Rebel Dragon Read online

  A few months ago, he would have continued the onslaught without thinking about the consequences. But he was supposed to be turning over a new leaf, so he forced himself to slow down and consider his options.

  Like killing the little shit? his dragon grumbled.

  Yeah, he’d love to do that. But he knew the way the dragon world worked. If an ass like Anton killed a nobody like Connor for trespassing, no one would think twice. But if the reverse were true, Connor would be accused of overreacting, and there’d be hell to pay. Draig would have it out with Kai about hiring hotheaded half bloods, and Connor’s ass would be toast.

  And Anton, it seemed, knew that. The young dragon spun and fired his own blast of fire at Connor, not holding back in the least.

  “Jesus, cut that out,” Connor hissed as he pivoted out of the way. That amount of fire could be seen from as far as Maui. Did Anton think the time-honored rule of never drawing the attention of humans didn’t apply to him?

  Apparently not, because Anton snorted another long flame. The stupid kid didn’t know when to quit.

  Connor lunged again, aiming a thin stream of fire directly at Anton’s throat. The younger dragon screamed and fell away, but Connor didn’t relent. Following up with raking claws, pounding wings, and bites, he drove Anton lower and lower until he was hurtling toward the rocks.

  “Stop! Wait!” Anton screamed, finally giving up.

  Connor scowled. He never gave up, not even in the face of defeat.

  “I’ll stop long enough to see your ass back to Maui,” he said, starting to drive Anton across the channel. The island was miles away, but damn it, he’d drag the kid in if he had to. Then he’d kick the kid’s sorry ass over Kai’s threshold and leave his boss to deal with the rest in a more diplomatic way than he ever could.

  “You can’t do this,” Anton cried, trying to keep one length ahead.

  “Watch me,” Connor growled, nipping Anton’s right wing.

  Anton screamed again, but Connor just snorted. The only reason he didn’t shred that wing was to save himself from having to haul Anton all the way back to Maui himself.

  “My uncle will get you for this,” Anton muttered, turning to resist once more. He flailed, kicked, and clawed. Then, with one spiraling flick of the tail, he whipped Connor on the same wing that had been burned.

  Connor hissed and drew a deep breath. He was that furious. Close to not giving a damn whether he brought Anton back dead or alive. Mad enough to—

  “Stop. Now,” a deep voice boomed through the night.

  Connor snapped his head up. Shit. Was that Kai?

  Worse, it was Kai and Tessa, and Kai was frowning — deeply.

  “What exactly is going on here?”

  Anton opened his mouth as if to defend himself, and Connor could just imagine how that might go. Help! I was innocently minding my business when this violent half-breed came along and attacked me.

  Hopefully, Kai wouldn’t fall for that, but Connor decided not to test his new boss. Instead, he jerked his head at Anton and growled.

  “Junior here decided the no-fly rule didn’t apply to him.”

  Kai’s eyes glowed a fiery red. “Oh, he did, did he?”

  Anton sputtered and stammered before trying his best line of defense. “My uncle—”

  Kai cut him off with a low, dangerous growl. “Your uncle will be as furious as I am, you little shit.”

  Connor squinted through his rapidly swelling eye. Kai sounded mad, but just at the kid. Maybe there wouldn’t be hell to pay for this latest caper, after all.

  A dragon could hope, at least.

  Chapter Nine

  Jenna lay on her stomach, listening to waves roll over the beach a few steps away. It was late — too late to be up, really. The sun had long since set on her first full day on Maui, and what a day it had been. Enough that she couldn’t get to sleep. The thrill of bumping into Connor had quickly given way to the shock of Jody’s news, and she’d spent most of the afternoon in a daze. Jody had insisted on spending a couple of hours surfing a break a little way up the coast, which was better than sitting around fretting, and being in the water had always given her a sense of peace. But now, her mind spun.

  Jenna Monroe, surfer girl, or Jenna Monroe, part mermaid?

