The Mating Destiny: Werewolves of Montana Book 7 (10 page)

Michael craned his neck and stared at the night sky. He shifted into his dragon form, still studying the stars. Xavier was right. A war was coming and they needed to be steadfast, and ready. All dragons had to be unified.

Anna’s old man thought he was one of the most powerful dragons on earth. Indeed, Barlow had proved his might and worth when he nearly sacrificed his life to save his beloved daughter.

But he didn’t know Michael’s secret, a secret the wizards of the Brehon held close.

He stared at the stars, opened his mouth and breathed out a long line of fire. Not the fierce, hot red flames of ordinary dragons, nor the white-hot flames of Barlow and Monroe.

Blue fire. The most powerful fire in the world, known only to be produced by the wizards of the Brehon themselves.

Coldfire.

Shifting back, he looked upward at the stars.

And then Michael smiled.

The Mating Destiny

Werewolves of Montana Book 7

Bonnie Vanak

Chapter 1

He was dragon and as long as he was dragon, it would be all right.

Strong. Fire-breathing. Nearly invincible. Nothing, not even a battle ax forged from Dark Fae magick, could defeat him.

Crown Prince Alexander d’Mateo de Drakon Tremaine sneered at his attacker, showing a cavernous mouth filled with sharp, jagged teeth that could punch through a Cadillac. The enemy danced out of reach of Alex’s mighty tail and swung the ax. Hard. It bit into Alex’s tough silver scales.

Ow.

Well, maybe the battle ax could defeat him. Alex glanced back at his rear left leg and the blood streaming from the wound.

His cousin Maurice hefted the ax and laughed. “Got you.”

Alex blew a stream of white-hot flames at him while lifting his middle claw. The flames poured over Maurice, not even singing his eyebrows nor his flame-retardant clothing. Fire slammed into the concrete fire barricade ringing the exercise compound of the palace. The compound was concrete and bare. No dainty hedges or pretty trees that could be scorched and burned.

Maurice twirled the ax around, dancing behind Alex. “I was going for your balls, but they’re too small of a target.”

Alex shifted back to Skin. Nude, he examined the wound, a neat cleft streaming blood on his left calf. He licked his palm and slapped it over the injury, which began to mend together beneath the application of his healing saliva. “You have lousy aim and I have very big balls. Your balls, on the other hand, are the size of marbles. How you can even get it up is a mystery.”

Standing off to the side in their flame-retardant silver uniforms, his best friends Vincente, Nils, and Clayton hooted with laughter.

“Marbles! Good one, Alex,” Nils called out.

“Will you two pay attention! This is serious!” Drillmaster Vernon pointed at Alex. “Dark Fae forged metal can damage your very tough hide, Your Highness. You must learn to defend yourself properly from it.”

Alex took the ax from Maurice. He tested the bloodied edge with one thumb, wincing as his bare skin made contact with the steel. Dark Fae magick, indeed. But the ax, a pricey purchase on the black market, was a rare antique, as were all Dark Fae forged weapons.

“The chances of anyone getting close enough to take a shot with this are worse than the odds of Maurice getting laid tonight.” He tossed the ax to his cousin, who caught it with one gloved hand.

“I can get laid more easily than you, cuz. I’m not the one getting married next week.”

Alex flipped him the finger again, though his stomach knotted at the word “marriage.” How he’d miss these sessions with his friends and cousin, for they were the only true freedom he had from protocol and duty.

That and the times he could find to hunt in the forest with Emma. Alex rubbed at his bare chest as he remembered how Em had been assaulted last month. Em, the half-Fae, half-dragon whose friendship had been forged two years ago after his father hired her to teach Alex how to hunt and track Fae in the forest.

I shouldn’t have been late for our hunting session. Those damn meetings!

Maurice grinned at him as they joined the others while the drillmaster sorted through weapons to use for the next session. “There’s always one of the dragon groupies. I can hook you up with one for your bachelor party.”

“No, I will not dishonor Emma.”

