Under His Reign

DRAGO

In the Castle of Silver Isle

The smack of our boots against the hard, black marble echoes as we make our way toward the throne room. The fire crackles in the torches perched on the smooth walls of the long hallway, and the sight of the orange embers and bright flames warms my chest. It’s been too long since I’ve felt the need for fire.

“I don’t know why you care what the sorcerer has to say,” my brother mutters with disdain as we near the carved stone doors, shattering the small bliss I’d gained from the vision of the flames.

“I’ve grown bored, Cyrus.” I roll my shoulders and crack my neck as my palms slam against the hard stone and part the doors for us. They swing open with a loud groan, granting us access to the massive room. Our thrones stand tall in the back of the room, bathed in the glowing light on the far wall. The intricate metal shines with wealth and power.

“Grown bored of luxury, Drago?” Although Galen’s tone is teasing, he knows just as well as I do that this castle is tiring. There’s nothing of interest as of late and my inner beast craves a challenge.

“When was the last time you stretched your wings, Galen?” My brother narrows his eyes in irritation. “It’s been far too long for me.” Both brothers, one on either side of me, snort but fail to answer my question. I answer for them, “Nearly a decade.”

“You’re bored of luxury, yet I’m bored of fighting the weak.” I resist the urge to roll my eyes at Cyrus’s arrogance.

“Some fights were worthy.” He huffs in amusement. “If they weren’t, then there would be more than three dragons still in existence.” It’s a cold reminder and the chill of my words settles deep in my veins. The air around us grows thick as we separate and each take our place on our thrones. I take my seat in the center and enjoy the feeling of the hard, cold metal against my bare back. I strum my fingers along the arm of the throne and take in each of my brothers in turn.

Cyrus is the youngest by nearly a decade, although no one would know. The three of us are nearly identical in appearance even though we were birthed separate. My father’s genes are strong; we’re the spitting image of him. I remember his cold, dark eyes, nearly black, but they sparked red with his anger. We have his thick dark hair, sharp jawline, and high cheekbones. Our broad shoulders and hardened muscles complete the image of utter dominance and power.

“I see no point in any of this.” Galen’s cheek rests in his hand as he stares at the entrance to the dark room, waiting rather impatiently for our guest. The fire lit behind us adds a shadow to his face, making him appear even more angered and intimidating. The idea of his exasperation pulls a smirk to my lips.

“I agree.” The hint of my smile falls at Cyrus’s bland statement.

“You two used to be amusing.” I allow my irritation to be apparent as I sit farther back in my seat and straighten my shoulders.

“I have no use for the sorcerer, nor the humans for that matter.”

“It’s not about possession, it’s about the perception of power,” I respond coldly to Galen’s words.

His shoulders rise as Cyrus snorts a laugh. “Are you suggesting that our power is being questioned?”

“What power, Galen?”

His brows furrow and his pupils flatten, turning reptilian and sparking a pale blue. “What do you mean ‘what power’?” He sneers his angered words, and they sound clear in the vast, cold room, echoing off the jagged stone walls. “No one dares to question our claim to this territory. We have more wealth than we have room to store it.”

“Yes, but you miss my point, brother.”

“And what is that, Drago?” Cyrus’s curious voice utters his words carefully, as if testing out their taste before letting them pass his lips.

“We’ve been forgotten. You cannot perceive power if you have no memory of it. We sit alone in our castle, enjoying the spoils of our wealth, but it’s been too long brothers—far too long—since our names have been spoken.”

“And this sorcerer?” Galen’s disbelief is apparent. “What does he have to offer us?”

I wave my hand aimlessly in the air. The sorcerer spoke vaguely of glory and wealth, but it didn’t appeal much to me. “You dragged me from my chambers merely because of your boredom.” Galen runs a hand down his face. “You need a hobby.”

Cyrus’s wicked eyes find mine as a stealthy grin forms on his face. “Or better yet, someone to warm your bed.”

“If they don’t heat for me than I’m not interested.” My tone is flat.

“Since when?” Cyrus scoffed. Being the youngest of us, he hasn’t grown bored of the women who throw themselves at us. Although we’re feared, we’re still desired. They long for expensive baubles and offer their bodies in exchange. Cyrus set a bad precedent on that front.

I used to give in to temptation, but it’s been years since I’ve indulged. I want more now. I long for dragonlings. Carrying a dragon is nearly impossible for mortals or other shifters. My brothers and I are the last of our clan and our species is sure to die with us. I may only look thirty years old, but I’m nearly two hundred. I’m growing old, and it’s long past due for me to settle with a mate. A sigh leaves me in longing, and I run the pad of my thumb along my stubbled jaw.

