Scion's Dragon [House of Dracul 3] (Siren Publishing Classic) Read online

  House of Dracul 3

  Scion’s Dragon

  The vampire rebellion is over. Princess Cassandra Yvette Dracul, Scion of High Prince Vlad Dracul IV, aka Cassy Daniels, and David Ashe tried to put Avalon behind them. However, new threats stalk the couple. Vampire politics and werewolves are hard at work, hoping to bring down the royal family.

  Cassy’s problems don’t end there! Her pregnancy woke her inner dragon. Slaking her bloodlust just became nearly impossible. The answer? Dragon’s blood! When the shipment arrives, someone has tainted it, giving her inner dragon more control. Cassy learns the real meaning of being a Dracul.

  With a hostile takeover by another house underway, David finds the magical bond that ties him to Cassy is taking on new powers. Can he use them to save her? Will he be able to help his wife before she destroys everything? Can Cassy hold the dragon in check? With this many obstacles thrown at them all at once, is a greater force driving it? They just wanted a quiet life together, but can that ever happen?

  Genre: Contemporary, Paranormal, Vampires/Werewolves

  Length: 53,038 words

  SCION’S DRAGON

  House of Dracul 3

  J. Annas Walker

  EROTIC ROMANCE

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

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  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  IMPRINT: Erotic Romance

  SCION’S DRAGON

  Copyright © 2013 by J. Annas Walker

  E-book ISBN: 978-1-62740-917-9

  First E-book Publication: December 2013

  Cover design by Harris Channing

  All art and logo copyright © 2013 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  PUBLISHER

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  Letter to Readers

  Dear Readers,

  If you have purchased this copy of Scion’s Dragon by J. Annas Walker from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.

  Regarding E-book Piracy

  This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or group has resale rights, auction rights, membership rights, sharing rights, or any kind of rights to sell or to give away a copy of this book.

  The author and the publisher work very hard to bring our paying readers high-quality reading entertainment.

  This is J. Annas Walker’s livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect Ms. Walker’s right to earn a living from her work.

  Amanda Hilton, Publisher

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  www.BookStrand.com

  DEDICATION

  Several members of my family deserve a big thank-you. You guys have been my faithful cheering section. I can’t do what I do without you in my corner. My husband, sisters, my cousin Suzie, and Aunt Rita make up the best pom-pom squad ever!

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  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

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  SCION’S DRAGON

  House of Dracul 3

  J. ANNAS WALKER

  Copyright © 2013

  Prologue

  A static-filled voice crackled across the radio. “Sire! We’ve located Prince David alive!”

  “Have you found my daughter?” A thinly veiled threat threaded through the question.

  “Not yet, sire. We’re still looking for Her Highness. The prince doesn’t have a mark on him. The rest of the plane and the crew are destroyed. There’s nothing left but rubble and ashes. It’s almost as if he stumbled into the wreckage and passed out unharmed after the fact,” the voice said amid the sounds of white noise and sirens.

  “Keep looking for her. I am en route now and should arrive in fifteen minutes,” the High Prince of the House of Dracul said, throwing the radio across the seat and stomping the gas pedal to the floor.

  He thought of the loss his house would suffer if Cassandra, his Scion and second in line to the throne, died. Only a month ago, he put down a rebellion started by his son, Crown Prince Maximilian, and his mistress, forcing him to banish Max to the Unseelie Fae court for one hundred years of Fae time. Without Cassandra and her unborn child, an infant held the next claim to the throne. Nothing short of turmoil and downfall lay along that path.

  Vlad cursed loudly in Romanian and beat the steering wheel hard enough to crack it, stopping short of breaking it completely. How the hell could this have happened? He sent his personal plane to pick up Cassandra and her husband, David. The pilot had flown planes since their inception, some 143 years ago.

  The economic collapse thirty-three years earlier, called The Fall, wrecked the infrastructure, but in the last decade most airports ran at near pre-Fall standards. The Asheville airport could not accept large planes yet, which is why Vlad sent his personal commuter-sized plane.

  Now, the remains of his plane lay scattered across the Blue Ridge Mountains outside West Jefferson, North Carolina. His son-in-law, David, lay unconscious but alive. A magical bond tied David’s and Cassandra’s lives together. If one died, they would both perish. If he survived, then so did she, and somewhere in the darkest black of night, his daughter remained lost and possibly injured.

