2
Caverns beneath the palazzo:
Mate. Chains. Kill.
Pain.
Ryker of the Draquonir roared. Thrashed. Fought against the heavy weight of enchanted chains holding his massive and deadly dragon form under lock and key. He’d chosen this prison, locking himself away to protect his people from what he was destined to become. The restraints were the only thing keeping his dragon from smashing his way through the cavernous area below his family’s ancient estate and destroying everything around him.
The confinement had not been so unbearable at first. The massive underground caverns were the only place he had found large enough for him to rest comfortably while in dragon form, his luxurious suite on the main floor designed for the human side of him, never the dragon. He had moved many of his treasures into the dungeon in the beginning. Now, a large mahogany desk, the only furniture that remained unscathed by his dragon’s rage, caught fire and turned to ash with a blast of his fiery breath. His scales flashed like black diamonds in the firelight. In his fury he cared nothing about destroying one of his favorite treasures. His only thoughts? Primitive. The human within buried deep inside the dragon’s agony. Its need.
For her. His mate. A female he had been unable to find despite centuries of searching. Without a mate he would lose himself forever in the dragon’s torment. Become a monster in truth. A savage killer without remorse or mercy.
He would become the horror human myths and legends had named his kind.
In a world where humans believed dragons and shifters mere myth, every precaution was taken to appear human. They were not human. They were Draquonir; dragon shifters. Magical. Powerful in either form, bound only by the rules the Draquonir race had set for themselves. Only other magical beings were allowed to know of their existence, or true mates of the Draquonir, but even then, only as their true mates breathed their immortal dragonfire.
To share the information any sooner, or with anyone else, would result in a death sentence for the . Therefore, the caverns, the chains, the existence of shifters, all were kept secret. The gatherings of his people kept underground. Hidden away from those that would fear and attack rather than understand. So many ancestors had been hunted and slaughtered. Discretion was the key to survival for the Draquonir and Ryker held that responsibility above all others.
“Hang on a few more days, my king. All the arrangements have been made.” A disembodied masculine voice came through a speaker buried somewhere in the rock, somewhere the dragon would not see. Ryker had invested in a high-tech surveillance system. This was not medieval times, even if the dungeons were far older than even that. His family estate was ancient, but the interior was modern, updated to include every amenity.
Ryker swung his massive head toward the familiar-sounding voice. Struggling to understand the human words through the haze of unwavering pain, he shifted on his clawed feet, craned his long neck, and cursed the chains wrapped around his body, layered over his back and wings. The metal was laced with Elven magic. Not even a dragon could break them, which was why he’d begun wearing them, both as a dragon and as a man, several years ago. Or perhaps a decade had passed. He honestly couldn’t remember.
The only way to remove the chains was by shifting back into his human form. As a human, he could make the choice to remove them. That was not an option for Ryker. Without the chains he would lose control, the form he took would make no difference. Not anymore. Years had passed since he’d been in complete control of his dragon, and the beast was intelligent. Cunning.
Impatient to hunt for a mate.
Now it was too late.
His dragon hissed at the thought, breathing fire at the voice that dared disturb him.
“Ryker? My brother?” That voice again.
Ryker bellowed, his roar shaking the foundation as he struggled in vain to regain control, to shift, his dragon more and more resistant to the change. He was nearly immortal, yet without a mate his dragon would slip over the edge into madness. There would be no last-minute salvation. His time was at an end. He was in pain.
He was ready. Better to die an honorable death than become a merciless killer.
His giant claws scraped the floor, the sound echoing eerily in the empty room.
“Arrangements have been made. Brother, listen to me. She is coming.”
Brother? What arrangements? Who is coming? He fought to understand the human words. To remember.
“Ryker,” said the voice grimly. “I’m coming in. Don’t eat me.”
Ryker lowered his massive head toward the small, human-sized door, his dragon’s eyes narrowed suspiciously as the thick, Elven metal panel swung open without a sound. The voice seemed familiar, but was the owner of that deep baritone dragon or man?
Memory fragments of a large crimson dragon flashed through Ryker’s mind.
Dragon.
Ryker drew back one massive forearm, ready to strike. One of his kind dared challenge the king?
Snarling in fury, Ryker let out a fiery, thunderous warning, his mind full of chaos and confusion.
The door snapped shut just in time to keep Ryker’s burst of angry flame from reaching its target, only to open again just as quickly. Before Ryker could inhale again, ready to char the other dragon to cinders, a man stepped through the door.
Ryker reared back. Hesitated. Another memory, this one of childhood, flashed to the fore.