Perilous: The Dragon’s Creed Series Book 3

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by French, Katie




  Perilous

  The Dragon’s Creed Series Book 3

  Ingrid Seyour

  Katie French

  Contents

  Introduction

  1. Chapter One

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  And now, please enjoy a sneak peek of One Wish Away by Ingrid Seymour

  And now, please enjoy a sample of The Breeders (Book One) by Katie French

  About the Author - Ingrid Seymour

  Also by Ingrid Seyour

  About the Author - Katie French

  Also by Katie French

  Introduction

  “Hold fast to dreams, for if dreams die, life is a broken-winged bird that cannot fly.”

  Langston Hughes

  “Jump off the cliff and build your wings on the way down.”

  Ray Bradbury

  Chapter One

  The pink in the sky matched the color of my scales. Sort of… Nah, not really.

  Honestly, if I’d had a choice in the matter, I wouldn’t have turned into a magenta dragon. A badass black like Ki’s would have been cool, or an ethereal blue like Tom, even ostentatious gold like Santiago, but Blue’s Clues Magenta? Really?!

  Although, as I flew over the clouds, I had to admit the dimming afternoon light reflecting off my hide was rather dazzling.

  I banked right, the wind tickling the bottom of my wings. The boys followed, staying behind and giving me telepathic tips when I needed them. It had been three months since I’d turned into a dragon, and learning to fly had been relatively easy compared to mastering my warden skills. A certain instinct had been born inside me along with the ability to shift into this awesome mythical creature.

  A cloud stood in my way, and I burst right through it, getting a light, cool mist on my face that felt heavenly. I just loved doing that.

  Tired yet? The question came from Tom through our private telepathic channel. The message was a bit garbled, like static from bad cellular service, but it came in well enough. I’d mastered regular telepathic communication, but that was available to anyone able to listen, so we’d been practicing speaking through our own wavelength. Picking out the private messages from in between my own thoughts was tricky, though. I’d compared it to sifting through Pickles’s litter box to find a few gems, except my sifter was broken. The boys had laughed hard at that one. Boys were so predictable. Bathroom humor got them every time.

  In response to Tom’s question, I folded my wings and dove toward the water. I could fly all night and never get tired of it.

  Here we go again, Fang said.

  Right behind you, Amor. Santiago dove next, catching up with me in a heartbeat, his golden dragon eye winking.

  Now I could understand why Santiago was always so reckless. Being a dragon made you feel indestructible. And flying… flying was beyond words. I’d never experienced anything quite like it.

  My jowls flapped as the wind pelted my face.

  If you chicken out first, you owe me a kiss, Santiago said.

  He was right next to me, plummeting at the same speed, his eyes half closed. At the mention of a kiss, my stomach felt as if a thousand butterflies had invaded it. Or maybe it was bats, since I was too big for butterflies to even show on my radar.

  It had been a while since Santiago and I had kissed on top of the lighthouse, and though I’d been tempted to kiss him many times since then, there just hadn’t been any opportunity—not with making sure I performed my lighthouse keeper duties, took care of my ailing father, and kept four testosterone-charged, immature, and sloppy (albeit incredibly adorable) boys in line.

  Next thing I knew Ki and Tom where head-to-head with us, plummeting like missiles on the way to destruction. Had they heard the kiss dare? Great. No way I was chickening out now then doling out kisses to these three guys as if I were distributing pamphlets. At least Fang had had the decency to stay out of it.

  I tucked my head in, making myself more aerodynamic. The guys did the same, the sound of their flapping wing membranes reduced to a low flutter.

  The lake rushed in our direction—or at least that’s how it felt: the earth rearing up while we waited in midair for it to smash into us.

  The wind roared in my ears, and the scent of the lake filled my nostrils—a scent I could only perceive in my dragon form, something like sunshine, fresh water, and life mixed together.

  We were the length of a few football fields away from the surface, and I had always began to abandon the nosedive at this altitude, slightly changing the angle of my body before I would spread out my wings.

  This time, I stuck to my guns. The boys did too, but that was no surprise, they’d been flying practically since they were born, and I was like a little fledgling whose mean mother had kicked me out of the nest yesterday.

  If I went into the water at this angle, would it hurt? Would I break something? Okay, maybe I should just spread my wings and kiss all three boys. It would be a sacrifice, but I’d be able to manage. If only I didn’t I hate losing a bet so much.

  We kept diving at a prodigious speed and covered half the distance to the water in a split nanosecond.

  Oh, God. What if I lose my face? What if I turn purple from the bruises?

  The only positive was that I wouldn’t be magenta anymore.

  By now we were so close to the water that I caught my reflection on the surface and saw the fear on my dragon face. It was a “ready to soil my pants” expression—figuratively, of course, since I wore no pants—that finally made me chicken out and come back to my senses.

  I pointed my nose toward the sky and spread my wings. A scream that would have really been a roar lodged itself in my throat and stayed there even after the wind caught me and the lake water tickled my belly as I skimmed the surface like a boat on its keel.

