PRE-ORDER NOW! Raze My Blood: Dragons of Blood and Bone #6 is coming Jan 2nd!

Guess what, fam? A new book in the Dragons of Blood and Bone series is coming soon!!

I’m truly thrilled to announce that pre-order is AVAILABLE NOW for Raze My Blood: Dragons of Blood and Bone #6 on Amazon and Kindle Unlimited.

The official release date is Friday, Jan 2, 2026.

I’m so grateful to all of you for supporting this latest series featuring Rikyava from the Royal Dragon Shifters of Morocco series. Keep reading for an exclusive sneak peek at chapter one of this upcoming release, and be sure to pre-order below!

Enjoy… and get ready for more sexy Viking dragon HEAT!

XO Ava

WARNING - SPOILERS AHEAD!

If you still need to begin book one of this series, GET IT HERE.

CHAPTER 1 – BATTLE

Battle is in a Blood Dragon’s soul; rage and wrath are the blood and bones that make us. We fight and fuck; we roar all through the endless Void as we glorify in what we were made for. And we don’t stop until it’s over, as I shift up fast now, racing through the starry midnight after my sister, Lithava Andersen.

To end her in the skies. 

Snow glimmers beneath the crystal stars and setting moon as I crash hard with Lithava in the hidden city up in Magnussen lands. My drakes take on hers as we battle within the ring of False Black Dragon Knights surrounding us in the ancient vale; I don’t even know how long we’ve fought, as we hurl massive dives of magic at each other, surging in on fast wings to take each other out. 

Snarling and vicious, Lithava and I are both terrible in our power as the battle rages above the blasted-out cavern of the ancient citadel. Both Bloodwalkers, equal in our might, our four Bloodbonded drakes solidify our power—just like our ancestors Hedda and Aesa Anderlen, of old. 

We fight like they did now, sister against sister, as tremendous swathes of auric fire and darkness heave from us in masterful maneuvers through the battle. Dawn is near, as I roar, full of rage and wrath both as my drakes and I hammer my sister and her mates all through the brightening sky. 

Vicious with insane intent, my sister and her drakes hammer us right back, as terrible crimson and oilslick-dark sigils scrawl all through their flesh. They’re cursed by the magic they’ve accepted from our Ancestor Hedda Anderlen and her drakes; but even though my drakes and I shine like falling stars now, ancient sigils blazing through our flesh, too, thanks to the far brighter power surging through us from the cavern below, it’s a terrible magic that devours us.

Because as a sun-hot power fills me up now, shining brighter than a hundred supernovas as I fight, I understand something about this battle is beyond furious. A godlike power, we shine with it, we blaze with it; it’s terrible in its seething rage and furious glory as my drakes and I rip through the skies, fighting in a way we’ve never done before.

That insane brightness pounds like a million stars all through our bones and veins; even as it floods me, gloriously righteous, something about it devours me, as I feel myself and my drakes consumed by it.

Utterly deadly, an ungodly rage fills me now, to not just kill those who’ve betrayed us, but banish them from this world, forever. Because even though Lithava has screwed the pooch too many times, not just leading a coup against our uncle the Blood Dragon King twenty years ago, but also because I now know she’s the mastermind behind the Black Dragon’s second rise, a terrible feeling devours me. 

Because even though Blood Dragons live for the fight, something about this fight is ripping us apart; even as everything inside me screams that Lithava’s my enemy to the end of the world and back, I know this insane, rageful madness devouring me is not right. 

Because Lithava’s my sister—or she was, once—and part of me knows I should have compassion for her, and how our ancient Ancestor Hedda used Lithava for her own agenda. 

But I can’t stop what’s happening, as that desire to rip all familial bonds and hearts apart devours me and my drakes. I feel how the same madness has taken my sister and her drakes, also; some terrible power, just as dark as ours is bright, devours them as they fight with this same hellish madness coursing through them, as well. 

I feel it roar all through my bones as the oilslick evil that lives beneath the fissure in the cavern’s floor infects my sister and her drakes. It’s just as much as the star-white sigils all around the cavern inundate us; two sides of the same power, they fight each other in this snowy vale.

But though the ancient brightness that fuels us is godlike in its intensity, the dark evil that fuels Lithava and her drakes from the rift isn’t giving up. As it surges anew from our battle raging above, the black leviathan of the Rift sears insane hell-ropes of oilslick-violet sigildry through the air now. 

Blistering with diseased crimson, those sigils careen through my sister and her drakes, devouring them as they fight. I feel how that fell blackness pushes their minds, as they coordinate vicious drives against us. 

Our enemies slash gargantuan volleys of oilslick-black auric fire through the air at us, just as dark as our fire is light. Because their passion is ruin and devastation, countering our righteous salvation, as my drakes and I roar and return their insane ferocit. 

Battling to the death, as the first light of dawn finally crests over the towering high-north mountains. 

But as the sun shines into my eyes from the new dawn, a sending from my Ancestors in their everlasting Void suddenly rips through my mind. It hammers me so hard and fast it smacks me from the skies; I plummet, wings useless as this spontaneous Bloodwalking claims me.

Terrible images barrel through my dragon flesh as voices roar and talons rip. A torpid vision, it’s inside me and all around me as I scream with a harpy’s overtones in my dragon-voice, insane with agony. 

Because what I feel as thousands of memories from my Ancestors claim me suddenly, is battle unending. I feel battle so extensive it rips this world apart, as hundreds of thousands of minds heave into me now, inundating me in a jumbled madness. 

But even as I roar in unending pain, caught in what my Ancestors are sending me, I suddenly understand what they’re trying to tell me about this place. 

As my Ancestors contact me with the rising sun, I feel what’s going on in this broken valley. The realization hits me like a star exploding as I suddenly know that I don’t fight with my own will inside my veins anymore, but that this battle itself has possessed us.

And this place, which creates that terrible possession.

Because something in this place commands us, in an ancient and deadly game. And we are its pawns, as I finally get my wings beneath me again, soaring up hard now from where I plummeted all the way down into the black cavern itself.

White sigils blaze everywhere around the immense cavern now, even as black ooze scorches up through the massive rift in the floor. But as I regain my sanity in the epicenter of all this broken destruction, I understand the terrible pull that comes from both sides of this ancient magic now. 

To clash it out—eternally. 

Because whatever lives inside this broken cavern wants us to fight, I know as I wing up hard now, back into the sky. It wants us to devastate each other forever, raging so terribly bright and Wraithing so utterly dark that we rip our world apart.

Doom devours me as I fly back up hard into the battle against my sister and her drakes. Because I understand now, that whatever power broke this cavern also broke our world, long ago—dividing the Dragons of Blood and Bone against themselves, forever.

Ages before me and Lithava, eons before Aesa and Hedda, something terrible happened here, and it sundered us from each other. It split our Lineage apart, dividing Blood and Bone Magic from the united people we once were.

It sundered us forever from our kin. And something about this place pushes us to re-create that ancient schism, I know as I rush up back into the battle now. 

Not to fight it—but to stop it.

But my drakes and I have been pushed to go supernova with the lighter side of this power, so insanely bright it’s diabolical, even as my sister and her drakes have been pushed into their darkest hell, from which there is no escape.

There is no escape for any of us, as I give a strangled roar and wing up hard past the battle now—so far up into the cloud-streaked skies that I see spots. 

It takes everything I have to break from the battle and not rejoin it. I heave a burst of white auric fire from my wings as I flap them hard now, fighting to shake off whatever horribly divisive magic digs into us from down below. 

My drakes see my sudden retreat; they feel my shocked understanding of what’s really going on here. Though they give strangled roars that I’ve just hamstrung them from decimating our enemies, they wing up hard into the clear skies with me, to escape the furious wrath of the ancients assailing us.

Because this isn’t a fight either side can win, thanks to whatever calamity split this place long ago. It’s the worst failure of our ancient Ancestors, pushing us to recreate their past; and I won’t have it, as my drakes and me spiral into a protective knot now, in the highest stratosphere of the sky. 