In the last few years I’ve accepted that it’s not meant to be. In the presence of dragons, women capable of carrying our seed display strong signs of ovulation, the most obvious is her heated core and strong scent. I’ve searched the kingdom for years for a woman who would be able to carry my young but have never found a woman to heat for me. Nor have my brothers. Unlike Cyrus, I’ve no desire to bed a woman for sport, and unlike Galen, I’m not bitter that the women capable of carrying dragonlings to term have disappeared with the remainder of our clan.

Galen sits farther back in his seat, getting comfortable. “If only a woman would heat for me, I’d fill her every chance I was given.” As Galen’s soft words settle in the emptiness of the vast throne room, a timid knock echoes off the walls.

“Enter.” I bellow, and in response the large door cracks and slowly opens. A petite woman in a simple linen dress enters with her head bowed. One of the many servants in our quarters. Our kingdom is littered with humans, only those born into servitude are permitted to stay in the castle. They’re permitted to leave if they’d like, but none do. We ensure their wellbeing just as much as their fear in us. Our kingdom is prosperous, but those who stay to serve us are given wealth far beyond the possibilities awaiting the commoners.

The woman walks obediently, her eyes on the floor and her hands clasped in her front, stopping a few feet from the thrones and waiting as expected.

“You may speak.”

The small woman raises her head and meets my gaze. Respect outweighs the fear in her eyes as she speaks confidently. “Your guests are here, my Lords.” Her sweet voice is so soft it barely registers.

“See them in.”

She nods. “Yes, my Lord.”

Before giving her the command to leave, Galen speaks. “Adelle is it?” I commend him on his memory. We’re introduced to the servants as they come and go through the castle, but it’s been decades since I’ve learned a new name. Most I held dear have passed, and since then I find it difficult to form any bond with the humans. Although, judging from the young woman’s age, I may see my death along with hers. For the second time today, I’m reminded of my age and oncoming mortality.

“Yes, my Lord.” She remains calm and patient waiting for her orders.

“Speak more clearly next time.” The young woman pales with fear at Galen’s admonishment. Her bottom lip wobbles slightly, and I repress the need to roll my eyes. We wouldn’t banish her for something so irrelevant, but we also don’t squash the rumors that we would. “Understood?” His tone is hard and unforgiving although I’m sure he doesn’t realize it.

Her breath hitches as she tries to get the word out. Watching her struggle to contain her mortification makes my stomach churn. I grant her a small mercy and send her back to her duties. “Our guests Adelle.”

The little human nods instead of speaking and quickly turns to leave us. I turn my head to give Galen a death stare. “What?” he says with exasperation. “I could barely hear her.” He rolls his eyes and throws his hands up. “Seriously, what must I do?”

Cyrus chuckles, deep and low as several steps are heard nearing us. Of the three of us, Cyrus is far better with human interactions. The three of us straighten in our seats and stare ahead as the doors part once again.

Adelle enters first, her eyes focused on the black swirled marble floor. The click of her tiny shoes is accompanied by the sounds of heavy boots from the three men trailing her. The first of the three I recognize as the sorcerer who sent word of his request, Victor Wade. His blond hair hangs past his shoulders, his sharp blue eyes stare straight, and a thin smile grows on his face. Few have seen the three of us in person with the exception of our servants and the women we keep. His eyes widen and spark with curiosity, but if he’s under the impression that he’ll be gaining information from this meeting, he’s mistaken. I’ve granted him access solely to hear his offer. Purely out of boredom.

The other two men appear to be mere humans, although they may be weak sorcerers; I suppose they’re assistants of his. Neither has qualities that allow them to stand apart from the norm. Adelle stands tall and proud at the side of the room. She stares straight ahead, showing no emotion and simply waiting for her instructions. She’s been trained well and has recovered nicely from Galen’s criticism. She’s a worthy servant.

“My Lords.” Victor bows slightly as do the other men. It’s always humorous to me to see visitors bow. The more trouble they think they’re in, the deeper they bow.

“Victor.” I breathe deeply and wait for him to speak. For years, I’ve felt as though my wings have been clipped. It’s time I got out of this rut and started living before my death is suddenly upon me. However, neither of my brothers seem truly interested in this conquest, and although I’m bored, I have no intention of going to war on my own. Cyrus may be interested, but more out of curiosity than a desire to fight.

