Daughter Of The Dragon Princess

by Nina Croft

  Daughter of the Dragon Princess

  by

  Nina Croft

  Kindle Edition

  Daughter of the Dragon Princess

  Copyright 2013 Nina Croft

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author or publisher except for the use of brief quotations in critical articles or reviews.

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, businesses, characters and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, actual events or locales is purely coincidental.

  ***

  Cover Art by Fantasia Frog Designs

  Edited by Help me Edit

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  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

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  “You know, all I ever wanted was to be normal.” Lily swiped the rain from her eyes and glared at the scene in front of her.

  They stood on the crest of a hill. All around them, the land fell away steeply, and straight ahead, the stone circle loomed out of the mist.

  “Doesn’t seem very ambitious,” Joe said, coming to stand beside her, his tall figure hunched against the downpour.

  “Maybe not, but they didn’t exactly encourage us to dream big in the children’s home, and I thought—be realistic—keep my life goals small. How the hell hard can normal be?”

  Too fucking hard, obviously.

  She kicked a rock at her feet, and then winced. Trudging up here, cold, wet, her heels rubbed raw from her new hiking boots, she’d somehow convinced herself this whole thing was a figment of her imagination.

  No such luck.

  The scene before her was familiar. She’d seen it so many times… in her dreams.

  It was official—she was a crazy lady who had visions.

  She turned to Joe. “Sorry,” she muttered. After all, this wasn’t his fault. He’d been a real sweetie. Nor was it his fault that beneath her shirt, the mark on her arm tingled, reminding her of its existence. She rubbed it absently and caught Joe’s speculative gaze before he glanced away.

  “What’s the matter, Lily?” His voice was gentle, his gray eyes worried.

  “Nothing.” She gave him a bright smile. “So, this is where you found me?”

  “Yes. Hard to believe it was over twenty years ago.”

  A lifetime—her lifetime anyway.

  Coming to this place had been a whim, when the dreams had become too much, invading even her waking moments until they were impossible to ignore. Something had told her that the answers were back here where it had all started. Illogical—but then nothing about her life made sense recently.

  She’d never met Joe before—well, except for the one time, but she had no memory of that—though he had sent her a “birthday card” each year on the anniversary of the day he’d found her. He’d sounded genuinely pleased when she’d called and asked if they could meet.

  “Will you tell me what happened?” That’s why she was here after all. At the children’s home, they had told her she’d been found abandoned as a baby and handed in. Nothing else. And by the time she was old enough to ask questions, she’d seen enough of life to accept that she probably wouldn’t like the answers.

  Joe nodded. “I was checking the sheep down in the lower pasture when I heard some sort of explosion. I ran up here and there you were.” He waved a hand in the direction of the circle. “All alone, so tiny. You were naked but with this mark, like a tattoo, wrapped around your arm. I kept thinking—why would anyone do that to a baby?”

  Why indeed?

  But a faint quiver of excitement tingled in her gut. Was this the answer to the dreams and visions? That she’d been here before. Was it that simple? Okay, she’d been a baby. Even so, those memories would be locked in her brain somewhere. Now they were trying to get out. That was all. There was nothing weird or unexplainable about what had been happening to her.

  She took the last few steps, which brought her into the lee of one of the great stones. It was slick with rain, but warm to the touch, and she traced the swirling patterns cut into the rock, too regular to be carved by nature. Resting her forehead against the warmth of the stone, she allowed her fears to drain away.

  Maybe she wasn’t crazy after all. She could go home. Forget all this and get on with her nice, normal life.

  As she raised her head, she caught a glimpse through the gap in the stones to the amphitheater beyond—also familiar. The space was empty except for a flat table-like slab in the center and behind that, a stone arch, as tall as the uprights. She stepped into the circle, prickles shivering across her skin as she passed between two of the huge pillars.

  “You were lying there, on the altar stone,” Joe said from behind her.

  A faint hum filled her ears. The sound arose from within the arch, and she walked slowly toward it.

  “Do you hear that?” she asked. The hum grew louder, more a buzzing now like a swarm of hungry bluebottles.

  “Hear what?” he asked. “There’s nothing here.”

  “But there is. It’s coming from the arch. You must be able to hear it.” It seemed impossible that he couldn’t.

  She came to a halt in front of the flat stone and peered into the archway, to the gray sky and the standing stones behind it. As she stared, the image wavered, a ripple running through the view.

  Her heart pounded in her chest, her whole body rigid. Even as her feet itched to run as fast as possible in the opposite direction, longing washed through her, an impulse to step through the arch and find whatever was on the other side. Taking a deep breath, she forced her feet to remain still while her hand reached forward, fingers outstretched. Joe called out from behind her but she ignored him. Flames flickered within the frame of the arch. The crackle of fire filled her ears as the scent of smoke teased her nostrils. On her right arm, the mark burned through her skin like a brand.

