Dragon in the Blood (Vale of Stars Book 2) Read online

  DRAGON IN THE BLOOD

  JULIETTE CROSS

  Contents

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Map of Aria

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Epilogue

  Ready for More Morgons?

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Also by Juliette Cross

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2016 by Juliette Cross

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  ISBN: 978-0-9977184-0-9

  For Corinne DeMaagd,

  ninja editor and steadfast friend

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  This book has traveled a long and bumpy road toward publication. And there are certain people I must mention who helped along the way. To my kickass beta readers for your masterful critiques—Cora Cade, Rachel Cobb Chamness, Julie Reece, and Kristi Rose. Also to my editor, Corinne DeMaagd, whose guidance was invaluable in polishing this work and whose encouragement with this book and series honestly kept me going. To my constant cheerleaders, Kyra Jacobs and Rhenna Morgan—just keep swimming.

  PROLOGUE

  Strobe lights pulsed in time to the house music—a loud, hard beat, intoxicating the throng into a sensual rhythm. Long past midnight, alcohol had loosened inhibitions among the young and beautiful of Gladium. Bodies were pressed together in a heated swarm, reveling in the heady atmosphere. Lured by curiosity and excitement, and maybe a little danger, the mixed crowd of Morgons and humans moved by sensation alone.

  Dominic leaned back against the bar, glancing to his left at the Morgon woman in a pool of blue light. She’d been staring at him for half an hour. Most of the dragon hybrid females were built slim and lithe to match their delicate wing structure, the opposite of Morgon men who were built for power and speed. But this one was different.

  Rounded hips and full breasts accentuated by a tight mini-dress lured Dominic’s gaze again and again. He’d finally decided to shove off the bar and make his move when she left her isolated corner and headed in his direction.

  Graceful and fluid, she slid through the crowd, moving under different hues of light so that he couldn’t tell if her wavy hair was brunette or auburn or whether her intricate wings were brown or dark red. She stopped in front of him, only a few inches shorter. Knowing his height was an attractive feature to Morgon women, he stood up, closing the distance.

  “You appear to be a…virile man.” Her voice was a sultry temptation all its own.

  He laughed, flashing a seductive smile, though none was needed. He was indeed from a long line of virile males—tall, strong, and good with their hands.

  “I’ve had no complaints.” He twirled a lock of her hair around his finger, and then let it fall softly across the angle of her V-neck.

  Feeling a steady gaze from the corner, he shifted to peer over her shoulder. Arms crossed, expression grave, a black-eyed Morgon man watched them from the shadows.

  Dominic gestured with a nod. “Is that an old boyfriend or something?”

  “My bodyguard,” she answered without looking.

  She splayed one hand on his chest. Definitely more aggressive than the other Morgon women he’d met. A bodyguard designated her high-born from a protective clan, meaning a protective father. Some of the human and Morgon aristocracy still practiced the old ways to try to keep their wayward daughters in line. Difficult to manage in an ever-changing world. He examined the Morgon who remained unmoving and watchful in the corner.

  “Don’t worry,” she purred, her hand curling around his bicep. “He won’t interfere.”

  “Not a very good bodyguard then.”

  “His job is to keep me from harm, not prevent me from exploring my desires.”

  Dominic wrapped his hands around her waist and pulled her closer. “And what are your desires this evening?”

  She nodded toward a hallway leading to the back of the bar. “Come with me.” Tilting her head, she pressed one thigh between both of his. “I’ll show you.”

  “What’s your name?” he asked.

  “Does it matter?” Her mouth curved, promising pleasure. Half-lidded eyes assured satisfaction.

  Never one for a back-room romp, Dominic preferred taking women back to his penthouse apartment where they could enjoy one another at leisure. He was about to make that very suggestion, but then she slid her thigh higher, hiking her skirt, pressing firmer against the bulge in his jeans. Hazel eyes flared bright as she ran her tongue along her lower lip, igniting his need to a fever-pitch.

  He pushed away from the bar, gripped her hand in his, and led her down the hall. Past the restrooms, there was an office and storage room. He shoved open the first door, kicked it shut, and lifted her against the back of the door.

  She spread her wings wide so they lay flat. Averting her face to the side, she let him nip and suck her neck, his hands cupping her bottom. He groaned when he found her bare beneath the dress, as if she knew this would happen, as if she were waiting for this all night. Waiting for him.

  Locking her legs at his back and grinding her hips against him, she breathed in a soft hiss. “The sofa.”

  Panting, he scanned the room lit by a small lamp on the desk, then carried her to a couch along the wall. Twisting out of his arms, she pushed him into a sitting position, straddled his lap on her knees, and unbuckled his belt in determined, swift movements. A thick aura of lust encircled him, ensnared his senses, wrapping him in desperate desire. He needed her…here, now, this very second. As soon as she freed him, she pressed his shoulders against the sofa-back to keep him still, then sank down as he thrust upward inside her.

