Immortal Dragons: The First Four: Prequel + Books 1-3

by Ophelia Bell

  They were escorted to a luxurious suite of rooms on an upper floor with an entire wall of windows overlooking a steep, pine-covered slope and ravine where the white-waters of the river sliced through.

  “The director will join you shortly after dinner,” the young, pretty woman who had escorted them up told them before retreating back through the door and leaving them alone together.

  While they were settling in, the sun set at the end of the ravine in spectacular fashion, enough to steal Evie’s breath and make her want to sing at the same time. In the wake of the descending golden orb, an eerie mist built at the other end, stealing down from the mountains behind them and blanketing the lower reaches over the river. It was idyllic, to say the least, yet Evie’s skin prickled with a sense of dread as she stood staring out the window.

  Marcus stole up behind her and wrapped his strong arms around her shoulders, pressing his lips to her cheek.

  “We made it,” he said. “It’s even better than I’d hoped, but you don’t seem sold yet. What is it?”

  She closed her eyes and sighed. He’d always been particularly perceptive to her moods, thanks to the faint bond of magical energy they shared through his Blessing. It was an artificial bond, however—not the bond he should have with the dragon mate he was meant for. And not the bond she would hopefully someday have with her one true mate. Yet she couldn’t deny she loved him deeply and believed in her grandmother’s gifts enough to be here with Marcus in a place where she didn’t feel entirely comfortable. She simply had to have faith that she was, indeed, on the right path.

  “It’s…” She was about to simply say nothing when a knock sounded at their door.

  They opened it and a starkly beautiful, distinguished-looking woman stood on the other side, wearing a lab coat and carrying a clipboard along with a doctor’s medical case.

  Before entering, she reached out her hand and greeted them both warmly. “Marcus Calais and Evie North? It is a pleasure. I am Dr. Meryl St. George, director of the Alexandria Institute’s research division. We are so glad you chose our humble organization for your needs. Have you been briefed on how your stay here will work?”

  “Yes,” Marcus said. “You’re a scientific research facility and you want to use us as test subjects in exchange for giving us sanctuary.”

  Dr. St. George grimaced. “I wouldn’t use such harsh language. You are a far cry from lab rats. The entire reason we opened this facility was to save lives. Lives that may otherwise be needlessly lost in the conflict. Right now war is an inevitability, but through the Alexandria Institute’s research, I hope we can find a way to help peace prevail. I choose to employ science to wage war against war.”

  Evie listened closely and watched the woman. There was something unusual about her, but she couldn’t put her finger on what it was. Everything she said was true. Nothing about her mannerisms was at odds with her words. Yet she sensed something hidden beneath the surface of her seemingly honest exterior. Either she really was telling the truth, or she was so good at lying the Winds couldn’t even tell.

  Marcus seemed perfectly comfortable with the woman’s speech, however. He invited her to sit and they talked for several more minutes, sharing their opinions about the war. Evie only listened, seeking out any hint of deception from the doctor.

  “What do you need from us?” Marcus asked during a pause in conversation.

  “That’s the easy part. Nothing more than a few blood samples to start with. Once we’ve analyzed them, we’ll have a better grasp on which of our testing programs you’re best suited for. I can take the samples now, and the two of you will be free to enjoy yourselves for the next few days until we get the results. In between testing programs, all our residents are expected to contribute to the upkeep and management of the facilities. Our facilities manager will set up an appointment with you both to determine your skillsets. I understand from the forms you filled out that you have Aeronautics training, is that correct, Marcus? That’s a valuable skill you kept away from the military. I’m impressed.”

  “Flying was always my first love,” Marcus said and blindly reached for Evie’s hand.

  She gripped it back, only then realizing her palms were coated in a sheen of clammy moisture. This doctor wanted her blood. That was absolutely not something she was prepared to do.

  “I can’t,” she whispered, yanking her hand from Marcus’s and staring at the syringe and collection of glass tubes the doctor had fished out of her bag. “Please, don’t ask me to do this. Please.”

  In all the cautionary tales she’d heard growing up, the strongest theme was to never let your own blood be shed by another, and never give it willingly. That was what the enemy wanted. Their reasons were never entirely clear to her. In some tales, they instinctively fed on her kind like leeches or mosquitoes. In others they were monsters, willfully hunting down and draining any member of the higher races for sustenance.

  “Evie? Are you all right?” Marcus immediately stood and went to her, pulling her into his arms and stroking a large, comforting palm over her hair. “You don’t have to. It’s okay.” Turning to the doctor he asked, “She doesn’t have to, does she? She’s terrified of needles, and we didn’t know this was part of the process.”

  The doctor frowned and reached into her bag. “Blood samples are ideal, but no, we have other methods.”

  Marcus sighed. “Good. I am happy to give you as much blood as you need to make up for it. Just please, don’t take hers.”

  “Not to worry,” the doctor said, giving them both a warm smile. “A hair sample will do, provided we get a bit of the root.”

