Her Irish Dragons (Irish Shifters #3)

Prologue

“You must go to Ireland,” Magnus, the King of the Scottish Wolves said.

“It can only be you,” my Aunt Tara, the Queen of the Scottish Wolves declared. “And this is our only chance for peace between our kingdoms.”

“Nì thu seo airson do rìgh agus do bhanrigh,” King Magnus insisted. I had to fumble with my extremely rusty Scottish Gaelic for the translation: You will do this for your king and queen.

Then Aunt Tara added in her flat, completely unlilted Canadian English: “Dorie, you will do this for your kingdom.”

Less than two weeks later, Sadie, the warm and friendly Queen of the Irish Bears, greeted the private plane they’d sent for me herself. “Welcome to our kingdom! Oh my, you’re all grown up! Are you okay with hugs?”

Eight days after that hug, I was pushed backward into an ice-cold lake, plunged to my certain death.

Only then did I realize…

Not one person…

Not the King of the Scottish Wolves…

Not the Queen of the Scottish Wolves…

Not Sadie or any of the other royals I’d met in the Irish Bear’s secret kingdom…

Not one of them had truly answered my original question.

As I sank into the lake’s dark depths, weighed down by a duffel bag that might as well have been a pair of concrete shoes, I asked that question again, the words bubbling in the water….