Dragon Protector (Dragon Dreams)

by Tabitha St. George

  Because she wasn’t alone. She had him.

  Brandon.

  What had they called him? A Dragon? Not a maimed Worm like LeMar, either, if a pack of werewolves feared to face him.

  Brandon had sworn to protect her, and she trusted him. Her guardian would come for her. He would destroy the men who had dared to kidnap his charge. Though her life depended on it, she didn’t doubt him for a moment.

  “HOW DARE YOU?”

  LeMar’s scream boomed, shocking the pack into silence. “Dogs! Curs! You dare bare your fangs to your better? I should shred you where you stand!”

  As quickly as it started, the confrontation ended. The wolves whined, twisting their muzzles away from the Worm. With a flicker, their lupine forms disappeared. Six men knelt on the ground, heads bent submissively to their Master.

  The sight chilled Hannah. How terrible was this wingless Dragon, if he frightened men as strong and menacing as these Werewolves?

  Hissing in fury, LeMar held his draconic form a moment longer. Then – silently accepting their surrender – he shifted back to his human form. One hand smoothed a crease out of the sleeve of his silk jacket. “Remember your place,” he spat as he walked to the exit. In the doorway, he paused and glanced back at his whining, groveling followers. “And don’t despair. I’ve left you a weapon. Use it.”

  A weapon? Hannah froze, wracking her brain. What was there in this decaying, empty barn that could possibly hurt a Dragon?

  The door banged shut behind LeMar. The Werewolves shuffled to their feet, angry and impotent. One caught her staring at him and anger blazed in his eyes.

  Hannah dropped her gaze to the floor, as if he frightened her. Staring challenged dogs; it could drive a mean one into an attack. She bet Werewolves felt the same. Best to show some ‘submission’ of her own, if she hoped to survive the night.

  That scattering of scuffed straw lay in front of her – and she gasped. The rune! That had to be LeMar’s ‘weapon’! It was the only thing out of place in this old barn. But how could a simple symbol be dangerous? Was it… magic? She hated to use that word; it felt insane to take magic seriously. Though was magic any more unbelievable than Werewolves? Something she now knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, truly existed. If there were monsters in this world, then why not magic? What else could harm something as powerful as a Dragon?

  She sank to the ground, tucking her feet under herself to gain a little cushion from the cold, hard floor. Then, holding her knowledge secret, she leaned back and waited.

  Hours passed. The Werewolves paced, fearful and irritated. Sometimes, one would step too near a pack-mate and a furious spat broke out. Blows, bites, snarls, until the Alpha bullied them back into line. Hannah kept silent. No tears or words to draw their attention. Once, her leg cramped and she had to shift her weight. Even that tiny movement annoyed a wolf, who took two steps toward her before his Alpha cuffed him away.

  In the end, the waiting ended without warning. Violently, and in a heartbeat.

  With a bone-jarring crash, something large slammed into the ground just outside. The barn rocked from the impact, a cloud of dust raining down from its beams. Before a wolf could even howl, a great claw tore through the wooden wall and ripped the door away with one ferocious swipe.

  There, in the ruin of the doorway, stood a Dragon. Scales as black as a starless night glinted in the lamplight. Ebony wings, sleek and powerful, arched from his back. This was a true Dragon, not some crippled Worm like LeMar.

  Was it Brandon? Her guardian?

  Yes. His eyes betrayed him. ‘Eyes are the windows to the soul,’ her grandmother had told her. And Brandon’s blue orbs blazed in the Dragon’s face. Set alight by some inner magical fire, but she would know – and trust – those eyes anywhere!

  Werewolves screeched, howled, dropped to all four. The Dragon’s tail lashed out, sending three of them sailing through the barn’s thin walls. As they staggered to their feet, whimpering, one braver Werewolf charged the Dragon directly. Brandon’s claws caught him as he closed, flinging the wolf into a beam. He bounced off and slammed into the floor, unmoving.

  Seeing that, the three tail-whipped wolves traded glances – then turned and pelted into the darkness, howling in fear. Their last pack mate fled after them, yipping. The Dragon snarled with contempt but let him flee.