  She’d spent most of her time in the water overanalyzing every sensation and memory. Did she love diving under oncoming waves just for the fun of it, or was that a hallmark of her mermaid ancestry? Did the thunder of an oncoming wave thrill her because her dad had passed on his love of surfing or because of his genes? Most surfers kicked for the surface the second they got bowled over by an errant wave, but Jenna had always stayed underwater for as long as she could, watching the foam-green water froth and turn. It was magic, the way the color of the water changed as it went from dark ocean swell to building blue breaker to turquoise and finally white foam. But she didn’t have to be a mermaid to appreciate the beauty of that, did she?

  But beauty was only part of it. There was horror, as well. Was her stalker an ordinary human or a vampire?

  She turned back to the book that lay open before her on the bed and muttered, “Vampires: Volume One?”

  Whatever was in Volume Two, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. Volume One was scary enough. It was an ancient, dusty volume with a cracked leather cover and hand-decorated pages. One illustration was a Michelangelo-type sketch of a man with his arms and legs extended — but that “man” was a vampire with monstrous fangs. Another sketch showed a close-up of a terrifying face with teeth bared wide. Little lines pointed out various features captioned on the sides. The fiery red eyes. The fangs that connected to ducts called…

  She squinted at the tiny print. “Blood conduits?”

  She slammed the book shut, pushed it aside, and looked out the open door of the guest cottage. A sea breeze made the palms sway, and crickets chirped in a steady chorus all around. She was reading by candlelight so as not to dim her view of the stars, and that only added to the mystery in her mind.

  Vampires. Tiger shifters. Mermaids. Could it really be true?

  She pulled over another book Jody had lent her — Weres, Wolves, and Whims — and leafed through the pages.

  Are you serious? Jenna had protested when Jody had first dropped the books off at the guesthouse.

  I’m serious. Silas has a whole library of this stuff, Jody had said. Who knows what you might find out?

  Frankly, Jenna wasn’t sure she was ready for more. She was still in shock from that morning.

  Everyone here is a shifter. Cruz and I are the only tigers. The others are wolves, bears…

  Jenna turned a few pages and stopped in the Ursines and Werebears section. What about Connor — what would he be? He was big, but not as bulky as a bear. A wolf, maybe? She flipped to the front of the book and checked the Wolf shifters and related canines section. Connor did have that canine protectiveness, that constant state of alert. She read a few lines, then stopped short.

  Wolf shifters, like all shifters, feel an intense pull toward their destined mates…

  Little alarms went off in the back of her mind. Mates?

  …and once fully mated, they share a lifelong bond.

  Mated? She frowned and flipped back to the introductory section of the book, which had an entire subsection on the theme.

  Placement and depth of the mating bite may differ, but each species and subspecies completes a mating rite at the height of copulation…

  Her eyebrows jumped up. It all sounded so primitive. So crude. And yet, her body heated at the thought, and she couldn’t help picturing wild, instinctive sex with Connor.

  Most fated mates recognize each other on first sight, the book went on to say.

  Jenna sucked in a slow breath, going back to the first time she’d met Connor. She’d stopped breathing for a minute or two.

  Your mother and I, we just knew, her dad often said in a dreamy voice.

  Her eyes drifted over the text in the book. Mates are true to e
ach other for a lifetime and never go astray.

  That fit too. Her dad hadn’t so much as dated another woman after her mom died fifteen years ago.

  Don’t need anyone else. Besides, she’s still here, he’d say, tapping his heart with a misty-eyed smile.

  Jenna stared off into the distance. Some people believed in soul mates. Maybe mates were like that. Then she frowned. What about mermaids? Did they bite too?

  She checked the glossary and skipped to the mermaid section, which was all the way at the back of the book along with unicorns and pegasi, all marked Believed Extinct.

  Little is known about mermaids, with the last confirmed report coming from 1736…

  She blinked a couple of times. 1736?

  …but rumors of small communities persist even to this day.

  Somehow, that made her brighten again.