Because it’s not just Blood Dragons our battle threatens this time, but the entire world, as it rages and wraths anew. As my drakes and I blaze our auric fire hard now, trying to foist off whatever’s got its talons in us, Lithava and her drakes don’t follow.

Far below, my sister roars a hammering drive at her minions, the False Black Dragon Knights, holding their perimeter. As Lithava sends them up to take us out now, I know they’re not cannon-fodder; each and every dragon in the False Knights are elite fighters, nearly equal in talent to my drakes and myself.

Plus, they badly outnumber us with their five hundred fighters, even though we have our Bloodbond, Laerke Thorsen, and our newest ally Mikka Halsbrand, Head Watcher for the Black Dragon Knights. 

But five hundred to seven are very bad odds, as the False Knights come at us like a battering ram now. They are additionally possessed by Lithava’s magic, through her connection to our ancient Ancestor Hedda; as they seethe towards us with diseased oil-slick curses devouring them, my drakes and I snarl and haul ass back into a tight ring, talons out. 

Even though we explode a massive wave of auric fire at them with our united roar, blasting the first ring so their scales burn a furious white, we’re outnumbered. Worse, as our godlike white sigils suddenly flicker out upon our scales, I understand we’ve rejected our Ancestor’s brightest power, emanating from the cavern below. 

As the next wave of False Knights comes at us, it’s only our own Bloodbond uniting us as we crash into that insane wave of dragon-flesh, giving our all as we rip, rage, and fight.

Because even as my drakes and I combat this horde with our natural brimstone fury, dark wrath, and auric fire, we’re getting caught in spiked Bloodnets, and nicked by incredible drives of Bloodspears. They’re being coordinated by one mind—Lithava’s mind, as her wicked intent courses through all the Knights now.

To take us down. 

Familiar faces are in that horde, dragons I didn’t know were Knights; roaring my dawn-fire at them, I slash bellies with talons and hammer wings with my tail, even though I know these dragons are my kin. 

They’re people I worked with in the Grand Palace Guard; they’re friends I once knew in Jurggadden. As snarling dragon-faces come at me like devils of old, possessed by the black oilslick devouring their flesh, I know this devilry is not theirs.

It’s not even my sister’s, or Hedda’s, as I heave a massive blast of auric wildfire from my wings now, with a frustrated roar. It’s something far older, the product of whatever schism broke this place long ago.

Which has been breaking us ever since.

I can’t escape this battle, as dragons come at me over and over, furious and fast. My drakes and I fight in a tight circle now; my First Drake, Bjorn Magnussen’s gold dragon blazes with crimson markings at my right as we dive to escape a Bloodnet and hammer a gargantuan wave of auric wildfire back. 

My Second Drake, Strom Eriksson, is at my left as we barrel-roll. His crimson and forest green dragon hammers our foes with blazing wildfire, coursing all through with his intense Bone Magic, to swamp their minds and thrust them back.

A wrathful black mamba dragon, my Third Drake Mikkel Thorsen flies at my back left as terrible bright lines of chartreuse and copper fire race through his scales. Coordinated with the bright white and chartreuse dragon of his sister Laerke, Mikkel jettisons acid into the fray, along with auric fire, the twins blistering the False Knights in droves as they make them drop from the skies. 

My Fourth Drake, Baldur Sigurdsson, fights beside Mikkel and Laerke as his sky-blue and dawn-colored drake. A magnificent cobalt tinge devours his beautiful scales as he hammers our opponents with auric drives so powerful, they make cosmic starbursts seethe through the sky. 

Baldur holds with the searing brightness of the Soulstone in his jaws, protecting that precious item which contains Hedda's drakes from our enemies as we fight. But even as we coordinate to push back sections of this horde at once, it’s all we can do as we’re hemmed in, over and over. I hear Lithava roar down below that we’ll soon be goners; but even as she celebrates, a massive battle-roar suddenly shakes the clear dawn skies.

Opposing the forces that fight us.

It’s not just one voice but hundreds of them—as a tremendous force suddenly slams into the dragons that assail us. A second army has come; an army of our allies, as I see the furious gold and blue scales of a massive matriarch drakaina cut through our opponents like a knife. 

She comes straight to us, throwing up a towering blue-gold shield all around us in the dawn; I feel Bjorn celebrate all through his scales as he recognizes the furious, ball-busting drakaina of his great-aunt, Svanhild Magnussen. 

It’s then I understand the True Black Dragon Knights have joined us—plus other allies, as the battle suddenly turns. A strong cadre of Magnussen dragons, behemoths bred for size and strength, crash in with Svanhild; Bjorn gives a massive roar of triumph, as the big gold and black drake of his friend, Captain Olander Mortensen, blasts in at their lead.

Everyone we love has come to aid us, as I celebrate with my own towering roar to see my stepfathers just a wingspan behind, darting in to fight with Svanhild and Olander and their Magnussen forces in a ring around us. 

Never have I been so overjoyed to see my stepfathers, as the furiously serrated drakes who were once Maryse’s mates whirl and slash to defend us now, roaring their own coordinated drives of magic at the False Knights.

With them is a small drakaina I don’t recognize; as Strom suddenly celebrates, however, I feel through his mind that this fierce, beautifully fast spring-green and gold fighter is his little sister, Mathilde Eriksson. 

The elder opal-gold and bright green drakaina beside her is Strom’s grandmother Annika; as the two Eriksson drakainas form a powerful trio with Svanhild Magnussen now, blasting enemy dragons out of the skies on all sides, the Magnussen contingent suddenly unite with six other fierce drakainas of spring-green Eriksson coloring. 

I know those are Strom’s sisters defending us as more green and gold Eriksson dragons barrel in, Strom’s aunties and uncles and cousins. It’s just what we needed, as my entire Bloodbond celebrates in roaring triumph now. 

All our families united against this force assailing us.

As the fierce cadre of dragons beyond the ring finally smashes their way in, blasting back False Knights everywhere now, I see the small, fiercely serrated Eriksson Jarl at their lead. 

Strom’s great-grandfather, Jarl Jorg Eriksson, is a beast in the skies, and not because of his size. It’s because of his sheer speed and masterful drives of magic, as I see him flash through the dawn so fast now, he’s hardly a blur. 

Lithe and terrifying, Jarl Jorg rips into a section of False Knights, then flashes away, hammering into a different section before I can blink. It’s only then I understand he can make portals as he fights, and is flashing through them over and over to heave back the strongest of the False Knights, keeping them from us. 

It’s an incredible talent, masterful, as Jarl Jorg wields it in battle—a living Bone Mage using his incredible talents to counter our foes. And it’s not what Lithava wants, as she roars like a harpy now and surges back up, rejoining the fray. 

Her drakes are with her, as the most terrible oilslick-black and crimson-violet sigils careen out everywhere now—infecting everyone, as diseased sigils explode through all our enemies once more.

As my sister and her drakes heave up into the skies, smashing into Jarl Jorg’s forces, the ancient power that divides us roars back. As if Lithava’s and my proximity triggered it, screaming white sigils suddenly re-emerge upon myself and my drakes.

My drakes’ and my power infects our allies, too, as furious white sigils suddenly write over every inch of their flesh. As the most terrible roar goes up from both sides now, our fury and wrath reignited thanks to the power in this valley dividing us, the battle suddenly becomes unhinged.

We fight with insane ferocity now as we rip, rage, and Wraith against each other; as the horror of a million dead voices consumes me at what’s happening, I’m thrust suddenly into another spontaneous Bloodwalking. 

I see how those too-bright sigils spread in a massive shockwave from my drakes and me, inundating our allies and pushing them to fight. Lithava’s black magic does the same, as darker sigils heave out in a terrible cacophony of oilslick-violet and crimson madness to devour her fighters, as well. 

