Kiss the Dragon (Maidens Book One)

Kiss the Dragon (Maidens Book 1)

Michelle Fox

Copyright 2014. All Rights Reserved.

Would you trust a curse to save you?

Ever since Sara Clarke was hit by lightning and began to see the future, she’s lived a life on the run. Always hiding. Always hunted. She dreams of a different fate, but knows her only constant is the danger that stalks her. A lot of people want to harness what Sara can do and they aren’t above forcing her to do their bidding.

Dragon Alec MacTeine has been locked in his human form by a centuries old curse. If he doesn’t find his maiden, he’ll never stretch his wings again. A chance encounter, one fleeting kiss and he knows that Sara is his. Meeting his maiden is supposed to solve all his problems, but instead, it spawns new ones.

Sara is the key to Alec’s freedom, but first he has to convince her that he can set her free too, both from the people that want to own her and from the voice that uses her as a conduit to the future.

Author’s Note

While I have familial ties to Scotland (clan MacCleod represent!) and have visited the places mentioned in
Kiss the Dragon
, this story is NOT meant to be an accurate portrayal of Scotland or its history. I’ve done my best to imbue the story with authenticity, but all errors are my own and some may even be intentional to serve the story. Think of this as more of an alternate history paranormal romance.

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Disclaimer

This is a work of fiction intended for adults age 18 and over. Minors should stop here and close the book. All events depicted are fictional. All sex is between consenting adults. Any resemblance to places and persons, living or dead, is unintentional coincidence.

Every effort has been made to provide a quality reading experience, but editors and technology are fallible. Please report typos or formatting issues to [email protected].

Chapter One

Someone was out there.

Their malevolent energy hung in the air, pressing on my shoulders. It raced over my skin, pulling at my hair and zapping me with an electric tingle that made my scars ache.

I continued to lather icing on the latest batch of red velvet cupcakes and tried not to be scared. Fear wouldn’t protect me. It was just a waste of energy. I’d been telling myself that for the last ten years, but still couldn’t seem to believe it. I’d seen the things that chased me up close and personal. I couldn’t not be afraid, but I tried.

“Come on, Sara, don’t let it get to you,” I coached myself. My mom had named me Sara after a great aunt who’d been a rabble rouser in the family. She’d stood tall and wide and never took shit from anyone. Mom told me, “I named you after the strongest woman I know.” Too bad it hadn’t imparted any actual strength.

And now someone bigger and badder than even my namesake lurked outside my little cupcake shop, the one I’d just opened on the main street of Inverness, Scotland, threatening to ruin it all. I’d dreamed of running a bakery since I was five. The shop was small, but it was perfect for me.

I’d painted the walls in light pastels and put up art nouveau prints. Wrought iron tables and chairs sat back against the wall, leaving just enough space for customers to stand and peruse the offerings in the display case.

This was supposed to be my gig for at least the next year. That’s how long it usually took
them
to find me.

Who were
they
?

It varied. Sometimes they were humans. Or they were…
others,
beings who were not quite human. I still wasn’t clear on how many
things
existed beyond my own native human species. Although, judging from the variety I’d seen, there were a lot of them. Some had wings, others had squashed faces with beady eyes. Definitely not human, but I couldn’t say what they were other than the stuff of nightmares and fairytales. There’d only been one repeat so far; a particularly nasty coven of witches.

The coven almost grabbed me in Rome, but I dodged them by jumping into a stranger’s car. The driver found me cute enough that, when I urged him to speed away, suddenly speaking fluent Italian, he complied. Getting away from
him
had been quite the feat. He became
very
attached in the afternoon we spent together.

Now someone had found me again. And I’d just paid the one year lease in full. Dammit. I’d been counting on everything I’d learned about hiding to see me through. Apparently, that was too much to expect. I sighed and abandoned the cupcakes to close out the cash register. I stuffed money into my pockets, wondering who was ruining my life this time.

Humans didn’t bother me so much. Yes, they had henchmen carrying guns, but they were also predictable. I didn’t need my skills to stay one step ahead. They always offered me money before trying to outright kidnap me. So I pretended to be interested, asked for a day to think their proposal over and split the first chance I got. They fell for it every time.

Speaking of running, I checked to make sure my backpack was where I’d hung it on the hook by the rear entrance. I kept my life in that bag. It held everything I needed to run, to start over, or to hide; fake passports, Visa gift cards that couldn’t be tracked, a change of clothes, cash in various currencies and guidebooks for Europe as well as Asia. Those two continents were the focus of my efforts to hide. I didn’t dare go back home to Ohio, my friends would talk and give me away to the people trying to hunt me down. Better to stick to places where no one had ever heard of me, let alone knew my face.

Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I stepped outside. I left the lights on in the bakery and didn’t bother to flip the sign over to ‘closed.’ No sense in tipping them off. I hoped whoever ventured in to buy a cupcake would be brave enough to just help themselves.

The late summer weather greeted me with a gloomy roll of thunder. I squinted at the sky as I walked. It looked like rain. Great.

No,
countered that small, certain, always right, never wrong voice in my gut. I hated that voice so much. Once, I’d stabbed my stomach with a knife trying to cut it out. That was before I really understood what had happened to me. Before I’d comprehended what I’d become and the awful mistakes I’d made.

