Kiss a Dragon Princess (The Dragon Lairds #6)

Chapter 1

Chapter

One

PORTIA

Wind screamed in my ears as I dove through a cloud. Moisture beaded on my wings before sizzling to vapor. Snow flurried, but the flakes hissed and turned to steam the moment they touched my scales.

I flew faster. A gray sky stretched above me, the sun beaming between breaks in the clouds as if it tried to keep up.

Gods, this is what I was made for.

Not sitting through twelve-course dinners listening to men try to impress my fathers.

Anger spiked, and I snapped my wings tightly against my body and punched through another cloud.

Rolling into a spiral, I rocketed downward.

Gray cliffs and green, rolling hills rushed up.

The wind shrieked. An iron gray sea filled my vision.

The spray of water kissed my face. On two legs, the sea would have felt like needles stabbing my skin.

But in this form, the water couldn’t hurt me. Very little could hurt me.

Although, crashing into the cliffs was probably a bad idea.

At the last second, I pulled up, flaring my wings wide as I soared over the mainland. The anger subsided, contentment taking its place. My dragon had been restless all morning, clawing at my skin until I’d finally given in and shifted.

Now we were both free. For a time, anyway.

Flapping my wings, I glanced over my shoulder. Beithir Island shrank behind me, its veil of cloaking magic turning the castle in the center into a gray blob.

Good. I couldn’t escape my duties for long, but I could forget about them for a while. Stretching my wings, I let the wind buoy me upward.

A half hour later, the scenery beneath me changed, the rolling hills giving way to clusters of houses and buildings. A human town sprawled across the landscape. Squares of concrete looked like postage stamps dotted with toy cars. I circled higher, keeping my distance.

But, as always, something pushed me to fly a little farther. The sun ducked behind the clouds, and my dragon was a dark shadow on the ground as I banked left. A moment later, I crested a ridge, and the standing stones appeared.

My heart sped up. I snorted, steam rolling from my nostrils. The standing stones rose from the ground like gray, bony fingers. Fifteen formed a circle, with two of the largest crowned with a horizontal stone that turned it into a doorway for giants.

A narrow path ran from the stones to a parking lot flanked by a pavilion with half a dozen picnic tables. In the summer, humans ate sandwiches and strolled around the stones taking photos of each other pretending to hold them up.

But it was winter now, and the human tourists had gone home. Wings flared wide, I swooped around the stones in a lazy circle. Magic thickened the air, its hum wild and ancient. Dangerous.

I drifted lower, my beast’s sharp vision picking out the bold swirls that decorated the rock. The hum of magic intensified. Heat and danger flashed over my scales.

Run, a little voice in my head whispered. But a second, lower voice murmured something else.

More.

More what? The question buzzed in my mind as I held my pattern, my wings wide and my tail lashing the air.

Always, it was the same, the magic both repelling and drawing me.

In the summer, when the humans left for the night, I sometimes shifted and grabbed the stash of clothing I kept in a hollowed out tree stump at the edge of the parking lot.

I’d walk among the stones, trailing my fingers over the moonlit rock and daring the magic to do something.

It never did.

The blare of a horn jerked my head up. In the distance, where a human road cut through the hills, a man leaned out his car window.

A shaggy Highland cow with prominent horns stood in front of the vehicle, its jaw working in a slow, unbothered rhythm.

Snow stuck to the animal's brown coat. More flakes eddied around the car’s headlights.

Smothering a gasp, I flapped my wings hard and darted upward. The hum of magic faded as the ground fell away beneath me. A second later, I punched above the clouds. Spinning left, I raced toward home.

The snow thickened as I sped above the sea. Weak sunlight sparkled on the waves, but there was no time to admire it. Lowering my head, I flew faster.

Twenty minutes later, Castle Beithir’s spires emerged through the glamour like a ship’s masts appearing in the fog. A figure was a black speck on the castle’s battlements.

My stomach dropped. For one heartbeat, my form flashed between solid and smoke.

It was quick, but it was enough to send me plummeting toward the sea.

The world spun in a wild tumble, sky and water flashing as I fell.

Fire flared in my mind. Rage and fear seared my throat.

A roar ripped from me as I fought for control.

Sky.

Sea.

Sky.

Sea.

