CHAPTER 1 of FOR THE LOVE OF HER DRAGON #4
Dammit, she was no wimp! Kyra St. Croix had never cowered from anything in her life.
She was the daughter and heiress of Grand Priestess Calysta St. Croix, the leader of the oldest and most powerful coven of Earth witches in the world.
She’d made it through every test that could have been thrown at her when her right of succession had been questioned, completely based on her ‘mixed race’.
Was it her fault her father was a human?
That her mom had a thing for mortals? She had only laid eyes on the man three times in her entire life.
That was their coven’s way. Not one she really agreed with, but who was she to buck thousands of years of a tradition she really didn’t care about?
He seemed nice enough, but three times in seventy-five years did not make a daddy-daughter relationship.
He was a sperm donor in her eyes, plain and simple.
She had endured forty days and forty nights in the Forest of Darkness, with only what she could scavenge to survive, and was infused with a magic-dampening spell to prove she had what it took to lead the prestigious coven.
Not that any of that really mattered. There was no way her mother would ever forgive her for leaving, skulking off in the night, to avoid being paraded from dragon clan to dragon clan to identify her mate.
She was not a show pony, or worse yet, a beauty queen on tour.
Her mother had refused to listen, insisting that they needed to locate her mate as soon as possible, with no explanation why.
Only after a few months of arguing had Kyra overheard the conversation that changed everything.
She had been heading back to her room after one of the absolute worst training sessions in the history of training sessions.
One that made her want to rip out every last strand of her hair and scream to the heavens.
Training had never been something she enjoyed, whether she was doing it or receiving it, and it had definitely never been her lifelong dream to instruct orphaned teen witches with raging hormones.
All the talk of boys, hair, and New Kids on the Block triggered her gag reflex, ranking right up there with talking about her feelings and painting her toenails…
shit that made her ass twitch. Lost in thought, she almost ran into the wall when she heard her mother say, “Kyra will do as she is told,” from behind the half-closed door of her mother’s office.
She slowed and leaned against the wall, pretending to review the training schedule stuck to the clipboard in her hands.
Calysta was talking to one of Kyra’s many aunts, detailing her contact with the leaders of the dragon clans in the area concerning the ‘new development’.
Not surprisingly, they had all agreed that Kyra needed to be ‘united’ with her mate as soon as possible.
WOW! Romance much? Even though her mate had been predetermined by Fate hundreds of years before she was even a twinkle in her daddy’s eye, it pissed her off that her mother was trying to control it.
Kyra wasn’t looking for a fairy tale love story or anything mushy, but the chance for them to meet on their own terms would have been nice.
It was not the first time since her fiftieth birthday that she had cursed the dragon tattoo on her right hip.
Like most things her mother was involved in, one of the coolest things to happen to Kyra had taken a swift slide down a slippery slope.
At first she had been excited, kind of giddy, even though that was not an emotion she’d really ever experienced.
The prospect of being a part of something bigger than herself, something that had absolutely nothing to do with her mother or her aunts or her coven, was exciting.
The marking that spelled out a huge part of her future was beautiful and majestic, and it fit Kyra.
She just knew it was meant for her and that she belonged to the beast it represented and the man with whom he shared his soul.
The blue dragon with ever so faint touches of green was in flight and appeared to be simply enjoying the air through his wings and on his scales.
He was slightly tipped to the side, so that one wing appeared higher than the other, and in just the right light, she could make out the depth of emotion glowing in his deep brown eyes.
He had opposing horns and a tail that was long and barbed, and she knew it would be treacherous in battle but was elegant in flight.
More than anything, the tattoo was hers and what came with it was her destiny, and hers alone.
The other witches gushed over it and wished for their own.
She listened to the giggles and whispers until she thought she might scream.
Kyra was NOT a girly-girl, never had been.
She didn’t gush or giggle or even gossip like the other girls had when she was younger, and as the years passed, she’d pretty much avoided every female-centered conversation she could.
It just wasn’t her thing. But when the beautiful blue-green dragon that looked like it was flying through a perfect sky had appeared, she’d immediately felt a sense of purpose…
of belonging. In that moment, she had realized that’s what she’d been missing, and there it was, within her reach.
Then in came momma! Leave it to Calysta to insert herself smack ass in the middle of a situation that had absolutely nothing to do with her.
What the hell was it about Kyra that made her mother incapable of letting her have any kind of life that was her own?
Goddess knew that the Grand Priestess had done nothing but groom her to take over the coven from her first steps.
She had never been a real mom. There had been no tea parties, no Barbie dolls, and no make-up tips…
absolutely nothing but hour after hour of training in one form or another.
She had been so lost in her anger that she had almost missed her aunt’s comment about ‘The Prophecy’.
If it was possible, she got even madder with each word she heard.
So mad that power began to build in her veins, making her hair lift around her face.
Her anger was spiraling out of control until a crack began to form above her head.
It had been years since she’d lost control, but just the prospect of her mom ruining the one thing she wanted for herself was the last straw.
She had quickly ducked into the storage room beside her mom’s office.
Leaning against the wall, attempting to regain her control, a plan came to mind.
A way to show her mother and all those other bitches that she was through with their crazy ass plans for her life.
Several hours later, she had come up with a plan that would help her get her hands on the actual Prophecy and get the hell out of Dodge.
She knew that it would take a few days, but then she would be rid of all the bullshit that came with her mother, her aunts, and their full-of-shit coven.
Her prayers for a less complicated life were going to be a reality; she would see to that.
That had been twenty-five years ago. From the moment she had stowed away in the back of that eighteen-wheeler, after hiking almost fifteen miles to the nearest highway in the dead of night, she’d never looked back.
There had been times when she knew her mother and the coven were looking for her, and she had even talked to Calysta a few times over the years when she knew it was safe and absolutely necessary.
Thankfully, she was truly gifted in the Cloaking Spell department, thanks to her mother’s bloodline.
Her magic had manifested at an early age, more powerful than anyone had imagined.
It had quickly become second nature to her.
She had gotten good at hiding who and what she was, or at least making it damn near impossible for anyone to find her, from the moment she decided to disappear.
The purity of the dragon magic of her newfound friends called to her white Earth magic, and it had been second nature to drop her guard and let them know exactly who she was.
Had the scumbag Andrew’s dragon magic not been buried so far within him the first time she met him, she would have recognized him for what he was, and things would have gone very differently, and people she now cared about would not have been hurt.
That was just one of the many reasons she wanted to kick his ass until he begged for mercy and then turn him into the snake he was.
Somewhere along the way she had decided she should find out more about her father, but all she had was a faded Polaroid and a rusty old pocket knife.
Her mother had claimed she’d lost touch with him after finding out she was pregnant and running back to her coven.
Every time they had ‘the discussion’, the little hairs on the back of Kyra’s neck stood on end, and she got a ringing in her ears telling her Calysta was lying.
They always fought. Kyra always begged. Calysta always avoided it until Kyra wore her down, and then it ended the same way, with the same lie.
She had finally given up ever getting the information she so desperately wanted from her mother.
Eventually, she had figured out that since he was human, and she was over seventy-five, he had passed away, just another thing in a long list of things that her mother had taken from her.
“Shit!” She yelled as cold drops of water splashed her face and chest, ending her trip down memory lane.
“Wake up, Witchy Poo,” Lance chuckled while Devon laughed and shook his head.
“You had to throw water on the last dry shirt I have?”
“Sure did. We’re ready to go. I called your name. You didn’t answer. So I threw water at you.” The biggest hundred-year-old kid she had ever known shrugged. She saw the glint in his eye and knew the best was yet to come.