by Tessa Dawn
“Azor!” She could tell by the sudden dip in Prince Dante’s voice that he had just picked the five-year-old up. “I think you must have grown a whole inch taller since I last saw you.” The child chuckled with delight, and Mina sighed.
Prince Dante’s relationship with his sons was priceless.
There was a deep bond of love and loyalty between the dragon and the kids; however, it still broke her heart to hear them call him uncle, to think of him as their father’s brother, knowing how much he adored them. Yet and still, he and Damian had done everything right. Despite Damian’s equal admiration for the boys, he often remained aloof. He took on a sterner, more instructive role, making sure the children had boundaries, security, and discipline, but he never completely exposed his heart; whereas, Prince Dante played the strongest paternal role. He not only offered discipline and instruction, but lots of physical contact, rough-housing, and affection. He was determined to forge an unbreakable bond with both boys—he was intent on gaining their respect as well as their deep admiration.
And he had all three.
In truth, the boys related to Dante more as a father and Damian more as an uncle. They sought Dante’s approval and attention in everything they did, counted the days and the hours until his next visit, accompanied him on horseback rides and hunting trips, and wrote letters to him when he was away—at least Ari did, while Azor included his drawings. In short, they hung on Dante’s every word. They loved and respected him as a dragon. And they wanted to be exactly what he was when they grew up.
It took a lot of deliberate control and discretion from both Dante and Damian to make sure these boundaries remained firm—that their separate roles were played just so on purpose—but the reason was clear: When the time was right, Dante would tell all three of his sons that he was their real father, and Damian would move into the role of their protective uncle. They wanted the relationships to be predictable and entrenched already, so that the young princes would have less of a transition to make when the day finally came.
Titles would change.
Roles would not.
In the meantime, Prince Dante had forged a solid bond with Cassidy’s only child as well. He had taken the boy under his wing, this time as a father, and reared him as his own. He had no intention of ever telling Dario that he was actually a bastard—King Demitri was his true despicable father—but that didn’t change the prophecy: Three children; three decades; three lads with green eyes. It simply strengthened Dante’s hold on the Realm.
And he would need that added strength when the time to usurp King Demitri came, because he simply refused to father more children with his conceited Ahavi…with Cassidy. As it stood, King Demitri refused to touch the lonely female from the Warlochian district, no matter how much she flirted with the monarch. He had only wanted her body; he had never intended to sire a son; and the close call in the throne room with Wavani the witch, now ten years past, had planted the fear of the gods into the mighty dragon. There were plenty of Blood Ahavi to slake the king’s every need; he was done with Cassidy Bondeville.
Mina shifted in bed, trying to find a more comfortable position, and she replaced her frown with a smile as she thought of the other Dragona children who would one day support King Dante: Prince Drake’s wild band of five. She found herself laughing out loud at the thought of it. If Tatiana and Prince Drake had any more children, they would have to build a larger castle. As things were, Mina was thoroughly convinced they were trying to repopulate the Realm single-handedly, and her heart warmed at the thought of their pure, ever-deepening love. Tatiana had truly healed—mind, body, and soul—and she had fallen into her role as the Sklavos Ahavi of the commonlands with genuine alacrity and grace. The district had grown wealthier under her expert financial assistance, and Prince Drake had even made inroads with a handful of Malo Clan rebels, although a trickle of the giants was growing increasingly restless.
The door to the bedchamber opened, drawing Mina away from her thoughts, and Prince Dante entered silently, his presence filling the room. His hauntingly beautiful eyes were alight and alert; his powerful, dominating frame was regal and proud; and his barely concealed dragon was radiating heat—the visage stole her breath. He sidled to the edge of the bed, knelt on the floor, and reached out to stroke a strong but gentle hand over her forehead. “How are you, sweet Mina?” he murmured. “Are you okay? How do you feel?”
Mina smiled wanly. “I’m well, my prince.”
He nodded. “Are you sure?”
She took his hand in hers, squeezed it, and then quickly released it. “I’m sure.”
He glanced absently around the room. “Then the priest and Damian were with you the entire time?”
She glanced into the distance, fixing her eyes on the fireplace mantel and the elaborate gold-and-cream tiles that rimmed its edges. “They were.” She hesitated for a moment. “Prince Damian never left my side.”
Dante closed his eyes in a rare, demonstrative show of emotion. “Good,” he whispered absently, and then he strengthened his voice. “Good.”
Mina’s heart constricted in her chest, but only for a moment—they all understood their respective roles. And then, the prince reached up, drew back the tip of the soft golden blanket that covered the newborn babe, and ran a finger through his fine, downy hair. “My third son,” he said with awe.
Mina drew in a sharp intake of breath, both of them understanding the significance of the moment.
Dante studied the child like he was memorizing every detail of his features, and then, at last, he quirked a smile. “He is strong and handsome.”
“Like his father,” Mina interjected, and the prince nodded proudly.
And then he took the child from Mina’s arms, stood up, and glided to the other side of the room with the grace of a panther, taking an inconspicuous place beside the fire in order to invoke the element’s vitality.
Mina slowly exhaled and placed her hand over her heart, trying to calm its feverish beating, trying to garner strength. She could do this. She would do this. She had done it three times before.