  That left only the Alpha. He alone wasn’t cowed, even by a Dragon. Still in his human form, he retreated to stand in front of Hannah.

  Stepping carefully around that hidden rune.

  The Dragon crouched, ready to spring. The Werewolf leaned forward, shifting his weight to his toes, preparing to dodge the attack.

  As he did, Hannah picked both her feet off the ground and mule-kicked him with all her strength.

  It almost wasn’t enough. The pack leader rocked, barely staggered. That tiny motion shifted his foot an inch, however. Far enough to touch the edge of the hidden rune.

  A sharp, electric ‘crack’ rang out. Light blazed skyward, enveloping the wolf in a sickly green light. He jittered, dancing crazily like a man grabbing a live wire. Then he vanished, leaving only the smell of ozone, and burned fur behind him.

  Hannah stared, shocked speechless by the destruction she’d caused. She’d… killed someone. A man. A wolf. A Werewolf. A…

  A form hurtled toward her.

  Brandon.

  Her Brandon, not the terrifyingly glorious Dragon of his soul. Her fierce, human Protector.

  He pulled her into an embrace. Strong, muscular, male arms wrapped about her, silently promising the nightmare was over. He was here. He would shield her, with his life if need be.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, with a worry in his voice that made her heart sing. “I came as quickly as I could.”

  “I’m fine. I’m handcuffed here, though.” She glanced about for a key – and prayed it hadn’t been in the Alpha’s pocket.

  Brandon solved that problem. Reaching behind her (and pulling their bodies closer in the process…) he snapped the metal chain like a dry twig. Then, more gently, he drove his thumb through the metal of the cuffs and wrenched it open. Freeing her chafed wrists from their prisons.

  Her jaw dropped. How could he tear apart handcuffs like that?!?

  Well, he was a Dragon. She swallowed. It was going to take her some time to get used to that…

  Later. She’d think about it some other time. Now, she simply leaned into his embrace. Cuddling against his shoulder. Feeling his warmth, the beat of his loyal, brave heart against her cheek.

  Knowing her world would never be the same again.

  Hannah didn’t care.

  This ‘new’ world had him in it. Her valiant, majestic Protector.

  That, alone, made it a thousand times better than her old, comfortable life.

  Chapter 8

  As they stood, twined in each other’s arms, Brandon felt his Dragon recede. The anger that had consumed him – fueled by fear for Hannah’s life – slowly ebbed. He had her again. His woman. His soul mate. She was safe. And his.

  Of course, the battle wasn’t won. His enemies were merely scattered, not defeated. That battle could wait, however. What mattered was her. The sweet, feminine scent of her hair. The curves of her body, pressed tightly against him. Just like their forms had melded in his dreams.

  “I’m sorry.” Words which rarely crossed his lips came easier now. “It took me too long to fly here.”

  “You flew?” She peeked up at him, lips pinched with confusion. He longed, desperately, to press his own against them.

  “Yes.”

  “There’s no airport nearby. Did you… oh!”

  Surprise, delightful and innocent, widened her eyes. Brandon nodded. “I’m a Dragon. I have wings.”

  He felt a twinge of worry at the confession. Could she accept that? Would she shrink from him in horror? He prayed not. To see fear in her face – fear of him – would kill his soul.

  He needn’t have worried. His confession simply puzzled her mor
e. “How can people not notice a Dragon flying over I-87?”

  “People see what they want to see – and ignore things that don’t make sense. Eh, that’s not completely fair. Most people can’t see us fully. They see... something they can’t understand. So, they make up ‘plausible’ stories. I expect tomorrow’s papers will be full of UFO sightings along the Hudson River,” he confessed ruefully.

  Hannah laughed. He watched the fear and tension drain from her face as she relaxed against him, knowing she was safe in his arms. Dragons didn’t purr, but a deep, pleased rumble echoed from his chest. This was what his kind was made for. Protecting the weak and those they loved.

  ‘Loved.’ There was that word again. For the tenth time today, Brandon reminded himself that he couldn’t love a woman the moment he saw her. What they ‘shared’ that night was nothing. Just a dream. No matter what Amarie believed, the Rite of Souls was a myth. Their joining – a union that had rocked him to the bottom of his soul – was an illusion. It hadn’t really happened.

