Chapter One
Raluca
Raluca fled across the sky on dragonwings, frequently glancing back. It had been an entire day since someone had tried to murder her, but she wasn’t taking any chances. She’d given up everything she had in the hope of finally getting to have a life, and she was not going to let some unknown assassin take that from her before she got the chance to experience it.
Her silver wings stretched out wide to catch the sea breeze. Above, the sky was blue as turquoise; below, the ocean was a darker blue, like sapphires.
She possessed both gems in her hoard, along with many others; after she’d renounced her title as crown princess of Viorel, leaped off the palace balcony, and become a dragon in mid-air, she’d flown to her room, transformed into a woman, snatched up the brocade pack that held her hoard, and shifted and flown away again before an alarm could be raised.
Raluca had taken nothing but her hoard and the clothes she’d been wearing, but that had been sufficient. After reluctantly deciding that she could bear to part with a valuable diamond that had been a gift from her evil Uncle Constantine, she’d sold it and had been living off the proceeds ever since. It had been a good choice; that diamond had so many bad associations that she didn’t miss it, even though it had sparkled beautifully in the sunlight.
Her uncle had controlled her for her entire life. He’d attempted to force her into a marriage with a man she didn’t love to ensure a treaty between their nations that would line his own pockets. He’d even tried to murder her fiancé’s true mate! Raluca was well rid of Uncle Constantine and everything that had come from him.
Her thoughts drifted back to that crucial moment when she had declared her independence and fled. She’d felt so free as she’d leapt off the balcony, become a dragon, and soared away. Her entire life had been ruled by her duties as a princess, with Uncle Constantine monitoring and controlling her every action. Now she could do whatever she wanted.
It had taken her less than a week to realize that she had no idea what she wanted.
She’d first met her fiancé, Prince Lucas, when they were both eighteen, awkward teenagers forced into an arranged engagement that neither had the strength of will to refuse. When they’d met again, five years later, both had changed physically. Lucas was taller and broader across the shoulders: a handsome young man, not a boy. Raluca’s daily lessons in posture and dance had finally paid off, transforming her from a clumsy girl uncomfortable in her own skin to an elegant dragon princess who controlled every movement of her body with exquisite grace.
But Lucas had changed inside, too. He’d gone to America and become a bodyguard — such a strange job for a prince — and found the courage to defy his family. When he met his mate, the American backpacker with the charming name of Journey, he’d stood up for her, foiled Uncle Constantine’s attempt to murder her, and finally given up his kingdom for her. Now Raluca’s uncle was in a dungeon for the rest of his life, Lucas was presumably living happily in America with Journey, and Raluca...
Raluca’s breath gusted out of her in a dragon-sized sigh, blowing a hole in a cloud. She’d drifted from Venice to Vienna, staying in the best hotels and seeing the famous sights, but none of it had made her happy. She’d thought she’d feel free, but she felt more trapped than ever. With the entire world at her feet, she’d felt lonely and empty.
Until someone broke into her hotel room and tried to stab her to death as she slept.
Some tiny noise must have startled her, for instinct prompted her to roll off the bed before she was even fully awake. She’d fallen to the floor with a thud, opened her eyes, and stared up in shock at a glittering blade poised above her heart. Then the masked assassin holding the knife tried to plunge it home.
But Raluca’s dragon speed outmatched the assassin’s training. She threw herself to the side. The dagger smashed into the marble floor. Before the man could try again, Raluca transformed. Her unfurling wings flung the black-clad assassin across the room. The flask he’d been holding in his other hand burst against the wall, releasing the distinctive sharp odor of dragonsbane, the poison that prevented dragons from shifting.
The assassin scrambled to his feet and fled out the door. And Raluca, with a distinct feeling of déjà vu, grabbed her hoard pack in her talons and launched off the hotel balcony.
For the first time since her leap from the palace balcony, she felt alive again. The threat to her life jolted her back into the realization of how much she valued it. She might not know how she wanted to live, but she definitely wanted to live.
Also, she wasn’t stupid. That attack hadn’t been random— the dragonsbane proved that the assassin knew she was a dragon, and presumably also knew exactly who she was— and Raluca had a good idea of why someone might want her dead. She’d renounced her title, but she had the right to change her mind and reclaim it. As long as she lived, she potentially stood between the throne of Viorel and everyone who was now in line to inherit it.