Actually four…
Damian Dragona had already taken Asher, within an hour of his birth, and tendered the Dragon’s Kiss in front of the high priest, as was tradition and required. Little did the priest know that the initiation had been all for show—the child was not Prince Damian’s son, and so the kiss would not truly awaken Asher’s dragon. Dante would have to repeat it again. And the little prince would have to endure the pain and the fear a second time.
Mina turned away, unable to watch.
Her maternal instincts simply wouldn’t allow it.
Rather, she held her breath and waited as Dante proceeded to release his fangs and make a liberal exchange of saliva, blood, and heat at the sleeping child’s throat.
The child came awake with a shriek, and then he began to wail for all he was worth, as Dante’s dragon snarled and purred intermittently throughout the crude, possessive claiming. Little Prince Ari and little Prince Azor were at the door in an instant: knocking brusquely on the large wooden panels, yanking at the heavy knob, and peeking inside with their deep emerald-green eyes, curiosity getting the best of them.
“What’s happening to my brother?” Prince Azor asked in a timid yet curious voice.
“What’s Uncle Dante doing?” Prince Ari asked, sounding a bit more mature.
Mina extended a welcoming hand, ushering both children to the bed to join her, and then she cuddled the youngest of the two, rubbing calming circles along his small back. “He’s just saying hello,” she explained. “He wanted to take a good look at him.”
“Oh,” Azor replied, his eyes still wide as saucers.
“I don’t see what makes Asher so special,” Ari said, and Mina couldn’t help but smile. The child was already jealous of the newborn babe, vying for Prince Dante’s attention, and really, that was a very good thing. It meant that his bond with his father ran deep, and Aurelio was simply reacting like any natural-
born son would, wanting to be his father’s favorite. Little did the child know how deep his connection to Prince Dante really went. As the firstborn son of the future king, he would one day sit on the throne himself.
Another brusque knock reverberated on the outside of the door, and this time Prince Dante strolled across the room to answer it—the initiation was blessedly over. “Yes?” he growled in an impatient tone, his voice tinged with irritation. “Who is it?”
A raspy male voice echoed in answer. “My prince, it is Emory Willoughby, Prince Damian’s herald. There is news from the royal province.”
“What is it?” Dante snarled.
The herald cleared his throat. “A rogue band of warlocks and a handful of Malo Clan rebels tried to breach the castle’s garrisons last night, demanding an audience with the king. Something about wanting immediate royal appointments and reparations. The king’s guard managed to hold them off, but they have become increasingly unruly—and their numbers are growing larger. You and your brother, Prince Drake, have been summoned to Castle Dragon. As the rebels represent your respective subjects, His Majesty would like you to quell the uprising together, to make a public example of their crimes.”
Prince Dante grunted, shaking his head with disgust. “Very well,” he said, speaking through the door. “Send word I am on my way.” He crossed the room in three long strides, placed the child back in Mina’s arms, and turned his attention to the inquisitive princes. “I’ll see you when I can,” he said, directing the statement at the children out of propriety, but meaning it for Mina.
Her heart sank in her chest, and she suddenly felt morose. Lords, how she longed to spend more time with him, to simply feel his gentle touch, to speak candidly and in private. She longed to feel his powerful arms enfold her, if only for an hour, just a frozen moment in time, but those precious moments were few and far between.
The door opened, and Dante spun around angrily, ready to give the herald a piece of his mind, but Prince Damian entered, instead.
The children sat up straighter on the bed.
“Father,” Ari said, angling his chin a little higher to show his respect and maturity.
Azor glanced back and forth between the two dragons and bit his bottom lip, looking inexplicably nervous.
“How is everyone doing?” Prince Damian asked, crossing the room to join his family at the side of the bed. “Are you all right, Azor?” he asked, speaking quietly.
The boy nodded rapidly.
“We’re well,” Mina replied, wanting to set Prince Damian’s mind at ease.
Damian nodded, seeming to understand on a much deeper level, and then he turned to regard Prince Dante directly. “Did you have a chance—”
“Yes,” Dante interrupted. “It is done.”
“Good,” Prince Damian said firmly. Despite his subtle, regal cast and his obvious air of confidence, Mina couldn’t help but notice that the prince looked elusively out of place, even as he stood in his own suite of rooms, situated within his own sovereign castle. And she would have felt sorrow for him, perhaps even pity, except for the fact that she knew a secret…
A secret even Prince Damian hardly understood.
Over the past ten years, Mina’s parents and her sister had visited Castle Umbras quite frequently, and during that time, the young, capricious Raylea had grown into a vibrant, beautiful woman, a maiden with a powerful, undeniable crush on the dangerously handsome prince.
On Damian.
Without even trying, his soul had won her over, and truth be told, she had probably recognized his spirit. Despite her believing him to be vile and wicked the first day she had met him in the Warlochian square, they had forged a strong friendship, a resilient bond, and a mutual, irrefutable attraction. It was evident in their unwitting stolen glances; in their innocent but affectionate exchanges; and in the undisguised longing that reflected in their eyes every time they locked gazes across a room.