Negative energy pressed on me, threatening to flatten me into the uneven cobblestone sidewalk.
They
were really close. I needed to hurry and disappear before they laid eyes on me. Rummaging in my backpack as I walked, I pulled out a scarf and sunglasses. Wrapping the scarf around my head, I then perched the sunglasses on my nose. There. Try to match a photo to that, bad guys.

I would miss Inverness. The remote town hadn’t sounded particularly attractive to me initially, but the voice had urged me on.

Safe,
it had whispered in my ear.

Such a bullshit artist, that voice. Always holding out hope, only to wrench it away with a twist on a word’s meaning. In the early days, when I had no idea what was going on, the voice told me my house was safe, but then my parents were killed in the living room. Shot by one of the many contingents who thought I would be useful to have.

Not employ.

Not consult.

Have as in
own.

Whoever had been giving orders didn’t want anyone left behind to ask questions. The only reason I survived was because the voice forced me to leave the house.

I’d since figured out that ‘safe’ could mean an hour or five minutes, and it didn’t extend to other people, just me. If I was smart, I could make a hiding spot last for quite a while. The last few years, I’d learned a lot about staying off the radar, which is why I’d opened the cupcake shop in the first place. I thought I could pull off a year, but I’d been wrong. That wasn’t going to happen.

It was too bad because once I had arrived in Inverness, I found the town suited me. The weather often matched my mood; gray clouds trying to snuff the sun. The tourists kept Inverness’ remoteness from slipping into provincial small-mindedness. Cosmopolitan shops lined the streets interwoven with a nice selection of restaurants. The city had a quiet vitality that I’d come to enjoy.

So where to,
I thought at the voice.

Here
, came the answer.
Stay.

I rolled my eyes. It was going to be one of those days when the voice fucked with me. I paused at the street corner, checking for traffic before I crossed. Not seeing a car, I stepped off the curb, but then jumped back when a roaring sound ripped through the air.

A motorcycle. One with a dragon breathing fire painted on the fuel tank.

I clung to a street lamp as it zipped past. I hadn’t seen or heard it coming.
Probably focusing too much on the voice braying in my gut until it echoes in my head,
 I thought sourly as I watched the bike whip to the left and then soar into a parking spot at such a high speed an accident appeared to be imminent. But the rider didn’t crash, not even close. The bike slid home and stopped inches shy of jumping the curb, under the biker’s complete control.

He—I knew it was a him just by the width of his shoulders--took off his helmet and shook out long, coppery hair. I gaped because that was some seriously awesome hair. Especially on a guy.

I couldn’t see eye color from my vantage point, but I could tell he had a handsome face from the square jaw and high, sculpted cheekbones. When he stepped off the bike, I caught the way his shoulders made the top of a V that nipped in at his waist. Black jeans covered a well-shaped rear that led to boots and I noted the leather jacket he wore bore a black-on-black dragon insignia.

He watched me from across the street as if aware of my gaze. I flushed and turned away, scolding myself for being so easily distracted. I needed to get moving. The energy had even more weight now.
They
were closer than before and I’d been gawking like a lovesick teenager.

It was almost like I had a death wish.

Or maybe I was just tired of running. Maybe I’d needed a moment to be a girl who had the leisure to stop and stare at an attractive guy. I never got to do normal things anymore. The cupcake shop had been my attempt to try and look how
that
was turning out.

I let go of the lamp post and started to cross the street, but found myself abruptly pushed back. Sometimes, the voice had unseen hands that played me like a puppet. At that moment, it had decided to shove me onto the sidewalk and spin me around until the man on the motorcycle was visible again.

He hadn’t moved from when I’d last seen him. He was staring at me, concentrating.

Was he a bad guy? One of
them
?

No
, said the voice, sounding impatient.

Tires squealed behind me, car doors opened and deep voices shouted. I was able to peek over my shoulder to see a line of black SUVs and a lot of men, also in black, running toward me. Magic tinged the air marking my predators as not human.

Shit. I was out of time. Had the voice finally screwed up?

Him,
the voice shouted.

I looked at the guy on the motorcycle, the voice pushing me in his direction.
Him?
I asked, wishing I could resist the force that dragged my legs the way the voice wanted them to go.

Him,
came the emphatic response.

Of my own volition, I broke into a run, sensing the swarm of dark shadows at my back drawing closer. The biker watched me approach, his eyes narrowing as he tracked my progress. They were hazel, I noted, and as I drew closer, I could make out light gold flecks that reflected light like a mirror.

“Hi,” I gasped out, raising my hand in a friendly wave. “I’m Sara. Give me a ride?”

He didn’t move and I began to panic. The voice usually arranged things for me. People found they liked me, that they wanted to help me. It was creepy as hell, but since it manifested only when my life was in danger, I lived with it.

I hesitated and glanced back over my shoulder. The guys in black were still coming, although slower now. They were unsure of the motorcycle guy and being cautious. Turning back to
him,
I attempted a charming smile. “So, how about that ride? I could use a little help here.”

His gaze flickered behind me. “I can see that, lass. I can also feel your power,” he said, his voice a pleasant tenor with a lilting Scottish brogue.  His gaze settled back on me, probing. “What are you?”

“Nothing.” I held up my hands, wondering if I was going to have to run away from both him and the bad guys.

“You will not compel me,” he growled, jaw tight.