As my Ancestors roar at me to stop this insanity, I understand we’re engaging in a battle that just won’t quit. We’re about to kill each other off, to the last dragon—there will be no escape from this fight. 

As my skin sears, burning viciously from our doom, I also suddenly realize something flies far up in the stratosphere above us. So high I thought it was a jet, a terrible bone-white eye opens in my mind-sight, pinning me with its ancient, dead regard.

As Lithava goes ballistic, overjoyed her Black Dragon has come.

All content copyright Dragonlight Publishing LLC 2025. All rights reserved. No portion of this content may be reproduced without the author’s written permission.

PRE-ORDER NOW OPEN! Ruin My Kiss: Dragons of Blood and Bone #5 is coming July 18th!

Ooohh, a new book in the Dragons of Blood and Bone series is coming soon!!

I’m super excited to announce that pre-order is AVAILABLE NOW for Ruin My Kiss: Dragons of Blood and Bone #5 on Amazon and Kindle Unlimited.

The official release date is Friday, July 18, 2025.

SO MANY THANKS for supporting this latest series featuring Rikyava from the Royal Dragon Shifters of Morocco series and her mates. Keep reading for an exclusive sneak peek at chapter one of this upcoming release, and be sure to pre-order below!

Enjoy… and get ready for more sexy Viking dragon HEAT!

XO Ava

WARNING - SPOILERS AHEAD!

If you still need to begin book one of this series, GET IT HERE.

CHAPTER ONE – END

Death from exposure is not a Blood Dragon’s preferred way to die—battle is. But this is a battle for our very lives, after we just fought the battle of our lives, as I huddle now in the strange underground city with my drakes. 

A deathly shiver takes me as I sit on the mossy flagstones of the towering, dark hall. Though we’ve found shelter in this ancient Blood Dragon citadel, our waning energy drags on me in the luminous darkness. 

I feel colder than death as my Fourth Drake, Baldur Sigurðsson’s curses haul the very life out of me and my drakes via our Bloodbond. No amount of heating breaths can help anymore, as I fight to remain conscious, waiting for my First Drake, Bjorn Magnussen, to return with something that can save us.

Laying inert upon the stones between myself, my Second Drake, Ström Eriksson, and my Third Drake, Mikkel Thorsen, Baldur is in a deathly trance. Terrible curses still seethe through his blood, bones, and flesh from the black Dragon of All Souls, as Baldur keeps himself in stasis out in the Void. 

He’s drawing strength from our Blood Dragon Ancestors to survive. It’s enough, barely; as we wait for Bjorn and Mikkel’s sister Lærke to find better shelter and food, I set my hand on Baldur’s bare chest, feeling his intermittent heartbeat. 

We’ve all got our hands on him, as Ström, Mikkel, and I help him stay with us. Desperately, we push back those curses, though I don’t know how much longer we’ll be able to. 

Although I banished the Black Dragon’s heart-curse that nearly killed him, the rest of his curses are still creeping back towards that most essential organ, despite how Mikkel and Lærke helped heal them earlier.

I gaze down at Baldur now, laying so still and pale upon the ancient stones. I don’t see his tall, lean physique, nor the luminous white, silver, and blue tattoos that curl over his skin in arcane Blood Dragon runic dialects as I watch him, praying that he’ll live. I only see his struggle for life, as my drakes and I give our everything to help him. 

And barely manage it.

The Black Dragon’s diseased crimson-black curses march up Baldur’s arms and legs into his torso now, trying to re-take his heart. His blond brows furrow, his beautiful face strained as he fights them with all the power he can access out in the Void. 

Though our physical battle against the Usurper is finished, I feel him battle on deep inside, devoured by its taint. Healing the Black Dragon’s curses is taking everything from us also, as Mikkel suddenly swoons and Ström grips his shoulder to help him stay upright. 

Even Ström is shaking with fatigue as his lips turn blue and he puffs exhausted breaths into the chill air. As his vivid green eyes flick to me, I feel his unspoken thought through our bond.

That none of us are going to make it, if Bjorn doesn’t find help—quick.

Mikkel needs to rest, Rikyava. Ström says through our minds now as he regards me intently, holding Mikkel upright. He’s been through hell these past few hours, nearly as much as Baldur. He can’t spend any more energy doing this.

I know. I tell him, as Mikkel shakes his head with a growl and re-focuses on staying conscious, though he’s unable to put his hands back on Baldur. This is all we have, though, Ström. Until Bjorn and Lærke get back.

“They better find food and proper shelter soon,” Ström says aloud now, because sustaining our mental connection is just too hard in our current state. “Or we’re going to freeze to death right here in this strange underground hall. You know we will.”

I do know, as I nod, feeling what we’re up against. As another bone-deep shiver takes me, I feel how the temperature in this underground hall is just about forty degrees. 

Hypothermia is a bitch; a person can die in forty-degree weather, especially if they’re wet. Unfortunately, this strange Blood Dragon-meets-Fey city, lost for countless generations, is as wet as it gets. 

A deadly subterranean paradise some place in the frozen north, fresh water burbles out of small fountains in the walls, to run through the floor in channeled rivers, sustaining the plants.

More like a thousand-year rainforest rather than a chamber, the incredible hall’s vast heights are lost to darkness, as gargantuan columns rise from the stone floor. 

The hall glimmers, as trees as big as the redwoods in California glow in a dense forest around us. As the trees flicker with their own inner light, they seem like silberskrae, though their silver-white bark is unlike any silberskrae tree I’ve ever seen, luminous. 

Their roots and trunks are far larger, too; their gargantuan roots tunnel right through the stones of the floor, their massive trunks growing up to spread their silver-white canopy across the faraway ceiling.

Luminous mosses and phosphorescent vines crawl up every surface of the ancient alabaster and sky-blue stones around us. Shimmering lizards, moths, and beetles flit through the underground space, scurrying up the gargantuan trees. It’s haunting and beautiful, a lost paradise.

Though one that’s going to kill us, if we linger here much longer. 

Because the moss is chill and damp, the humidity like the Pacific Northwest in the human realm—fucking cold. Our breaths puff into the chill air, and there’s nothing we might make shelter out of. 

The trees have lost leaves but no limbs down here; the vines are slick and wet, and stung Ström as he tried to pull some close for shelter. We’ve made do by gathering a pile of dead leaves around us; we can’t even touch that, though, because it’s so damp and rotten. 

We pull close now, shivering as Ström and Mikkel resume Blood Dragon heating breaths to stay warm, which we’ve been doing for the past hour. As my vision fades to black yet again, I shake my head, growling.

I focus on my First Drake—sending to him hard through our bond.

Bjorn?! I say desperately now as I reach out to him. Please tell me you have found something!

I can feel my First Drake through our Bloodbond. Exhausted, he’s having trouble staying on his feet, as he and Lærke check out the ancient underground for a better place to hole up. They’ve been at it too long, though; hours we don’t have, as Mikkel swoons again, and Ström catches him for real this time. 

Laying him down beside Baldur, to rest.

With a growl, Mikkel protests, but he doesn’t get up. His breaths are labored now, all his myriad scars and barely healed lacerations a testament to everything he’s been through in the past day. It makes his tall runner’s physique with his stark red and black tattoos of raiding ships and sea-dragons across his left chest look like a war zone, as fury saddens me to see all that decimation. 

Thanks to his imprisonment and torture by the Jarl of Copenhagen, Mikkel would have died six times over, if Baldur hadn’t poured his energy into my Third Drake to save him. 

Now, Baldur pays the price, as he struggles to find enough energy out in the cosmos to keep himself alive after our insane battle against said Jarl, the Black Dragon, and our enemies who wield it, not to mention Baldur’s cursing. 

Mikkel is little better, having returned the favor and given almost everything he had left to heal Baldur of the Black Dragon’s curses. Now, both drakes might not make it, as Ström lays his hands on Mikkel rather than Baldur, giving him all the energy he can spare. 

