The Dragon's Reluctant Sacrifice: a Dragon Shifter Romance (The Last Dragons Book 1) Read online

  He’d said those words, rolled her into an OR, and then Hyacinth was gone. Never to be seen again. Except when parts of her body had turned up in an FBI sting of modern-day body snatchers. The authorities had caught the medical students who had bought the diseased body parts, but they’d never been able to identify the seller. When the names of the dead were revealed, Chryssie had instantly remembered the last day she’d seen her sister, along with the doctor who had delivered those last words.

  “That’s what you told my sister before you killed her and sliced her up like a sweet potato pie at Thanksgiving.”

  “I told the truth,” he said. “She didn’t suffer.”

  “You killed her.”

  “She was going to die. There was nothing anyone could do but study the symptoms of her disease.”

  Chryssie’s trigger finger moved a millimeter inward. But his eyes had lost their fear. He was looking at her like she was a specimen again.

  “Do you know how rare people like you are?” His gaze flicked to the crown of her head. “And they always have red hair.”

  Chryssie stopped herself from running a hand over her blood-red tresses. Just like her mother and her sister, the color looked like flames coming straight out of her skull.

  “There’s helium in your blood,” he continued. “It’s not natural. You should be dead. By the looks of you, you will be soon.”

  “You first.” She extended her arms. Her hands were steady, which was surprising as she’d felt weak every day of her life since she’d turned twelve. But her index finger still wouldn’t bend. She wanted to stab the man. Maybe she should do this with a stake instead.

  “Listen, hon, I recognize that there’s a line, but I do have places to be.”

  Both Chryssie’s and the doctor’s heads whipped to the window where the voice had come from. On the sill sat the quintessential definition of kick-ass heroine. The woman was dressed in a blue-silver bodice that pushed up buxom breasts. Her toned abs were flat and without a single roll, even though she sat with one knee up. Purple hair wafted in the breeze as though a fan were trained on her. And then there were her boots. Where Chryssie’s were thrift store kick ass, this woman’s were clearly authentic shit-kickers.

  In her hands was a black ball with the number eight painted on its white center. She tossed the ball up and down, catching it deftly in her hand. At the ends of her fingers were long nails that looked more like talons curling around the ball. Her gaze was fixed on Chryssie. Her eyes were golden. Not hazel. Real, shining gold like the metal.

  “Are you gonna pull that trigger or not, sugar tits?”

  “I …” Chryssie hesitated. Partly at being called sugar tits. Her boobs had never drawn anyone’s attention. It was a bit flattering.

  Or maybe that was just the shock of seeing a woman, who hadn’t been there before, sitting in the window of a third-story building.

  “What do you think, Magic 8-Ball? Does she have the balls to blow this cretin’s brains out? Or will I have to do it?”

  The woman shook the ball and peered at the cube inside the ball’s belly.

  “Reply hazy, try again later. Piece of shit.”

  The woman’s beautiful face contorted in annoyance. She tossed the ball outside the window. Then she turned her golden gaze back to Chryssie.

  “What’s it gonna be, babe? I’m totally happy for you to do my job for me.”

  “Your job?” asked Chryssie.

  “I’m an escort. I escort sick mofo, miscreant humans like that into the bowels of hell.”

  The miscreant mofo, who was now staring down not one but two crazed women who wanted his death, took the opportunity to head for the door.

  Oh, no, he didn’t. Chryssie was not letting him get away. Forgetting her better dressed, more fit, drop-dead gorgeous rival in the window, Chryssie swung the gun around on the retreating doctor.

  By the time the gun was aimed at the doctor, the other woman was there. The real slayer did a high roundhouse kick that harkened back to the televised Buffy and downed the man. But not before a blast rang through the air.

  Real Slayer winced looking down at the small hole in her bodice top. Chryssie looked down in horror to find that her trigger finger had unclenched. She’d missed her target which lay on the floor.

  “I’m sorry. My finger slipped. I didn’t mean to …”

  Real Slayer brushed the bullet away from her chest. There was no blood. Just an unraveling of the fabric there. A wicked smile spread across her face. She waggled her head, and Chryssie saw that her ears were pointy, like an elf’s. Or a fairy’s.

