Dragon Passion: Emerald Dragons Book 1

by Amelia Jade

  Dragon Passion

  Emerald Dragons Book 1

  By Amelia Jade

  Dragon Passion

  Copyright @ 2018 by Amelia Jade

  First Electronic Publication: May 2018

  Amelia Jade

  All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the author’s permission.

  NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental. The author does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for third-party websites or their content.

  All sexual activities depicted occur between consenting characters 18 years or older who are not blood related.

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  Author’s Note

  Hold on!

  You should know that while this series can be read independently, it is part of a large world that was started with the Crimson Dragons series. You can continue through, as each book contains a full story arc with happy endings for the characters, but to get the full experience of the Outsiders Universe, you should really start at the beginning with Dragon Temptation.

  I hope you enjoy! - Amelia

  Crimson Dragons

  Dragon Temptation

  Dragon Seduction

  Dragon Devotion

  Onyx Dragons

  Dragon Fixation

  Dragon Obsession

  Dragon Addiction

  Ice Dragons

  Dragon Eruption

  Dragon Redemption

  Dragon Rebellion

  Dragon Passion

  Chapter One

  Palin

  “I repeat, this is not a drill. We are under attack.”

  Alarms clanged noisily in the background, red klaxons flashing at every entrance and corner, warning him of the impending doom spilling out from the base’s underground cavern.

  Palin jogged through the base’s tunnel system, moving mostly against the flow of personnel. Scientists and noncombatants spilled around him like fast-flowing water parting around a rock. He towered over most of them, and outmassed any that matched his height by a solid fifty or more pounds, all of which was solid muscle.

  “Watch it,” he snarled as one of the noncombatants rebounded off his leg. In his panic the man didn’t even acknowledge Palin, and simply slipped back into the stream of people fleeing the base.

  Finally he got to the cavernous shaft that led from the surface down to the underground cavern where apparently everything had gone to shit. It was still open, which meant the fight wasn’t declared lost just yet. They must be waiting for more people to evacuate, he surmised. Then they would unleash the huge steel plugs that would slide down the shaft and block access to anyone going down, but more importantly, stop any of the nightmares from reaching the surface.

  The flow of humans had effectively disappeared by this point, much to his relief. Palin couldn’t stand most of them. They were weak, and had no spines. They were under attack; why did they not stand and fight? Any self-respecting dragon would sooner see themselves dead than not defend themselves and their honor.

  He turned, glancing over his shoulder as the tunnel shook slightly. Down the tunnel came six half-ton combat suits. The metal armor, piloted by a human inside, rumbled past, not even acknowledging his presence.

  Perhaps some of the humans do have a spine.

  Palin could respect that. They were heading toward the fight. Not away from it. It was time he did the same. The alarms died away thankfully, though his eyes were still assaulted every fifty feet or so by the quick-spinning emergency lights. Leave it to humans to make things as obnoxious as possible. His long legs and preternaturally quick movement soon deposited him on the cavern floor.

  And right into the midst of a ferocious battle. It was the most intense combat he’d ever seen, and for a moment Palin was frozen in shock. Everywhere humans frantically fired their weapons, grappled, and died. They were trying desperately to stem a horde of nightmarish creatures emerging from some sort of energy portal in the middle of the room.

  Though he had been warned of what to expect, Palin was still stunned by not only the ferocity of the matte-black attackers, but the ease with which they killed. He watched one of them, battered and leaking purple fluids, simply fall upon a human soldier, whose death scream was abruptly cut off, much to everyone’s relief. A blue light played over the pair, moving from the human to the attacker before it was swiftly absorbed. Then the creature stood up, its ant-like chitinous armor already healing.

  Palin snarled as the lives of more humans were snuffed out in hideous fashion. The battlesuits were giving as good as they got, but even as he watched a mob of the creatures swarmed over one, tearing it limb from limb. Its lifeforce, the blue energy cloud he’d witnessed, was sucked from it too. Without a pilot the mass of metal toppled over.

  “Move it!”

  He was jolted back to reality as a metal battlesuit shouldered him out of the way. More human reinforcements joined the desperate fray. The tide was stemmed for a moment as a full dozen of the amazing units added their firepower and mechanical strength, but it wasn’t going to be enough. The portal was still disgorging more units with every second.

  “Heavy reinforcements are on the way! We need to hold for ten more minutes!” one of the new suits shouted.

  Ten minutes? They weren’t likely to last for one. Unless someone did something.

  Palin snarled. Despicable as most humans might be, even he had to respect their willingness to lay down their lives for their fellows, whether those others were worthy of it or not. The cavern was too filled with bodies for him to use his most powerful form, but that didn’t mean he was limited in what he could do.

  “Looks like we need to stop the flow,” he muttered.