“What is it you’ve come to offer us?” Cyrus’s inquisitiveness has always gotten the better of him. It’s my hope that with him on my side, Galen will be swayed.

Victor takes a nervous swallow before speaking with false confidence. “The Authority is a threat to all things supernatural.” Before he can continue, he’s rudely interrupted by Galen.

“I assume you have proof, and this is not a statement you’ll leave with no support.” Victor’s obviously caught off guard, but he swallows his pride and continues.

“Have you not heard of the blood they were dealing to the vampires?”

“There’s been talk of treachery.” Or so we’ve heard. I hadn’t given the whispers much consideration until I’d been given word of Victor’s plan. “But from what I recall, the Authority is the one who put an end to that debauchery.”

“Lies. It’s all lies. I had allies within the Authority that have since been blamed and massacred.”

“I was under the impression that Alec was your ally.” My statement comes out as though it’s a question. I already know the answer though. I’m more than prepared for this meeting, as I always am. Although we’re across the world in our secluded territory, information is fed to us frequently on anything and everything that should catch our interest. We pay a healthy sum of gold for information that keeps us well informed. The whispers from our contacts in the Authority are what originally caught my amusement.

“He was. He is no longer.” My eyes narrow as I take in his appearance. Beads of sweat line his brow, and he reeks of deceit and betrayal. I run my thumb over the tips of my fingers, considering how I’d like to play this. After all, if I send him away, I have nothing but vaults of hoarded treasure collecting dust to return to. They don’t inspire life within me. They don’t give me the same spark they once did.

Cyrus speaks before I’m able. “So you believe the Authority must be dismantled, and you would lead in its place?” From what I gather, Cyrus’s assumption is correct. The words “rebellion”, “war”, and “dictatorship” resonate within me and wake my sleeping dragon. A low flame burns in my chest.

“I only ask for your aid if it will be needed.” I scoff at his deceitful response.

“Do you think we wouldn’t be needed?” I sit forward in the throne and stare into his fearful eyes. Bloodshed will occur no matter our involvement, but if we were to fight on their side, victory is certain.

“My Lord”—he lowers his gaze to the floor like a coward—“I do believe your assistance would be required.” I lean back and sneer. It takes a moment before the sniveling fool raises his head to meet my gaze once again. Of course we would be required. There’s no other reason he’d risk his life to see us. He needs us.

“There was some mention of gold, silver, and opal mines.” Cyrus gets to the point although his tone holds little interest. Destroying other beings, no matter what their nature, is simple enough. What matters is what we’d receive in return.

“Yes.” Victor nods his head enthusiastically, not realizing how little we care for our treasures at this point. There’s only so much wealth you can acquire before it merely fades into the background.

“Not interested.” Galen’s slowly spoken words leave an air of disappointment clouding the men before us. But before I can speak, the sorcerer’s vigor returns.

“Lord Arrington, if I may, there is something waiting in Shadow Falls that I believe you truly desire.” He takes a hesitant step forward, a brave thing for him to do. I wave my hand willing him to continue. “There is word of a woman, merely human, but she’s from a strong line of breeders.”

My body sways forward with awareness, but Galen fails to see where this conversation is headed. He speaks with disdain, “What of this woman?”

“There are whispers among the healers that she’s capable of carrying your young, my Lords.” The breath stills in my lungs as the words hang in the air. The fire crackles behind us and the heat seems to intensify. “She’s untouched, but she is known to have the fertility to carry many sons and daughters for you.”

“Who is this woman?”

“Isabella Faye. She is held within the walls of the Authority, yet she is not claimed by anyone.” My fists clench. I have eyes in the Authority, yet they haven’t sent word of this. How is it that this sorcerer has information that I do not?

“What use do they have for a human?” My brows furrow and my jaw ticks. I’m not sure what to believe from this liar’s lips, but the possibility of his words being true is enough to rouse the interest of all of us.

“It’s rumored that Alec is keeping her captive, unbeknownst to her. He knows the line will end with you three. He spoke of this frequently to me.”

“And what did you reply when he spoke of our demise?” An asymmetric grin grows on Cyrus’s face, but I haven’t the energy to laugh at his taunting. The possibility of her existence is enough to gain my desire for this conquest, and I’m hopeful it’s enough for Galen as well. I watch him as Victor stumbles through a response. Galen’s fingers gather his beard as he seems to contemplate his decision. I interrupt whatever babble Victor is attempting to speak to question my brother.

“What do you think?”

