by Ann Gimpel
If Erin had asked me if I wanted to be a dragon shifter even a few hours before, I’d have answered with a hearty affirmative. But now that the choice actually lay before me, I was of so many minds it was bewildering.
“What are the advantages of this…lopsided relationship?” I focused on Katya, wanting to pick up on her nonverbal cues as well as her words. For once, I wasn’t half-aroused by her curves.
Probably because I was zeroed-in on the most critical decision of my life.
She met my straightforward gaze unflinchingly. “It’s a hard question to answer. Since I was born with a dual nature, my dragon has been part of me forever.” She closed her teeth over her lower lip. “It’s like having a beloved companion. One who knows all of you, the good and the bad, and holds your feet to the fire when you’ve done something wrong.
“My dragon has been my closest friend—and my worst enemy. I hated her when she abandoned me after I refused to leave Earth. In retrospect, if I’d listened to her, Kon and I would be better off.”
It seemed she had more to say, so I waited.
“When my dragon left, first I was angry, but then I was desolate. I missed her terribly. It was as if someone had cut off my right hand. Not the greatest metaphor, but I felt a critical part of me was missing.”
“Did you ask her to come back?”
Katya’s golden eyes skittered away. “Not for a very long time.”
“What stopped you?”
She still didn’t look at me. “Pride. The dragon left me. I figured she could find her own way back. Truth was, I thought she owed me an apology.” Bitter laughter bubbled. “Doesn’t work that way.”
“How did she find her way back to you?” I was curious to hear what had finally turned the tide.
“Kon’s dragon did something. I have no idea what, but she returned as abruptly as she’d left. And we took off running as if we’d never been apart.” Katya stole a glance my way. “It’s good to have her back. I’m whole again.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose between a thumb and forefinger. Nothing Katya had said made me want a dragon of my own. I was fiercely independent, and the thought of another being telling me what to do—or even weighing in with an opinion—made my skin crawl.
But the specter of being dropped off in the Netherlands—if I chose to go home—didn’t hold much appeal, either. Right now, I had knowledge of a serious threat to all life on Earth. Once Katya got done with me, I wouldn’t remember any of it.
Fat, dumb, and happy, I’d molder on the sidelines, fiddling while Rome burned. Maybe not quite that bad, but I had an uncomfortable premonition about the serpents. “Once the sea-serpents develop momentum,” I asked Katya, “roughly how long will it take them to establish control over Earth?”
“Not long at all. Men have nothing at their disposal that will make the slightest dent in a magical war. They’ll fall by the wayside in a single generation. Perhaps less. Depends how many serpents their leader, Surek, imports from wherever they came from.”
Her response didn’t surprise me, but neither did it make my choice any simpler. If I had her return me to my human kin—and that would happen even if I made a bid for a dragon and failed—I’d find out about the threat to Earth along with everyone else. We’d mount what defense we could, and fall flat on our asses.
Not how I’d envisioned myself ending up. Taking the coward’s way out.
I was in a position where I could make a difference. If I pulled my head out of my rump and acted like a man.
I stumbled to my feet and stood as tall as I could, vertebrae cracking as I pushed my shoulders back. “I wish to become a dragon shifter.”
Katya rolled to her feet and regarded me. Magic prickled where she jabbed me with it, no doubt testing my words. My resolve.
“Not quite good enough,” she said. At least she had the grace to sound disappointed, but she didn’t sugarcoat her words.
“What do you mean?” I sputtered. “Of course I harbor doubts. I would be a right fool not to have them, but—”
She made a chopping motion. “You must want this with every fiber of your being, or you’re wasting both of our time. The dragon will sense your hesitation”—she blew out a tight breath—“if we even got that far. Our first stop is Y Ddraigh Goch. If the dragon god is not convinced of your purity of heart, he’ll send us packing.”
I turned my hands palms up. “I will offer the best within me.”