  Evie closed her eyes, feeling like a fool for being so terrified. “No. It’s all right. It will be for a good cause right?” she asked, hopeful and trying to do her best to talk herself into enduring an unpleasant experience. She’d shared bodily fluids with Marcus for an entire year. If he could shed his blood for this, so could she.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Evie

  Dragon Monastery, Sunda Islands

  Present Day

  “You have strong instincts,” Ked said softly, stroking his hand in slow circles over her back while Evie told her story.

  “If only I didn’t routinely ignore them,” she replied, sinking against him while they watched the moon rise.

  She ached so much for more of him, but didn’t have the strength to ask. The memories of her ordeal bombarded her, yet something about being near him made it impossible for her to hold them in. It had something to do with his power, she knew, though she’d never encountered a Shadow so strong before, and certainly never one that could affect her mind so acutely. In his presence, a veil seemed to drift over every other emotion, every other memory, leaving only the most prominent, terrifying, heartbreaking memories and feelings of loss, fear, and despair looming monstrously in the darkness. The only way to dispel those shadows was to purge them from her mind by letting him take ownership.

  “You’re doing this to me, aren’t you?” she asked. “Making me relive it all? And I have, since you found me. The entire way up here, I dreamed of the first year with Marcus. If you witnessed any of that, you should know what kind of man he is.”

  “He isn’t the same man you ran away with,” Ked said. “But I believe a part of that man still lives. What he is now is closer to what I am.”

  Evie glanced up at him, incredulous at the sound of resignation in his tone. Did he believe his nature was so terrible that he didn’t wish it on another?

  She reached up and brushed her hand down the side of his face. Ked closed his eyes and held her even tighter.

  “If what he became is closer to what you are now, then it’s no wonder I loved him more after he changed than I did before.”

  “Tell me what happened, Evie.”

  “Under two conditions,” she said.

  “Anything.” And somehow, with that one wor
d, Evie knew he meant everything he’d said to her in the bath earlier. She would want for nothing, and he would kill the man who did this to her, even though she wasn’t entirely sure that man deserved to die.

  “If Marcus really is alive, make sure he stays that way, but don’t tell him I’m pregnant.”

  Ked’s brows drew together and he started to shake his head in disagreement. Evie caught his square jaw between her hands, astonished at how solid and warm he felt.

  “Promise me. Yes, the child is his, but this is the third baby I’ve conceived since undergoing their horrible experiments. None of them survived to term.”

  “Children conceived with Marcus?” Ked asked softly, as though hesitant to delve into the subject.

  “No… this is the first with him. They kept him away from me for most of the time we were there. We rarely saw each other.” She closed her eyes, remembering the ordeal. “The two other babies were conceived when the other Elites were forced to couple with me. I’ll tell you about it all, if you promise you’ll keep him alive and keep this a secret.”

  She hoped beyond measure that this child would live, and that its father would, too. That she’d conceived so quickly must mean that her desperate attempt at completing the turul mating ritual and sharing breath with him had worked, but if Marcus died…

  “I had no intention of killing him—he is too much a part of me to even consider it. What’s your other condition?”

  Evie’s heart pounded as she stared into his dark, fathomless eyes, suddenly finding it impossible to get those last two words out. Here she was, in his arms, after two hundred years of believing he didn’t even exist.

  After his change, Marcus had incited something like this sensation in her, but even then it had never felt this strong—this all-encompassing. Like the entire universe was a cacophony of clanging bells signaling that yes, she’d finally found her true mate.

  Before she could even spur her voice into action, his mouth came down on hers, answering her second condition without a single word. Those words she’d been unable to say—“Kiss me”—wound up translated into another language as their lips collided and their tongues entwined. Only this language was unconditional, and she realized she never even needed to ask. She could have had his lips at any moment. She could have all of him at any moment with the smallest signal of her desire. The very idea of putting conditions on how they shared each other seemed entirely alien to her now, and she wished she could take back the request—the suggestion that she had to qualify her sharing before she would do it.

  No. He gave everything to her without even having to be asked. She would do the same. At least, she would as soon as she reclaimed control of her mouth and her voice.

  An infinite, wonderful moment later, he pulled back and she took a breath. She stared up at him, lost in the dark gaze, then smiled at the tinge of pink on his cheeks.

  Ked raised an eyebrow, but his flushed, swollen lips stayed grimly pressed together, unsmiling.

  “You were going to tell me more,” he said.

  Evie closed her eyes, wishing she could just stay lost in his embrace. She’d never realized how comforting darkness could feel until he’d wrapped her inside his version of it. Usually being trapped in the dark made her feel more alone, but with him, it was different. When he held her, his power blotted out everything but their two souls, bright and shining, like a pair of diamonds on black velvet.

  But there was something missing. The something that had brought them together.

  Marcus.

  “He was dying,” she said softly. “He died in front of me.”

  * * *

  Canadian Rockies

  Spring 1966

  Something didn’t taste right about their breakfast the morning after their arrival.

  Marcus, the most voracious eater Evie had ever seen, didn’t seem fazed by it. And she had to admit, it was a spectacular spread. She didn’t blame him, either, after spending a week on the road living on peanut butter sandwiches. Her own stomach growled and she took a few bites of fried potatoes and eggs. Then tried the oatmeal.

