The Cursed Dragon

1. Chapter 1

one

Mates’ Convergence

T here’s a change in the air today as a flood of power surges through the atmosphere, rolling through the orphanage I’ve been trapped in for years. No child can help what their parents do, whether they abandon us, die, or betray their clan.

But today, we’ll all have to endure the dragon leaders’ expected visit to Slatebane as they roam the orphanage’s halls, making their way to the main hall where we, lowborn unmated dragon riders, are waiting to be put to work. We’re nothing more than slaves, forced to accommodate and please the dragon shifters. Some of us may find our mates today… but most will be sold for other purposes .

Dragon riders and dragon shifters are forever pairs, a bonding of souls and desires sparked by an uncontrollable heat that takes over our entire bodies. In a few days, I’ll be eighteen and experience that sensation for the first time as my body and soul call out for my true mate, my dragon shifter. Or that’s what we’ve been told.

We all hope to find our mate, but for most here, we’ll never find our dragon. We are the lowest there is. We don’t have magic running through our veins without a bonded mate. We don’t have the same sharpness to our cuspid teeth as higher ranked riders have, making it more difficult to claim our dragons, and many dragons will see us as undeserving to be their rider.

That will never change. We aren’t trained or schooled to be riders. The leaders of this place have already decided that we aren’t worthy to be riders before even giving us a chance.

“I hope I find my mate today,” Mary, one of the other young women standing in a straight line with me, says from my left. She smooths down the white shift dress that we’re all forced to wear, while our bare feet press against cold stone flooring.

The hope that lingers in her eyes is one we all have, but we should know better. We’ve seen this moment plenty of times before, telling ourselves not to expect anything. And yet, that hope remains inside, killing us softly.

“Do you think he’ll actually be here?” Liza, my friend, asks from my right.

“I heard all of the leaders are coming, even him.” My chest tightens because they rarely all convene like this for safety reasons. The tension churns in my stomach at the thought of being at the mercy of one of them for days.

But it seems there’s no other place left to scour and search for their riders, if they even find them here. Most will even get rejected so the shifters can find a better, stronger pairing.

They’ll do what they want, take what they want. Some will return home with mates, and others will leave having their urges and hunger sated.

Even if it’s engrained in my being, the thought of serving someone so obediently without a choice makes anger course through me, crackling beneath my skin.

It isn’t fair, even if it’s expected. Orphaned riders have the least amount of power, yet we somehow fuel the dragon shifters with so much.

Mate-less dragon shifters are less powerful than ones harnessing the power of a mate bond. That’s why leaders of the clans are typically dragon shifters with mates, but the Aetherion is an exception.

He has no mate, but he rules everyone.

He has enough power to do so, forcing all those who dare to stand against him to their knees.

A sharp sting on the side of my arm makes me flinch. My hazel eyes widen as the headmistress storms in front of me, pointing her cane toward me with a glare.

“All of you, quiet down! The Dominions will enter soon,” the headmistress snaps as she gestures for us to stand up straight.

She’s an older Netherling, forever unmated and just past her hundred and sixties, with her ashy blonde hair braided tightly back and her medium-sized build cloaked in a light gray tunic dress. She’s run the orphanage for years, and my jaw tenses every time I see her as my scars burn from her presence.

“Yes, headmistress,” we reply in unison as we’ve been taught to do. That cane reminds us of everything we’re supposed to do.

The headmistress snaps her eyes to mine. “You’d best behave. Do not embarrass me,” she hisses .

I swear she’s had it out for me since day one. I was dumped here when I was five years old, an abandoned kid. To this day, I don’t know anything about my parents or my lineage.

No one answers any of my questions, but maybe no one knows anything. Every time I try to ask, the headmistress snaps at me and sends me off to scrub floors or sit in silence in the dim basement of the clan’s estate.

How can society expect me to conform when people won’t even tell me who I am or who my parents are? I feel like I know nothing about myself. All I can do is protect myself the best that I can.

“Yes, headmistress,” I say, doing my best not to speak the words through gritted teeth. Today is not a good day to get into trouble.

Noise beyond the wooden double doors that seal us into this room makes everyone draw in nervous breaths. I swallow hard as the headmistress claps her hands, signaling everyone to prepare ourselves just as the doors swing open.

My eyes dart to the left as the first dragon clan leader walks into the hall with his second in command by his side and a few other dragon riders trailing him. Dark blue lines are painted on their armor, and I wonder from which clan they come.

Immediately, the women around me bow their heads in respect. We only lift our heads when told to do so and are given permission to properly lay our eyes on the dragons. My eyes are stuck on the Dominion as his eyes sweep over the line, his chin lifting high.