  He gripped his hands as he’d been shown, and they filled with a greenish cloud. He squeezed his hand muscles harder, without actually closing them. The green cloud grew darker, the mists within his hand swirling faster and faster.

  “Chew on this,” he growled, and hurled both of the balls of green gas at the portal. Half a dozen more swiftly followed. They exploded in rapid succession, engulfing the creatures as they poured through. Now, instead of being pristine, the black armor of those that emerged from the clouds was melted and leaking the purplish substance that he’d been told was their version of blood.

  “Take that, you pieces of shit,” he crowed.

  Crossing his arms over his chest, he beat on his muscles twice. In response green armor rose up from under his skin, covering him in a layer of protective scales.

  “HELP!”

  He spun to see a pair of battlesuits under attack by half a dozen of the creatures. Palin charged without thinking, leaping into the fray, a berserker from the past. He picked up one creature and whirled it around like a bat, using it to club one and then another off the suits. He inhaled deeply and blew a stream of corrosive gas into the faces of the others.


  One of them clutched at itself, a high-pitched shriek filling the cavern until its head simply melted away. Stunned by his ferocity, the creatures—the Outsiders as humans called them—fell back, allowing the battlesuits to regain their footing. One thrust both palms forward, and blasts of some sort slammed into the chest of a creature. They stuck, and Palin watched as they glowed, becoming superheated before exploding, driving their charges deep into the creature’s chest. It toppled over, dead.

  He had no time to spare. If he was to help stem the tide, Palin needed to be in a dozen places at once. Taking a second to look over the battlefield, he spied the fiercest fighting where a full eight battlesuits were engaged with what appeared to be five or seven times their number. They were holding out through teamwork and ranged firepower, but it wouldn’t last. For every Outsider they downed, two more stumbled from the gas in front of the portal to take their place.

  It wasn’t enough.

  Palin ran at them. Crouching low, he exploded upward, leaping over the line of suits and landing in the middle of the smaller creatures. They were about half his size, but they fought up a weight class or two. As he steadied himself he clasped his hands together, one on top of the other. A green staff extended outward from both ends of his hands.

  Whirling, he took the fight to the enemy. Faceless heads exploded and creatures fell dead, slashed open from torso to shoulder as the corrosive pole ripped through them.

  These aren’t that tough.

  He scoffed out loud as dozens fell away under his attack. His instructors had told him that they were stronger than he, and to be feared. This was nothing. Why, if he’d been here in time he could hold this attack by himself. In fact, he was holding it by himself.

  He extended a hand, gas pouring from his palm, descending over a particularly stubborn pile of attackers. Most of them fell away, their armor cracking open, though a few stumbled forward only to meet their ends on his staff or from the humans’ guns.

  “Is that all you’ve got!” he shouted triumphantly as the flow of humans entering the cavern went from ones and twos to a dozen, then a score, and then it became a flood. Interspersed among them were battlesuits, including the heavy-weapons versions.

  Then the entire ground shook. Rock rained down from the cavern’s ceiling, forcing the unarmored humans to scramble for cover.

  Palin spun. The tide of tiny creatures had stopped. Now all that he could see coming from the portal was a leg nearly twice as tall as he was. It moved forward quickly.

  “WALKER!” one of the humans shouted as the four-legged apparition emerged completely.

  Below it came hordes of warriors, the full-sized versions he’d been warned about. Rockets and other powerful projectiles began to slam into the walker, stunning it. Palin didn’t have time to worry about that, however. He moved to engage the first of the warrior Outsiders, a grim smile upon his face. If he couldn’t defeat them, then it didn’t matter what happened with the walker.

  His staff lashed out at the first creature. It was almost as big as he was, roughly six feet tall and equally as thick, though it didn’t have muscles in the traditional sense. Before his blow hit it Palin was already spinning to attack the next one.

  So when his staff didn’t implode the armored head, but instead simply disfigured it and slipped off, he didn’t know what to do. Standing there in complete shock, he could do nothing as the Outsider loomed up and over him.

  A moment later everything went dark.

  Chapter Two

  Sandy

  Light broke over her as she lifted her sunglasses and stepped out from under the shade of the tented awning.

  “Thank goodness,” she muttered, staring up at the sky as the clouds began to part, the sun’s rays reaching down like swords, scattering the grayness to the four winds.

  Hopefully it was a sign that her day would be busy. Lowering the cheap aviator-style gold sunglasses back onto her face, she busied herself with setting up her booth. She arranged her crops so that the most aesthetically pleasing ones were up front, thereby attracting the window shoppers in. Veggies on the left, her few remaining fall fruits on the right. She even still had a few bushels of apples left, which she hoped would sell well. One of these days she really needed to do pumpkins. Everyone always asked if she had pumpkins.

  If I just had more time. Or more hands. Then I could have whatever everyone needed.

