I shifted in my bare feet, fiddling with the sash on my silk robe. “I don’t know exactly. Morgon males have soulfire, which seals the mates together. But the heartbond will only occur if both are of the same mind.”
“I see,” he said, sliding one hand from my waist to my hips and angling my body so my back was to the sea. “And are we of the same mind?”
“I don’t know. I’d hoped you’d tell me how you felt about…well, forever.” I laughed nervously, gripping his shoulder and trailing my other hand down his bare chest to the scar I’d given him shining like silver scales. He wore only loose linen pajama pants, revealing his muscular physique in moonlight and shadow. He was beautiful.
“Forever…hmm.” He untied my robe, the silk fabric falling open. He brushed his palms lightly up the sides of my ribcage, his thumbs grazing my breasts, then back down, curving at my waist and over my hips to my outer thighs.
“Demetrius. I can’t think straight when you do that.”
He pulled me flush to him, his erection hard against my abdomen. “Shakara, I’ve been unable to think straight since the moment I saw you underneath that awning on my sister’s terrace. I just feel sorry for you, poor woman.”
“Feel sorry for me?” I laughed. “Why?”
“Because I’m besotted with you.” His voice cracked with emotion. “Heart and soul. And I’ll never let you go now. Even if you wanted to.”
Lacing my fingers behind his neck, I asked, “Who said I wanted to?”
“Let’s do forever, Shakara. Together.”
Unable to contain myself a moment longer, I tip-toed to meet his mouth and then poured my heart into a desperate kiss. I parted, keeping my lips against his. “Yes,” I whispered. “Together.”
He slid his hands inside the robe, cupped my bottom, and lifted me up against him. I locked my ankles at his back.
“Open your wings, Shakara. I want to see them.”
How this command could be erotic, I had no idea. Possibly because it was a command from a man who once shunned our kind. Now, he found the most obvious difference between humans and Morgons beautiful.
Whipping my wings out straight, I beat them once, lifting me higher but remaining in his arms.
He smiled, “Don’t stop.”
In a frenzy, I started to push down his pants, but he had them off in short work. I beat my wings in one long, slow rhythm, much like I would if I were soaring above the clouds letting the updraft take me higher.
“You are mine, Shakara Icewing,” he ground out as he pushed his cock inside me with one deep thrust.
My head snapped back on a moan. “Yes.”
He bit the flesh I offered him, then licked each mark he left. I used my wings to intensify his fervent thrusts, pressing my weight down as he thrust up. He gripped my ass hard and slammed home with a new intensity.
Our mouths found each other’s again, and then there were no more words. Only sighs and moans and the slick loveliness as we moved as one, a Morgon woman and a human man.
“I’m coming,” I cried the second before I did, and then my body clenched and pulsed around him.
He groaned and released inside of me then wrapped his arms around me so tight I could hardly breathe.
It was then I felt it. The rapid tightening that had become familiar now intensified to a painful level, twisting until I was sure something was terribly wrong.
“Ah!” he cried, still clutching me against him and still inside of me.
A sudden snap within my breast released all the pain, then a rush of pleasure and elation rolled through me like a tidal wave. I laughed and cried at the same time, pulling back to see his face.
“Demetrius? Did you feel that?”
“Are you kidding me?” Glinting by the moonlight, his dark eyes were wide with wonder. “I can feel our hearts beating together. Is that possible?”
Tears fell down my cheek. Tears of joy.
“It is. We are now heartbound, my love.”
He cradled my face as he liked to do, smiling so wide I could see his dimples, and pressed a sweet kiss to my lips. “My love. I do like the sound of that.”
“Me too.” I smiled, brushing my lips against his jaw and whispered, “Now, you’re no longer alone.” I nipped his earlobe, earning me a tight squeeze. “And neither am I.”
He gently set me on my feet and tied my robe. “And never will be.” He pressed a soft kiss to my temple. “Happy?”
