished. Only Roland and his bodyguards remained on the beach with her and her dancing escort.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Behind her the murmuring of the women reached a crescendo of giggles and gasps. Kind hands took Kayla’s upper arms and drew her gently backwards up the slope to her house. She could see Roland staring after her looking baffled. That made her feel much better.

  Once they
reached her little house, most of the women shouted their farewells and left with their laughing advice for pleasing her bridegroom ringing in her ears. Kayla looked around at Amiria and the three older women, Pania, Atarangi, and Marama who had remained.

  “It is time to prepare you for your husband,” said Atarangi. “Amiria,” she continued serenely, “This is no place for an unmarried girl. You take the boy to your house to sleep. Rongo can guard you both.” The other women tittered at this.

  Amiria looked sulky at this dismissal but she left obediently. Kayla was sorry to see her only friend leave. She did not feel up to explaining to these three determined women that she wasn’t really Roland’s wife.

  Pania and Atarangi vanished into Kayla’s bedroom on some errand. Marama began to sedately untie Kayla’s headdress and feathered cloak. “These are made from the feathers of the vanished takahe bird,” she said. “You are greatly honored. It used to be that every bride of our House celebrated her marriage in these garments. But since the takahe will never be seen again, this cloak and headband are seldom used, for not one feather can ever be replaced,” she explained.

  “How did they get to Ngaire?” Kayla asked.

  “Chief Watatoni has his ways,” Marama’s smiling words were no real answer.

  Pania stepped out of the bedroom with a scrap of white fabric in one stout hand. “We’re ready, sister,” she called down the hall.

  “Come, let us get you prepared,” Marama said.

  Kayla let the women put her into the short, filmy white nightgown that Pania had been carrying. Where had it come from? It was delicate and fragile, and in no way resembled the sturdy cotton sleeping tees she usually wore. Before long she was lying in her bed alone, waiting for the man she wanted, but didn’t want to submit to. She would just say ‘No’, she thought sleepily.

  She drifted up from a dream to the gentle flick of some firm but soft object tickling her bud. Her eyes shot open. Roland crouched above her like some great predatory beast. His teeth gleamed white in the darkness of the room, and so did his finger. His finger? She blinked. He held a long white feather between thumb and forefinger and dipped it into a small pot that he held in his other hand. The aroma of orange blossom filled the little bedroom where she had spent so many lonely nights.