I redouble my efforts upon Baldur and feel the slightest twitch of his finger against my leg, letting me know he’s still with us. As an utter desperation fills me, of not wanting to die this way, my chest compresses and my heart pounds in a jilting, irregular rhythm. 

I cough, and Ström puts a hand on me, dredging deep of his incredible Bone Magic to give me whatever he can spare.

“Hold on to your heart, Rikyava. Don’t let it fail just yet…” Ström tells me quietly, as he feeds me power so I can stay upright. “Just hold on to your fierce love, for our people and for us. Because we’re all here with you, drakaina. Right here, right now—in it, right along with you. We always will be.”

I know what Ström means, as he locks his vibrant emerald gaze on mine in the haunting hall. He’s telling me my drakes are with me to the end—and after everything we’ve been through in the past months, I know it, as I remove one hand from Baldur to grip Ström’s hand. 

His lips quirk into a wry, beautiful smile. It’s everything I need from my best friend in this Bloodbond, as I understand his gratefulness to die beside me, if it comes to that.

The gratefulness all my drakes feel, to battle with me to the end.

“I love you. You know that?” I say now as we hold each other’s gazes in the gloom. 

“I know. But don’t say it to me like that. Not just yet…” Leaning in, Ström kisses me, tender and sweet, though our inner dragons are too tired to rise inside us. 

Deep within, I feel the barest growl from my dark Bone Magic drake and my brighter Blood Magic drakaina, as Ström and I kiss. They’re too far gone to form the rise in energy that touching my drakes usually provides my Bloodwalker magic, however. It’s a bad sign, as I part from Ström’s lips with a hard sigh.

His sad squeeze on my hand holds everything our words can’t say right now.

His hands are like ice, though; mine are, too, as I fight to feel my fingers and toes now from the deadly cold overtaking them. They’ve gone numb; I rub my heart with both hands, brisking my chest as I renew my heating breath. Because if I die, Baldur will have no one to help.

And if Ström goes, Mikkel will die, too.

As Baldur’s energy goes so far out into the Void that even I can’t find him now, a dark terror consumes me. Still, Ström and I hold on with the last iota of stubbornness we have, because that’s what Blood Dragons do. 

We’re not just any Blood Dragons, either; we’re our people’s most elite warriors, as I hear Ström’s fierce growl and feel his renewed determination to fight on. It’s everything I love about him, as I nod to him and he nods back.

Both of us, holding out to the bitter end.

Hold on, Rikyava. I’m coming—with help. 

As Bjorn’s voice suddenly breaks into my mind, I hitch a hard sob-laugh, startled. Because it’s exactly what I needed, as I feel my First Drake coming close now, renewed in his vigor, rather than how he was just a few minutes ago. 

I’m not Bloodbonded to Lærke, but I can feel her energy through her twin, Mikkel; even she’s more hale now, as she and Bjorn shine more brightly through my Bloodwalker’s senses. 

They’re almost back already, somewhere just beyond this gargantuan hall. As a feeling of fullness comes to me, I know they’ve found food, and that both have eaten. 

I tune in hard now to Bjorn, feeling how he’s dressed in clothing, rather than the nakedness all dragons are left with after we shift. Better yet, heat surrounds him; relief fills me as I realize he’s got a lit torch to push back the endless chill and dampness of this underground citadel. 

As Bjorn and Lærke enter the hall at a brisk trot, their renewed vigor fills me with hope, knowing they’ve found respite down here that will help us. As I see them coming through the gloom, I finally see Bjorn’s strange, gold-crimson torch, as it blazes into view from behind one of the towering silver-white trees. 

Both carry torches, though Lærke’s burns white-green rather than red-gold, as if their torches are powered by their own dragon energy. As they rush back to us, I see Bjorn also has a massive sack slung over his brawny shoulder like some kind of ridiculously sexy, built Santa Claus. 

Lærke has a similar one; as they jog towards us through the massive trees, I see they’re both dressed in ancient battle-leathers, though Bjorn is dressed in black and Lærke is in beautiful tawny cream. 

Both of their attire are thousands of years out of date, however—fucking antiques that should be falling apart in a museum, not hale and certainly not wearable. 

As Bjorn stumbles to a halt beside us, falling to one knee and spilling open his sack, I see that sack is made of embroidered sky blue silk. It’s just as hale as Bjorn and Lærke’s clothing, though anything down here in this damp gloom should be long rotted away by now.

None of that matters, though, as fresh food spills from Bjorn’s sack, dumped before us on the stones. As Lærke spills her sack also, hers and Bjorn’s torches making copious heat and banishing the hall’s deadly chill, I snatch up a beautiful green apple, munching it down fast. 

I’m barely chewing; I can’t remember swallowing as I seize a sack of dates next, like an animal. Ström is the same, as he grabs a bag of fresh peaches, stuffing them in his mouth so fast he barely has time to spit out the stones and not choke on them. 

As we eat, Lærke hauls her brother upright, forcing him to take a large piece of jerky and wolf it down. Mikkel is stronger when his twin is around; they share energy through a bond I can’t even begin to understand, as his dark fire flares, returning. 

We eat like wild beasts, in silence. Soon, there’s nothing left but crumbs and still, my belly feels ravenous; Blood Dragons can eat a whole cow, even in human form, when we need it.

We do now, though nothing of the kind is available. As the food Bjorn and Lærke brought refills some of my energy now, however, my inner dragons devouring it, a flush of heat comes to me. 

My fingers and toes cease to burn and tingle with frostbite. Deep within, my dual dragons roar at one-hundredth of their regular energy, though it’s something. As Bjorn sets up a ring of torches all around us now, I see them flare to life in all our dragon’s colors, bright like life in the gloom. 

One torch is black, crimson, gold, and white for me; another is a luscious dark emerald and brimstone for Ström. Mikkel’s flares black, copper, and chartreuse; Baldur’s gutters, but at last flares a tiny bit with his beautiful midnight and sky-blue energy, flashing with opal-gold in its depths. 

It’s then that my heart lifts, as real hope cascades through me, at last. Because I finally know we have what we need to survive, as those magical torches light, surging with brightness all around us. 

As they do, a tenfold increase in heat blazes through the space. The endless chill is cast back. It’s precisely what we need to live through this night.

As I finally take a relieved breath, knowing we’re going to make it.

Bjorn cuddles in, slinging an arm around me as we rest in the blessed heat, bellies fed, if not quite full. His free hand he puts to Baldur, taking over for me as he pours his somewhat renewed energy into my Fourth Drake, helping him come back from where he went in his desperation, so far out in the cosmos. 

Bjorn and Baldur share the same Blood Magic; I feel a deep synergy move between their power now, as Bjorn gives Baldur what he needs. 

Baldur’s energy latches onto that resonance between them, roaring up in a seething wildfire to take what Bjorn offers. As Bjorn squeezes me tight, growling with his bear-like stubbornness and weathering Baldur’s fierce pull, my inner dragons respond to his stalwart, righteous rage. 

Heat and fire fill my chest, flooding down into my limbs, as gratefulness fills me for my First Drake. Because not only has Bjorn saved our asses, he also saved us when he ripped open a portal right to this place from the serious shit-storm we were in, in Copenhagen.

Bjorn didn’t know how to do that; he’d never trained in that kind of magic. Somehow, he wrangled Baldur’s dying power, however, knowing exactly how to use it when it counted. 

Then he’d faced off with me, when I was at my worst.

For I had become a towering midnight-black terror of a dragon when we battled against the Black Dragon in Copenhagen. When Bjorn got us out of there, stopping me from wielding the Usurper in my darkest wrath, I’d gone ballistic against him, ready to attack.

I’d been about to rip apart his very soul with my power when he opposed me. But with the pure, blazing stubbornness of his all-gold drake, Bjorn had stood his ground. 