  Throwing some warden magic over my magenta ass, I went straight for the beach, shifted, and ran behind my favorite boulder: the wide and tall one that conceals my naked derrière.

  My body tingling from all the adrenaline of the wild flight, I found the waterproof tub and slipped on my baggy sweatpants and hoodie at the speed of light. It was cold, and my warm-blooded self was already starting to pucker everywhere.

  I walked from behind the boulder, a pair of sneakers and thick socks in hand. Tom and Ki were nowhere in sight, but Santiago stood on the sand, wearing nothing but a smile.

  “Oh, for God’s sake,” I put a hand over my eyes. “Go get dressed.”

  “You’re peeking,” he said.

  I closed the small gap I’d left between my fingers. “I’m not,” I lied.

  “I owe you a kiss,” he said, coming close.

  Sensing his proximity, I turned my back on him, and it wasn’t until I was facing the boulder once more that I caught on to what he’d said.

  “What do you mean you owe me a kiss?” I asked.

  “Well, you won, so instead of you owing me a kiss, I own you one,” he said, speaking the last bit close to my ear.

  Wait, I won? Really? I almost whooped in victory, but that would have given away the fact that I had been scared poopless, and I preferred to play th
e cocky version of myself today.

  “No kiss for losers, Señor Alcon,” I said.

  “Di que sí, Amor.” He put his hands on my waist and made as if to turn me.

  “Go get dressed, you perv,” Fang called from the side. He strode in our direction, already clothed in jeans and a long-sleeve t-shirt.

  “Damn,” Santiago said in a low growl, then slipped behind my trusty boulder. “Don’t think I’ll let you get away so easily,” he said before he disappeared around the huge rock with his clothes.

  I took a deep breath and hoped my cheeks weren’t as magenta as they were a moment ago. My face felt hot and getting the image of Santiago’s sculpted body out of my head was proving impossible.

  Throwing the hoodie over my head, I turned to Fang and the others who were walking behind him, already dressed as well.

  “That was an incredible flight,” Fang said, giving me a high five. “You’re an absolute natural.”

  “It feels fantastic to be good at something, for once,” I said.

  Ki and Tom avoided looking me straight in the eye.

  “Chickens,” I said, cupping both hands around my mouth.

  “Yeah, yeah.” Tom rolled his eyes and started walking in the direction of the parking lot.

  Well, I guess my flying awesomeness had injured his male pride. Who would have thought?

  “Um, we better be on our way,” Ki said, taking a different evasive tactic than Tom. “We should be home to meet Mercedes.”

  As evasive tactics went, Ki was the master because I immediately forgot everything and went into giddy mode.

  “Yes! You’re right. C’mon,” I ran after Tom and sped past him. “Hurry guys. We need to get ready for Mercedes.”

  I had not seen my best friend since June, the day her parents whisked her out of Summers Lake after their only daughter was kidnapped by psycho attacker Tara Palmer. I wasn’t sure what she had done to convince her mom and dad to let her come spend Thanksgiving with us, but I thought it was the greatest gift in the world.

  I was tired of being surrounded by just males. Since the boys had moved in with Dad and I after the conciliatory ordered everyone to move out of Mirror Island and Tom refused to go back to his place, our little house had practically turned into a male locker room—boys on the sofa, one on an inflatable bed in the lighthouse, someone on the floor snoring. Boxer shorts, dirty socks, pizza boxes.

  Males, males, males.

  Dad, Tom, Ki, Fang, Santiago, even Pickles. I mean, they were all great, but all that testosterone got noxious after a while. There were only so many times I could remind them to put down the toilet cover, or pretend their roughhousing was funny, or measure their biceps or what-have-you to see who was bigger. Really? Who cared?

  Yep, I was in deep need of some girly time.

  We drove home packed in my Mustang since Fang’s truck was in the shop. We got home in a jiffy and started straightening the living room and kitchen. Dad sat at the table, staring at the floor, his head hanging low. Every day he appeared more tired than the last, and no matter how much I forced him to eat, he was getting thinner and thinner.

  Ki caught me just standing in the middle of the living room, vacuum in hand, watching Dad and chewing on my bottom lip.

  A stack of Sports Illustrated magazines under his arm, Ki spoke at my ear just under the roar of the vacuum so Dad couldn’t hear. “He’ll be alright, Lila. Just give him time.”

  “How much more?” I asked, frustration plain in my voice. “It’s already been months. He looks worse, and the doctors just keep saying they don’t see anything wrong in all his tests. I wish I knew what Tara did to him, but he won’t talk about it. I swear I’m going to kill that bitch next time I see her.” White hot anger pooled in my center.

  “You and me both,” he said, placing the magazines on the coffee table in a neat pile—nothing like the mess they usually kept in the living room turned man cave.

  I’d just finished with the floor and had put the vacuum up when a knock came at the door. I squealed like a little girl and ran to answer, a huge smile on my face.

