Chapter 1
Chapter One
SEB
But a side effect of that privilege is my appetites rise in kind—and not just for food and drink.
Our dragons can only procreate during our alignment, which means even now, on the cusp of my star sign, my biology is sending me a steady stream of lusty daydreams, and my inner dragon is squirming to be free of my skin.
I’m fidgety, hot, and horny as hell. It’s all I can do to remain in the moment, listening to a band called Spun Arrow, who are trying their wicked best to impress me right now.
I can barely concentrate through the thunder of my thoughts.
“I think the bass line is off.” Crew, my assistant producer, sends me a disappointed scowl. We both had high hopes for this group. “He’s lagging.”
I hear it too. As distracted as I am, the part of my brain that has always spotted true musical talent is cringing at what’s happening in the live room of the recording studio.
I force myself to focus because Full Throttle Records is counting on me, and I owe it to this band to give them a shot.
But once I’ve given them a few more bars, I nod at Crew. He’s right.
Crew holds up a hand, signaling to the band through the soundproof glass to stop playing. They do, but I can see the bassist is already copping an attitude. His hip pops out, and he tips his head as if he’s annoyed by the interruption.
Over the intercom, Crew corrects him, tells him to internalize the beat and keep up with the drummer.
It’s a common problem with young musicians.
On his own, the bassist’s skills are likely passable, maybe even commendable.
No doubt some music teacher somewhere told him he had what it takes.
But when you play in a group like this, the goal is to not stand out.
You need to blend. You need to hit the beat like it’s coming from your own heart.
Lagging like he is, it’s coming across as amateurish.
I know we’ve done the right thing calling him out when the guy’s ears turn red.
You’ve got to have a thick skin in this business.
You’ve got to be a fucking ice cube when it comes to criticism.
This guy, I know his type. Big ego. Hair trigger.
He’s the type that probably deals with his frustrations with booze, women, or drugs.
In other words, capital T trouble. Not ready for the big time.
He’s probably a Leo.
No thank you.
Spun Arrow starts to play again, and it’s better.
Bassist is gritting his teeth, really trying to show Crew what he’s made of.
Trying. Trying too hard. At this level, this stuff has to happen naturally.
On tour, he’ll have to play perfectly whether he’s hungover, hungry, distracted, in bad weather, or half asleep after traveling on the bus for days.
His muscle memory has to be perfect. We can’t rely on focused effort.
Another producer might take the risk, but not me. As a Taurus, I thrive on predictability and stability. There’s a reason the symbol of our sign is the bull. We’re reliable. Steady. We hate the unknown. This guy is an unknown.
I gesture to Crew and shake my head once. He nods. “Yeah. Not good enough.”
“Needs some time in the barrel,” I mumble. Five more years working the clubs and forcing himself to mesh with his fellow musicians might turn this guy into pure gold. He’s just not there yet.
Crew nods. “Got it, boss.”
My phone interrupts any further conversation. It’s Connor’s ringtone, and my stomach forms into a tight ball before I answer it. I bring the device to my ear as Crew waves me off. He’ll take care of letting Spun Arrow down easily.
I slip into the hall. “Seb,” I say in lieu of hello.
“Brother. Have you seen the news?” Connor’s voice cracks.
Connor is an Aries dragon and the leader of the Zodiac Dragon Brotherhood for five more hours, until my alignment.
Then it’s my turn. Normally, I wouldn’t mind stepping up, but considering everything that’s happened in the last month, it’s a hell of a time to be at the wheel.
“No, I’ve been in the studio all day. What happened?”
“The Order is at it again. There’s been an incident. A horrible incident.”
I hustle toward the room I’ve been using as a remote office here and close the door behind me. “How is that possible? I thought you killed Roman.”
“I did. Someone else must’ve taken the wheel.”
“Already?”
“Already. The Order bombed a baby shower, Seb. They targeted a dragon in her own home. On her own property.”
“What?” Heat rises in my blood. Thank the creator I’m alone because I have the strongest urge to knock someone’s head off. I did not need this today. “The mother and baby—”
“They’re alive. Some of the older dragons covered her with their bodies.”
“Thank the creator.”
“But six others died. The host and the women closest to the door. An order member posed as a delivery driver and hid a cursed bomb inside the cake.”
“Fuck, Connor. Six! Shit. Was there anything we could have done? Any forewarning?”
“None. As far as we know, it was a random act of violence.”
I scoff. “It was an act of war. When Donovan died, the accord died with him. I just thought we’d have some time while the Order regrouped and named a new leader. I thought we’d have a few months to strategize on how best to protect our people.”
“I know. I didn’t see this coming either.
I’ve convened the four as my last order of business.
” The four are the subset of dragons that take on the brunt of decision-making.
Since we each lead for a month, the next three signs after us have to be closely involved in anything we do for continuity.
Connor is an Aries, which means I, as a Taurus, Remus as Gemini, and Ellison as Cancer make up the four right now.
The remainder of the twelve are brought in if necessary, after the four have convened.
“Right. We’re going to need Remus and Ellison.”
“And Lucas. As of tonight, I’m transitioning the crown to you. The four now includes Lucas as Leo.”
“Fuck. That’s right.”
“Look, unlike a month ago when Solomon stepped down and I rose to this position as Aries, I’m not going anywhere. I’ll help you as much as I can, just as long as it doesn’t put Fiona in danger.”
As much as I appreciate Connor’s help and am glad he’s able to transition things to me properly, I know better than to take his generosity for granted.
His mate Fiona has been through enough over the last month.
She’s been lucky to avoid another major fibro flare after all the stress she’s been under.
When Connor says he’ll help as long as it doesn’t put Fiona in danger, that includes excessive stress or worry.
Those things can land her in bed for weeks recovering.
I won’t be the cause of that. Besides, it’s customary for the last leader to get a break from the heavy lifting.
It’s why we operate the way we do. It’s an ancient system and one I’ve been intimately associated with for a decade, since the last Taurus brother stepped down.
“So, Cardinal Island tonight for the handoff?”
“Can’t. We have to do this on world. I can’t bring the ring through the portal.
We’re coming to you.” He means the cursed ring we obtained earlier this year, the same kind as is worn by every member of the Saint’s Order, the secret society that exists for the sole purpose of enslaving or killing dragons.
The magic of their rings is toxic to us.
“You’re bringing the ring here, to LA?”
“I am. I’m not going to miss being in charge of this thing, Seb. It gives me nightmares. Makes my skin crawl having it in the same room as me.”
“Fan-fucking-tastic. Really looking forward to taking possession of the evil jewelry.”
“Just wait. I have something else for you. Something I didn’t see coming.”
“So where are we meeting?” I ask.
“Beverly Wilshire. Penthouse. One hour.”
“See you then.”