by Anna Lowe
“I think I like the sound of that,” she murmured, already mixing up the present and future. Her body was already on fire, begging to claim and be claimed right there and then.
“You think you like the sound of that?” he asked, not quite satisfied.
“I love it. And I love you, Kai.”
He pulled her close, sniffing deeply, possessively. “Forever, my mate.”
“Forever.” She nodded, tickling his ear, then slowly lowered her leg to the ground. “Now take me home and show me your stuff, dragon.”
“Are you telling me what to do?”
She laughed. “What if I ask nicely?”
He grinned and kissed her, hard. “I like the sound of that.” Then he took her hand and led her uphill.
* * *
Thank you for reading Lure of the Dragon! If you enjoyed this story, please leave a review on Amazon or Goodreads. Reviews are the best way to thank an independent author for a story you’ve loved.
EXCLUSIVE BONUS EPILOGUE: make sure you’re signed up for my newsletter to receive a FREE copy of A DRAGON’S HONEYMOON — the bonus epilogue to Lure of the Dragon, as well as THE MATING BITE, a second bonus scene written just for fans of this series. Signing up also makes sure you’ll be the first to hear about new releases, exclusive stories, and great deals.
Lure of the Dragon is just the first of the great new Aloha Shifters series. The action, emotion, and passion continues in Lure of the Wolf, Book 2. Click here for a sneak peek of Boone’s story, or order it on Amazon today!
Finally, you can read about the inspiration for Lure of the Dragon in the bonus materials section of my website, so please come and visit today!
Sneak Peek: Lure of the Wolf
Aloha Shifters: Jewels of the Heart — Book 2
Nina only has the vaguest memories of who she is or why two men tried to kill her one terrifying night. All she knows is how quickly she’s falling in love with her rescuer — a man with secrets of his own. With her, he’s kind, gentle, and fun — but there’s a ferocious, animal side to Boone and the group of Special Forces vets he shares an exclusive seaside estate with. Can Boone help her uncover the past before the killers catch up with her? Or will an unexpected twist of fate steal her only chance at true love?
If fate were to come knocking on the door of Boone Hawthorne’s beach bungalow, he’d shove it right back into the sea — especially if it started whispering any nonsense about destined mates. But one night, a woman washes up on his private stretch of beach, and before the wolf shifter knows it, he’s breaking every personal rule for her and making promises he’s not sure he can keep. Investigating Nina’s past means crossing paths with a powerful archenemy, cutthroat criminals, and a ruthlessly selfish ex-lover who will stop at nothing to get Boone back into her bed. Can he solve the mystery of Nina’s identity while protecting her — without risking his own heart?
Read on for a sneak peek of Boone’s story, or order it on Amazon today!
* * *
“No!”
Nina screamed, but that didn’t stop the thick arms that grappled with her. A second later, she was airborne.
She flailed helplessly before hitting the water, closing her mouth too late. Salt water choked her, and an invisible weight yanked her body into the depths of the Pacific. She kicked toward the moonlight, desperate for air.
When she broke through the surface, gulping desperately, her long brown hair covered her face. She pushed at the tangles and coughed so hard, it hurt.
“Wait! Help!” she managed to scream.
A bad idea — attracting the attention of the men who’d just pushed her off the boat. They wanted her dead, but she couldn’t quite process that thought. Why would anyone want to kill her? What had she done?
“Get her,” one of the men grunted.
And, bang! Something flat and solid smashed the water right beside her head.
Move it, fast! A voice in the back of her mind yelled. Those men were swatting at her with an oar — and aiming for her head. They want you dead. Get away!
She paddled frantically. How was she supposed to get away? The lights that dotted Maui’s shoreline were faint and distant. The only boat in sight was the sleek white motor yacht she’d just been shoved off. Angel’s something — she could see the name embossed across the stern in gold.
She kicked backwards as the oar hit the water again and again, thrusting at her like a club. It glanced off her arm, and she choked in pain.