  Lost in his own thoughts, he felt his love shift. He released her, savoring the gentle ache in his heart.

  “Why can I see…” She waved her hand around the barn.

  “Shifters. That’s the word for our kinds. I suspect you see us because you’re Kindred. That means one of your ancestors was a Shifter. You don’t shift, but you can see those who do.”

  “And that?” Hannah grew somber as she pointed at the spot on the floor where the rune had been. Nothing remained except a thin, oily smoke. “What was it?”

  “Hmm. Do you want me to give you the long, technical explanation? Or should I just say it’s magic?”

  “Let’s stick with ‘magic.’ Today’s been too weird already.” She smiled, but it was a weak grin which vanished in a flash. “I killed him, didn’t I? That Werewolf.”

  “Yes.” Normally, he wouldn’t honor those curs with the name ‘Wolf.’ They were ferals, strays driven from their own packs. They lost a true Wolf’s honor, its wild independence, when they swore allegiance to a monster like LeMar. Best not to confuse Hannah with that detail, though. She was right. The events of the last twenty-four hours had destroyed everything she thought she knew about the world.

  She rocked, silent, contemplating what she’d done. Gently, he brushed a stray lock of hair back from her cheek. “I hope you can live with that. The deed saved my life.” Death and sacrifice came easily to him; he was a warrior. Could she face the cruel facts of war, he wondered? Or would guilt crush her spirit?

  Hannah took a deep breath and gave a sharp nod. “That’s all that matters.”

  Her words thrilled him. She might not be a Shifter like him, but a warrior’s soul dwelled in her heart. Longing rose within him, and the urge to pull her close swelled again, almost too powerful to deny. His Dragon gazed down at them with approval. It assured him that Hannah Stiles, strong and pure, was a fitting soul mate for any Dragon. If the dream had been real…

  …but it wasn’t, he chided himself. Claiming didn’t happen anymore. It had vanished when the Wellsprings faded from the world.

  “What now?”

  Again, her voice cut through his brooding. “Now, I’ll get you and your family someplace safe. After that, I’ll take care of this situation.”

  “No.”

  What did she mean by ‘no’? He blinked, faintly affronted. He was Brandon Lorde. Alpha of the First Flight. Scion of Emrys, the Ur-Dragon, greatest of all Shifters! People did not refuse him lightly!

  Except Hannah. “We can’t just abandon the farm. There are animals that depend on us. They’ll die if they’re not cared for. And seriously? Do you really think I’ll walk off and dump this all in your lap? No! I’m helping. We’re doing this together.”

  Her protective instinct filled him with pride. How defiant she was! A tiny Dragon in her own right. But her loyalty was dangerous, and foolish. “These are enemies you can’t fight.”

  “I know that.” She met his gaze steadily, unmoved by the warning. “I saw LeMar. And you. I wouldn’t stand a chance against either of you.”

  “Which is why I need to take you someplace safe.”

  “No.”

  Again with the denial! Before he could stop himself, he scowled at her, letting the edge of his Dragon’s annoyance turn that look into a silent command.

  One she completely ignored. “I don’t plan to fight anybody. But I’m not leaving you alone. I can help you do whatever needs to be done.”

  “Hannah…” Why could she not just do as he ordered?

  Because she truly was his soul mate, he realized. Her soul burned as brightly as his own.

  That insight set his mind adrift again. To have a mate whose passion and strength matched his own. What would that be like? What joys, what love, could they find together?

  “So, we’re agreed?”

  Brandon sighed. Dammit, he needed to focus. That foolish dream had filled his head with hopeless longing. Something he couldn’t afford right now. If the Fangs of Apophis were truly in Beverly, their lives were in danger. Any distraction could be lethal.

  Arms folded across her chest, Hannah waited for his answer. “Yes… for now,” he said.

  “Good.” She swallowed hard, still fighting to make sense of her new, insane world. “One last question. Well, two. Who is this LeMar guy, and why is he so anxious to get my family’s farm?”