He’d made me come to my senses, and saved us all when I went darker than black, into some terrible place I don’t ever want to look at. Because it had infected all my drakes in that moment, making them the worst version of themselves in our mutual, devastating night. Except him. Except Bjorn’s shining, righteous brightness.

Always up for the fight of his life.

It was Bjorn who saved us, by getting me to stand down in that moment. Because only he could hold up a big fucking mirror in my face and show me just what I had become: a monster, no trace of the honorable, righteous Rikyava left.

We haven’t talked about it, though I know we need to. Right now, we need to survive, though; as my drakes’ and my energy recovers enough that we can rise past our deathly fatigue, I know we’ll get through this terrible shitstorm we’re in.

It won’t be easy, however, as the Black Dragon’s curses still drag at us. Baldur’s not out of the woods yet; I feel Bjorn stew with me, as we understand everything we’re still up against.

And how it could all still fall apart—faster than fast.

“Lærke and I found decent shelter and more food. Help me get everyone up,” Bjorn says, as he heaves to standing. He extends me a hand; I take it, letting him haul me to my feet. 

As Lærke and Ström get Mikkel up between them, Bjorn surprises me by kneeling down and heaving the unconscious Baldur into his arms. Just a day ago in Iceland, Bjorn and Baldur bristled with contention over me. Now, Bjorn is almost tender as he hefts the lean Baldur up, carrying our most critically injured drake. 

Bjorn nods us back the way he came, jutting his chin at the torches. I get them, carrying all six in my hands.

Holding all our guttering brightness, I take point now beside Bjorn.

To find us some place safe, at last.

All content copyright Dragonlight Publishing LLC 2025. All rights reserved. No portion of this content may be reproduced without the author’s written permission.

PRE-ORDER NOW! Scorch My Lips: Dragons of Blood and Bone #4 is coming April 25th!

Hey there!

Who is ready for the next Dragons of Blood and Bone book!?

I’m thrilled to announce that pre-order is AVAILABLE NOW for Scorch My Lips: Dragons of Blood and Bone #4 on Amazon and Kindle Unlimited.

The official release date is Friday, April 25, 2025.

THANK YOU for supporting this latest series featuring Rikyava from the Royal Dragon Shifters of Morocco series and her mates. Keep reading for an exclusive sneak peek at chapter one of this upcoming release, and be sure to pre-order below!

Enjoy… and get ready for more sexy Viking dragon HEAT!

XO Ava

WARNING - SPOILERS AHEAD!

If you still need to begin book one of this series, GET IT HERE.

CHAPTER 1 – FIGHT

Hurricanes have nothing on a Blood Dragon, as I spar with my drakes in the towering lightning-stone amphitheater, mad with intent. I whirl, clash, and roar, insane with the battle-fury of my people, as they hammer my blows away, strike after strike, blast after blast. 

Rage and wrath consume me as I fight inside the gargantuan colosseum here in Chambord, home of the Storm Dragons of France. All around, Storm Dragons watch with eager eyes. My drakes and I are center stage in the massive space, as the uppermost tiers fill with blue, purple, and cloud-grey dragons. Because we’ve sparred the morning away, well into the afternoon. 

And we just aren’t stopping—as fury and darkness consume us.

Gripping the highest boxes with massive restless talons, my cousin, King Rhennic Erdhelm’s dragons, growl at today’s spectacle. Others in human form watch in the grandstands below, come to see the Royal Blood Dragon drakaina lose her shit at what’s been done to her.

Because all my memories of home and clan have been stolen, as I rage now to get them back. It’s only been a week since the Black Dragon Knight’s High Council Excommunicated me from my home and took my memories of Sweden and all the people I love there. 

But a week is enough time for me to be livid, since nothing the Storm Dragon healers have tried these past days has helped me.

Not one bit.

A bitter taste fills my mouth now, and it’s not just the tang of my own blood from a split lip, as a seething truth roars inside me. That truth is matched by a furious hum on my chest from Aesa’s silver Truthstone embedded in my bones and skin, knowing that my time here has been futile.

I’ve been through tests; I’ve given blood. I’ve endured countless bouts of lightning-storm magic from the Storm Dragon healers coursing through my body to figure out what’s wrong with me. 

Just about everyone can see my dragon-aura’s full of holes, where my human memories and my dragon’s instincts concerning my home should be. What no one can figure out is how it was done.

Or how to reverse it.

Fuck my life.

Still, the bastards on the Black Dragon Knight’s High Council don’t know what’s coming for them, as I fight in the amphitheater now, livid. My drakes, Bjorn Magnussen and Ström Eriksson, weather it, because that’s what they do. They support me as my First and Second Bloodmates, even when supporting me means fighting me all morning so I can go ballistic in a safe, controlled space. 

We’ve paced ourselves. None of us have shifted into our dragons today in this ginormous amphitheater of alabaster lightning-stone columns and tiers like the Colosseum of Rome, which flicker with opal-blue Storm Dragon magic. 

I’ve needed to go at it for hours to diffuse my rage, however; I woke up before dawn with both my inner Blood Magic drakaina and my dark Bone Magic drake seething for war, needing to fulfill it. My dual dragons want retribution on the Knight’s High Council, and so do I.

And I know who’s pushing my need for revenge, as a dark presence now enters the space.

I know my Third Bloodmate, Mikkel Thorsen, has come into the towering lightning-stone hall the moment he arrives. He’s barely set foot upon the blue-white stones of the foyer when I turn towards him with a snarl, hammering a massive volley of devastating Bloodspears at Bjorn and Ström, sending them right to their asses on the white sand floor.

I’m just that strong now with my Third Drake’s incredible torrent of energy rushing through me, thanks to our recent bond. Mikkel’s indomitable power surges through my veins like a hurricane, as I see him settle into one of the most ornate, throne-like stone seats at the lowest edge of the fight ring. 

Those boxes are reserved for Storm Dragon royalty, but Mikkel doesn’t care. With power like his, he should be royalty. Not to mention that he’s also the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome, with a runner-lean frame, strong shoulders, and an almost wasp-lean waist. 

Fucking hot, he’s a body I want, hard; not just that, but the rest of him is beyond sexy, as well. 

His short black hair with its dark auburn hi-lights is always stylish; as he runs a hand through that hair now, I can almost feel it, knowing that soft wave is all natural and not products. 

His face is almost more beautiful than a mere mortal; Mikkel has a high-cheeked, full-lipped face like an Archangel, making me wonder if there isn’t just a little Archangelic blood far back down his family line somewhere. 

Though he looks like an angel or a demigod, however, his power is beyond devilish, full of poison and darkness. As he stares at me with his darker-than-black gaze now, I feel my inner Bone Magic rush to him in a torrent. 

Two of a kind.

Our beasts coil around each other in a towering auric Bloodknot as they greet one another. It’s massive, poisonous, and powerful, as our darkest natures connect, happy to see each other again. 

Seething auric ropes of oilslick black magic flow between our dragons, uniting them in our bond. Our dragons get along just fine; the jury’s still out on me and Mikkel, however, as he stares me down in the fighting hall. 

We are life-mated now after the events of the past week in Copenhagen, but I’m still not sure where I stand with him, or him with me. 

And neither are my drakes; Mikkel’s presence in the gargantuan rotunda stops our fight as both Bjorn and Ström turn. I hold up a hand to my First and Second Drake, though I needn’t have. They’ve already halted our battle as they felt my energy change when Mikkel entered the hall.

From roaring and rageful—to utterly black with wrath.

Because I’m not entirely sure who I am when my inner Bone Magic takes over; and I don’t like it, as Mikkel rises now from this chair, watching me with penetrating dark eyes. 

Mikkel’s black eyes spark with a ring of vicious chartreuse green now—the eyes of his dragon—as he feels me dive into my darkest place, a place we both share. Dressed in a black collared shirt and pinstriped slacks with a shiny black belt, he is casual as he kicks off his snakeskin boots and steps down to the main floor.  

Then steps to the sand—spiking cold, black fire deep into my heart.