Unfortunately, that didn’t narrow down the suspects as much as one might hope. Raluca had the only clear claim to the throne. With her out of the picture, that left about twenty cousins and other relatives who, last she’d heard, had been fighting over the crown by any means necessary, from duels to debates to very expensive lawsuits. And that wasn’t even counting Uncle Constantine, who might have bribed someone from within his cell with the promise of infinite riches once Raluca was dead and he was free.
No matter who was trying to kill her, they’d tracked her down once and could do it again. And they wouldn’t give up after one missed chance.
As a dragon, Raluca could defeat a human. But if she was splashed with dragonsbane, she wouldn’t be able to transform, and the next assassin would undoubtedly use the dragonsbane first and the knife second. As a human, she had no idea how to fight. Dragon princesses learned feminine arts like embroidery and gem-carving, not swordfighting or boxing. She needed a bodyguard.
Luckily, she used to be engaged to one.
Raluca didn’t know Lucas’s home address — they hadn’t been in contact since the balcony, and she’d checked into hotels under an assumed name — but his workplace, Protection, Inc., had a website with a business address. And Raluca had looked it up often enough since she’d fled to have it memorized, thinking wistfully of meeting up with the one who would understand why she’d given up her royal title.
She flew over the beaches of Santa Martina, her dragon magic hiding her from sight, and into the city. It wasn’t easy finding an address from above, and she had to circle repeatedly befor
e she finally figured out which of the several towering office buildings was the one she was looking for.
Raluca landed on the roof of Protection, Inc. She glanced around to make sure no one was watching, then let her magical invisibility slip away. She thought of human things — the slide of silk between her thighs, the clack of high heels across a marble floor, and the lonely ache in her heart — and became a woman.
To her chagrin, she found herself standing barefoot in a nightgown, wearing no makeup and with her hair rumpled from sleep, clutching a heavy pack. She must look like a hobo! It was hardly the impression she wanted to make, especially if anyone but Lucas, who was as close to a friend as she’d ever had, was at Protection, Inc.
It could be worse, Raluca thought. If I was any other type of shifter, I’d be naked.
Only dragons could transform and take their clothing and their hoards with them. The reason for that was obvious; Raluca would have fought to the death rather than abandon her hoard. All the same, her lack of nudity was cold comfort. It wasn’t even her best nightgown, but a simple fall of pewter silk she’d picked up in Vienna, unadorned and cut low in the chest. Every time she bent over, it threatened to expose her nipples.
Raluca opened her pack, wishing a golden hairbrush and mirror would magically appear. Unfortunately, she knew every item in her hoard by heart, and she had no such things. But she certainly wasn’t going to walk into Protection, Inc. half-naked and unadorned. She might have renounced her title, but she wasn’t going to disgrace herself.
She combed her hair as best as she could with her fingers and rubbed her eyes, making sure no stray sleep crumbs clung to her lashes. For jewelry, she made do with a pair of pearl hair clips, a delicate silver necklace, a gold and pearl bracelet, and a mere three rings: a band of sapphires, a gold and pearl ring that matched the bracelet, and a ruby ring that had been a favorite since she’d been a little girl.
The touch of gold and gems to her skin gave her confidence and courage. Drawing upon the strength and pride of dragonkind, Raluca strapped on her pack, tugged the nightgown up, lifted her chin, straightened her back, and marched downstairs to knock on the door of Protection, Inc.
A man opened it. He was so huge that he nearly filled the doorway, made of pure muscle without an ounce of fat. His brown hair brushed the top of the doorframe, and his hazel eyes blinked at her in surprise.
“Whoa,” said the man in a deep, rumbling voice. “Uh... May I help you?”
Inwardly, Raluca gritted her teeth; outwardly, she drew herself up to her full height. Her nightgown instantly slithered down. She snatched at it and clutched it in her fist, destroying whatever dignity she’d briefly achieved.
“I am looking for Lucas,” she said, carefully modulating her voice.
The big man was still staring at her. He probably thought she was a robber bedecked in her ill-gotten finery. “Lucas isn’t here. Are you...” He stared some more, his gaze moving from her bare feet to her fistful of silk to her necklace. “...a relative? Or a friend?”