“Get her! Hurry up. Get her!” one man urged the other.
The oar slammed into her shoulder, and she screamed in pain. The flat of it glanced off the side of her head when they pulled it back, and her vision blurred.
“Get her,” she heard the man yell again, but his voice was distant and fading away.
If you black out now, you will die, the inner voice screamed. Dive! Now! Go!
Nina didn’t dive so much as sink. The water muffled all sound, and salt stung in her eyes. Which way was up? Which way was down?
Moonlight filtered through the water, and though instinct told her to kick toward it, she paddled sideways before surfacing again. The breath she inhaled drew in as much water as air, and she sputtered wildly.
“She’s over there!” one of the men shouted.
She wanted to scream, to cry. There had to be some mistake. But she could barely breathe, let alone speak, so all she managed was a garbled moan.
“Forget it,” the other muttered. “No way will she make it all the way to shore. We’re three miles out.”
He was right, and she knew it. The ocean was relatively still, but land was miles away. Her clothes were soaked, her limbs stiff. Her head throbbed, and her vision was blurry.
Do something! Now! instinct screamed as the motorboat powered up and sped away.
She yanked one shoe off, then another. Her legs kept tangling in her skirt, so she shed that, too, and let the ocean swallow the fabric up.
The ocean will swallow you too, if you don’t get moving. Go!
She turned in a slow circle, wondering which way to go. Wondering why she even bothered. Maybe she should let death take her quickly instead of fighting it.
You’re not a quitter. You can’t be. Just like Mom. She wasn’t a quitter.
Nina sobbed at the thought of her mother. So sick, so frail, yet refusing to give up the fight.
Come on, make her proud.
She slapped the water, as if the ocean was to blame for the cancer that had stolen her mother away. Then the sound of the motorboat’s engine changed, and she spun around, seeing it turn back.
“Get her!” the man shouted.
The engine revved to a roar, and the boat accelerated, kicking a plume of spray of water in its wake as it sliced through the water, heading her way.
“No…”
She couldn’t see into the deckhouse, but she could imagine two men hunched over the controls, grinning madly.
Move! Swim! Now!
Frantically, she paddled right.
The engine throbbed, filling the air and the water with its brute force. The water around her lifted with the bow wave, and she swam for her life, high on a sudden rush of adrenaline.
Faster! Go! Go! Go!
Water frothed all around her, making her tumble and turn as if caught in a breaker off a beach. There was a deafening hiss, a hammering throb. The terrifying sense of a mighty hulk slicing the water behind her.
And, zoom! The motor yacht zipped past. Nina bobbed to the surface just in time to see the bow carve through the water an arm’s length away. She kicked backward, desperate to clear the propellors, hacking and coughing the whole time.
Alive. She was alive. Her lungs cried, and her body ached, but Jesus, she was alive. She heaved and sputtered, watching the yacht buzz toward the distant shore.
She tread water, trying to catch her breath. Trying to make sense of it all. But her mind was hazy, and her memories were a jumbled mess. Where was she? What happened?
The loose shirt she’d been wearing floated around her, restricting her arms, so she pulled it over her head and cast it aside. Floating was easier without it, but still, it was an awfully long way to land.
So swim. Just swim. One easy stroke after another.
She wanted to protest, but her arms were already obeying the inner command, as if that was her mother begging her.
Don’t think, honey. Just swim.
The moon rippled over the water. The hum of the yacht’s engine faded away, and an eerie peace settled over the ocean.
Swim, honey. The way you used to go all the way across the lake.
That lake, wherever it was, was little more than a faint memory. And heck, this was no lake.
You can do this. One stroke at a time.
The ocean rose and fell with the long, lazy rhythm of the swell, and she imagined that it was cheering for her, too.
You can do it. One stroke at a time.