“Your drakes are tired, drakaina.” Mikkel stares me down, deadly teasing as he addresses me like he’s a pirate about to make me walk the plank, a roguish smile on his lips.

A pirate I just want to fuck, and fuck, and fuck.

“They’re fine,” I say as he approaches, hands out at his sides to show me he’s unarmed and not threatening me with any magic. 

He’s walking towards me, implacable like a hurricane, however; all around, the Storm Dragons have picked up on our mood. The sky above Chambord’s amphitheater is bruised with purple storm clouds now, though it had been a lovely sunny day. Lighting flickers above; the Storm Dragons can’t hold back their eagerness.

As tension roars through me and my drakes, now that Mikkel’s joined us.

“Fuck! Don’t sneak up on a Blood Dragon when our hackles are up, Mik,” Ström laughs, jovial as he shakes his head. 

Standing beside me, my Second Drake is always in a good mood, except when he’s not. Even in his current exhaustion from occupying my desire for revenge with Bjorn these past eight hours, Ström still has an upbeat nature. 

I can hear fatigue in his voice, however, as he runs a hand through his short, sandy-blond hair, rucking it up into a sweaty mess, then down his short-trimmed, tawny stubble. 

Dressed in borrowed Storm Dragon Guard gear, he wears a white singlet over his lean, mean muscles. Ström’s nearly my same height and looks all of two hundreds pounds soaking wet, but he’s got strength in that tight, honed body. Perfectly proportioned, with what I know is a truly massive cock hiding beneath his pants, Ström is not a drake anyone would want to tussle with. 

Though his emerald green eyes twinkle, his chisel-cheeked, handsome face always puckish with a teasing smile, Ström’s got power. It’s wildcard power—even more than Bjorn’s now, with Mikkel pushing his magic. He sets his hands on his hips, chuckling and grinning at Mikkel’s arrival.

Though his vibrant emerald gaze is watchful.

“Fuck off, Mikkel. We’re busy.” My First Drake, Bjorn, growls now as his vivid gold eyes flash hot at my Third Drake’s arrival, and not in a nice way. His long golden hair pulled up atop his head in a sweaty man bun, Bjorn grunts as he rips the elastic from his wild mess of hair and scratches through it with his fingertips. 

As his massive mane falls free, Bjorn’s golden eyes blaze. Shirtless and wearing only lightweight storm-grey tactical pants for our duel, barefoot in the sand, Bjorn is simply the most stunning piece of man-meat I’ve ever met. 

Built like a Viking god, he has muscles on top of muscles, rippling now as he airs out his hair. His waist is strong but fit, his pecs and arms could crush a Mack truck, and his rock-solid shelf ass and thighs would make anyone swoon—dragon or not.

But it’s his face that has always captured me. As Bjorn snarls at the situation now with the pure gold eyes of his dragon burning out from that strong, almost godlike masculine face, his level gold brows scowl. Beyond handsome, devastating when you match that with his stalwart, protective nature, Bjorn is almost never in a good mood, unless we’re fucking.

Which he and I haven’t been able to do at all these past seven days.

“Mikkel. Did you need something?” I say now, planting my hands on my hips and watching him. I’m statuesque today in my dark grey tactical leggings, a white tank top with a sports bra beneath, and all my long, Swedish-blonde hair done half-back in braids and pulled into a ponytail so I can fight.

Built like a Scandinavian brick house, I’m no slouch when it comes to muscles; I’ve been a career warrior all my life. I see Mikkel’s dark eyes glide up and down my body now as I sweat, flushed from kicking ass for eight hours straight. He’s appreciative—beyond appreciative—as he takes me in.

The subtlest dark and sexy smile on his face.

“I just came because I sensed you three needed a bit more firepower to keep going,” Mikkel says, as he stares at me with his dark gaze and cat-got-the-cream smile. “Or am I wrong that your drakes are wrung out from everything you’ve put them through since sunrise?”

I’m about to protest that we don’t need Mikkel’s added energy boost to keep going when Ström speaks up.

“I hate to say it… but Mikkel’s right, Rikyava. Bjorn and I are done. For now, at least.” Ström gives a wry laugh beside me. 

I haul my eyes away from Mikkel, who has stopped fifteen paces shy of us. It gives me a moment to assess my drakes with a clear head. 

Ström’s showing signs of fatigue, though he’s doing better than Bjorn, after our entire morning of fighting. Like Mikkel, Ström’s a Bone Mage; since Mikkel joined our Bloodbond, Ström’s power has gotten exponentially stronger, too, not just mine. 

All of it is outweighing Bjorn, however. As my biggest, most badass drake growls now that Ström spoke for him, I look at Bjorn. Flipping his mass of wavy hair to one side, he rubs a crazy amount of sweat from his short golden beard. Sweat is everywhere, even soaked through his pants, as I watch the fabric cling to all his burly muscles and his frankly massive cock beneath.

But that cock is far from hard, as Bjorn heaves deep breaths. As his snarling golden gaze meets mine, I can feel how tired he is.

Fatigue beyond anything I’ve ever felt in a dragon.

“Bjorn. Sit down before you fall down.” Mikkel chuckles as he feels what all of us do—that my First Drake is beyond tired.

In fact, Bjorn is exhausted to the max; I know it’s because he’s weathered a severe metaphysical shitstorm lately, which Mikkel’s Bone Magic has caused between us. 

As my Mikkel-enhanced Bone Magic went rogue this week, desiring retribution from the Black Dragon Knight’s High Council, Bjorn’s been fighting to balance it all. His power’s been working overtime, Bjorn often waking from a dead sleep just to pour whatever he can through me to stabilize my wrath. 

My most stubborn drake will never admit it, but he’s outnumbered and outgunned in our Bloodbond now. He’s the only pure Blood Sage in our bond; the only person balancing our blackest magic, as he trembles now on the sand. It’s a situation that would be beyond almost anyone else’s capabilities.

But they’re not Bjorn—and he doesn’t show fatigue lightly, nor concede defeat. 

It’s wearing on him, however, as he struggles now to hold our bond steady against all this dark Bone Magic with my Third Drake so close. Bjorn’s knees buckle; a fast movement from Ström is just enough to prevent him from hitting the sand as Ström shores him up beneath one arm. 

As my most furious, most hard-headed drake stares at me, the fire leaves his eyes. He’s toast; bitterness fills Bjorn’s features as I approach.

I cuddle close with my arms around him, kissing his chest.

“Bjorn. You should go rest.” I snuggle in to my burly First Drake, despite his sweat. Inhaling deep of his scent, I let his good smell of pipe tobacco, peat whiskey, and battlefield char envelop me as his powerful arm wraps around me possessively.

Though I note how he hasn’t made Ström stop helping him.

“I’m not leaving. Not while he’s around.” Bjorn juts his chin at Mikkel before kissing the top of my head. He’s just that tall, though I’m not short.

“He’s her mate now, too, Bjorn. Or didn’t you hear?” Ström acts casual, though even I can hear his own biting bitterness that I now have a third mate in our group. Ström stands like an iron rod at Bjorn’s side, however, holding the bigger drake up with ease from the extra power Mikkel gives our Bone Magic. It’s firepower we’ll need if we’re ever going to go up against the Knights Council, or our true enemy.

The Dragon of All Souls—what we call the Black Dragon. 

“I’m still not leaving you alone with him.” Bjorn snorts as he looks down at me. His arm still around me, Bjorn is possessive in Mikkel’s presence, in a way he’s not around Ström anymore. 

“I’m a big drakaina; I’ll be fine.” I lift up, kissing his lips. Though everything else on him is ultra hard muscle, Bjorn has the softest lips. They whisper like silk over mine before he presses me in a hard kiss that leaves me breathless.

A sudden need to jump him floods me, deep into my veins. He sets his forehead to mine, growling down at me in frustration. 