“Infinitely.” I tucked my wings in tight and pressed my palm over the heart-shaped scar that glistened by the light of the moon. “And tired,” I laughed.
“Not as tired as you will be. I plan to keep you occupied in this villa our entire three-day holiday.”
Still naked with seemingly not a care in the world, he lifted me back into his arms and carried me through the double-doors into our bedroom.
“I told you I’d win the auction.”
I laughed.
He arched one dark brow. “You doubted me, didn’t you?”
“Maybe a little.”
“You’ll never doubt me again, I bet.”
“Never,” I assured him, kissing his neck, my dragon purring at the scent of him.
We never did leave our villa for those three glorious days by the Sorrel Sea. And our hearts were happier for it.
Also by Juliette Cross
Nightwing Series
Soulfire
Windburn
Nightbloom
Vale of Stars Series
Waking the Dragon
Dragon in the Blood
The Vessel Trilogy
Forged in Fire
Sealed in Sin
Bound in Black
Age of Gray
The Deepest Well
About the Author
Juliette lives in lush, moss-laden Louisiana where she lives with her husband, four kids, and black lab, Kona. Multi-published author of paranormal and urban fantasy romance, she loves reading and writing brooding characters, mysterious settings, persevering heroines, and dark, sexy heroes. From the moment she read JANE EYRE as a teenager, she fell in love with the Gothic romance. Even then, she not only longed to read more novels set in Gothic worlds, she wanted to create her own. You can discover more about Juliette, her books, and sign up for her newsletter on her website.
@Juliette_Cross
juliettecrossauthor
www.juliettecross.com
Reviews
Praise for WAKING THE DRAGON, book one in the VALE OF STARS:
"A sexy romp with alpha men and strong women. Fans of J.R. Ward's 'Black Dagger Brotherhood' and Sherrilyn Kenyon's 'Dark-Hunter' books will be pleased with this new series from Cross." --Library Journal
Praise for DRAGON IN THE BLOOD, book two in the VALE OF STARS:
“This is such a seductive and enthralling world! Mankind and dragonkind live long side one another in a hauntingly dark and beautiful world.” --SmexyBooks
Author Note
I’d like to sincerely thank you, the reader, for spending some time in the Morgon world. And I hope that you will continue the journey. I have so many plans for the heroes and heroines of this world as war and darkness settles over the land. And while sometimes there will be loss and heartache, just as in real life, there will always be light and love at the end of the day. Thank you again for taking a chance on this new series. And stay tuned for a full glossary of the Morgon clans and their gifts, which will be posted on my website in early 2017.
Here’s a sneak peek of WAKING THE DRAGON, book one in the VALE OF STARS series, by Juliette Cross.
Prologue
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
The beautiful blonde froze.
Silence.
She peered down the darkened corridor of the cellar beneath the Vaengar stadium. No one.
The Morgon with black hair and black eyes at the bar had told her the restroom was this way. The only sound was the wafting crackle of the torches. The only sight was long shadows cast by fl
ickering flame. An eerie tendril of fear snaked up her spine. Even half-drunk, something primitive warned her of danger, like the innate foreboding a deer senses when the tiger stalks unseen from the trees.
She shook it off, flipped her long hair over one shoulder, and walked on, knowing the restroom must be just around the bend up ahead.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
She stopped again and spun around, unable to tell from which direction the sound came.
“Bennett? Is that you?” A hollow echo of her voice reverberated down the empty corridor. “Stop it! You’re scaring me.” The last came out a faint whisper. A presence—corporeal, malevolent, and drawing closer—plunged her into icy fear. Her pulse quickened. A hiss of wind pressed the thin fabric of her mini-dress to her thighs. The flame on the wall guttered to nothing, then relit anew.
Tick.
Tick.