  He cried out, trying to lean in, needing to kiss and taste. Riding him hard and fast, she held him firm, her dragon eyes glowing gold in the dark. He yanked down the top of her dress and mounded her naked breasts, wondering how in the hell he’d thought for a second of going to his place. He’d never have made it.

  And knowing hundreds of people writhed and danced to the muffled music in the club while this wild Morgon woman rode him into blissful oblivion was better than any quiet coupling at his apartment.

  She ground harder, faster, squeezing her thighs, making him groan with need.

  Trying to hold on, he choked out a strangled sound. As if she knew he was on the razor-edge, she leaned forward and sealed her mouth over his—the sweetest, wettest kiss he’d ever tasted. He released with blinding speed, pulsing long and deep inside her, moaning through waves of pleasure. She deepened the kiss, sliding her tongue over his, all the way to the back of his throat. He met her urgency until he pricked his tongue with a sharp sting.

  “Ow.”

  He dropped his head against the sofa-back, panting hard as he wondered how her tooth coul
d be so sharp. The Morgon seductress stared down from a narrow, golden gaze, like a goddess from her erotic throne.

  The wash of euphoria rolled into something else. His pulse pounded faster, not slower. His tongue and throat thickened. Sweat dampened his temples, a painful burn quickened through his veins, liquid fire seared through every organ.

  “I can’t,” he rasped, “breathe.”

  He grabbed her waist to toss her aside. Before he could move or speak or think another thought, paralyzing pain sped laser-like to the center of his chest, exploding his heart. With a crack, his head snapped back, his last breath escaping in a faint puff of air. The last thing he saw was her dragon gaze burning bright. And her smile, two sharp fangs glinting by lamplight.

  CHAPTER 1

  “N o.” I bit back the string of nasty expletives from spilling out my mouth.

  Kol’s paternal scowl deepened. Straightening to his seven-foot-plus height, a good foot above me, his blue-black wings expanded as he echoed my response. “No?”

  One step forward. The scar lining his face from chin to cheekbone was drawn tight. He always used his body and dominance to intimidate others into submission. Usually, it worked. Not today. I didn’t budge, biting my lip till I tasted the metallic tang of blood.

  He blew out a heavy sigh. “Are you speaking to your brother, guardian, or your captain when you defy me, Valla?”

  Pulse pounding an angry beat, I tried to rein in my temper. Tried and failed.

  “But why, Kol? Why him of all people? You could’ve assigned Kraven or anybody else for that matter.”

  His eyes glowed white-hot, edged in silver. His wings ruffled at his back, the skyline of Drakos falling into a lavender twilight behind him. Yeah. I’d pissed him off. His dragon wanted to beat some sense into me. Nothing new.

  “You have no right to question me as your captain. Only because I know you better than you know yourself and you won’t work as efficiently without some kind of rational explanation, I’ll give you one.” He lifted an index finger. “Just. This. Once.”

  I kept my mouth shut, eyes narrowed, waiting for some ridiculous, irrational non-explanation.

  “First, the Guard must pair every team with at least one Nightwing Security guard from Gladium. This is in accordance with our alliance with the Nightwing clan. We need them as they need us.”

  Since the discovery of a ruthless Morgon who had abducted, enslaved, and even murdered human women, the powerful Nightwing clan of Gladium united forces with the Morgon Guard, the global police force with jurisdiction in every Morgon province. My brother was right. The fact the leader of this murdering band was building an army for some kind of revolution highlighted the need to partner with like-minded Morgons to find the bastard and bring him to justice. Before he could hurt anyone else. Or start a war.

  I opened my mouth to point out for the second time that my dear brother could’ve paired me with any number of men from the Nightwing team. I’d hardly uttered a word before he shushed me with a sharp look. On the horizon, the sun dipped low, coloring his office in pink and gold.

  “Second, in case it slipped your mind, we have not yet caught the mole who tipped off Barron Coalglass of our whereabouts the day Moira was taken.” Kol’s jaw clenched till something popped.

  Three months ago, Moira Cade—I mean, Moira Moonring, now my sister-in-law, married and mated to the fuming brother standing before me—was abducted from the well-guarded rooftop of Nightwing Tower in Gladium. Someone had tipped off the enemy that the Nightwing men were gone in order for the abductors to implement a successful strike. Even after a thorough interrogation of all officers in both the Guard and Nightwing Security, we still hadn’t discovered the mole.