  Mermaids had some of the greatest variation among shifters in terms of time spent in human and shifted form. Some spent entire lifetimes underwater, while others lived predominantly among humans, indulging in the occasional deep dive…

  A rush of watery images flooded her mind along with muted underwater sounds. The churn of distant surf, the squeak of a dolphin. Rays of sunshine stabbing into the water the way beams of light flooded a cathedral. Swirling bubbles, paddling turtles. Some of those images were memories of sights she’d actually experienced. But others had an ethereal quality, like visions from a collective memory that came from somewhere beyond.

  Jenna thrust the book aside, rolled to her back, and stared at the ceiling. Mates. Shifters. Mermaids.

  Slowly, she slid the knife under her pillow and blew out the candle. A thin wisp of smoke danced in the breeze until it faded into the night. She tapped her fingers against her stomach. Sleep. Sleep, Jenna. Sleep.

  Images of shapeshifters danced through her mind, keeping her wide awake. A lumbering bear. A snarling tiger. A howling wolf, followed by Connor, looking perfectly human. What was he?

  Ordering herself to sleep didn’t help, and neither did picturing her bed at home.

  Shifters…mating rites…Forever…

  As letters on a printed page, those words were pretty hard to digest. But when they came with the image of Connor…

  Her hands went from hugging herself to sliding over her body. Slowly at first, then more sensuously, and finally, she gave in to the urge. She let her hands slide a little lower, imagining Connor was touching her. His hands would be big but gentle, not teasing so much as warming her up. He’d kiss her, long and deep, and cup her breast at the same time. Her breath quickened as she imagined Connor rolling his fingers around her nipple until it was hard and high, ready for him to kiss.

  Slowly, she let her knees fall apart and slid one hand down. She closed her eyes, making that Connor’s hand. Letting him touch deeper and faster until she was panting out loud.

  “Yes…” she murmured, feeling the need grow.

  The touch became a pumping motion, and she started to gasp as Connor — even pretend-Connor — brought her higher and higher.

  “Oh…” She tipped her head back and rocked her hips, it was that real. That satisfying. Her muscles coiled. Her pants became gasps, and finally—

  She groaned, hanging on to the high that swept through her blood.

  Jenna, she pictured Connor murmuring as he stiffened over her.

  A minute later, she rolled to her side, imagining Connor doing the same. Spooning her from behind, sliding a hand around her waist. Kissing her neck softly, keeping the world at bay.

  Go to sleep, Jenna, he’d say.

  Funny how much easier those words were to obey when Connor said them.

  She closed her eyes and repeated them a few more times. Sleep, Jenna. Sleep.

  * * *

  And she did sleep — really well. At least, for the first part of the night. Quiet, pleasant dreams that befitted a place like Maui. But at some point, when the moonlight was at its brightest, she woke and couldn’t get back to sleep. She lay staring at the ceiling, listening to the swell roll over the sand. Calling to her?

  She stood and went to the door, looking out. The view was breathtaking, all sparkling water and twinkling stars. Almost as if she were a sailor, out in the middle of the sea.

  Come and look, the silvery moonlight seemed to say. Come and play.

  It wasn’t the first time she’d head that whisper, but now, she wondered where it stemmed from. Did it come from a healthy imagination, or was it the sea calling to her mermaid blood?

  She ran her hands over her arms, thinking it over for a long time. Then she pulled on some clothes, strapped on her knife, and strode out to the center of the beach. Why not make the most of a beautiful night?

  An owl hooted, and a wave tickled her toes.

  She smiled and took off down the beach, splashing through the shallows. The sand was soft on her bare feet, and bioluminescence whirled around her ankles. Like fireflies for mermaids, she told herself, then laughed.

  She stopped for a shell and threw a piece of driftwood out into the waves. Everyone was asleep on the estate, and she felt like she had the whole world to herself. A big, beautiful world made of wind, waves, earth, and sky.