  In my excitement, I threw the door open and jumped to give Mercedes a hug. Except it wasn’t my friend standing at the stoop.

  It was Black Rock with an injured naked man hanging off his shoulder. The man was naked and blood dripped from his nostrils, ears, and even his eyes.

  Then Black Rock, the head of the conciliatory and the most badass dragon I’d ever met, said, “Help us.”

  Chapter 2

  I stared at the awful tableau for a few moments, blinking my eyes as if clearing them might make this horrible scene go away.

  There was blood everywhere—it trailed from the man’s face, pooling in one ear; it stained Black Rock’s chest, and dripped onto the stoop. The naked man appeared already dead, limp in Black Rock’s arms.

  “What happened?” one of the boys said as they crowded behind me, apparently coming unstuck faster than I was.

  I shook my head, stepping back as Black Rock fit his massive shoulders through my door. I strode after him, heading to the kitchen table where I pushed everything off. Papers fluttered and plates clattered to the floor as Pickles streaked away, yowling. Black Rock laid the man on the table and stepped back, crimson staining his ebony-colored skin. Blood dripped onto the wood grain surface where I ate my Fruit Loops in the morning.

  Apparently, I did not do well with blood.

  “What’s going on?” My dad stood up, his chair clattering back. I’d forgotten he was sitting at the kitchen table. Now, his expression was full of fearful confusion instead of the normal daily incertitude we’d all just gotten used to. I threw my arm around him, ushering him away as the boys crowded around the table.

  “Dad, it’s okay. It’s Black Rock. Remember him? We’re just going to help him and that… man, okay? Stay here.” I helped my father limp to the couch and deposited him there. His watery eyes floated up to my face, but I couldn’t deal with his worsening condition right now. I whirled around and headed back to the kitchen table.

  “What did this?” Tom was saying as I jogged up.

  Black Rock shook his head, speaking as if out of breath and averting his eyes for some reason. “Found him this way. Nearby. I brought him here because I don’t think he would make it much farther. He doesn’t have much time.”

  Or any time, I thought. The man’s skin was a chalky white. The only color on his body was the dark red streaking his cheeks and snaking into his hair. He had long lean limbs that were caked with mud and bore scratches like he had thrashed through a briar patch before coming here. His hair was wild, untamed curls that hung loose and wet dripping onto my tabletop. Worse yet, he gave off a faint scent of decay.

  Who was this man?

  As Santiago hovered over him, scanning for injuries, I turned to Black Rock. “Where did you find him?”

  “In the forest not far from here.” His eyes flicked to mine and then away. Why did I get the impression he was hiding something?

  “What are you doing back in Michigan. Last we’d heard you were in South America doing... conciliatory things.” I narrowed my eyes, watching his features for clues. His blank expression offered me none.

  I hadn’t seen Black Rock in months and hadn’t really thought of him much except to remember the sizzle of those golden eyes as they burned upon my skin. He’d tucked a strand of hair behind my ear in such a tender fashion that I wouldn’t have believed possible from a man as gruff and muscular as he was. His touch had been so warm.

  Not that it meant anything to me, or whatever.

  He cleared his throat. “I was on assignment. We’ve noticed an uptick in... unusual occurrences.”

  “Unusual occurrences?” I waited for more, but that was all he offered.

  When I opened my mouth to probe further, Santiago cut in. “Everyone step back. I’m going to try something.”

  Try something?

  “What are you going to do?” Ki asked.

  He held hi
s hands out, his chest rising and falling as if he’d just completed a sprint. “I’ve been working on healing spells. You know, like the ones my father can do.”

  Ki shook his head. “I don’t think now is the best time to try out a new trick.”

  Black Rock’s voice cut across the room. “This man has no options and no time. Let him try.”

  Black Rock was the elder and a member of the prestigious dragon policing force, so just like that it was decided. We stepped back while Santiago leaned over the man, his arms extended. He closed his eyes while Black Rock watched with intense interest.

  Energy filled the room, the air buzzing as if a sudden electrical current were surging through. The hairs on my arms stood up as my eyes locked onto the body atop my kitchen table. As if taking a cue from the buzzing in the air, the man’s body began to vibrate, slow at first, but picking up speed until it was oscillating him into a blur. I thought of hummingbird’s wings as I watched him nearly disappear.

  He stopped abruptly. For a moment, his body didn’t move, but then an arm twitched, his eyes popped open. His wild gaze darted around the room, pinning us all with a bloodshot stare as crazy as a caged animal. Finally, his eyes fell on me and his gaze locked like a tractor beam.

  “Stop… her,” he groaned.

  It was a plea, a last request. And it chilled me to the bone.

  “Stop who?” I asked.

  His lips parted as if to answer, but then the vibrations started again, his body moving so fast he was hard to see. Worried, I glanced around the room and the faces I saw did nothing to ease my fear. They also thought this was going horribly wrong.

 

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