A beautiful Dragon shifter forms a risky alliance with a sexy fallen angel in this paranormal romance by the New York Times bestselling author. After her father is kidnapped, cunning Dragon shifter Lyra Slade is determined to find him. When the trail leads to a gorgeous and mysterious stranger, she knows she should keep her distance. But the clues—and the man—are too compelling to resist. Archer Grant, a descendant of fallen angels, is reluctant to help the beautiful dragon whose evidence implicates his own brother. But when his brother also goes missing, and Archer must work with Lyra to uncover the truth. As a supernatural desire grows between angel and dragon, they are hunted by an evil force . . .
Release date:
October 1, 2013
Publisher:
Forever Yours
Print pages:
94
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Lyra Slade stepped into Dragon Arts, a felt bag clutched in her hand. She had spent many hours at the dojo sparring and learning how to control her Dragon.
Glesenda, who managed the class schedules, smiled. “Back for more classes, sugar?” She checked to make sure there were no Mundane humans around, a habit all Crescents had. “Or just need to let your Dragon loose?”
The soundproof, windowless Obsidian Room, where they could stretch their wings and flex their talons, stirred Lyra’s Dragon. Play, it growled. Her fingers brushed her right hip where she felt it pawing her skin. Not now. More important things to do.
To Glesenda, she said, “I’d love to, but I need to talk to Cyntag.”
Glesenda nodded to the Sapphire Room, where a class was under way. “Go on in. The class is almost done.”
When Lyra slipped in and took one of the chairs at the rear of the room, a couple of the male students glanced her way. Embers flickered in their eyes, something only other Crescents could see. Crescents traced their ancestry to Lucifera, a mystical island in the Bermuda Triangle. The island’s inhabitants worshipped Dragon gods and magick Deuce gods. More than three hundred years ago, the gods took advantage of a confluence of natural events that allowed them to become physical. Inevitably, the gods and humans fell in lust and created human children who had a sliver of godly essence. Dragon Crescents bore tattoos, the manifestation of their beast that let their Dragon essence connect with their physicality. Mundanes could see the tattoo, but only a Crescent could see it move or blink.
Cyntag acknowledged her with a nod. Most female students swooned over the Dragon sensei with the black hair and dark eyes. Yeah, she’d swooned, too, back when that kind of thing mattered. Before her life completely sucked.
When the class finished fifteen minutes later, Cyntag headed her way. “Lyra, how can I help you?”
“I need an angel.”
His eyebrow arched. “You’re coming to the wrong place, sweetheart.”
“Oh, I’m not…” She was rarely thrown off, but then she saw he was teasing her. “A Caido. I guess I consider them angels.”
Caidos were loosely grouped in with Crescents, holding the essence of fallen angels who were sent to oversee the gods on the island. They, too, became physical and fell to the temptation of lust.
She opened her felt bag and pulled out a platinum feather. “I need to find out whose feather this is. It was in my father’s bedroom, which was trashed. And he’s missing.”
Cyntag took the feather, turning it at an angle to study it. “Could this have anything to do with the woman who went missing a few months back? There was some speculation about his involvement, rumors of an affair.”
“I know Pop had nothing to do with Tara Becker’s disappearance. And I don’t believe they were having an affair.” At least she hoped they weren’t. But you had your doubts, didn’t you?
Cyntag was turning the feather over in his hand. “Do you know what these feathers mean?”
“I don’t know much about Caidos, which of course is their intention. The big mystique makes them superior, aloof, and sometimes rude.”
“Caidos stick to themselves. Trust me, they have their reasons.” He handed the feather back to her. “This is a fighting feather, called a dhagger. When they invoke their angelic essence, they can pull one out and use it like a knife.”
She went cold at the thought of her father facing a pissed-off Caido. “So maybe this guy wants his dhagger back. I’d like to deliver it personally.” She ran her finger along the edge, feeling it nick her skin.
“Do you want me to check into it?”
“No, but thank you. I’m going to investigate this angle on my own. I asked Kirin to come down from Atlanta to help me. Right away he runs into Ellie, and it turns out her father is also missing. I’m sure the two disappearances are related, but he’s not sharing what they’ve found. He’s either trying to spare me or protect me, but no way can I sit around waiting.” She pulled out her cell phone and brought up a picture she’d taken. “I think whoever left the feather might own this car. It’s been parked at the curb near my pop’s house since he went missing. I thought it was the neighbors’, who own a used exotic car lot. Then I got to thinking about it being connected to my pop and asked. It’s not theirs.”
Cyntag extracted his phone from a duffel bag and punched in some numbers. After an initial greeting, he said, “Do you know a Caido who owns a deep purple Lamborghini Gallardo?” He nodded as the other person spoke. “He might be in trouble.” He listened for a few more seconds and then signed off. “Grayson thinks the car belongs to Archer Grant’s brother. He’s going to call Archer, but you can head over to the high-rise in downtown Miami where he lives. Your name will be at the desk, and the security guard will send you up.”
He held up two fingers. “Two things you need to know about dealing with Caidos. Tamp down those emotions. I know Citrine Dragons have a hard time with that, but Caidos shut down when confronted with drama. That’s why they don’t associate with Mundanes or Crescents.”
A yellow Dragon tamping down her emotions? Oh, boy. “I’ll try. What’s the second thing?”
“Don’t touch them.”
She raised her eyebrow. “It’s not like I’d throw myself at him.”
He smiled. “Caidos are so preternaturally beautiful that they’re mesmerizing. It’s called the Thrall. Hell, when I see my friend, I want to kiss him, and I’m hetero.”
She laughed, not sure if he was kidding. She’d seen Caidos, but only from across a crowded café or restaurant. The icy glitter in their eyes gave them away, and yes, they were extraordinarily gorgeous.
“I will keep that in mind. Thanks for helping me.”
She walked out into the warm, humid air. True angels were supposed to help humans. Let’s see how helpful one of their bastard sons is.
* * *
Lyra stared at the mirrored, oval-shaped building that shot up into the blindingly bright Miami sky. She’d heard rumors that Caidos wielded a light so powerful it could meld your mind or cut off your leg. There were lots of rumors about them, which made them all the more intriguing. As far as she knew, they were antisocial and asexual, and there were fewer of them than other types of Crescents, probably because males outnumbered females by a large margin.
The contemporary sign matched the building it identified as THE RAPHAEL. A nod to the archangel? Or the artist perhaps? It housed a restaurant, café, wine bar, and several floors of offices. Residences occupied the higher floors. She’d heard that many of these Caido-owned high-rises only allowed their own kind to buy a unit. Massive blue glass doors loomed in front of her. As soon as she neared, a man in a suit stepped forward and opened the door.
A blast of cold air hit her in stark contrast to the heat outside. The lobby was cool not only in temperature but in décor as well. Glass murals made of iridescent tiles and a wall of streaming water lent an austere feel to the lobby. She approached the large black man at the desk. Both employees were Caidos.
“Your eyes match my desk,” the security guard said with a smile. “Can I help you?”
She thought he was giving her eyes much more credit than they deserved, comparing them to the crystalline blue glass. She glanced at the paper in her hand. “I’m here to see Archer Grant.” She produced her ID, which he checked.
“The elevator will take you to the twenty-first floor, Ms. Slade.”
Mirrored walls in the elevator reflected a nervous woman with blond hair mussed from the breeze. She shored up her shoulders, checked her teeth, and ran her fingers through her hair. The door slid open, and she stepped into a quiet foyer with plush gray carpet. There was only one door, which meant the place took up the entire floor. Damn. Must be nice. It seemed m. . .
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