Dragan

by Plum Pascal

  DRAGAN

  BOOK 2 OF THE

  SACRED OATH SERIES

  by

  Plum Pascal

  Copyright ©2019 by HP Mallory

  Writing as Plum Pascal

  License Notes

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  ALSO BY PLUM PASCAL

  (Writing as HP Mallory)

  Reverse Harem Romance Series:

  The Sacred Oath Series

  Fantasy Romance Series:

  The Lily Harper Series

  The Dulcie O'Neil Series:

  (Over 1 million downloads of the series!)

  Paranormal Romance Series:

  The Jolie Wilkins Series:

  (New York Times Bestselling Series!)

  The Sinjin Sinclair Series

  The Peyton Clark Series

  Virtual Reality Romance Series:

  The NuLife Series

  TABLE OF CONTENTS:

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  About Dragan:

  I thought I was a pure-bred angel, but I soon find out I’m so much more…

  When huge black, rubbery wings shoot out of my back, I learn I’m part Succubus, part demon.

  Even with this epiphany, I’m still no closer to understanding who I am, where I came from, or why I’m missing my memories.

  Worst of all, the one person I trusted above all others, Dragan, the King of Shadow, turned on me. You’d think the fact that we both possess shadow magic would bring us closer, but it doesn’t.

  Learning I’m a crossbreed, Dragan shuns me. Where once we shared passionate embraces, now he’s coldly suspicious and distant. And the King of Nature, Cambion, treats me even worse, rebuking me with expressions of disgust and rude comments.

  Strangely, Baron, the King of Death, is the only one who accepts what I am. He says it’s because we are one and the same—the shadow magic that animates him, also animates me.

  Good thing I have an ally in Baron because I’m stranded in an unfriendly world I know little about. Everywhere I turn, enemies are after me, eager to return me to the King of Angels, Variant, who wants me dead.

  With the way things are going, I wonder if Dragan and Cambion still believe I’m the answer to defeating Variant or maybe they’re more inclined to deliver me to my fate at Variant’s hands…

  PROLOGUE

  Dragan

  The scent of juniper berries and brimstone carries on the wind, uncommon in a place where soldiers prepare to die in the battle against the false king.

  My gaze lifts to take in the sight of the shadow of a supple figure just beyond my tent walls, illuminated by the flickering torches that line the road. In the firelight, the silhouette reveals swollen breasts, a flat stomach, and a round, high ass.

  A woman.

  How long has it been since I’ve had one?

  Fuck.

  Sweat beads on my brow as a throbbing need courses through me.

  “Liege, are you expecting a visitor?” Thoradin, my lead Centurion, asks.

  I’m not, but there’s no way I will refuse a visitor with such a figure. I can only hope her face lives up to the promise of her body.

  Thoradin nods and leads the woman inside.

  My breath catches.

  She’s not a woman, but a she-demon. A Succubus.

  And she’s stunningly beautiful.

  She saunters through the opening of the tent, her hips swaying in time with the bounce of her unrestrained breasts. The scent of her grows stronger.

  She favors me with a smile, and I feel my heart rate increase.

  Cambion reaches for his weapon until I stay his hand with a single glance. His glaring eyes fix on me with unspoken questions. But my attention is riveted on the lovely creature with inky-black hair that cascades past her waist.

  She raises her chin in defiance.

  “I am Lamia, Queen of the Succubae.” Her voice is colored with an accent that curls around each word like smoke to flame.

  Queen, I muse. More like goddess. Never have I looked upon a creature as beautiful as she.

  “I thought the Succubae extinct,” I say in response. I don’t offer my name or title, because she’s already aware of both. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have come.

  Her pitch-black eyes narrow and her breathing increases. I’ve angered her.

  I’m amused with her irritation. I admire the flush it brings to her cheeks, the way her nostrils flare and her eyebrows furrow.

  “Nearly extinct,” she corrects me.

  Then, as though remembering herself, she inhales, allowing the anger to bleed from her expression. When she faces me again, it’s with the semblance of a smile. I fight to keep my attention on her eyes, but she’s wearing a long and tight black gown made of some iridescent fabric that grips her curves and reveals the tiny pebbles of her alert nipples. Half her milky white breasts are exposed as the cut of the gown plunges dramatically—right down to her navel.

  “Why have you come?” Cambion demands, his voice heated, untrusting.

  I’m not surprised, for Cambion is a bastard, through and through.

  “I have come to discuss the false king,” she states smoothly.

  “Why?” Cambion insists.

  “Because Variant is a threat to us all,” she purrs in a sultry cadence, causing chill-bumps to prick my flesh.

  A chorus of displeasure reverberates through the tight confines of the tent and I am well aware that each man’s attention is riveted on her. Growing jealous, I send the centurions away, leaving only Cambion, myself, and Lamia.

  I cross my arms over my chest and caution a step toward the newcomer. Light dances in her obsidian gaze, the faint glow accentuating the sharp contours of her regal features.