  “You’re gonna have to pay for that, girlfriend.”

  Her gold eyes flashed unnaturally bright finally clueing Chryssie in on what was happening. This woman could only be an angel of death. She’d come to collect the doctor, and now her deadly hands were aimed at Chryssie because she’d tried to kill him and missed. It was probably the same as assaulting an officer.

  Chryssie lowered the gun. She hadn’t planned to leave this room. After the scuffle and the gunshot, surely the police were almost on them. Death by the hands of this woman—or angel, or demon, or whatever she was—was better than dying in jail.

  She’d been born to save her sister. She’d failed at that when it was discovered Chryssie carried the same incurable trait. She’d planned to die in a blaze of glory while taking out the man who had murdered and mutilated her sister. But death by a kickass slayer would suffice. So long as her body wouldn’t go into government hospice care or in pieces at the hands of cadaver dealers.

  Chryssie dropped to her knees. She took a deep breath. Still, her lungs didn’t fill entirely. But the air was sweet, or so she told herself since it was the last breath she’d take.

  “Do it quickly, please, and don’t leave any part of me behind for them to experiment on.”

  “Sure, sugar tits.”

  Pain blossomed in her head, and then the world started to dim. But not before she saw what she thought was a dragon poke its head in the window and smile at her. Made sense that a hellhound would be her ride since an angel of death was now lifting her out of the window and onto the beast’s back.

  Chapter Three

  "Die!!!! Die, you long-necked, fat-shelled, green, reptilian bastard.”

  Corun pinched the bridge of his nose as Beryl made explosive sounds with his mouth. He was surprised his brother didn’t spew actual fire at the television screen. This game and killing animated turtle soldiers was Beryl’s number two passion in life.

  Beryl repeatedly pressed buttons on the rectangular device in his hands; a joystick, it was called. Aptly named as it was the perfect distraction for Corun’s overactive younger brothers. On the large, square screen, a mustached man in a red hat and overalls jumped on top of the turtle-bastard that had so offended Beryl. The moment Beryl’s animated character landed on the pixelated animal, the turtle went into its shell.

  “That’s right, Koopa Troopa,” shouted Beryl. “Retreat into your shell. Now, you’ll become a weapon for me to knock out all of your scaly brothers.”

  With a few more presses of the buttons on the joystick, the man in red overalls pounced on the turtle’s shell. The shell rolled forward and knocked out a line of other turtles. Gold coins popped onto the screen as a reward for the multiple murders.

  “It should be my turn now,” said Ilia. He slumped in the cushions next to Beryl, holding his joystick limply as his older brother dominated the game.

  Beryl and Ilia had been born on the same day, but Beryl was the first to make an appearance, just as he raced, brawled, and shouted loudest to be the first in all things with his brothers. Beryl was the oldest of triplets—a rarity in dragon births. Most dragons were born in pairs. Ilia was the youngest of the three and the runt of the litter. A fact Beryl never let him forget.

  "You want some mushrooms, Little Plumber Dude?” Beryl positioned the overalled man beneath a brick. With a press of a button, the man jumped up, hitting his head on the brick.
A mushroom grew out of the top. Beryl pressed more buttons until the man was on the polka-dotted mushroom. The cartoon plumber jumped on it and grew bigger.

  Ilia grumbled, tossing his joystick to the ground. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Beryl as he continued to show off.

  "That's right,” shouted Beryl. “Power boost. Level up, motherfucker. Super Mario time."

  The high-pitched music sped up. Corun turned away and focused instead on the quiet mental game of the Rubik’s Cube. He was close to having one side solved.

  All of the red blocks were neatly lined up. He just needed to get the one red block remaining on the other side that was sandwiched between a blue and white block. With a single twist, more of the red blocks scattered, going onto another face of the cube. All of his carefully crafted work on one face was now destroyed. Each time he approached order, chaos knocked him off his path.

  Pursing his lips, Corun studied the puzzle. He’d been working this device for a long time and had gotten no closer to solving it. He was beginning to wonder if there was even a solution.