  By the time she reached the end of the beach, she felt no desire to go back yet. How often did a girl get a chance to enjoy a night like this? She walked on, picking her way around a rocky bend. Jody had assured her Koa Point was perfectly safe, as was the well-protected property next door. Connor was there, and he and well-protected went hand in hand. So she kept right on walking, relishing the feeling of freedom. At home, she rarely walked alone at night. But here, on a private estate…

  She sighed a little. Maybe she could follow in Jody’s footsteps by finding herself a job on Maui and staying. Even better, she’d find herself a job and a man.

  “Yeah, that would be nice,” she snorted, walking on.

  But, heck. Even just walking was nice. The salt air scrubbed her skin, and the breeze ruffled her hair. Maui’s rich natural fragrance seemed twice as sweet with night-blossoming flowers adding to the potpourri. The ocean was quieter here, with a rock wall forming a calm pool on the section of coast she’d reached. The remnants of an ancient Hawaiian fish pond, perhaps? Something splashed gently, and she stopped to gaze out over the water.

  “So beautiful,” she whispered.

  Moonlight shimmered over the surface of the ocean, creating a long, pale line of sparkling light that wiggled with each tiny wave. She hopped up on a foot-high rock for a better view.

  She’d always loved California, but…wow. Maui was amazing. Especially this extra-quiet, extra-private version of Maui, when everything was slumbering and serene.

  Her eye caught on a glint in the water — really in the water, not a reflection from above. If it hadn’t been such a pristine area, she would have called that a discarded bottle and forgotten about it. But she doubted there was any trash in this water, so what was it? A fishing lure? An especially shiny shell? Something with a golden tint — one minute there, the other, hidden again.

  She waded in as far as her knees, tempted to dive to see what it was. And why not? Water was her element, and that section of beach was perfectly safe. So she dipped in once, clothes and all, and stroked a few times. Her hair streamed out behind her, tugged by the water, as was the fabric of her clothes. When she came up for breath, she was all smiles. It felt deliciously naughty to be out there alone, so she did it again.

  Over here, the shiny thing called, and she dove to search for it. But the moonlight teased her, mixing with that underwater shine, and her groping fingers didn’t close on anything other than rock or shells. Something splashed out in the darkness, and she looked up, feeling vulnerable for the first time.

  “Okay, enough playing mermaid,” she told herself and retreated to the shore.

  She stood there for a few minutes, dripping salt water, watching the stars. Feeling silly, because what if she was taking the mermaid thing too far?

  She shook the
water out of her ears and crinkled her nose, trying to decide. Well, if there really was something to be found out there, she could try at daylight. For now, she’d head back to the cottage and get some shut-eye.

  She set off, following a path she’d missed before. It started in open grasslands, but soon, rough bushes and trees closed in from both sides. A leaf dragged along her calf, and a vine scratched her shin. The crickets sang louder, and a bird — or a bat? — fluttered overhead, making her jump.

  She froze, looking up. Bats. Vampires. Were they really linked, or was that just another movie myth?

  Either way, her serene night had suddenly taken a turn toward creepy, and she turned around. Maybe it was better to stick close to the water, just in case. Her pace quickened, and her eyes started darting about. A twig snapped behind her. Not too near, not too far. A big enough twig to have been broken by a fairly big something, judging by the sound.

  And just like that, a solo stroll at midnight really seemed like a bad idea.

  She hurried back the way she’d come, telling herself she was just imagining that feeling of being watched. It was probably just a bird guarding its nest, right?

  She power-walked onward, trying to judge how far she’d come. The next time she glanced over her shoulder, the bushes behind her were swaying. Was that from her movement or something else? And, shit. Had she just seen a flicker of red — twin flickers, like a pair of menacing eyes — or was that a trick of the light?

  She reached down and pulled the knife out of the scabbard strapped to her calf. The blade glinted as she broke into a jog, hurrying back to the beach. A moment later, she pulled up short again. Something was moving in front of her — unless that was the motion of the swell. God, which way should she go — forward or back? What was out there?

  She stood perfectly still, growing more anxious with every too-quiet second that ticked by. Then something really did move behind her — not a figment of her imagination this time — and she spun.

  Too late, because two hands were reaching toward her, and her feet refused to budge.

  “No!” she screamed, slashing out with the knife.