He hesitates only a moment, his fingers tapping in rhythm on the metal arm rest. “I’m intrigued. I will take a few days to consider.” I respect Galen’s decision. He’s always careful in his deliberations; it’s why the three of us remain living, so I will not push him. It will be easy to gather more information on whether or not Victor speaks the truth. I push the hope blooming in my chest down—deep down. I will not be made a fool of by a man of such low morals. No matter how much I crave what he offers.

“I understand.” Victor clasps his hands in front of him and bows. “Before I go, I’d like to present you with parting gifts, if I may.”

I nod slightly, and at my approval, he motions for the men accompanying him to leave and attain whatever these gifts are. I imagine it’s gold. Others tend to think that’s what we prefer.

Cyrus leans forward as Galen strums his fingers along his lip, no doubt contemplating the possibility of this Isabella being a mate. I catch Galen’s eyes and hold them, watching as they quickly flash reptilian and flicker icy blue in color. His dragon craves the woman. I snort and nod as my own dragon claws against my chest. There’s no need to fight over her, she will choose which of us she’d like to mate. My shoulders stiffen at the thought. I look back at my brother and he seems to be thinking the same.

Cyrus laughs and claps his hands to gain our attention. He smirks at us. “Maybe we should wait and see if this woman even exists?” I relax my posture and lean back once again.

“For once our little brother has a point.” Galen huffs a puff of cold air and settles against the hard throne.

“We shall see.” I won’t show any mercy if Victor has brought false hope to us. It’ll be his death.

As Galen settles his dragon, mine pushes furiously against me, urging me to free him. The move is one of fury and rage. I instantly rise out of the throne, frightening the sorcerer who cowers and lowers his head. My dragon settles and my forehead pinches in confusion. My breathing is uneven, and I take a moment to regain my composure. I search the room for a threat, but there is none. Adelle’s eyes widen, but she remains somewhat poised. It’s been quite some time since I’ve felt the push from my beast. I grunt and retake my seat, not knowing what the hell got him riled up. My eyes dart to the door as I hear the men enter the room, each followed by a woman.

The woman on the left and closest to Cyrus is a young, petite blonde, far too skinny and pale to be well. She stares at the floor as she walks. Her hands are shackled, and her breathing comes in short pants. The clacking of the metal chains banging together echoes through the empty hall. The red-headed woman on the right is no doubt of similar age and health. They’re both in desperate need of a good meal and reek of fear and uncertainty. My nostrils flare in anger.

As the men plant their feet, the two women go gently to their knees and bow before us. Shackled and trained to submit. Victor has brought us slaves as a gift. I clench my fist and consider ending his life. The only reason I hesitate is the possibility of this Isabella. I shift uncomfortably as I decide what I want to do. He swallows thickly, sensing my anger.

“We have a third, my Lord.” My brows raise in surprise. He thinks I’m angry that there are only two. What a stumbling fool. My jaw ticks, and my dragon attempts to leap from my chest once again, furiously batting his wings. The urge to leave the room is overwhelming. To go to something. The movement of my dragon distracts me for a moment as the doors open and a woman in chains is pushed through, stumbling and falling hard on her knees.

My dragon relaxes and pushes slowly against me, focusing only on the woman. Her dirty blonde hair is a tangled mess. She’s in the same condition as the others, but she’s different somehow. “Come!” Victor’s hard command to her makes my dragon’s fire burn in my chest.

Her eyes find mine as she raises her head. She spits her words. “I’d rather die.” My heart flames and my blood heats. Her hard eyes of defiance light a deep, buried need within me. I rise and walk to her slowly.

“Bow to him.” I ignore the sorcerer, striding by him and stalk the length of the hall.

“Fuck you!” She bites out the words through clenched teeth and the movement of her jaw emphasizes the bones sticking out from her skin. She’s so thin. Far too thin. The spell of a whip cast by the man who dragged her in sings in the air as it pierces across her neck and down her shoulder, ripping into her soft flesh.

I snarl in anger and allow my dragon to come forth. Scales impale my skin and flow down my back as my jaw stretches and the heat of fire scorches my throat. I grip the man’s throat and squeeze, digging my sharp talons in as my teeth sharpen and lengthen. I don’t let my dragon fully take over; I merely allow his strength to show.

Fire smolders deep in my belly as I hiss flames through my teeth and scorch the man. He screams a strangled cry in agony. I’m only vaguely aware of the hushed gasps, it all happens so quickly. His flesh burns with a nauseating stench I’d almost forgotten as he struggles in my grasp. I don’t let up on the fire consuming him until he’s still and burned to a crisp. The hall is silent as ashes of his remains scatter. My eyes flash reptilian and I know they must be red as my dragon grants my human body control and the scales, talons, and fangs retreat. The pain is pleasurable. My dragon protests, but I am far stronger than he is. With a hiss and a snort of fire, my human form recovers. The bones crack into place and my head slowly turns to the focus of my ire.