  Her pink tongue darts out to lick her bottom lip, and instinct calls for me to lean forward and claim her mouth with my own.

  God, how I want to taste her.

  “Our plans are settled,” Cambion hisses through tightly clenched teeth. His dislike for her is as apparent as his Elvin ears. “State your purpose in being here and then be on your way.”

  There’s venom in his words, so much that it surprises me. As an elf, Cambion is naturally suspicious of those with dark magic, but this reaction is a bit much—even for the pompous son of a bitch.

  I clench my fists at my sides, shifting impatiently on the heels of my booted feet.

  Lamia doesn’t react to Cambion’s discourtesy. Instead, her lips curl into a wicked little smirk that sets my blood aflame. Every fiber of my being urges me to pin her hips to the ground and fuck her until she’s writhing with pleasure.

  But I compose myself.

  For the time being.

  She walks past me, lifting her hand to brush my arm before comi
ng to stand in front of the war table. Planting both palms on the table, she leans over, allowing us both to ogle her breasts which are now on full display. I glance at Cambion and notice him staring at her with obvious interest until he catches me catching him and clears his throat, forcing his eyes away with a frown.

  I can’t help my grin. The righteous cock could stand to be knocked down a peg or twelve.

  I return my attention to the red rosebuds of Lamia’s nipples. I want nothing more than to suck them while my fingers...

  “My daughters and I are the last of our kind.”

  “And why is that?” Cambion asks with no hint of empathy.

  “Variant slaughtered my people.” She speaks the words with venom, her jaw held tight. Standing up straight, she spears both Cambion and me with an expression difficult to place. Then she inhales deeply as she focuses her gaze entirely on me. A slight smile grabs the corners of her mouth.

  “If you’ve come to us looking for sympathy, you’ve come to the wrong place,” Cambion says and I frown at him. The truth is that I’m sick to death of his pissy fucking attitude. He’s been nothing but a thorn in my side since Variant decided to usurp control for himself.

  “Sympathy is a useless emotion.” Lamia spits the words back at him.

  “Then why have you come?” I ask in a soft voice.

  She faces me and nods. “I suppose you could say I have a vendetta against Variant.”

  “We aren’t interested in your vendettas,” Cambion growls and eyes the entrance to the tent to give her a hint, in no uncertain terms.

  She turns a cool expression on him. “But you are interested in defeating Variant, no?”

  Cambion doesn’t respond but crosses his arms against his chest and huffs an irritated breath. Lamia’s smile deepens.

  “I can help you defeat him,” she continues. “He trusts me.”

  Cambion scoffs bitterly, shaking his head. “I know how your kind persuades men, and Variant is no fool. He’s aware of the power of the Succubus as much as any of us are.”

  “This is true,” Lamia states with a quick nod as she begins walking around the war table, looking down at our map and strategically placed pawns with little interest. She runs her hand down the side of the table and pauses over the pawn of the King of Shadow. Lifting the iron piece, she smiles at it as though she’s amused. Then she looks up at me and shakes her head.

  “You are far more… physically impressive in real life,” she remarks.

  I don’t respond, but I also notice she doesn’t return the piece to the table. Instead, she palms it and continues pacing.

  “Yes, I am well-trained in the art of seduction,” she goes on, looking pointedly at Cambion.

  “Trained?” he asks facetiously. “There’s no training where a Succubus is concerned. You were born with your abilities.”

  She laughs a throaty sound. “Regardless, it doesn’t change the fact that I have, through my own wiles, become close to Variant.”

  “And how did you manage that?” presses Cambion. “You just said yourself he destroyed your people.”

  She nods and her eyebrows reach for the ceiling of the tent. “Yes, he did destroy my people and he took me as his prisoner.”

  “And yet you were still able to get close to him?” he laughs acidly, shaking his head at me as if to ask if I believe this drivel.

  So far, I do.

  “You said yourself a Succubus’ power is in her ability to seduce?” Lamia questions Cambion, watching him with a strange little smile. Her expression suggests she knows something Cambion doesn’t.

  “Yes,” he coughs out.

  “Over the many months I spent as Variant’s captive, I watched him. I learned. I came to understand what caused him unrest and what pleased him.”

  “You watched Variant, a king, from your cell in his dungeon as his prisoner?” Cambion turns to me and frowns. “We are wasting valuable time listening to this nonsense when we could be strategizing.”

  “I was never placed in his dungeon,” Lamia nearly interrupts him. She closes the distance between them and smiles as his gaze settles on her breasts. He clears his throat and angrily forces his eyes to hers.

  “Then where were you placed—” Cambion starts, but she shuts him up quickly as her gaze drops from his face to his crotch. He clears his throat again.

  “Variant found a use for me,” she replies in a deep, sultry voice that characterizes her kind.

  “You’re telling us you were Variant’s whore?” Cambion demands, glaring at her.

  “I was Variant’s lover. And, in the course of being his lover, I listened and I paid attention. I grew to understand him—his motivations, his weaknesses, as well as his strengths. Over the many months he used my body, he began to lower his defenses. He opened up to me, speaking to me about those things he could not or chose not to discuss with his men.”