  The noise grew and grew until a shrill scream crowded her head, drowning out her conscious thoughts. A jolt of electricity slammed through her.

  Then blackness.

  Chapter 2

  Lily didn’t know what had awoken her. She was just glad something had.

  She lay in the dark, eyes wide open, exhausted, but unwilling to surrender to her dreams again. Her waking moments were bad enough. Sleep was worse.

  It had been the longest, crappiest two days and nights of her life.

  She’d spent them trying to convince herself she wasn’t crazy or sick or both.

  And failing totally.

  After she’d blacked out at the stones, she’d woken hours later, in a hospital bed. Poor Joe had had to carry her down from the stones a second time. She was back home now, in her tiny apartment in London, and she’d hoped things would go back to normal.

  No such luck.

  Since her visit to the stones, her dreams had changed and not for the better. Now they were filled with flying and fire, and a stranger with golden eyes and a huge… She bit back the thought. But the fact was, he wasn’t just present in her dreams and minding his own business.
He was screwing her brains out, and she wasn’t doing a damn thing to stop him. In fact, though the details were fuzzy, she was pretty sure her legs were wrapped tight around his waist and her hands were gripped in his long silky hair.

  It appeared that along with her other issues she was also frustrated as hell. She supposed it was only expected—it had been a long time—and nothing a vibrator wouldn’t fix.

  Whenever she awoke, the hot, heavy scent of smoke lingered in her mind. Like now. She sniffed and there it was, stronger than ever. Wood smoke and some sort of spice—cinnamon perhaps—dragging her back to her dream and the memory of him deep inside her.

  Weird shit or what?

  Something shifted at the edge of her vision. Her pulse spiked. Slowly, she rolled her head to the side, but nothing else moved and she sagged into the mattress.

  She was just freaked out, that was all.

  Groping for the lamp beside the bed, she clicked the switch then blinked as a circle of warm yellow light surrounded her.

  In the shadows in the corner of the room, a dark figure stirred.

  The rapid throb of her blood roared in her ears. She pressed herself back as she gulped down a deep breath.

  He pushed himself up, away from the wall and stepped into the light. As his golden gaze trapped hers, recognition slammed into her. The man from her dreams, and an unwanted heat flooded her body at the memory.

  Please God let this be a dream.

  Under the sheet, she pinched herself viciously on the thigh. She didn’t wake up.

  Bugger.

  It looked like this time he was all too real. Even so, her terror diminished until she could study him objectively.

  Holy crap.

  He was stunning. His black hair was pulled into a ponytail revealing a face full of hard angles and shadows, sharp cheekbones, a mouth held in a stern line and those amber eyes that glowed golden.

  The rest of him was just as impressive. Tall, at least six-four, and broad shouldered, his long legs encased in black leather pants, an ankle-length leather duster coat over the top, he looked lean and mean and dangerous. And familiar.

  Something unwelcome fluttered in her belly and she had to force herself to look away. She licked her dry lips. “Who the hell are you?”

  He remained silent, assessing her.

  “And what the fuck are you doing in my apartment?” She peered sideways, hunting for her cell phone.

  “We need to talk.” His voice, dark and low, like crushed velvet rubbed against her skin.

  “Like hell we do.” She found the phone at last and brandished it like a weapon. “You need to get out of here before I call the cops.”

  He took a step closer, his lips curling as Lily pulled the sheet up around her neck, clutching it tight in her fingers.

  “Tell me, Lillian Palmer, why did you visit Taryn Carnack?”

  Her breath caught. She’d never heard the name before, but she had no doubt where he meant—the standing stones. “I—” She clamped her lips closed. What was she supposed to say—that she’d had a dream? He’d think she was crazy. Then she could add that she’d also had dreams about him, about the two of them together… and he’d know she was crazy.

  So she remained silent. He pursed his lips as if considering his next move. “Get out of bed,” he said softly.

  “No way.”

  He reached inside his coat and pulled out a pistol. A big one.

  Lily’s heart pounded against her ribcage and sweat broke out on her palms.

  He held the gun casually, so it appeared almost an extension of his arm, and he pointed it straight at her head.

  “Get out of bed,” he repeated.

  Her eyes were glued to the little black hole at the end of the pistol, while her mind screamed at her not to move, as if the thin sheet covering her would somehow keep her safe, deflect the bullets.

  Her muscles locked and heat built inside her as if she would self-combust right here in the bed.

  His eyes widened. “What the fuck?”

  She followed his gaze. Shit. The curtains were on fire. Tongues of orange flame licked up the dark blue velvet. “What have you done?” she asked.

  “Me? Nothing. I didn’t do this.” His tone held disbelief, but then his stunned expression turned to something approaching awe. Their eyes clashed as the scent of smoke filled her nostrils. The flames were taking hold, and a wild, unexpected excitement gripped her.