  It was thought perhaps the traitor was killed in one of the skirmishes with the enemy’s scouting parties or when we raided the Blood King’s underground palace where Moira had been taken. With her description and directions, we found the limestone caves in a barren desert. They were all but empty. A few soldiers were found in the tunnels, all of them given the Guard’s swift blade justice on the spot for crimes committed.

  The bodies of two human girls were found. One curled up and tethered to a mattress, the other strapped to a bed, her veins opened. Both of them bled dry. Moira had warned us there were girls that had been kept as bleeders and others as sex-slaves—a fact that made me want to slit the throat of this Blood King. His rumored nickname fit him well and had caught on quick since no one knew his true identity. In my opinion, he was no king at all. He was nothing more than a sadistic butcher, a coward scheming in the dark, a devil who would find his fit end. I couldn’t wait for the day when we would kill him and send him to his own permanent hell.

  But the Blood King proved elusive, hiding somewhere with not so much as a peep out of him for the past three months. We knew he was regrouping, rebuilding his army, plotting his next move. There were teams of the Guard searching possible lairs he could be using as a stronghold. I wanted to be on one of those teams. Instead, I was being shipped to no-man’s-land where outlaws scurried about in a perpetual winter and robbed misfortunate people who happened to pass through. Great.

  I unfolded my wings a fraction, then tightened them against my back. “You could’ve paired me with anyone. Instead, you jeopardize this mission by assigning the one man who aggravates me to no end.”

  Kol folded his arms, his glare softening. “No. You will jeopardize this mission if you can’t see past your anger and grudge against him. Conn Rowanflame is one of the few men I know I can trust. His family has been connected with the Nightwing clan for ages. And he has a set of skills you may very well need in the wastelands of Aria.”

  The Rowanflame clan were known to be gifted firedancers, able to control flame. In sub-zero Aria, such a gift could certainly come in handy. Conn was the highest ranking of his clan in Nightwing Security.

  I heaved out a lungful of air, blowing away my frustration in an exaggerated sigh. “Fine,” I grated out, staring past him as dusk slipped farther into night, the craggy towers of Drakos beginning to blend with the mountains beyond. “But I’d like to point out that I’m an officer of the Assassin’s Order. And this isn’t a kill mission.”

  “Valla,” he annunciated softly and clearly. Crap. He was pissed again. “You know as well as I do that a Morgon woman must be on this mission to gain access to the Syren Sisters Coven. I thought that controlled, level-headed woman might be my sister, that this opportunity might afford you more experience and knowledge in the Guard. But obviously I made a mistake. Since you can’t handle it, I’ll find someone else. Perhaps Isadore would be more suited for the challenge.”

  He spun on his heels, snapping his great dark wings at his back.

  The hell I’d let Isadore take my place. With her swishing her curvy ass all up in Conn’s face, she’d be nothing but a distraction. The operation would fail. No way could I let that happen.

  “No.” I leapt out and grabbed his arm. “You’re right… I’m sorry.” I cleared my voice, going for controlled and level-headed. “I’ve got this. Really. You can depend on me.”

  His granite expression cracked into a half-smile, midnight blue eyes with a pale inner ring that mirrored my own. Anger tended to bring both our beasts to the surface. But mine melted when I realized that once more my overbearing brother was offering me a chance to learn and grow as an officer in the Guard. Instead, I’d been petty and childish. I swallowed my pride and wiped the frown from my face.

  “That’s my girl,” he said, reverting to the softer tone he used with me as my brother, not my captain. “Now report to Tower Two. Gisa is waiting to brief you on geography and survival gear. Conn and Bowen should already be there. Bowen is commanding this mission.”

  Bowen Huntergild and I had partnered before. When Moira went missing, we had immediately arranged a search party outside Gladium. The quiet, efficient Morgon and I worked very well together. Emphasis on quiet. Conn was another story altogether.

  I stepped ar
ound Kol’s desk, out onto the terrace, and walked to the edge. The crisp air of winter swept over me like a caress, lifting the braid at my back.

  “Valla.”

  Kol stood in the archway. A tall, strong reminder of the powerful descent line of our clan, the Morgon man was the only father I could remember.

  “Yes, brother?”

  “The information we gain from this mission may be the key we need to track down this Blood King.” A sober expression masked the fury he bore for the Morgon who’d abducted his mate.

  “I know. I won’t fail you.”

  He nodded with a deeper smile than was normal, a smile I saw more often with Moira in his life.

  “Be careful. And report often.”

  “Of course.” I smiled back. “Don’t worry, Captain.”

  I winked and leapt off the terrace edge in the direction of MG Headquarters where records and weapons were kept. And where every operation began. Dreading the upcoming briefing, I spread my wings wide, soaring above the city into the twilight sky, feeling the cool wind cut across my cheeks. I needed a breather, and this was my favorite time of day, when dusk lingered and softened the edges of the world. And relaxed my nerves.