* * *
Nina had no idea how long she swam, or how far. She simply swam, looking up from time to time. The lights didn’t seem to grow any brighter or nearer, but strangely, she didn’t despair. Her body was on auto-pilot, swimming weakly along, and she let her mind tune out. Maybe drowning wouldn’t be as bad if her mind was as numb as her fingertips.
She switched to her back at some point and looked up at that twinkling stars. Maybe they were rooting for her. Maybe she’d make it after all.
She lost track of everything and faded into a trance that may or may not have been death tugging on her toes. One minute, she was dreaming about dolphins, and the next, her hand closed over coarse, gritty sand. She kicked feebly, wondering why she wasn’t moving anymore, then closed her eyes. Let death take her. She didn’t care any more.
“Hey!” a deep voice reached her groggy mind.
A wave swished over sand, and she flexed her fingers. Sand? She blinked. It was still night, but darker than before — so late, that the moon had set. Pebbly bits of coral jutted into her belly, and her head ached. Her shoulder, too.
“Hey, you can’t be here,” the voice said again. A deep, resounding voice that stroked her skin and warmed her threadbare nerves.
She lifted her head, blinking, but dropped it back to the sand a second later. Just that small movement made her head swim.
She wanted to say something like, I’ll be out of here as soon as I can lift more than a finger, but all that came out was a groan.
Two bare feet lined up inches from her face, and the man spoke again, more quietly this time.
“Lady, are you okay?”
She laughed, which came out as a cackling kind of moan. No, she was not okay. Not by a long shot.
“I hate to say it, but this is private property. No trespassing. Which means…”
She let his voice fade away. What did it matter if she trespassed? She was alive.
He touched her shoulder, and she hummed. In light of what had just transpired, she ought to have panicked at being so close to a stranger, but all she felt was warmth and hope. As if her mother were coming to take care of her and everything would be okay.
The man turned her gently, and a warm hand touched her brow.
“Jesus, what happened?”
Funny, she wanted to ask the same thing.
She murmured something incomprehensible and tipped her head back. God, he smelled good. Or did the whole beach smell like sandalwood and Old Spice?
“Can you hear me?” he asked, kneeling over her.
She tried to nod, but couldn’t. Her nerve endings were firing blanks, and she was tired. So, so tired.
“Does this hurt?” he asked, touching her arm.
It had until he touched it. Then all she felt was a cozy, enveloping heat. A sense of security.
“Hang on,” he whispered, sliding his hands under her body.
She held her breath, wondering if her nightmare was about to get worse.
“Don’t hurt me,” she said, curling up into a ball.
“I won’t hurt you,” he whispered, and God, it sounded so sincere.
“Promise,” she insisted, though her voice was weak. It was childish, really, because he could break his promise. Men did that all the time.
He paused for what seemed like an awfully long time and panic crept in toward her again. Was he going to hurt her? Rape her? Smash her over the head?
“I promise I won’t hurt you.” His voice was soft. Impossibly soft and kind. “Okay?”
“Okay,” she mumbled like a sleepy child — or a woman about to pass out.
Her senses had been drifting in and out, but the second he scooped her effortlessly off the sand and cradled her against his chest, she felt wide awake.
She looked up and blinked into his eyes. Dark, indigo eyes that glowed and flared like hot coals, framed by the rugged features of the world’s most handsome man. Which had to mean she was hallucinating — but heck, hallucinating was better than facing the ugly truth. Maybe she’d go with it a little longer. She’d pretend that this was her dream man coming to her rescue and not some hairy old hermit or whoever it really was. Because no real man had ever looked at her with eyes so gentle and so concerned — not one with that much muscle, anyway.
“Hang on. You’ll be okay.”
Palms whispered overhead as he strode along, and the fragrance of hibiscus mixed with his earthy scent. Crickets sang from the lush foliage, and a bird called. Maybe she’d died and gone to heaven, and this was an angel carrying her toward the pearly gates.