Victor and the other man drop quickly to their knees.

“You will go and gather your army.” Galen’s command from his throne surprises me. “Now.” The man and sorcerer stumble to rise, then leave quickly and silently, whispering their thanks. They should be dead.

I watch them leave before turning my attention back to the woman.

“Does she really mean that much to you?” I hear Cyrus ask Galen, gathering my attention.

“I’ll let him live until I see this Isabella.” I nod knowingly as a fire burns within me. Victor’s days are numbered, but he may be useful in attaining this mate he speaks of.

Ever so slowly, I reach down to the woman who’s seething in pain from the slash on her skin, kneeled over and trembling. Blood drips down her shoulder and I move to wipe it, to offer her comfort. Her hard eyes find mine and she grimaces. “I’ll kill myself before I let you hurt me. I’ll starve myself to death if you keep me caged.” She swallows thickly, pain and stubbornness equally reflected. “I won’t be your slave.” Her throat is dry and her words are strangled, but her fight is commendable.

I smile down on her, loving the spirit she has. “I have no intention of you being a slave.” It takes a moment to steady my breath as the tense air crackles between us. “What name do you go by?”

She stares at me with wide, wild eyes and slight disbelief and presses her lips together. Unwilling to believe me. Defiantly disobeying me. The words behind me are a distraction. Cyrus and Galen tell Adelle to feed the other women and grant them housing in the castle. Deliberately and carefully, I reach down to push the woman’s hair out of her face and that’s when I smell it.

Her heat.

I struggle to remain composed as my blood rushes and my heart beats chaotically. There’s no way my brothers would be able to scent her so far away. I look over her small, damaged body and frantically smell her again. I have to resist the urge to flip her over and bury my nose between her legs.

“I hate you all.” Her words barely hit me as I stare into her heated gaze.

She’s fertile, but she may lose her heat as she stays within my proximity. It’s happened before. A woman seems to heat for us, but it’s not ours to take. It dies quickly and never returns. But this is the strongest I’ve ever scented a woman. There’s a possibility that she’s capable of heating for me. That she’s intended for me. Or one of us. The thought makes me tremble with rage.

Mine! My dragon hisses in my chest.

“Take her to my bedchambers.” I nearly choke on the loud words that escape my lips without my consent.

A shocked tone resonates behind me. “You can’t be serious, Drago.” Galen glares at me with disbelief as another servant enters and attempts to pick up the woman. My potential mate. I hear a scuffle and turn to see the servant stumble, but she doesn’t fall.

She may think she can fight me, but she cannot.

“I’ll do it.” I grit out with irritation to the servant as I turn my back on my brothers. I know if they find out she’s in heat, there will be hell to pay. I grip the small blonde woman forcefully and pin her to my chest as she struggles against me.

“Drago!” Cyrus calls after me as I carry her away from them.

The woman cries out in my arms, wriggling her body. I ignore her attempts as I hear my heart beat louder and louder. The look of disgust on Cyrus’s face makes me aware that he misunderstands my intention. I look over my shoulder at my brothers who stare back with confusion and incredulity.

My dragon hisses. My eyes flash reptilian and flames burn in my chest. My dragon wants her now, but he’ll have to wait. I won’t touch her until she’s ready to carry my dragonlings. Her fists pound against my chest even as I hold her with a single arm. She’s weak and frail.

“What are you doing, Drago?” Galen’s words carry through the room, and I turn at the doors with the woman screaming in my arms.

“I’ll come back and we will prepare for war.” I look down at the woman in my arms and then out to the hall. To my bedchambers. Knowing this is a dangerous game I’m playing. “You can have Isabella, Galen. I won’t fight you.”

My brothers stare at me as though I’ve gone mad, but Galen is pleased by my words. Cyrus looks between us, before asking, “Drago?”

I stare back at him, waiting impatiently. “What?”

“You won’t hurt her. Promise me.” I’m shocked at his words. I know I must look as though I’ve gone mad. The woman is quietly sobbing in my arms as it dawns on her that the fight is useless. I look down at her and then back at my brothers, feeling selfish and undeserving.

“Never.” I breathe the word and quickly turn to leave the room. I won’t hurt her. I kiss her hair and stride quickly toward my bedchambers. I won’t hurt her, but I won’t let her go.