  Was she insane?

  It looked that way.

  “Well, do something now,” she said through gritted teeth.

  He leapt across the room, ripped the curtains down, rolling them in a bundle to extinguish the flames. When he turned back to her, his expression was no longer impassive. In other circumstances, Lily might have been amused at the alarm flaring in his face.

  “You need to calm down,” he growled.

  “Calm down?” Her voice held an edge of hysteria. “No freaking way. You broke into my apartment. You’re pointing a fucking great big gun at me, you set my room on fire, and you want me to calm down? Are you out of your fucking head?”

  The pile of smouldering curtains burst into fire at his feet.

  “Shit!” He stamped on the flames, then regarded her through narrowed eyes. She glared back.

  “Okay, okay,” he said. “Look—I’m putting the gun down.” He lifted the pistol to show her, and then laid it gently on the table top. “There, no gun.”

  Some of the tension drained out of her limbs, and she took a slow, deep breath. He was right; she should calm down and concentrate. While he had put down his weapon, he was still far bigger and stronger than she was. But growing up in the foster care system hadn’t taught her to be meek, nor had it taught her to fight fair.

  She just had to find an advantage.

  “I didn’t come here to hurt you,” he said.

  Her gaze flashed to the gun then back to him. “Oh, yeah?”

  He remained silent for a moment, no doubt considering his next move. Then he slanted her a smile, a slow lift of those sensual lips, and his eyes glowed with warmth. As though he’d turned on a switch, heat flared to life low down in her belly.

  This was so not happening. “Cut the nice guy act—it’s not going to wash—just tell me what you want.”

  He pursed his lips, and then nodded. “Show me the mark of the dragon, Lily.”

  She jerked back as though he’d hit her, and her hand flew to her mouth.

  How could he know?

  Maybe he’d seen it while he was shagging her in her dreams.

  Yeah, right.

  Very few people knew about the mark. She’d learned to hide it away. But it had always been there, forever branding her as different, in ways she could never understand. Now, here was a stranger who knew of its existence.

  She swallowed, lowered her hand. “Who are you?”

  “Show me the mark, and I’ll tell you.”

  Slowly, she stripped back the sheet and rose to her feet, tugging the thin silk nightshirt down over her trembling legs. The cool air brushed against her, tightening her nipples, and she shivered at the sensation.

  “Come here,” he murmured.

  She forced one foot in front of the other until she stood only inches away. Breathing in, she caught his scent, wood smoke and spice, like some long-forgotten memory. Or a goddamn dream. Her nostrils flared and heat coiled in her belly, a slow pulse throbbing between her thighs.

  What the fuck?

  His half-closed eyes glittered with excitement as his gaze ran like fire over the soft swell of her breasts then lingered on her right arm as though he could see beneath the flimsy material.

  “Show me.”

  ***

  Malachite Smith hadn’t expected to find anything to admire about the woman before him. In fact, he’d expected to despise her.

  But she was beautiful.

  As she stood before him, dressed in nothing but a silk slip, his body tightened, his dick hardening in his pants. He shifted uncom
fortably and had to remind himself of who and what she was.

  He searched her face for some trace of her father, but there was nothing. Nor of her mother. Cara had been small, with long black hair and a sweet face.

  “Sweet” was not a word that came to mind when he looked at Lily Palmer. Not much short of six feet tall, slender and striking, with hair halfway down her back like a living flame and eyes the deep green of the emeralds his people loved so much.

  She was also skittish.

  It occurred to Mal that the gun might have been an error in judgment. But he had a job to do and he couldn’t allow himself to forget whom he was dealing with. At least until he was sure she wasn’t already working with the Conclave.

  This was too important—his people had waited for too long. Only when this woman stood side by side with their king, Vortigen, before the portal at Taryn Carnock, would their waiting be over.

  Nothing must prevent that.

  Besides, Mal hadn’t known she could start the fires. His gaze flickered to the charred remains of the curtains, then back to Lily. Shit, she shouldn’t have been able to start the fires and his mind still reeled from the implications.

  How would Vortigen take the news?

  Badly, he hoped.

  Her nightdress covered her arms and he could see nothing of the mark. The silk was thin and clung to her breasts. They were exquisite, small, but up-tilted, and his dick twitched again. He ignored the feeling—he couldn’t afford to be distracted.

  “Please,” he said, waving a hand toward her right shoulder.

  She nodded once. Her fingers shook as she plucked open the first button of her nightdress, then the next. She gripped the material and slowly pulled it down to bare her arm.

  A surge of adrenalin shot through his body. He’d known she was the one, but still to see the proof before him…

  The mark was beautiful; a black dragon twined erotically around her slender arm. Golden eyes glowed and flames burst from its nostrils. Red tongues of fire licked upward, curving over the smooth skin of her shoulder.