Directly behind her. She whirled and stared up at a massive Morgon man who stood only feet away. A behemoth silhouetted by the flambeau. His pointed wings, half-open and huge, kept the rest of him in shadow, as if the light itself repelled him. She could see nothing but his eyes—amber orbs with serpentine slits, bright as the torch-flame. Her breath hitched in her throat. She fell back against cold stone, scraping her bare shoulders against the rough cavern wall.
He passed near a sconce, the light illuminating hard, angular planes, the ancestral lines of the dragon sculpting his face in stark relief—more beast than man. Her heart thrashed against her ribcage.
“I—I lost my way, I think. I should go.” She gestured in the direction she had come, inching along the wall.
He moved with lethal grace, angling closer in slow, even steps.
Tick.
Her gaze dropped to his large hand. Claw-tipped fingers spread wide, the sharp nail of the index tapping the stone. She bolted left, only to find a wall of five Morgon men blocking her exit. They’d materialized out of the shadows in silent stealth. Unmoving, watching. Backing against the wall, she swiveled her head from those blocking her path to their master stalking closer.
“What—what do you want from me?” Her voice cracked, primal fear ripping through her gut.
By now, she’d reached the pinnacle of terror, petrified in place. Tangible evil seeped into her skin as the sinister creature loomed, enveloping her in his shadow. Something screamed for her to run, while a compelling power rolling from the beast kept her pinned in place. It was as if his very presence demanded obedience, subservience.
The beast braced one arm next to her head, her panic filling up the confines of their space. He inhaled a deep breath, drinking her fear in like the sweetest nectar.
“Will she serve, my lord?” A voice of authority from one of the Morgons in shadow—sultry but edged like a razor.
Her chest rose and fell, drawing the beast’s gaze. He leaned closer, trailing one claw lightly over her swelling breasts. Viper-swift, he clamped her mouth with his other hand, stifling her screams, and continued his exploration of her naked skin with the blade-like nail. Her rapid pulse beat frantically at the base of her neck.
“Perhaps.” One word, grating and broken. The voice of a monster.
He snaked his claw across the bottom of her throat, then down the line of her cleavage, pressing just enough to scrape the skin, a thin line of red rushing to the surface. Keeping her immobile with his crushing weight, he scraped a drop of blood from her breasts. He opened his mouth, revealing a row of sharpened teeth, the canines most prominent. Reeking of menace and power, he licked the tip of his claw.
“Perhaps.” His voice fell to a raspy whisper. A rumbling growl rattled her bones. A flash of flame and shadow and all was black.
Chapter 1
I paused the image on the comm screen, swallowing the bile rising in my throat. Pale and naked, the mutilated woman was splayed spread-eagle on her back in the snow, her bloodless skin only a shade darker. Dirty-blond hair, matted and tangled, covered her face—all but one glassy, green eye. A slit made with precision and patience opened her entire cavity from throat to pubic bone, exposing internal organs. What seemed to be left of them, anyway.
“Did you get any close-ups?” I asked Macon.
“Yes. Your favorite smuggler is getting better at his illegal activities.”
“You know I love you, don’t you?”
“Stop sucking up. It doesn’t suit you, Moira.”
“But I do appreciate it,” I said, setting his comm device in my lap. “Seriously.”
“Well, when I get fired from my job, you can hire me here at The Herald.”
“First off, you don’t get paid as an intern at the precinct. And secondly, you can’t write or edit worth a damn, so what could you do at a college paper?”
He rolled his eyes. “True. But payback for this will be you helping me pass my Ancient Lit class.”
“Done. Now, show me what else you got.”
Macon tapped the comm screen to play. “Here. Look.”
Sure enough, his video panned to photos of the victim’s hands and ankles, bruised from restraints. Just like the others. The last shot zoomed in on her lower torso and legs. Bright blood stained the inner slopes of pale thighs. I heaved in a deep breath and blew it out. “This blood doesn’t look like it came from the mutilation.”