Understanding Mina’s station and loving her sister dearly, Raylea would never have acted on her feelings, and neither one of them had ever said or done anything improper. Yet and still, Mina knew the truth. The two of them were in love. And one day, albeit unknown to Raylea, they would both be free to consummate their union, to act on their powerful, unabated feelings. Mina smiled, thinking of the possibilities. She had no doubt that Matthias would make Raylea immortal, even knowing they couldn’t have children, that the girl was not a Sklavos Ahavi. Mina chuckled inwardly: Somehow, she believed the future king would overlook it.
Not wanting to confuse the children, Dante bent over the bed and pressed a chaste, familial kiss on Mina’s forehead. “Congratulations, Mistress Ahavi,” he said in a formal register, and then he turned to shake Prince Damian’s hand. “I’ll return when I can.”
Prince Damian nodded and stepped aside.
And as Dante turned to exit the room, the oddest thing happened: A white owl swooped down outside the bedroom chamber, perched in the windowsill, and hooted three times. Mina gasped at the blatant confirmation of the omen, and Prince Dante sucked in a harsh, knowing breath. As he passed through the threshold, through the doorway, he turned around, placed his palm over his heart, and mouthed the words I love you, and Mina’s soul swelled with emotion.
She watched him as he made his retreat, staring at his lithe, graceful back, and then she jolted, sitting upright.
Blessed Spirit Keepers, there was a second presence walking beside him, a strong, powerful male with the bearing of a prince and the stealth of a dragon. The haunting presence placed its ghostly arm around Dante and braced his shoulders proudly, and Mina couldn’t help but notice that their strides, their hair, even their proud masculine physiques were virtually identical.
It was Desmond Dragona.
The ghost turned around and smiled, and in an ethereal voice he breathed: “Behold, the greatest king to ever rule the Realm.”
About the Author
Tessa Dawn grew up in Colorado, where she developed a deep affinity for the Rocky Mountains. After graduating with a degree in psychology, she worked for several years in criminal justice and mental health before returning to get her master’s degree in nonprofit management.
Tessa began writing as a child and composed her first full-length novel at the age of eleven. By the time she graduated high school, she had a banker’s box full of short stories and novels. Since then, she has published works as diverse as poetry, greeting cards, workbooks for kids with autism, and academic curricula. Her Dark Fantasy ~ Gothic Romance novels represent her long-desired return to her creative-writing roots and her passionate flair for storytelling.
Tessa currently splits her time between the Colorado suburbs and mountains with her husband, two children, and “one very crazy cat.” She hopes to one day move to the country where she can own horses and what she considers “the most beautiful creature ever created”—a German shepherd.
Writing is her bliss.
Other Books by Tessa Dawn
(The Blood Curse Vampire Series)
Blood Genesis
Blood Destiny
Blood Awakening
Blood Possession
Blood Shadows
Blood Redemption
Blood Father
Blood Vengeance
Blood Ecstasy (Coming Next)
(A New Adult Dark Fantasy)
Daywalker ~ The Beginning
(Coming Soon)
Pantheon of Dragons
A modern-day series based on a race of vampiric-dragons, known as the Dragyr…
To join Tessa’s mailing list or view her other works, please visit:
www.TessaDawn.com
Read an Excerpt from Tessa’s upcoming Dark Fantasy Saga: Pantheon of Dragons
Before time was a recognized construct, seven dragon lords created a parallel primordial world for their glory…and their future offspring. They harnessed seven preternatural powers from seven sacred stones and erected the Temple of Seven beyond the hidden passage of a mystica
l portal that would lead back and forth between Earth and the dragons’ domain. And finally, they set about creating a race of beings—the Dragyr—that would exist on blood and fire, and they gifted their progeny with unimaginable powers, unearthly beauty, and immortal life.
For all of this, the dragon lords required only one thing: absolute and unwavering obedience to the Four Principal Laws…
Thou shalt pledge thy eternal fealty to the sacred Dragons Pantheon.
Thou shalt serve as a mercenary for the house of thy birth by seeking out and destroying all pagan enemies: whether demons, sin-eaters, shadows…or humans.
Thou shalt feed on the blood and fire of human prey in order to survive.
Thou shalt propagate the species by siring dragyri sons and providing the realm with future warriors. In so doing, thou shalt capture, claim, and render unto thy lords whatsoever human female the gods have selected to become dragyra. And she shall be taken to the sacred Temple of Seven within seven days of discovery to die as a mortal being, to be reborn as a dragon’s consort, and to forever serve the sacred pantheon.
And so it came to pass that seven sacred lairs were erected in the archaic domain of the dragons in order to house the powerful race begotten of the ancient gods, each lair in honor of its ruling dragon lord:
Lord Dragos, Keeper of the Diamond
Lord Ethyron, Keeper of the Emerald
Lord Saphyrius, Keeper of the Sapphire
Lord Amarkyus, Keeper of the Amethyst
Lord Onyhanzian, Keeper of the Onyx
Lord Cytarius, Keeper of the Citrine
& Lord Topenzi, Keeper of the Topaz
While a dragyri may appear to be human, he is not.
While a dragyra may appear to belong to her mate, she does not.