Dragon Kissed (Secret Kingdoms: The Draquonir #4)

Chapter 1

Demetri

Fog rolled across the Pacific in thick, wet sheets.

It wasn't soft. Tiny ice pellets hammered Demetri Vasiliev’s body as he raced across the sky, spearing his leathery wings until they grew stiff beneath a thousand sparkling ice daggers.

He beat his wings harder, refusing to let the growing weight steal his altitude.

The fog should not have bothered him. He was Draquonir, an ancient dragon shifter.

Controlling the elements was as natural as breathing.

This was his territory to protect. His sacred duty to guard this area and all the creatures in it—dragon, human, fae, it didn’t matter.

He was flying this far out in the open sea despite the impending storm, miles from traditional shipping lanes, because even through the dense fog he smelled smoke.

His dragon vision should have allowed him to see his target miles away, even through the mist. Instead, he was flying blind, forced to rely on his sense of smell to guide him to whatever was burning.

Faster, his dragon urged through their shared mental channel.

Demetri poured every ounce of strength he had into flying faster. He sent a stream of magic curling into the icy mist. This fog is unnatural, old one — it is resisting my efforts to push it out of our way. 00

Unease crawled up his spine. The haze should have parted, not clawed and raked at him with icy fingers, as if alive, wrapping around him and squeezing like a vice.

I, too, sense this is not a natural storm. All the more reason to hurry, Demetri.

Ash scraped across his tongue. Burning fiberglass. Oil. The bitter taste grew stronger with every beat of his wings until a dull orange glow bled through the fog below.

Fire.

Nothing should have been burning out here.

He dropped lower.

The fog thinned just enough for a yacht to emerge beneath him, a small fire burning near the bow.

The yacht could only be described as a luxury vessel.

At least fifty miles from traditional shipping lanes, where no human eyes were likely to find it.

That was why he'd relented––why he'd risked letting his dragon, who was on the brink of madness after centuries without a mate, have control.

The smoke.

High above the blaze, Demetri spread his ruby wings and circled.

Heat rose from the wreckage, warming the scales along his belly and melting the ice.

Flames clawed through shattered windows, throwing sparks into the wind before the sea swallowed them.

Four bodies lay sprawled across the deck and two more drifted in the water, and Demetri scented all six of them—death, and the sour adrenaline of men who had died knowing exactly what was killing them.

Demetri fully immersed himself in the dragon's senses. He strained to see through the black smoke. Even dragon sight couldn't explain what he was seeing. There’s something wrong here. What are we missing?

The dragon drew in another slow breath, sifting more carefully, cataloging every nuance, every layer of scent. The last stopped him cold. Dragon.

Everything inside Demetri stilled.

Dragon.

Fresh.

Less than half an hour old.

The warning hit Demetri with the certainty of an ancient dragon who had seen thousands of battles. The dragon's rage followed a heartbeat later.

Trap.

You're right, old one. The fire is too fresh. He watched us come over the headlands, then lit the fire to be certain we'd smell it burning. He wanted us here. He has a death wish if he’s come looking for a fight.

He is dangerous.

Demetri grunted in agreement, a low rasp deep in his great throat.

The sound gathered in his chest, growing heavier with each slow breath.

Whoever had done this hadn't simply murdered six humans—they had crossed into his skies, left their dead in his waters, and expected him to come looking. The arrogance of it scraped at something ancient inside him, something that had guarded this stretch of coastline long before the first yacht had ever cut across it. Dragons don’t kill innocent humans. It is forbidden. He must be a rogue.

The smell of cold blue dragon-fire hit him half a second before the pain.

The dragon came at him so fast, it was a blur of motion. He had a single instant to register the color of his attacker—glacier blue along the crest, ocean blue at the throat, talons extended, winter-gray eyes gleaming with determination.

Benedikte —

Cold fury flooded every corner of Demetri’s mind in a single violent surge, drowning reason beneath an ancient command older than memory itself.

Kill.

He didn’t hesitate. Didn’t try to evade the dragon’s outstretched talons.

With every ounce of speed he possessed, he rolled and met the attack with one of his own.

He surged forward, closed the distance, and sank his own razor-sharp claws into the dragon’s soft underbelly and wrenched just as Benedikte scored four long furrows across Demetri’s chest. Blood bathed both dragons in equal measure.

Teeth snapped at his neck, just missing his jugular. Claws found new purchase and dug for the joint of his wing. Demetri closed his mind to the searing pain, intent on destroying the enemy.

They broke apart, only to charge again. Demetri drew in a breath and released searing hot fire at the dragon’s head.

Benedikte countered, seized the sea with his own magic, wrenching up a forty-foot column of water.

A heartbeat before it struck, the torrent hardened into paper-thin sheets of ice, extinguishing the inferno before the frozen torrent struck and carving into Demetri with a thousand crystalline blades.

There was no time to properly heal, no time to stop the blood loss.

He focused, instead, on reaching for the storm.

The clouds responded as if awaiting his call.

He pulled their energy down through himself until the sky split in a white branching crack, a bolt of lightning directed straight for Benedikte’s heart.

There could be no holding back; no second guessing.

Benedikte was under a kill order, sentenced to death by the king himself.

Before going mad, before losing control of his dragon, Benedikte had been the oldest, most powerful hunter his kind had ever seen.

Taking down a rogue was never easy and usually required more than one hunter.

Demetri was fast—the fastest of his line, but defeating one such as Benedikte—

The blue dragon shifted just before the bolt of lightning could hit where Demetri aimed it, blasting his wing instead. Benedikte snarled with rage and pain but refused to go down.