  Still, he’d rather the puzzle of the cube over the video game. Partly because of the irritating music. Partly because the game had never made sense to him.

  Plumbers racing through the world of the Mushroom Kingdom, where snapping turtles and toothsome plants were out to eat them, who collected bricks and coins in an effort to defeat the bad guy. All this while there was no plumbing emergency in the whole world? It was nonsensical and not worth Corun’s time.

  "He's going to do it," said Elek. "He's going to beat her high score."

  Corun jumped as the youngest of the dragon’s stepped out of the shadows of the game room, or man cave as Cardi liked to call it. Tall and slim, Elek was a master at neither being seen nor heard. Unlike his brothers, Elek preferred his solitude. He only made appearances for big events or when Cardi was around.

  Corun turned his gaze back to the game on the screen. A major event was unfolding in the Mushroom Kingdom. Beryl was indeed approaching new territory in the game world.

  Rhoyl, the second born triplet, poked his snout into the open window. The dragon’s blue scales gleamed in the moonlight as he folded his wings and leaned on the windowsill with his taloned hands. The dragon looked human as he watched the screen, but they hadn’t seen Rhoyl the man in many seasons. Beating the high score of this game was noteworthy enough for the dragon to take an interest, but not enough for the beast to give them back their brother.

  Ilia uncrossed his arms and sat forward. His controller was forgotten on the ground as Beryl reached a level neither of them had ever attained before. "Watch out for the piranha plant."

  "I see it." Beryl tapped the controls, sailing over the piranha plant. He landed on a green pipe, the only realistic thing in the fantasy world that related to plumbers, and down into a new world. The brothers all let out a low gasp.

  "We've never gotten this far before without her,” said Ilia.

  “Look,” said Elek. “There he is; Bowser.”

  “Bowser,” they all mouthed.

  On the screen was a caricature of a dragon. He was big, with thick arms and legs and an overlarge head. Bowser, the cartoon dragon, had the ribbed underbelly of a dragon. But on his back was a spiked turtle’s shell. More nonsense in the Mushroom Kingdom.

  Corun would’ve laughed if the trial of getting to the game’s villain wasn’t such a momentous occasion. There was also the matter of seeing the dragon’s treasure for the first time.

  "There she is," said Ilia. “Princess Peach.”

  Beyond the parody of a dragon was a tiny, golden-haired woman dressed in pink. She stood there, helpless. Waiting to be ravished or rescued, Corun wasn’t sure. She was the prize, the sacrifice that both plumbers and dragons mined gold for and would fight to the death for.

  “I’m going for it,” declared Beryl.

  “Don’t you think you should strategize first,” said Corun.

  “My strategy is to kick that fake dragon’s ass.” Beryl punched a few buttons.

  No sooner than his character raised his pixilated fist to do battle did the screen dragon douse him with fire. The high pitched music sounded the death march notes. There was no reanimation of Mario, the plumber. Beryl had no more lives. The game was over.

  Silence filled the room. The journey to get to that point in the game had taken Beryl all day. And it was over in just a few seconds.

  The scoreboard came up. There was no change in the lineup. Ilia was still in third place as the Illest MC. Beryl was in second place as The Incredible Bulk. At the top of the leaderboard, in the spot of glory, was the moniker Cardinal Sin.

  Beryl threw the joystick down and stormed toward the window. Rhoyl leaned back to let his brother pass. Beryl took a running leap, his wings unfurled the moment his feet passed the window sill. A green-scaled dragon blocked out the white moon as he took off into the sky.

  "Bad sportsmanship," Ilia called after his brother, picking up the controller in his absence.

  Rhoyl flew away to join Beryl as his brother took a time out. Elek had already disappeared into the shadows.

  Corun picked up his cube. But his mind would not concentrate. The brothers often gathered in the gaming room for some relaxation time. The outcome of tonight’s game hit too close to their real situation.

  The obstacles before them were great. They wouldn’t get a second shot at this life. The princesses they needed in order to win the game were beyond their reach. The dragons that lived inside of them would consume them if they couldn’t find a way to win.