  “Next I suppose you’ll tell us Variant fell in love with you?” Cambion’s tone is mocking.

  “No, no.” Lamia shakes her head and a laugh escapes her lips. When she looks up again, the smile falls off her mouth. “I do not believe Variant capable of love.”

  “Perhaps she knows him better than you think,” I admit with a chuckle. Cambion glares at me.

  Lamia smiles in my direction, dropping her gaze demurely. The coquettish subservience is all an act, however, for she is a demon and as powerful as either Cambion or myself.

  “Variant began to trust me,” she continues as she resumes her pacing around the war table. “And over the many months of my incarceration, his trust led to… friendship, I suppose you could term it.” She finds the pawn that represents Variant and picks it up, inspecting it. “And now, I am free to come and go as I please,” she says as she places the piece in the center of what represents the ocean. “I am no longer Variant’s prisoner. But I have chosen to stay with him to further prove my loyalty.”

  “Yet here you are,” Cambion cuts in.

  “Yet here I am,” she repeats on a sigh.

  “Why?” I ask.

  She looks up at me then and nods. “All these many months, I have sat with my anger and sorrow. I have learned what it means to hate, to resent. But rather than acting upon my fury and hatred, I’ve allowed it to simmer just below the surface as I bide my time, waiting for the opportune moment to strike.” She pauses and takes a deep breath. “Prior to my incarceration at the hands of Variant, I would never have described myself as a patient woman.”

  “And now?” I wonder.

  With a laugh, she begins her rounds again. This time, she pauses in front of Cambion’s iron piece sitting on the table, but before she can touch it, Cambion steals the piece himself. He reminds me of a petulant child, unwilling to share.

  “Now, I believe myself to be the absolute model of patience.” She rests her gaze on Cambion. “I have waited. Postponed my anger and my need for retaliation, but all the while, I promised myself retribution for the destruction of my people and my kingdom. I’ve silently plotted my revenge, and now that the time has come for action…” Her voice trails as she turns and walks a few steps away from us. With her back to me, I can see that her hair reaches down to her lower waist, ending just above her round and high cheeks. All I can imagine is tearing the black gown away from her and spreading those cheeks wide so I can run my tongue…

  “She can’t be trusted,” Cambion says to me, in a whispered tone.

  At the thought I might not experience her flesh, anger begins simmering inside me. “You are so quick to distrust.”

  “We don’t know who the fuck she really is or where she came from,” Cambion continues, his voice still low. Lamia faces away from us, but I’m certain she’s listening.

  “Enough!” I snap. There’s a flash of hurt in the elf’s eyes, but only for a moment.

  Cambion circles the table and bumps into me on his way out of the tent. “I’ve had enough time wasting,” he says.

  “Who am I to deny this woman the right to seek retribut
ion against the asshole who killed her people?” I ask him.

  Pausing with his hand clutching the tent folds in a white-knuckle grip, he turns to speak to Lamia directly. “You hold no loyalty to Variant and his army?”

  “None. I wish to see him dead as much as you do.”

  “Don’t bullshit me,” he says in anger, his eyes narrowed and his jaw tight.

  Lamia appears unfazed by his show of ire. “My daughters and I are all that remains of our race. Do you think I would ally myself with the bloodthirsty beast that all but forced us into extinction? No one in the realms has gone untouched by his wrath—including the Succubae.”

  “How can you prove you can be trusted?” Cambion questions skeptically. “We are leaders, kings even, not pathetic wastrels you can seduce into submitting to your treachery.” A muscle twitches in his jaw.

  Lamia whispers something difficult to distinguish, but moments later Thoradin appears at the entrance to the tent with two other Succubae. The other she-demons are younger than Lamia, their eyes not quite as soulless black. They’re just as beautiful, though different in their beauty. One shares Lamia’s raven tresses and appearance. The other is dissimilar enough to appear unrelated.

  “These are my daughters, Santrewa and Glodonia,” Lamia announces. Both beauties curtsey to Cambion and me. Cambion has a difficult time pulling his attention from Glodonia, the red-haired stunner.

  Cambion needs nothing more than a good fuck to ease the tension he’s constantly shoveling my way. Maybe this visit is more fortuitous than I supposed.

  I smirk in spite of myself.

  “Glodonia still possessed her innocence when we were taken prisoner,” Lamia explains, her attention strictly on Cambion. I notice Glodonia drops her head and stares at the ground. “I was forced to watch Variant take her maidenhead. Then, upon sealing her with his seed, he allowed each of his men to take their turn as she begged them to stop. She has not been the same since.”

  I feel my eyes widen. I hadn’t imagined it possible to rape a Succubus, but clearly, I was mistaken. The young girl will not meet my gaze. “I am sorry to hear this, Glodonia,” I tell her anyway. Then, I address her mother. “You have my word that none of my men will lay a hand on any of you.”