Both injured, they circled one another warily. Demetri knew better than to underestimate the blue dragon.

You were once a great hunter, he telepathically spoke to the older dragon for the first time, and I am truly sorry for your loss, but you cannot kill innocent humans. It is our law. For that crime, you have been sentenced to die.

Benedikte growled, I have dispensed justice only to the guilty! None were innocent!

Demetri paused. Every creature in the Secret Kingdoms knew the story of Benedikte's grief. He should not have survived the loss of his mate. Only a handful ever had. Human hunters had murdered her and their child and left him for dead. Their king had ordered Benedikte’s execution within days of the loss, once it was plain the grief stricken dragon had gone mad — an indiscriminate killer without mercy, without remorse.

Judging by the six dead humans on the yacht, the blue dragon was still rampaging. And very, very dangerous.

Demetri was an ancient hunter. It was his duty to protect those in his care.

He could not allow Benedikte to continue, no matter his claim, or how tragic his circumstance.

The king sent his best trackers—yet you refused to listen.

Refused to wait. Your grief was such that you were not thinking rationally, and in that hour, you took innocent lives, human and dragon. For that, you have been sentenced.

The king’s trackers were wrong. I was there!

I cannot forget the foul stench of the human hunters, even now!

A few I managed to kill, the rest I tracked, one by one.

King Ryker refused to listen when I told him there were dragons involved.

He was a fool; couldn’t believe our own kind would betray us.

Demetri sighed. He’d heard the story, although told differently. Benedikte had ranted and raged. Accused good dragons of being in league with human hunters. It was a sad tale. None of that mattered now. The king had spoken. Judgment passed. Orders given.

And as powerful as he was, there was only one way he stood a chance of taking down Benedikte.

There was a reason the blue dragon had survived this long when so many dragons hunted him.

His power and skill were legendary. So be it.

I do not know why you have come seeking justice today, after avoiding it for so long, but you have come to the right dragon. You will not leave here alive.

You and your brothers are truly formidable hunters, Demetri. Some of the best I’ve ever seen. Still, I do not think you can defeat me. Perhaps you should call them for help. The last was no doubt a taunt designed to make Demetri lose his temper.

He laughed instead and bared his teeth— both challenge and warning. I have no need of my brothers to dispense justice to one such as you. You stall, try to anger me to give yourself time to heal. It is the trick of an old, tired dragon who sees death coming for him.

Before he finished the last thought, Demetri pulled every ounce of magic his dragon could summon and charged the blue dragon before Benedikte had time to react. He sank his talons deep into flesh wherever he could gain purchase and held on.

Benedikte tried to free himself. He clawed and bit at Demetri, tried to force him to release his death grip, but Demetri held on.

He opened his giant maw and sank his sharp teeth deep into Benedikte’s good shoulder, disabling the wing. The other was still too damaged from the blast of fire to keep the weight of both dragons in the air.

Unable to fly, they began to freefall out of the sky. Demetri held firm with grim determination.

Let go, hunter, before we both bleed out, Benedikte snarled.

Demetri tightened his hold, braced for impact.

They crashed into the sea with the force of a meteor. The ocean exploded around them, a towering pillar of white spray blasting skyward as though the sea itself had been torn open. For one impossible heartbeat, water and dragons disappeared inside a roaring mountain of foam.

Then the sea closed over them.

The impact stunned Demetri, driving the breath from his lungs.

Bones snapped. Agony lanced through his ribs and shoulders, but he refused to loosen his grip.

Benedikte convulsed beneath him, having taken the brunt of the crash, thrashing with all the desperate strength of a dragon who suddenly realized he could die.

Good.

Demetri dug his talons deeper into the blue dragon's neck and beat his wings once—not to rise, but to drive them deeper.

Darkness swallowed the fading daylight above as the weight of two massive dragons carried them into the cold depths.

Benedikte bucked violently, claws raking across Demetri's scales. His tail lashed hard enough to shake Demetri's bones. Still, he held on.

Justice is patient, Demetri thought. Today, it comes for you.

Submerged, there was no fire, no air to breathe, no leverage, no weight to throw, only teeth and claws and the old, brutal, close-range work of dragons who knew this battle could have only one survivor.

Listen to me, hunter. You must—

Accept your fate as I have accepted mine, Demetri interjected. He was done listening.

The blue dragon twisted, clawed and snapped, every movement costing him more air. More blood. Suddenly, he froze. You are a reckless fool, Demetri. Honorable. But still a fool.

They continued to sink, now locked in a battle of stillness. Conservation.

Benedikte’s unblinking stare held the certain knowledge that he understood exactly what Demetri was doing. Understood the sacrifice he was making.

Demetri cut off all emotion, slammed the gate shut with finality.

He had done it so many times the act no longer required conscious thought.

Fear. Rage. Pain. Shock. He locked each behind walls built over centuries of battle, stripping himself down until only this moment remained.

Battle strategy. Calculation. He mercilessly clamped down on his dragon’s instinct to fight for air, to release his captive and claw for the surface.

If the sea demands my life to claim yours, then so be it.

He ignored the fire building in his own chest. His lungs screamed. Black crept into the edges of his vision, and still they continued to sink, the water staining crimson with blood.

Into the dark.

Into the cold.

Into the deep recesses of his mind where regret lived.

He’d never found her.

For a single stuttering heartbeat, he fought for air.

For her.

And then the darkness swallowed him.

His grip loosened—