  Even if Corun wanted a sacrifice, he had no way of getting one. The Valkyrie had stopped human men from offering up their virgin females a long time ago. Cardi had been the last sacrifice. She hadn’t been delivered by men in exchange for precious gems. The Valkyrie had hand-delivered her. It still was unclear to Corun why they’d broken their own rule. But it was unlikely that they’d do it again.

  A knock sounded at the door down below. No creature that lived in the Veil would venture to the dragons’ castle in the dead of night. Not unless they wanted to be a late-night snack. There was only one group of beings higher on the food chain than the dragons.

  “I’ll get it,” Corun said as he rose.

  Ilia didn’t even bother looking up from his game. Corun grabbed the bag left by his twin elder brother and headed down the stairs. The gems inside jingled with each step he took. Corun suspected tonight’s delivery would be a hefty one.

  The knock had come from the back of the castle. On the other side of the mountain, at the base, there existed a tear between realms. The spot was invisible to the eye. But as anyone from either side approached it, a surge of energy would overtake the body.

  Dragons wouldn’t dare cross the breach. Not only because it was forbidden. But also because, though they were one of the strongest beings on this side of the Veil, they were not crafted to exist in the human world. Most of the fae had come back across the Veil, complaining of pollution, something called pesticides, and a tear in the sky that let in the harshest of the sun’s rays.

  Yet still, humans were the Goddess’ favorite creation?

  Corun opened the back door of the castle to a dragon on the doorstep. The dragon’s scales were the brown of the earth, not any shade of gems found in the mines beneath their castle. This was not one of his blood brothers but one of his forefathers.

  Dragons descended from a favored creation of the Goddess’ called the dinosaurs. As the Goddess tinkered with their genetic make-up, the first dragons were born. Like many of Her creations, She endeavored to make the dragons into her likeness and put a man in the beast’s belly. Also, like most of Her creations, She lost interest in the project and moved on to tinker with another species.

  Dragons were all that remained of the giant lizards. No one knew why they had vanished off the face of the earth. Though Corun had read some outlandish human theories about rocks falling from the sky.

  There was intel
ligence in the dragon’s gaze but no free will. This was a purebred and not a shifter. There was no man inside this beast.

  Once Corun had pitied purebreds that they had no power over their own lives. That they were slaves to others. Now, he envied them that they had no aspirations to be more than they were.

  Mostly.

  Large satchels hung off the beast’s hide. The stash included the light blue armor of the Valkyrie. The beast who had once been used as a weapon of battle to collect fallen males had been reduced to a pack animal.

  The woman in question slid off the dragon’s back with a flip and a flourish. Instead of her armor, she was dressed in a scrap of fabric that read Hooters. Instead of protective covering for her legs, she wore what Corun had learned were Daisy Duke shorts. An article of clothing that Kimber had banned Cardi from prancing around the castle in.

  "Hey, Cory."

  Corun hated the truncation of his name. But he didn't argue with one of the daughters of the Goddess. “Greetings, Morrigan.”

  “It’s cool, dude. You can call me Morri.”

  Corun also didn’t like the term dude. It sounded too similar to another human turn of phrase that indicated feces. But again, one did not argue with a Valkyrie.

  Morrigan sat down a large satchel with a clunk. The top of the bag spilled open, revealing its contents. Inside was a stash of bright and bold color shirts, stretchy shorts with lacy skirts attached, and slouchy tubular articles called socks. Corun averted his gaze from the scraps of connected triangles he’d learned were called brassieres. Bottles of Classic Coke clinked next to boxes of Nerd candies and packages of Hot Pockets.

  “It’s the twenty-first century over there,” said the Valkyrie. “Eighties fashions are getting harder and harder to find since most of the Xers are now grandparents with dad bods and muffin tops. But, of course, fifty-year-old Madge still goes ass cheeks out from time to time. Did you know she’s still touring?”

  Most of the time, Corun had no idea what the Valkyrie or the human girl in their care were talking about. He’d simply nod and then make his way out of the conversation and room.