His friends and his cousin stared. Alex caught himself. “I mean, Sabrina. I have Emma on my mind from our last hunting session.”

“I thought you were finished with those,” Maurice remarked. “Careful, cuz. Women don’t like it when you shout out another’s name when you come inside her.”

“And you would know.” Alex punched Maurice’s arm. “You have so many names on your mind it’s a marvel you don’t read off a list while you’re having sex.”

“
Alexander.
A word.”

He turned and the others bowed low as his father walked into the courtyard. His father. The King of Clan Drakon, the warrior dragons. Silver dragons devoted in service to the Silver Wizard, one of the four immortal wizards of the Brehon, and judge of all shifters.

Five immortal wizards, he amended. His great-grandfather Drust had recently become the Coldfire Wizard, guardian and judge to all dragons.

Sighing, Alex waved a hand and conjured clothing—a starched white shirt, leather pants, and boots. He nodded at the old man and walked to the courtyard’s entrance.

The king headed for the royal rose gardens, strolling down the cobblestone pathway. A marble fountain of a dragon, one claw lifted to the air, gurgled as they passed. All was serene here, but the stone fortress of the castle served as a constant reminder their clan once faced times of hardship and bloody war.

The aroma of roses filled the air as they entered the garden. His father stopped before a bed of blood red roses and turned to him.

“How are your military drills coming along? After next week, your duties will be taken up with formal meetings to ascend to the throne of Clan Ciamoth.”

“I’m working at it, Father.”

King George would sell his eldest son into an arranged marriage for the sake of peace. He studied his father, and the faint silver lining his black hair, the only indication of his 475 years.

Dragons lived a long, long time.

“You must be more serious when it comes to the battle ax, Alex. It could gravely injure you. I know you wish to have fun with your friends when you drill…you’re only 151 years old. You’re old enough to realize fun must come second to duty.”

Alex tuned him out. It was the same old droning message, over and over. If he were Skin, the term OtherWorlders used for humans, he’d be only 25, and as old as the Skins he knew from college. They were still partying hard and didn’t have to worry about marriage and producing an heir. Or world peace for that matter.

He stopped and with considerable effort, curbed his temper.

“Any word on who hurt Emma last month?”

He wanted to hire private, paranormal investigators, but Emma begged him to leave it alone. Alex had quietly asked his father to inquire about those who assaulted his friend.

“No, I’m afraid her attackers have not been found. And about your friendship with Emma. It must end.” King George put a paternal hand on Alex’s bare shoulder. “Emma is a half-blood and of low birth. You are destined to rule and effect change. With Sabrina as your queen and your mate, there will be lasting peace between Clan Drakon and Clan Ciamoth.”

Alex lifted a brow. “I didn’t know we were at war.”

“The possibility is always there, son. With your marriage, our two clans will set an example. Eventually we will combine our kingdoms for the sake of lasting peace and perhaps all dragons will learn to tolerate our differences.” His father sighed. “I remember too well how many we have lost, and it is time for us to take that first step before we all destroy each other. Or the wizards step in and strip us of our power.”

Unease filled him. Alex stared at his father. “That could actually happen? Drust would never allow it.”

“Drust is a youngling wizard and does not bear much influence with the Brehon, yet. The decision would lie with Tristan and the three other judges of OtherWorlders.”

The king reached down and snapped off a red rose. “Your mother adores these. I give her one every day. We’ve been mated 152 years, but I’ve never allowed the romance to leave our marriage. Remember that when you mate with Princess Sabrina, Alex. Ours was an arranged match as well. You will learn to love Sabrina.”

“And if I choose not to marry and mate with her?” he burst out. “If I choose my own bride, one I love?”

George’s expression darkened and smoke poured from his nostrils. “You do not wish to even entertain that thought. This match is far too important to too many people, including dragons like your friend, Emma. Only through you and Sabrina ruling Clan Ciamoth can you make the changes to bring equality to all dragons of every class.”