  How could he sum up two hundred wars of deceit and treachery? “I do not know this ‘LeMar’ personally. However, that emblem you described, the one on his cufflink, is the sign of the Fangs of Apophis. The Egyptians believed in a demonic serpent they called Apep. Apophis, in Greek. It was the devourer of souls. It sought to slay the sun, ending all life on Earth.”

  Her jaw dropped in shock and horror. “Is it real?”

  “No!” He caught himself before a chuckle could escape. It wasn’t really a foolish question. If creatures like him existed, then why not sun-eating snake gods? “Apophis is a myth. However, some very real monsters – fallen Dragons – take him as their symbol. The Fangs of Apophis, as they call themselves, dedicate themselves to greed and self-indulgence.”

  “Okay.” Hannah frowned. “I still don’t understand why these Fangs want my home. You don’t go to a farm to indulge in anything except hard work.”

  “LeMar’s motivation is still unclear to me,” he admitted. “However, we know two facts that may shed light on it. First, the coin you brought me was Blood Gold. It’s a token we Dragons give to a person who saves our lives. A sign of an unpaid debt that any honorable Dragon must repay. Second, your farm lies in Beverwyck, as the Dutch settlers called this part of the state. Three hundred years ago, there was a green Wellspring in Beverwyck.”

  Seeing her confusion, he sighed. More complex things to explain quickly! “Wellsprings are… how can I say this? Places where the veil between the worlds grows thin. Portals that channel magic into this realm. Green wells, like Beverwyck’s, were famous for their healing power. They’re gone now. All the Wellsprings. They faded over a century ago.”

  Taking soul mates and the Rite of Claiming with them, no matter what dreams rattled him. Leaving Dragons with nothing to guard. Rotting, falling, because of the emptiness it left in their souls.

  “Why would they vanish?”

  “No one knows. The world has moved on. Grown colder, more scientific. Less magical.”

  She took this new information in stride and quickly put the puzzle together. “So, you think there’s a Wellspring on our farm. Maybe one of my ancestors healed a Dragon at it and he gave us the coin.”

  “Exactly. I don’t know why LeMar would care about that. As I said, the Wellsprings are in ruin, these days. However, it seems to be the only connection between Dragons and your land.”

  Hannah pursed her lips. A fetching look he allowed himself to enjoy for a moment. “Where’s this Wellspring?”

  “I don’t know.” He snorted. “I’m mature, but not that old! Does your family have any lore of a healing s
pring nearby?”

  She shook her head, then her eyes brightened. “There’s a bunch of ancient maps in the attic. Some of them go all the way back to the Dutch days. I’m pretty sure we’ve still got the first surveyor’s map of the land. Maybe there’s a clue in one of them?”

  “An excellent idea!” He was warming to the idea of accepting her assistance. “Let us go to your home, then.”

  As they stepped through the ruined doorway, Hannah glanced around. “Wow. I can’t see a hint of a road. Where are we?”

  Brandon shrugged. “No idea.”

  “How did you find this barn if you didn’t know where it was?”

  “I didn’t. I found you.” He drew himself up to his full height and bowed his head to her. “Hannah Stiles, I have accepted the honor of repaying the Blood Debt owed to your kin. I ward you now. I will always know where you are. I will always know if you are in danger. And I will always protect you.”

  Enchanted by the odd, formal gesture, she swayed. Her full lips parted. Wonder and delight lit her face. Wonder, and delight, and…

  Desire. He could see it, simmering in her eyes. A passion, a fire as fierce as his own.

  Damn the foolish dream! Who cared if its promises of lifelong joy were hollow? She was still here with him, now. Even if the future was denied them, they could savor this one moment. He stepped toward her, ready to take the pleasure of her body and offer her his own in return. Her face tilted toward him, she spread her arms to welcome him…

  And a draft, heavy with the scent of rat droppings, wafted out of the barn. Its foul stench instantly quenched their flames of passion.

  “Ugh!” He turned away to hide his disappointment and frustration. “We need to get out of here.”

  “Yeah.” She sounded as dispirited as him. “How, though? We don’t know where we are.”

  “Hannah, do you trust me?”

  “Of course!”

  “Then I will fly us, if you permit. Once we’re airborne, I’ll be able to find your farm quickly.”