  There was a weird, metallic tang to the meal that seemed off. Even the coffee and orange juice had it. She shrugged and ate, because she was as hungry as Marcus looked. She was glad she did, a little later. Being fed and bathed and having the liberty to enjoy the day with him worry-free was one of the reasons they’d done this.

  They would have to contribute their efforts soon, but today, she just wanted to lounge inside with him. She was grateful for the rainy weather outside, too. If it were a sunny day, she’d be itching to find the nearest secluded ledge among the nearby mountains and fly, after giving Marcus an excuse that she wanted some time to herself for a little while.

  But today, the rain made her happy they had this safe little sanctuary to hide away in. After breakfast they simply fell back into bed, giddy with their freedom, and made love for hours before falling asleep together in each other’s arms.

  * * *

  The sensation of something gripping her ankles was what drew Evie out of sleep first. It was unexpected, yet not unpleasant. Her head swam as though she were drunk, and she tried to remember if they’d had anything to drink with breakfast.

  Through the haze, she heard Marcus’s loud and frantic yells. “Let her the fuck go! You can have me for your fucked up experiments, but let her go!”

  The deep, calm, and eerily monotonous tone of the other voice was foreign to her. “Marcus, Marcus, Marcus, you have no concept of how valuable you both are to our research. Dr. St. George and I have been looking for specimens like you both for centuries. Longer, really, but my researchers only had the technology to begin the right experiments recently.”

  Evie shook her head to dispel the last of the haze from it. She raised a hand to her face and saw that her wrist, too, was cuffed to an anchor somewhere beneath the cold table she lay on.

  “What happened?” she asked. “Marcus?”

  “Ah, she’s conscious.” The chilly feminine lilt of Dr. St. George’s voice drifted over to her, and a moment later, her distinguished face came into view. “Tell me, Ms. North. Would you like to share your secrets with your lover, or shall I?”

  How had she not sensed it when this woman walked into the room? How had she not sensed it in the others she’d met the day before? Ultiori Hunters were crafty, but they couldn’t hide their natures for very long when encountered up close. They gained the advantage by being able to sense the other races before they were sensed themselves. Only an Elite could have duped her so well, but even now this woman seemed decidedly human.

  The large, imposing man behind her was definitely not entirely human, though. Power exuded from his very pores and his gaze flickered between her and Marcus with hungry interest.

  A motor began to whine beneath her, and slowly the cold, steel table she lay on tilted upward, raising her to her feet. She caught sight of Marcus several feet away, chained naked to a bar above his head and looking back at her in utter anguish.

  Soon, Evie’s feet rested on a ledge at the end of the table. Chains jangled behind her and her wrist restraints shifted. She glanced over her shoulder to see the table being moved away, and the doctor raised Evie’s arms up to attach her chains to a similar bar that hung above her head.

  “Are you an Elite? Is that how I didn’t know you when we met?”

  Dr. St. George shook her head. “Not even close. Thank you, by the way, for volunteering to give your blood yesterday. So very brave of you, considering it had to be at odds with your true instincts. Turul are so very good at wheedling the truth out of a situation without even having to ask the right questions. Why don’t you explain to Marcus what you really are?”

  “You don’t have to say anything, Evie. I’ll get us out of here.” Marcus wrenched against his bindings, his entire body going taut and his muscles straining so hard that concret
e dust drifted down from the ceiling.

  Dr. St. George glanced up and hummed slightly. “Need to get stronger anchors in the future. But you won’t be up there long, not once my Sayid has his way with you.”

  The disturbingly silent man stepped over to a tray covered with surgical instruments and picked up a scalpel. Something was odd about him, though. He moved almost mechanically, like a puppet on strings. And yet the doctor had called him “my Sayid”, which Evie knew meant “Master” in another language.

  “No!” Evie yelled, when she saw him head toward Marcus with with the shining blade.

  With a sure flick of his wrist, the man sliced a vein in the inner elbow of Marcus’s bound and upstretched arm. Then another in the opposite arm. Blood streamed from the cuts down over his thick biceps.

  Tears streamed from Evie’s eyes and she imagined it was his blood, warm and salty, coating her face. She had done this to him for being ignorant of the trap they walked into, for ignoring her instincts.

  The man aimed the scalpel at a lower spot, closer to Marcus’s shoulder on his inner arm.

  “The first was just a small vein,” Dr. St. George explained, her voice close enough to Evie’s ear for her to feel warm breath that made her recoil with its stench of low-tide. “The next cut will be bigger, unless you show Marcus the truth.”

  “Marcus, I’m so sorry,” Evie said, regretting every moment of the selfish secrecy that led them to this. She should have broken turul laws to protect him. It was too late now.

  She let out a cry that echoed through the lab. In her own ears it never changed in timbre or force, but from the widening of Marcus’s eyes, she knew he had to recognize it. He was an aviator, after all, and loved all flying creatures—birds of prey, in particular—for their aerodynamic properties as much as their beauty. It was one of the many reasons she loved him.

  She had no doubt that he recognized the cry of a falcon coming from her throat. Just as he must recognize the shape of her body when she shifted into a much larger version of that bird a moment later.