His shoulders sagged. The old man was right. Didn’t make it easier, but he was right.

The king’s expression softened. “I’m sorry, Alex. I know how you care for Emma, but it is best to forget her.”

As the king turned to head back to the castle, Alex stared at the immense stone castle, wishing he was born someone else.

Forget Em, the only person who ever allowed him to be himself, who turned him upside down and inside out with desire? Never.

Not for all the gold in the kingdom.

Maybe this time, the girls would let her eat lunch with them.

Emma Kantris took the brown sack containing her vegan burger and headed for the picnic table where nine girls dressed in black and white uniforms laughed and gossiped as they ate char-grilled hamburgers and extra-crispy French fries. One spotted her and all of them suddenly quieted. Her stomach tightened and her chest felt hollow, but she pasted a bright smile on her face and pointed at the empty seat.

“Mind if I join you?”

One of the girls slid over and poof! The empty space was filled. “Sorry, no room,” she chimed.

The tight smile remained on Emma’s face. “Right.”

Her gaze flicked to Dandee, the one who had moved over. “By the way, you have ketchup on your blouse and you know how Sabrina hates stains.”

Dandee glanced down and colored. She scrubbed at the spot with her napkin.

“Why don’t you go eat sprouts? That’s what your kind does,” Dandee snapped.

Your kind. Emma calmly gazed at the vapor pouring out of the girl’s nostrils. Dragon breath. “Sprouts are actually quite good for a dragon’s digestion. And smoking is bad for your health. You really should quit.”

With that, she turned on her heels, feeling their bright gazes fixated on her back, as if she sported a target mark. Emma walked back to her car, parked near the array of picnic tables just outside her clan’s compound. She felt a rush of magick in the air and turned, seeing all 9 girls shift into their dragon forms and lift into the air, leaving the picnic table littered with greasy papers and cups. Her Fae half bristled with indignation. Emma went back to the picnic table and cleaned up the trash, then headed to her 1990 Corolla, parked beneath a shady tree in the deserted parking lot.

She didn’t want to eat alone out here where anyone could see she was a dragon without friends. Or rather a half-dragon.

Half-bloods in Clan Ciamoth were lowest in the social structure, lower even than lizards.

She really didn’t want to eat with those bitches, anyway. Asking to join them had become a game. Still, it would have been nice to fit in with the other handmaidens to Princess Sabrina.

After sliding into her car, she locked the doors and unwrapped her veggie burger. Emma savored the aroma of freshly grilled fake meat. A glop of mayo dripped onto the napkin she’d tucked into the collar of her starched white shirt. She inhaled the smell of the burger, and then took a big bite. Yum. Emma munched and glanced at the cheap chrome watch on her left wrist. Fifteen minutes left.

The glittering blue dragon’s egg necklace swung gently from her neck as she leaned forward to scan the parking lot again. Shiny as an opal, and more valuable, the egg was Emma’s passport to clan acceptance.

This afternoon, she’d only have to shell pistachios for Princess Sabrina. Sabrina liked her pistachios shelled and replaced in the bag so she could nibble on them at her leisure.

A dragon of royal blood, Sabrina acted spoiled, though only Emma knew Sabrina’s true nature. Emma stopped eating. Sabrina was engaged to Crown Prince Alexander Tremaine of Clan Drakon. The match would take place next week at sunset. Heart heavy, she set aside the burger.

Alex, mated. Her dearest friend, the dragon she adored above all others, mated. Despite his lofty status, he treated her like, well, a princess herself. Not like the lowly servant she was, a commoner who was half-Fae, half-dragon. Fit only to be the servant of the royals.

It wasn’t a bad life. The royal princess had nine other handmaidens, so Emma was assigned easy, tedious tasks that left plenty of time for reading. She didn’t adore the limelight like Sabrina did and she certainly didn’t have waist-length dark curls, big brown eyes and a slender figure with boobs the size of Arizona. Sabrina’s looks drove men, both OtherWorlders and Skins, the term they used for Humans, quite wild.