Her harsh expression softened, but not by much. “I’m sure you will. For now, take a walk outside. Perhaps down by the lake. I will confer with my dragon, and I want to visit the surface to keep an eye on the serpents. In roughly one turn of the glass, I shall return, and we will see which direction opens before us.”
Before I could protest I was as certain as I was likely to get, the air around her turned glistening and liquid, and she was gone.
I blinked stupidly at the place she’d stood before I turned and trudged up another set of risers to the large stone door that led outside. Taking a walk was a good idea. It was easier to problem solve when I was on the move. Somehow, she’d known that about me.
As the heavy door swung shut behind me, I thought about Erin. Should I try to locate her? I shook my head. I couldn’t help her any more than she could help me. Determined to find a way to mute my concerns, I set off through an unusual underground paradise carved deep beneath Antarctica’s ice cap. It was warm down here. I’d mapped this string of subterranean lakes from my lab on the Darya, the research vessel I’d been dragged away from by Russians intent on stealing what they could of Antarctica’s mineral wealth.
I may have mapped these lakes, but I’d had no idea they’d be so beautiful.
Not much point looking back, though. That life was lost to me.
Besides, thinking about Erin or the Darya were diversionary tactics. What I had to do was dig deep and figure out if I could open my metaphorical arms to a dragon and mean it.
Unsure what the result would be, I set off at a trot for the nearest lake half a kilometer distant. I was a proud man. Maybe too proud, verging on arrogance. And independent as hell. Peeling back the layers of a persona I’d cultivated for my entire adult life wouldn’t be easy.
The prospect scared the holy crap out of me, but the alternative—the one where I forfeited my memories and returned to the world I’d left behind—held very little appeal.
Maybe I was making this too hard, but I had to carve out a spot for my dragon. One where it would feel cherished. A short bark of laughter startled me until I realized it had come from me. I wasn’t used to sharing anything with anyone.
How in the hell would I share my innermost everything with an arrogant, critical dragon?
A snort followed the laughter. Might not be as impossible as all that. When you chopped the fluff away, dragons were a lot like me.
Short-tempered. Opinionated. Sure of themselves.
I reached the lakeshore and dropped onto a flattish rock. As I stared at the mirror-bright surface, a plan took shape. The longer I gazed at the lake, the surer I was I could pull it off.
“Serious alterations in the status quo,” I mumbled.
But what else was new? My previous circumstances had vanished when Russians forced me off the Darya. I’d be an idiot to long for the impossible. My past was deader than dead. The sooner the reality of that sank in, the better for everyone.
Especially me.
Chapter 2
Katya forced herself to leave. Her heart went out to Johan, but she couldn’t help him. He had to figure this out on his own. Her presence wouldn’t do anything but muddy the waters. Lust spiraled between them, too obvious to ignore much longer. He wanted her, and she longed for him as well. Sex could be their undoing at this point, though. She’d done her best to muffle her sexuality, covering herself when she could to make herself less an object of heat and need.
Despite her efforts, she’d caught Johan gazing at her several times, undisguised desire sheeting from his b
lue eyes. Men were so transparent. And they thought with their cocks. It was one of the most annoying parts of them, yet endearing as hell at the same time.
Konstantin had startled her when he draped Erin over one shoulder and spirited them out of the room. Katya hadn’t expected him to be quite so Draconian, or to leave at all. She’d assumed they’d talk things out as a group and have a definite plan before breaking into dyads.
Konstantin had wrenched matters out of her hands, though.
Her brother cared about Erin. More than cared, he was smitten with her. So smitten, desire clouded his judgment. Katya reached the Earth’s surface but maintained an invisibility spell around herself. She wasn’t done dissecting her brother’s actions, and his usual cool, detached approach to everything had deserted him. She hoped his attraction to Erin wouldn’t destroy everything. Just as with Johan, Erin had to want a dragon of her own for the dragon—not to open the door for her to become Konstantin’s mate.
Surely, he’d make that clear.