He and I both feel how much his dragon wants to rise to mine, to get on down to pound town, but it can’t. Bjorn’s done—good and done from everything our magic has put him through in the past week. 

Fighting my wrath all morning hasn’t helped; though his ardor struggles, wanting to match mine, it can’t. I don’t even feel a single nudge from his cock, though I’m pressed hard to him. 

Just like it’s been this entire week.

In the end, Bjorn sighs, then kisses my forehead. I feel him give in as he turns his head, setting his cheek to the top of my head and curtaining me in all his glorious hair. He wraps both arms around me now, standing on his own, though I can feel how much metaphysical energy Ström is sharing with him to keep him upright.

“I think I just need a quick nap. Then I’ll be back in the game,” Bjorn says as he gives me a squeeze. 

“Go,” I say, knowing that anything else I might say would impugn Bjorn’s manhood.

Nodding, he pulls back. He stares down at me with bereavement in his far more normal, gold-crimson eyes now. Taking his hand, I grip it. I know why Bjorn is bereaved. Once, he was my strongest drake. Now, he’s my weakest.

When we need his rageful power more than ever.

Bjorn goes. Nothing more needs to be said between us, though he tolerates a solid clap on his shoulder from Ström. Bjorn glares at Mikkel with a scalding heat as he passes my Third Drake, though nothing comes from his magic. 

Bjorn stumbles, however, as he gathers up his discarded fighting-singlet from the sand. Ström narrows his eyes on Bjorn, even as I feel Bjorn’s power gutter. He stumbles hard then, slamming to one knee in the sand at the edge of the fight ring.

Ström whips to him in a moment, shoring him back up and getting only the smallest glare from Bjorn.

Go, I tell my Second Drake telepathically through our life-mate bond as he glances at me, lifting his eyebrows. Get Bjorn back in bed; he’s toast. I’ll speak with Mikkel. A little chat between us is overdue, anyhow.

Are you sure? He’s far more genteel than Bjorn, but even Ström worries for me, leaving me alone with my Third Drake. Because although Mikkel and I are bonded for life now, our magic has done disastrous things in each other’s presence ever since we met. 

His ability to keep my ripped-open memories sane is far more than Bjorn’s or Ström’s, with all the metaphysical firepower Mikkel’s packing, but it comes with a price. 

A dark price, as my gaze flicks to Mikkel’s and I stare now, deep into his eyes. 

Still fifteen paces distant, Mikkel’s not looking at Bjorn and Ström as he watches me in the fight ring. Mikkel has eyes like a snake, and I know I’m not wrong when I’ve compared his inner dragon to a deadly black mamba. He doesn’t care about right or wrong, not like Bjorn, Ström, and I do. He’s self-admitted he doesn’t belong in our little band of heroes.

Even though I know he has to be my mate.

I’m sure, I say through my mind now to Ström, encouraging him to go.

Ström doesn’t gainsay me; though I feel his unrest at leaving me alone with Mikkel. We’re not actually alone in this gargantuan amphitheater of vaulted white lightning-stone, however, with all these Storm Dragons everywhere. 

Ström and Bjorn finally go, though Ström gives me one last wary glance, and Bjorn gives me a bereft one. It leaves me alone in the enormous sand-ring of the main floor with Mikkel. 

We face off like two desperados of the wild west now, hands loose but ready at our sides like we’re about to whip out six-shooters and blast each other. I’m not certain we won’t, as we regard one another across that long, open space.

Waiting.

“Fight me or fuck me, drakaina. Your choice.” Mikkel speaks in his almost hauntingly smooth baritone voice. Though he put no effort into it, I hear his words like a barb inside me, spearing me across the gulf that separates us. 

The inner black dragon of my Bone Magic flashes up at that voice, towering over my brighter Blood Magic. My brighter dragon is tired, almost as tired as Bjorn. Settling down, she lets my darker side take over as I feel my blacker-than-night drake stare out at Mikkel with its glittering star-bright eyes.

Black like death in the Void. 

“Fight.” I choose suddenly, knowing that’s what I want. Mikkel and I have already mated now, in one incredible, disastrous life-mating that took us both by surprise, but this is what I want. 

I want to fight him; I want to rip into him and test his strength. I want to make him best me, if he can.

And earn the right to be with me.

“As you wish.” Mikkel is quiet, though I don’t miss the eager smile that quirks his full lips. His eyes are all hard darkness now, even though their outer ring of dragon-copper flares. He knows this has been a long time coming. We’ve crashed into one another, we’ve torn at each other in our crazy frenzy to unite our power and fuck. 

What we haven’t done, however, is prove to each other how strong we both are. He hasn’t proven to me he’s worth being mastered in this bond, and I haven’t proven to him he needs to play by my rules in this life-mating.

Or get the fuck out.

“Ready when you are.” Mikkel’s disastrously energetic mode is online now as he claps his hands, giving me a huge grin with an eager fire in his eyes. But the darkness is never gone, as he reaches up, ripping his nice shirt off over his head. 

He casts it to the sand, bare now from the waist up; yet again, I notice an incredible Danish Blood Dragon tattoo on his lean, powerful muscles and perfectly balanced torso. 

Ornate, the tattoo curls up over his left shoulder like the ocean, decorating his heart with raiding ships and a sea-monster dragon flowing over his shoulder with water, scales, and wind. Done in black and red, it has some sort of warding ability, as I feel an unknown magic emanate from it, just as I’ve felt before.

For the first time, however, I also notice intricate chartreuse-green lines blossoming out all over Mikkel’s lean, hard body. Those vicious lines are in his dragon’s patterns, deadly, as they course through his veins. 

As I see his dragon’s literal poison come out upon his flesh, it raises everything inside me high for a fight. I roar up into my true dragon now, the two sides of my dual energies rushing into my united Bloodwalker power, though I don’t know which of my dragons will be in charge of this battle. 

It’s almost always been my brighter crimson Blood Magic drakaina who’s dominated my power. But as Mikkel roars up into his towering black-as-night drake with its glittering lines of chartreuse green poison running through its scales, I know I’ve shifted up into not my red drakaina, but my own black dragon.

The black dragon of my inner Bone Magic, like Mikkel’s. 

I’m not united in my power now, as I stand before Mikkel as my inner darkness and roar at him in a seething rush. I’m terrible, blacker than night, blacker than death, as I snarl now and rake powerful talons through the white sand at my feet. The wings I raise to the storm-thundering skies are devoid of color, except for a glittering in my scales like ancient stars, as I stare Mikkel down.

And I let myself be taken now by my inner darkness, rather than my united Bloodwalker power, to match his.

For the first time since we met, I finally see Mikkel hesitate. I feel him see me now—truly see me—as he is stunned by my might. 

He’s a powerful Bone Mage, talented and ruthless, but I’m a Bloodwalker. I’m the thing that eats drakes, tearing all their power away to incorporate it into my bond, as I make it do what I need it to. 

I finally see him register that as he sees my blackest nature and hesitates. But then the most disastrous, eager smile takes him as his poisonous black and green face cracks in a wide grin and he shows fang. In one powerful slap of his wings, Mikkel’s in the air.

Opening his maw and roaring a seething blast of chartreuse-green poison.

Right at me.

All content copyright Dragonlight Publishing LLC 2025. All rights reserved. No portion of this content may be reproduced without the author’s written permission.

PRE-ORDER NOW! Rake My Lust: Dragons of Blood and Bone #3 is coming November 22nd!

Hey there!

Who is ready for the next Dragons of Blood and Bone book!?

I’m thrilled to announce that pre-order is AVAILABLE NOW for Rake My Lust: Dragons of Blood and Bone #3 on Amazon and Kindle Unlimited.

The official release date is set for Friday, November 22, 2024.

THANK YOU for supporting this latest series featuring Rikyava from the Royal Dragon Shifters of Morocco series and her mates. Keep reading for an exclusive sneak peek at chapter one of this upcoming release, and be sure to pre-order below!

Enjoy… and get ready for more sexy Viking dragon HEAT!