“No. I asked my boss, Torrance, about that.” Macon’s voice dropped, grave and thick. “The tearing came from the sheer violence of the, uh…”
Macon swallowed hard. He seemed to be struggling to find words to describe such brutality to one of his best female friends. Finally, he cleared his throat, pushing his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose, and continued in a professional manner. “I heard our forensics guy talking to Torrance. Said the DNA evidence proves there was a multiple-rape. Like the others. But this time was much worse.”
“Dear God.”
I set down his comm device on the desk. Standing up, I stared out the window, unable to look at the images for one more second. My hands trembled. I crossed my arms and closed my eyes in an attempt to steady myself. But the images kept flitting through my mind on instant replay. A horror movie come to life. The torture and terror these young women suffered wouldn’t leave me. Raped. Multiple times. Then torn open like sacrificial lambs. The fear they must’ve felt in those last moments. Anger welled inside, demanding justice for these young women. I twisted the medal that dangled on a silver chain at my throat, rubbing it for comfort between thumb and forefinger. Knowing that emotion was the one inhibitor of a journalist’s investigation, a fault that could make me lose focus, I wiped away the thoughts and forced myself to the task at hand. Investigation.
“How—how many?” I asked. “Six of them, like the last two victims?”
“This time there were seven.”
I whirled. “Seven?” Based on my theory that these heinous murders were committed by an exclusive cult of some kind, a new member didn’t quite fit.
“Yeah. The DNA on the first two are from six different Morgon men, but the new victim has a seventh.” The DNA for the human-dragon hybrid race was so distinct, there was no denying the murderers were Morgons. Macon pointed to the comm screen. “And look at this.”
I sat back down while Macon scanned the photos, then paused on a shot of the dead girl’s thigh. I frowned.
“Bite marks?”
“They slashed her carotid artery, then bit her. Well, one of them did.”
“Let me guess. The new guy.”
“Yep. The DNA around the bite mark matches that of the seventh culprit.”
I peered closer at the photo on screen. “Why bite her? The Devlin Butchers have been methodical up to this point. Violent, yes, but also precise.”
Some reporter had coined the phrase after they found the first body, saying she was split open like a slaughtered lamb. The horror these girls must’ve endured was one thing, but the repercussions for Gladium were exponential. While our city was one of the few which implemented desegrega
tion laws for both species to live alongside one another, it was only in the past few years that amicable relations had begun to build beyond business. It wasn’t uncommon to see interracial couples together in public these days. My older sister, Jessen, for example.
Since the Dixon Desegregation Act two decades ago, named for the former governor who founded the law and pushed it through Parliament, the dividing line between races began to blur, opening doors for cooperative trade and for businesses to flourish. Opening the door for even more. Humans and Morgonkind merged, throwing Gladium into a bright spotlight, whether we liked it or not.
When my sister, the eldest daughter of a powerful Gladium family, and Lucius Nightwing, the eldest son of the most powerful Morgon clan, united in marriage, our world tilted. Rumors of dissent and criticism from provinces abroad filtered into the city. Even so, professional and personal relations between the races had never been better.
But now, these Morgon murderers were specifically targeting human women. Why? There were plenty of human-only and Morgon-only provinces to reside if you didn’t care for the mixing of races. And the murders carried some odd, ritualistic traits. Like the rapes by the same six Morgon men. And the precise slicing open of the victims’ cavities. All the same. Until now.
I blew out a frustrated breath. “The bite doesn’t fit our profile. A cult or gang ritual is precise and exact, like the first two killings. This new player is the one amping up the violence.”
I stared up at the two young women smiling from their pictures on my bulletin board. One kicked the surf on the beach, mouth open wide in laughter. The other curled up on a park bench with a book, looking up as if someone just called her name. I kept them there to remind me what had been lost, what the world had lost now that they were no longer in it. And now I’d be adding one more picture to the board. A familiar anger burned through my gut. No more. It needed to stop. And if that meant me diving head-first into the Morgon world to find these fuckers, then so be it.
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