“You’ll be okay,” he repeated, covering her with something soft and clean. A blanket? No, a beach towel that he’d grabbed off a railing as he walked. She clutched at a corner of the soft fabric. God, she really ought to get herself out of baby-in-the-womb mode, but she just couldn’t find the energy.
She stared, focusing on his eyes. Either the indigo had faded to a royal blue or she’d been imagining things. His sandy hair feathered and curled to a point just below the ears. As he walked, he glanced down, checking on her. It should have been awkward, being face to face with a perfect stranger, but it simply felt right. So, so right.
The cadence of his steps changed slightly; he was going uphill. The rolling sound of breakers faded, replaced by a gurgling stream, and the air was filled with a scent of ginger. Somewhere ahead, a light shone.
“Almost there,” he murmured.
Almost where? She tightened her grip on his thick forearm and blinked at a dim point of light.
The hum of voices carried on the wind as he walked on, and the light grew brighter.
She wished her legs would obey her order to stretch and slide to the ground, but they wouldn’t. He was carrying her over to a group of people. A group of men, from the sound of it, not far ahead.
“Don’t worry.” Her knight whispered in her ear.
Which reassured her for exactly one second until he stepped into the circle of light.
“Whoa,” another man said, and a chair scraped over a tile floor.
“Holy…” another exclaimed.
“What the hell?” a third growled, and Nina immediately tensed. She wasn’t welcome here. God, she was at the mercy of these men. They could do anything—
“Shh,” her knight reassured her, tilting his arms to let her snuggle closer to his chest. She closed her eyes and breathed him in, because his breezy, salt air scent calmed her.
He leaned down and placed her gently on what felt like the world’s softest couch. When he slid his arms out from under her, a wave of sorrow washed over her. She’d never felt more alone or more vulnerable. But then he brushed a hand along her cheek and whispered, and her nerves calmed a little bit.
“Shh. You’ll be okay. I promise.” His tone practically chiseled the words into stone.
She managed a tiny nod, but her eyes remained sealed tight. She didn’t have the energy or the nerve to open them just yet. The voices were frightening enough.
“What happened?” a deep, rumbly voice demanded.
“G
et that light out of her eyes,” her knight barked, his voice suddenly harsher, harder.
“What the hell are you doing, bringing a human in here like this?” another asked.
Nina shook her head a little. Did someone just say human or was that the water in her ears?
Three men. Nina cringed. She was surrounded by three strangers. Well — two plus the man who’d found her on the beach. The one she already trusted, though she didn’t know why.
“Jesus, Boone. What’s going on?”
She’d been fading out again, but at the mention of his name, she perked up a little. Boone. Was her rescuer named Boone?
“We need to find Silas,” the one with the deep, growly voice said.
“No, don’t!” Boone barked.
Nina cringed, almost wishing she’d black out again. Was Silas a bad man? Bad like the men she’d escaped earlier that night?
Wait. What men had she escaped? She shook her head a little, but the memories escaped as quickly as they’d flitted through her mind.
“We don’t need Silas,” Boone said.
“What happened?” someone asked, leaning in.
Her eyes fluttered open, and she blinked until three men came into focus, all of them looming over her. Big, burly men with inscrutable faces and searching eyes. She shrank back and clutched at the beach towel covering her body. All she had on after shedding her clothing in the water was a string bikini and a skimpy thong. Her skin itched from the crust of dried salt — and from the scrutiny.
They were in an open-sided shelter of some kind — a big, open space set up like a living room. Make that a man-den. A club house, almost, with deep couches and a bar to one side, open to the fresh sea breeze and covered with a thatched palm roof.
“Hey,” the nearest man soothed her, and her eyes jumped to him.
Him. Boone. Her rescuer, who wasn’t a hairy hermit, after all, nor a mountain god as she’d half-suspected when he’d carried her so effortlessly. He was a sandy-haired, athletic man who took her breath away. His eyebrows curved up when he looked at her, and he nodded as if to agree with everything she had to say. His skin was a toned copper color, and his eyes—