  Just to get this close, his backup plane made a forced landing in Roanoke, Virginia when the Asheville airport suffered a blackout. While common during the rebuilding, the likelihood of this being a coincidence seemed small. A helicopter dropped him off in Galax, Virginia. He compelled the Porsche’s owner to hand over the keys and sped toward the acciden
t scene.

  For the first time in over five hundred years, High Prince Vlad Tepelus IV of the House of Dracul, the bloodthirsty scourge of his enemies, prayed.

  Chapter 1

  The smell of wood burning blended with the choking sensation of liquid fire filling her throat. She gasped for air that refused to come. Was she drowning? Flailing her arms and legs, she kicked for the surface, but found only blankets. Squeezing her eyes tightly, she tried to make sense of her surroundings. A flutter low in her abdomen tickled.

  A pain spiked through her head. For a brief second, a memory of buildings burning all around her while screaming horses thundered past rolled through her. The sounds of her mother yelling for her and Erica to run were almost drowned out by the sound of marching boots storming up the dark roadway behind them. Atlanta was burning.

  Crisp and cold, a ragged breath finally filled her lungs as the fire subsided. The memory faded with it. Only the sounds of a man chuckling from somewhere else in the room remained.

  “Well, missy. That certainly got your attention. Works every time,” an older gentleman said, corking a bottle of crystal-clear liquid. “Now, how about you tell me your name.”

  She thought for a moment. She had a name. Everyone possessed a name, a moniker, a word used to identify them and separate them from the others around them. Nothing came to her. A blank space held that spot in her mind.

  “I don’t know,” she said tentatively.

  “What do you remember last?” He sat down in a rocking chair beside a low-burning fire. The warmth stayed close to the source, leaving the rest of the room chilled and dimly lit. The flickering light made his gray hair and long beard glow yellowish-orange. His faded overalls covered a rounded belly and barrel chest. The simple short-sleeve, cotton, button-up, plaid shirt held a round tin of some sort in the breast pocket. His work boots made the floorboards creak a bit as he worked the rocker.

  She placed one hand on her forehead and sat up. Swinging her feet over the edge, she realized what she sat on was a bed. Her clothes were still on, but one shoe was missing. She wiggled her free toes inside a strange netting of thin, flesh-colored material. It seemed silly to only wear one shoe. So, she allowed the unmated thing to fall to the floor.

  A wave of nausea hit her. She clapped a hand over her mouth. Nothing happened. She thankfully removed her hand and hoped a repeat performance was not likely. She thought of how embarrassing that would be.

  The house consisted of one large, open room. The bed sat against the wall farthest from the fireplace. A kitchen table with two, rough-cut chairs sat opposite the front door. By the back door sat a small kitchen sink with a well pump mounted to the counter. The place was simple and spartan.

  “I’m not sure I remember anything,” she admitted when nothing but more blank space presented itself. “Where am I? And who, good sir, are you?”

  “You’re in my house, and I am Parson Jacob McAbee. I found you in the middle of the road and brought you here,” he replied.

  Looking down at her lap, she noticed her pants. Panic raced through her. Her legs were showing! A wave of embarrassment trailed along behind the anxiety. She glanced around for her skirt. Not finding one, she pulled the blanket across her lap.

  “I’m sorry, sir, for my undress. It’s unseemly for you to see me in such a state. Do you know where my skirt might be?” She did her best to sound polite. At least she could remember her manners, if nothing else.

  “You didn’t come with one. Your pants suit covers your modesty well enough, unlike so many youngsters these days. Being dirty is no crime. Well, not yet, least ways,” he said with another chuckle.

  “Do you mean my wearing pants isn’t offensive?” Cassy asked, feeling confused. Even her corset was missing. When did it become acceptable for a proper lady to dress like a man?

  “Not in the last hundred plus years,” he said, shaking his head and laughing to himself.

  A hundred plus years? How long had she been asleep? From deep in her core, a fluttering caught her attention. It passed almost as fast as it came. Another feeling took the place of confusion. This one pressed on her like a weight. She felt compelled to hide.

  “You can stay until the sun comes up in the next hour or so. Then, we can go to town and see about getting you some help. I know the sheriff very well. I preached his wedding and baptized both of his children. Married his parents too, but that was back before I retired. We do, however, need to get you home. Your family is bound to miss you,” he said with a kind smile. The constant creaking of the floorboards became a soothing rhythm.