The water reared up. With another roar, I flipped in the air and flung my wings wide. My claws dragged over icy water as air rushed under my wings, lifting me above the sea.

The figure on the battlements didn’t move. He just watched, his spine straight and his hands clasped behind his back. Displeasure radiated from him in a wave as cold and unforgiving as the sea.

Shite.

Clenching my jaw, I flew toward my father.

Delaying would only make things worse. I swooped down, angling my wings as I soared over the battlements.

My passage ruffled the hem of his barasta, which was the same unrelieved black as his hair.

The same shade that had greeted me in the mirror every day for the past twenty-three years.

My claws clattered against the stone as I landed.

Father kept his gaze on the sea, his broad shoulders a solid black wall against the gray stone and gray water.

Magic surged through me as I shifted to smoke, then solidified into flesh and bone.

Cold air bit at my bare skin. I turned in time to catch the sweater that sailed at my head.

Shivering, I pulled it on, leaving my arms out of the sleeves.

Father’s expression was inscrutable as he moved toward me with my jeans in his hand.

He tossed them, and I snatched them from the air and pulled my bra and panties from the pocket.

“I thought you were in Edinburgh until nightfall,” I said, dressing quickly. Bra secured, I pushed my arms through my sleeves.

Father stared at the water. Almost certainly, he’d traveled through it, stepping from a puddle in the city and emerging on the island’s shore a heartbeat later, his clothes and hair perfectly dry.

Niall Balfour was the most revered—and feared—water witch on every plane.

He could travel through puddles and mist as easily as other people traveled in cars or planes.

When he was angry enough, he could move in and out of raindrops.

He was definitely angry enough now. It was nothing obvious. He didn’t rage or glower. A less observant person might have missed the signs—at least, at first.

But even a child couldn’t have missed the icy ripple of cold, tightly leashed fury pouring off him. It slid around me in frigid ribbons, the emotion so thick it was almost visible. For a moment, it spoke, low murmurs chanting in a language I’d never been able to understand.

“Da?” I’d asked as a child. “What are those voices saying?”

With a smile warming his dark eyes, he’d picked me up and tucked a finger under my chin. “Magic will speak to you someday, princess. I promise.”

But it never had. And Father hadn’t smiled at me in a long time.

“I returned early,” he said now. “I didn’t want to be late for tonight’s festivities.” He faced me, his eyes as black as his barasta. “That makes one of us.”

Irritation spiking, I shoved my hair over my shoulders. “I won’t be late. Although, I thought I made it clear that I have no interest in sitting through another pointless—”

“It’s hardly pointless,” he snapped.

My temper snapped, too, and my beast deepened my voice as I said, “I’ve met every dragon in the world. You don’t think it’s pointless to meet them again?”

He stepped close, the spells embroidered on his coat as black as the fabric beneath them. “We’ve discussed this. The mate bond doesn’t always flare the first time, or the second.”

A bitter laugh broke from me before I could stop it. “Aye, well, maybe the third time will be the charm.”

“Where were you just now?”

The abrupt change of subject made me stiffen. “I flew along the coast,” I said before I could think better of it.

His gaze remained steady, and I waited for him to call out the lie. Instead, he jerked his head toward the castle. “Come. We’ll speak inside.”

“About what?” I demanded, but he’d already turned and strode toward the glass doors that led to the east wing.

Swallowing a curse, I followed, the knot of anxiety in my stomach tightening with every staircase and corridor. Sovereign Guards nodded as we passed. But no one spoke. After a few more twists and turns, the doors of Dad’s study loomed ahead.

The knot in my stomach loosened slightly. Of my two fathers, Dad was the easiest to placate. If I could reason with him, maybe I could even get him to call off the evening’s meet-and-greet.

The doors swung inward of their own accord, and my father swept inside.

Dad sat behind his massive stone desk, his seven-foot frame relaxed in a chair that was more like a throne.

Which was only fitting, considering he was the king of our species.

He’d pulled his blond hair back from his face, but several long strands trailed over one meaty shoulder.

My mother rose from one of the chairs positioned at angles in front of his desk. Her hair was as long as my dad’s, but the shade was a rich, glossy chocolate. Worry hovered in the green eyes she’d passed onto me and my twin brother, Malcolm.

I stopped in the doorway, the knot retightening as I looked between Dad and my mother. They’d been waiting for me. A full parental tribunal.