I don’t recognize him, but like most of the dragon leaders, he won’t be easy to forget. His dark blond hair is pushed back in straight strands, resting on the back of his neck above the collar of his brown coat that comes down to his black boots. He wears a white button-down and black pants, a few inches of his chest exposed. Silver rings glisten on his fingers .

“Bow your head!” the headmistress hisses at me as her stick strikes my thigh.

I whimper as my thigh burns and bow my head, quietly grinding my teeth.

Soon, the stale, cool air in the hall becomes warm, and I see those black boots in front of my bare feet. A soothing heat radiates my way, revealing the strength and fire that burn within him, a warmth that allures and triggers dragon riders’ heat.

“Who is this one?” the Dominion’s deep voice rumbles.

“Rodi, one of our last pure girls. She’ll be of mating age in two days, Dominion,” the headmistress replies.

“How sweet,” the Dominion says. “Look at me.”

The headmistress taps the tip of her stick on the ground next to my feet, warning me against denying him.

“Rodi,” she warns.

Dominions. Leaders. Kings. So many people tower over me with all their power and authority, wanting me to do their bidding. The world is unfair with uneven power dynamics, and I don’t believe I can be saved from that.

If I want to survive and get out of the orphanage, I have to open myself up to these dragon shifters and hope that I mate with one. They’ll take me away from here and let me into their clan. If I mate with a clan leader, I’ll have more say because some of his power will also be mine to wield.

No one will ever dare to touch me again.

But do I want to be bonded, chained to another?

I slowly lift my head, my eyes falling on dark, intense eyes. An uncontrollable tremor shudders up my spine, forcing me to curl my fingers into fists to keep myself from shaking.

“Interesting,” the Dominion says as his eyes sweep over me. “Have you ever been with a shifter before, my sweet? ”

It’s one of the main services that we provide to dragon shifters who have not found their mates yet. Desire runs rampant among the shifters as they impatiently wait to find their true mates. In the meantime, they indulge in others.

“No,” I say and his eyes narrow.

I clear my throat and straighten up, not wanting to get swatted at again. “No, Dominion.”

The dragon shifter hums under his breath, crossing his arms over his broad chest as he peers at me like I’m one entrée among a feast.

“You certainly look nice,” the leader tells me before stepping closer. He pinches a lock of my light brown hair between his fingertips, feeling how soft it is before bringing it closer to his nose. “And you smell nice too.”

Goosebumps flare up the backs of my arms as I do my best not to squirm away from him.

“She’s free for you to take , if you wish. We also have plenty of other Netherlings here to choose from. All are mate-less,” the headmistress says.

“I’ll take her,” the Dominion replies without waiting another beat. He snaps his fingers, motioning for his second in command, a dark-haired Warden, to move to his side. “Bring her to my room in the clan’s estate.”

I automatically freeze, my heels digging into the stone floor as the Warden takes my arm and drags me out of the line. My gaze darts back to Liza, whose eyes are wide. We’ve known each other for years and have each other’s back when we can, but no one can save me right now.

Not even me.

“Come on,” the Warden says as he tugs me toward the open double doors.

I stumble after him with a racing heart, wishing I could escape instead of being forced to do anything this dragon shifter wants me to do. I’ve heard horror stories of some dragon shifters asking for twisted things from dragon riders. Things that make me blush just by thinking about them.

“Wait,” I tell the Warden, wanting to know what I’m about to get myself into.

The Warden stops and whirls around. My face whips to the side as my cheek heats, the sound of his backhand slap echoing throughout the hall. He tightens his grip on my arm and pulls me closer, a look of warning gleaming in his blue eyes.

“Remember your place,” he says, his voice bordering on a growl.

Defiance crackles as I clench my teeth and nod. The less attention I draw, the better, and I’m already doing a bad job of that. We’re taught to do our work and go about our lives without complaint or disobedience.

Many of the women here are content with that because they’re kept safe, fed, and clothed. They don’t want to struggle all alone out in the dark unknown beyond these walls.

The Warden turns and hauls me toward the doors just as a tall, muscular Dominion strides through them with a whole entourage of warriors, his black coat billowing behind him as all-black clothing adorns him. His hair is short and as dark as night, and his deep brown eyes soon find mine.

My heart jolts to a stop as a voice within me speaks.

Him.

The Dragon King. The leader of the Dominions.

The Aetherion.

He’s here.

His gaze drags over me, his expression suddenly becoming stoic, and an intense energy rolls off him, stealing my breath.

My stare won’t break, and neither does his.

His full lips tilt slightly as I’m whisked away to the clan’s estate.