  Without understanding why, she knew that was not possible. She needed to protect herself. The sun posed a grave threat. The exact reason escaped her, as did the consequences of allowing herself to be exposed to the sun’s rays.

  “I need to hide! Please, Parson McAbee, is there a basement or root cellar I can use for the day?” She placed a hand over her stomach. It felt like more of a habit than a need.

  “Why on earth would you…” His voice trailed away. He stopped rocking his chair and gripped the armrests hard enough to cause his knuckles to whiten. Comprehension replaced the confused expression. “Good Lord in heaven. I never put two and two together. The pale, cold skin and the eyes. The super soft hair. The outdated speech. You’re a vampire!” His words rang with truth.

  Relief flooded her system. She reached up to feel her teeth. The sharp canines pricked her fingers but were no longer than the surrounding teeth. It explained why he had not picked up on her identity sooner.

  “Young lady, and I use the term young loosely, I can’t have you in my home. My personal beliefs won’t allow it. You may or may not be a servant of the Devil, but at one time, you were a child of God. I can offer you my shed for the day, but after that, you must leave,” Parson McAbee said firmly. He rose out of the rocker and made his way to the back door. “Well, come on, missy. You don’t want to get fried up like bacon, do you?”

  She stood and took a couple of steps. A light dizziness caused her to clutch at the closest chair. Her stomach ached and mouth felt dry. The sound of his heart pounded in her ears. A mild revulsion prevented her from jumping the man. She tried to push out the thoughts of draining him dry.

  How rude and uncivilized, she thought.

  Following Jacob McAbee out into the cold night, she noticed she could see in the dark almost as well as she could inside by the firelight. The sharp air smelled of damp woods and freshly turned earth. The nearby thicket rustled as small creatures fled. She could see the stars through the bare branches of the tall trees.

  “Here you go,” he said, holding open a small, wooden door. “There is a canvas tarp in there. You can wrap up to help keep off the sun. Knowing you aren’t affected by the cold, I don’t think you’ll need anything else.”

  “A kindness should always be acknowledged. Even when it is given out of anything other than the goodness of a person’s heart,” a woman’s voice echoed in her memories.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, trying not to cry. Anything else she wanted to say stuck in her throat.

  “Oh, don’t turn on the waterworks. Here,” he said, offering her a handkerchief from his back pocket. He turned and walked back to the house.

  She entered the dusty toolshed and found the inside larger than it looked from the outside. Several hay bales stacked in the corner seemed like the only comfortable option for a bed. Hanging beside them was the heavy canvas tarp. Making the most of her accommodations, she settled down for the day.

  Part of her felt missing, like she had lost a puzzle piece. Being alone seemed wrong, as if someone belonged by her side. A terrible urge to run headlong into the darkness required concentration to resist. Maybe it was instinct. Maybe it was a sign some part of her subconscious memory knew how to get home, at least. Either way, the approaching sun meant her quest had to wait.

  * * * *

  David woke in a dark room. He wore only a pair of fleece pajama bottoms. The unfamiliar surroundin
gs made him uneasy. Reaching over to check for Cassy, he patted nothing more than covers and pillows beside him.

  Frantically, he jumped out of bed and jerked open the nearest door. A gleaming white bathroom stood empty. He hurried to the next door to find a small closet. The door after that opened to a living room.

  A maid wearing a traditional black uniform and white apron smiled at him. Her fangs gleamed. “Good! You’re up! Wait just a moment, please. His Highness will want to speak with you immediately,” she said.

  “Where’s Cassy?” David demanded. A tickling, tugging sensation just behind his navel seemed to want him to follow the direction of the pull.

  “His Highness will explain,” the maid said brightly and hurried to a door on the other side of the room.

  With a light, quick rap, she knocked several times. “Sire, your son-in-law is awake,” she said in a normal voice. She moved back several steps as the door opened. With a quick curtsy, she dismissed herself and left the room.

  “Thank the stars above. You’re safe. Now, can you tell me vhat happened? I need to know so that ve may narrow our search for Cassandra,” Vlad told David. He motioned to the sofa and took the chair beside it.

  “We took off and everything was fine. A few minutes later, a hard shudder shook the entire plane. There was a creaking noise from the tail. Cassy grabbed me in a hug and started crying. We heard the captain yelling at the flight crew that he couldn’t hold it steady. A loud popping noise came from one of the engines.