Katya pounded a fist into her open palm. She wasn’t at all certain reason would prevail. Her brother had been mightily aroused the last private moments they’d had together, so aroused, she’d left him to slake his lust as he chose. Hopefully with his own hand.
If he’d waited until he had Erin alone, all bets were off. Erin didn’t appear nearly as taken with Kon as he was with her, but dragon shifters were incredibly persuasive. If her brother wanted Erin in his bed, he had ways to make it happen.
A low growl rumbled from her throat. Smoke followed. Her dragon was making its disapproval clear. She sank to a crouch. Whatever did—or didn’t—happen between Kon and Erin was out of her hands. She’d been stupid not to talk with her brother, but what would she have said?
They might be twins, but they’d never interfered in one another’s love lives. There’d never been a need. Neither of them had ever found another who’d felt like mate material.
Until now.
She rolled the thought around. Unlikely as it seemed, two strong perfect humans had fallen out of the ether into their domain at just the right time. Normally, neither she nor Kon would have given the humans a second glance, though. So it wasn’t just Erin and Johan’s proximity.
Katya chewed on her lower lip. Maybe the sequence of events wasn’t as arbitrary as it appeared. She and Konstantin had remained on Earth after their dragon shifter kin left. Sheer stubbornness was behind their decision. Neither of them liked to lose, and they’d staked a claim to their subterranean home. This wasn’t like Mu where the world became unstable. The dragons had been forced to abandon it before it imploded, scattering particles throughout its distant universe.
They’d been on the verge of leaving Earth—finally—but were waiting for Katya’s dragon to return. Wherever they relocated, chances were she’d need to be able to fly. Flight required her bondmate. About that time, when she’d grown serious about coaxing her beast back to her side, she’d become aware of Erin and Johan—amazingly alive in the midst of a sea of dead companions.
The pattern of incidents held a choreographed feel, yet no one, not even Y Ddraigh Goch, could have known the serpents would invade Earth…
Katya drew her thoughts up short. Of course the dragon god, once deity to the serpents as well, would have ways of keeping tabs on his banished minions. If that were true, he’d have known they were headed for Earth.
The implications staggered her.
Offering homage to Y Ddraigh was one thing. Suspecting he’d been playing them like pieces on a chessboard, quite another. She batted her annoyance aside. It had no place here, but if the dragon shifter god had plans for them, she’d appreciate a simple heads up.
Not a cloak-and-dagger tactic steeped in crafty manipulation. She wrapped her arms around her knees. She wanted Johan to choose transformation. It was another reason she’d had to leave. She couldn’t influence him, no more than Konstantin should have played on Erin’s loneliness and fear to persuade her to become like him.
Besides, even if both humans turned into dragon shifters, nowhere was it written they’d fall into her arms—or Konstantin’s. They’d be independent entities, capable of choosing to mate.
Or not.
They might be so intent on saving Earth from the serpents, mating would be the last thing on their minds.
Fire flashed from her mouth. It made her smile. “I know what you think,” she told her dragon.
“If that’s so, stop mollycoddling yourself. Get up, and let’s figure out what the serpents are up to. It’s why we’re here, isn’t it?”
“One of many things I love about you,” she told her dragon. “You keep me focused.”
“I do, indeed,” she retorted. “Come on. Up and moving. You’ve wasted half the time you said you’d be away on useless mental chatter.”
“Do you know where Kon and Erin are?”
“Yes.”
Katya waited, but her dragon didn’t add anything. “Are you going to tell me?”
“No.”
Well, there it was. The lopsided relationship she’d attempted to describe to Johan. She didn’t squander breath arguing. Once her dragon said no, that was it. Her bondmate might come up with the information eventually, but not here and not now.
Nothing for it but to get moving.
“We will shift,” the dragon informed her.
Katya hadn’t been planning to, but she couldn’t come up with a good reason to remain human, either. She let go of the coverlet she’d draped around herself, and opened her magical center. Power poured through her along with the stretching, tearing, breaking sensation that accompanied shifting. It was more intriguing than uncomfortable, and she rode it out as she welcomed wings and scales and rows of sharp teeth gnashing together.