  There was only so much land that she could work on her own in a day, and Sandy needed to be careful that she didn’t exceed that, else she might find herself wasting crops. Money was tight enough as is, and she couldn’t afford that. Not now. Her next property-tax bill was coming up due soon, and she needed to eke out every cent to be able to pay it.

  Otherwise Rusty was going to have a field day.

  Sandy stepped back from the display of her wares. Fiddling with the wrists of her red, black, and white plaid flannel shirt, she started to roll them up, hoping that her hands would stop shaking once she was done. They didn’t. Angrily she shoved them in her pockets and walked back to her truck, grabbing one of the bushels of apples from the back of it.

  Hauling the loaded basket back to her tent, she plunked it down on the ground in front of the tables. By this point her anger at herself had banished the fearful shaking, allowing her to step back into the sun and take another look at her booth.

  It looked all right, she had to admit. Some of the other farmers who came out had displays much larger, but they were also much more intimidating. Sandy found she did well enough, especially as a woman. Many of the male farmers were just too aggressive. Many of the shoppers were women, and they dealt better with Sandy’s relaxed attitude. She would sell what she could, and that was just going to have to be okay with her.

  The market, having no name besides “The Farmers Market” to the locals, was set up on a chunk of flat land at the corner of two streets. It wasn’t anywhere important. In fact, she had no idea how it had even started. All she knew was that if anyone wanted to come sell their crops, this was the place to be. Sandy had only been coming there for three years now, so she was still the new kid on the block, but it amazed her at just how many locals, and even shoppers from the city, would come to the middle of nowhere for some fresh crops.

  She knew if she could just work more of the ground on her farm she could actually make a living at it. Or at least pay her bills. The farm was long since paid for, a family property that she’d inherited. It was just the taxes and utilities that she needed to pay for. Unfortunately, she didn’t have the money to bring in any hired help. Nor was she comfortable with the idea.

  Sandy was a recluse. That was the entire reason why she’d moved to the farm from the city. Well, part of the reason at least. She hadn’t always been a hermit, but now she hated dealing with people. Even her buyers.

  “Hey Sandy.”

  She jerked suddenly as the voice sounded from behind her. “Dammit John, you know I hate being sneaked up on.”

  The elderly farmer frowned, stroking his graying beard slowly before he spoke. “I didn’t sneak up on anyone, Sandy. You were staring out into the middle of nowhere. I stamped over here with all the noise and creaks and angry muttering that you can expect from an old man such as m’self.”

  Sandy smiled. If there was anyone she could stomach talking to for a few minutes, it was John Landy. He was well known to everyone, having been a farmer in the region for as long as he’d lived. For whatever reason he’d taken a liking to her when she’d shown up. Every weekend at the market he came to say hello, and every weekend she made the same small talk before running away from the conversation.

  She didn’t want friends. Couldn’t have friends. Sandy didn’t want anyone growing close to her. It would only lead to trouble. Just let her sell her crops and she would be fine.

  “I just wanted you to know that Rusty is here today,” John said, concern filling his voice. “I don’t know if that’ll help, but I didn’t want you to be surprised by his presence.�
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  “Thanks, John.” She fiddled with her sunglasses, then took off her ball cap. Her ponytail slid through the back, and she wiped her forehead against her arm before exhaling heavily.

  Rusty.

  “I’ll be okay,” she assured the old man. “It won’t be like last time, trust me.”

  John peered up at her, making her wonder if he did indeed need glasses. Then he nodded. “Yeah, I suppose you will be. Okay, Sandy. Have a good one.”

  “You too, John. You too.” She watched the old man totter off back to his booth, a wry smile on her face. He was a good man.

  Stashing the black ball cap between her legs, she pulled the elastic from her hair and shook it out briefly. The rose-pink strands fell just to her shoulders, barely grazing them. The dyed strands were the only “girly” concession she allowed herself to have. Otherwise it was a flannel shirt, denim suspenders, and big tan-colored mud boots.

  At first she’d thought it a ridiculous outfit, but now she saw the practicalities. While all it would take was a piece of straw in her mouth to complete the stereotypical outfit, she didn’t care. How others saw her wasn’t something Sandy gave a shit about. Not anymore at least.

  There was a time where that was different though, she recalled to herself.

  That was her past life, though. One filled with power suits, sitting at the head of the table in boardrooms for meetings. She’d been good at it. Damn good even. Sandy had risen like a meteor, jumping from corporation to corporation as she sought out higher positions. At each level she dominated the competition, proving herself better than the rest.

  Shaking her head angrily, she dismissed the thought. That was the old Sandy. Power suits and power attitude. She’d mastered those. But crop rotations and fertilizers were getting the best of her.

  Just hire someone.

  She’d heard that before. Bringing in a helping hand or two so that she could work more land would make things easier. There was only one problem with that.