Talons were still forming when the dragon spread her wings and let gale force winds carry her high above the desolate stretch of icy beach. She closed the transparent protective membrane that kept dirt, grit, and wind out of her eyes and surveyed an endless vista of gray and white. The bay around their headlands had turned into a sheet of ice—unusual given it was summer in Earth’s southern hemisphere.
Wind buffeted her, but wasn’t a match for the powerful sweep of her golden wings. After a quick assessment, she didn’t sense sea-serpents anywhere near. A magical scan confirmed her findings. Maybe after their last confrontation where they’d killed a few, Surek had moved his minions elsewhere.
It was too much to hope he’d abandoned his plans to take over Earth. Not many borderworlds offered the rich biodiversity Earth did. Never mind it was slowly dying. Left to its own devices, the planet could last another few hundred years. Or more. As temperatures and oceans rose, and humans died off, the issues wreaking havoc would lessen.
If enough humans died, Earth might very well survive. Katya liked the idea of an emptier planet.
Dragons adored heat, so a warming world wasn’t a deterrent to them—or their sea-serpent cousins. Keeping her magic subtle, Katya sent pulses ahead of her flight path, and off to both sides. She let her dragon take the lead. Its magic was stronger than hers, and its senses far more acute.
“There.” The dragon angled a wingtip after they’d flown a few kilometers. “And over there too.”
Katya directed her attention to the iced-over ocean—and cursed. Borrowing from a strategy they’d employed earlier, the serpents had forced a layer of ice to form and hidden beneath it. Or maybe the ice had developed on its own, and the serpents were merely taking advantage of its presence.
What a bunch of lazy bastards. Originally, they’d planned to excavate caves, but apparently it had been more work than they’d anticipated. Water was their native environment. Ice wasn’t, but they must have decided to live with the cold.
Black lightning crackled from the frosty sea. Katya feinted to one side, evading it easily. “They know we’re here,” she told the dragon.
Her bondmate didn’t waste time with words. It bugled ferociously, a challenge if Katya had e
ver heard one.
Goddess damn dragons to hell. She’d waited too long to rein hers in, and now the beast was hellbent on destruction.
“No!” she shouted into their shared consciousness.
More bugling, followed by fire that scorched a path across several ice floes. As far as the dragon was concerned, they were under attack, and they’d meet aggression with violence of their own.
Breath mingled with smoke and flames, creating white furrows snatched away by the wind. Puffing and wheezing between gouts of fire, Katya battled her beast for ascendency.
She couldn’t lose. If she did, the creature would never forget its victory, and her tenure as a dragon shifter would be seriously tarnished. If not damaged beyond redemption.
Forever.
She gnashed double rows of teeth until her jaws ached with the pressure. If the dragon couldn’t open its mouth, it couldn’t bugle. Nor could it toss fire about. Katya wanted to turn them around, but she didn’t have enough energy to fight on more fronts than she already was.
“I. Am. Not. Your. Enemy,” she ground out. “You weaken us with your antics.”
The dragon fought back harder, wrenching its jaws open. A single strangled bugle escaped before Katya slammed them shut again.
Softening her tone, she tried again. “I love your spirit and your determination, but you are not in charge. You cannot be, or you will pervert our bond. Y Ddraigh Goch will force our ties asunder. You will not only be mateless, you will be forbidden from ever forming another bond.”
Holding her mouth firmly shut despite her aching facial muscles, Katya waited. Would her dragon listen to reason? Or was it too far gone in battle lust? Such things occurred, but she did not want it to happen to her. She loved her dragon. The beast was part of her. If they couldn’t be bonded anymore, she would wander bereft the rest of her days.
As quickly as it had grabbed the point, the dragon ceded it. More lightning flashed all around them as the serpents did their damnedest to blow them out of the skies. Katya started to thank her bondmate but stopped herself. The beast had been out of control.