XO Ava

WARNING—SPOILERS AHEAD!

If you still need to begin book one of this series, GET IT HERE.

CHAPTER 1 – ALLY

Handcuffs can be fun. Don’t get me wrong, I love a good romp around the kink room. But magical handcuffs are never fun—and I’m in a set of those now, as I come to from unconsciousness. 

 I don’t know how long I’ve been out; when I wake, I’m in prison, though a nice one as prisons go. It’s fucking cold, however; the surrounding air is frigid, as I shiver and my breath blows steam into the air. My body heat as a Blood Dragon should take care of the chill, making me feel toasty, even though the air in my cell is only just above freezing.

 But oh, yeah—magical handcuffs restrain all dragon abilities.

 Even the innate kind.

 As I come back to consciousness, I register a few things about my cell. The first is that I’m on a cot, which is nice because I’m not sleeping on the cold, hard stone of wherever I am right now. I gaze around to see my cell is circular, like a tower, but with no windows. 

 I feel as if I am somewhere high up and I can hear a stiff wind howling outside the thick stones of the walls. This place is old wherever it is; the white granite stones have the feel of millennia, and I’m not talking about before they were quarried. 

 With an uneven floor and slightly jilted walls, the smooth-worn stones of my cell have been polished by many dragons over time. The space is big enough to contain a dragon, though I’m in human form. 

 I’m just the latest dragon to be incarcerated here, however, as I note a set of ornate black iron bars that serve as a door. Those bars are scrawled through with caustic red Bloodrunes—to curse the fuck out of me if I even try to get close. 

 I’m comfy beneath my thick wool blanket, though. That, plus my cot, is the royal treatment for a dungeon in Swedish Blood Dragon territory in the Twilight Realm. 

 I don’t know where I am, but I have a feeling I’m in the custody of the same dragon clan I just made severe enemies of right before I passed out. The powerful Magnussen Clan of the Blood Dragons of Sweden.

 Famed for their brutality up here in the far north.

 I just royally pissed them off by decimating a holy dragon-cairn they had a strict taboo against messing with. That, plus I did it with my two mates—Ström Eriksson, Jarl-Heir of the rival neighboring Eriksson Clan, plus the Blood Dragon Kingsguard Captain Bjorn Magnussen. 

 Though Bjorn’s a Magnussen, the previous Jarl-Heir to the clan I’m trapped by, he’s been outcast since his teens. He was outcast by his father, the Jarl of these lands, Oggi Magnussen.

 The dragon who has captured me.

 I don’t see my mates anywhere now. Sitting up slowly on my cot, because I have a blistering headache from magical fatigue, I see I’m dressed in a nice set of linen trousers with a long-sleeved tunic. A white polar bear pelt is atop my wool blanket, which is why I’m so cozy. I seize both the pelt and blanket, wrapping them around me as I sit, leaning back on the stone wall and facing my cell door.

 Waiting.

 I don’t have to wait long. Either the Magnussens have some sort of magical security system to alert guards of my movements, or they’ve got modern micro-cameras in here. Tech and magic intertwine in the Twilight Realm; but someone has stepped up to my cell door now.

 That someone unlocks the dire curse-runes on my door with a wave of their hand and a deep blaze of crimson-green Blood Dragon magic. As iron locks click back from an ornate locking mechanism, the thick iron bars of the door with their detailed scrollwork push back. 

 I see my jailor; a breath of relief passes through me as I recognize the Captain of the Magnussen Border Guard, Olander Mortensen. He enters my cell with his towering bulk, far more than just about any other dragon I’ve ever met, wearing traditional black buckled guardsman leathers. 

 A white polar bear pelt similar to the one on my cot is pinned around his shoulders; mine dwarfs me, even though I’m not a small woman, but his fits him perfectly. 

 A stylized silver insignia of vicious mountains with a dragon curling through them is pinned to his pelt. As he brings me a steaming tray of bread, butter, venison meat pie, and a big bowl of stew, I don’t even ask if it’s poisoned. I tuck in instantly as a ravenous feeling fills me.

 No idea when my last meal was—the dragon inside me, hungry to the max.

 “Slow down, drakaina. Chew a little.” Captain Olander gives a deep basso chuckle as he sits beside me on the cot, watching me eat.

 “How long have I been here?” I ask, dispensing with any introductory questions. I know for certain now that Jarl Oggi Magnussen holds me captive, since this is his same Captain who was sent to collect us from the dragon cairn, now sitting beside me.

 Watching me eat like a ravenous beast. 

 “Three days. You’ve been out this entire time.” Captain Olander chuckles again, though it’s more serious now as his gaze pierces me. He’s got nice eyes, a sort of hazel-meets-spring-green with a ring of gold around them. 

 Built like a Nordic strongman, he’s well kept with a trim blond beard and neat blond braids, and dragons shaved into the sides of his head. Beads of silver adorn those braids, glinting in a light source I only now realize is a flowing, magical white light that lingers around the apex of my cell.

 “You gave a lot of energy to Bjorn when you pushed all your power into him through your bonds before you passed out.” The Captain is serious now as I finally eat slower.

 Less like an animal and more like a person who’s been starving for days.

 “Was he able to do anything with it?” I ask as I watch Captain Olander. I know he was friends with Bjorn in the past, but I don’t know how far that friendship extends, since Bjorn has been outcast from his clan for over a hundred years. 

 For what reason, I have no clue.

 “He was, actually.” The Captain nods, a glimmer of approval in his eyes now as they shine gold with his dragon. “Bjorn was able to heal his wounds with what your power gave him. Not only that, but he could rise and knock his father in the mouth with a fucking doozy of a haymaker, in just his human form. Knocked out one of Jarl Oggi’s dragon-fangs before the Jarl put Bjorn back on the floor. Nearly bit Bjorn’s head off to make him surrender.”

 “Damage?” I breathe, barely able to sense my First Drake right now through our mystical Bloodbonds, though I do feel with relief that he’s alive.

 As is my Second Drake, Ström—somewhere nearby.

 “Minimal.” Olander Mortensen gives me a knowing glance. “Bjorn got a few scrapes around the neck when the Jarl put his entire mouth over his head and bit down, but only to subdue him. Jarl Oggi would never kill his pride and joy, not like that, at least. If he’s going to kill Bjorn, it’ll be public, in a way that’ll let no one forget the sacrifice he made to support the strength of the clan. Not just one child born of his loins, but two.”

 I realize as he speaks that Captain Olander played me back in the dragon-cairn. I had thought Bjorn was in mortal danger from his father, then; but the Captain had known all along he wasn’t. 

 He told me Bjorn’s father would kill him if I resisted capture. I shake my head now as I realize Captain Olander Mortensen is not just a big motherfucker of a dragon. He’s also smart. 

 Something to watch out for—or secure to our aims, if we can.

 “So you warning me to be still so I didn’t make the Jarl kill his son was just a play inside the cairn, wasn’t it?” I ask him as I lift an eyebrow. 

 “I had to get you to cooperate somehow, didn’t I?” Captain Mortensen says with a teasing but frank glint in his eyes now. “Can’t have the Hög Skjaldmær of our entire Blood Dragon Lineage getting killed on my watch because she pissed off my Jarl. Sorry, not sorry.”

 “It was a clever move. Well played.” I concede now, because it really was a good way to stop me from struggling in the moment, and drawing the furious attention of the Magnussen Clan Jarl.

 One of the biggest, scariest Blood Dragons I’ve ever met.

 “Where is Bjorn?” I ask now, feeling him nearby, but not close enough that we can connect our powers.

 “In a different tower. Jailed and manacled, the same as you. Along with the Eriksson Jarl-Heir, though I don’t think that one’s going to stick.” 

 “Why not?” I grill the Captain for any information he’s willing to give me right now. 

 “Let’s just say that Jarl Oggi Magnussen doesn’t want a war with Jarl Jorg Eriksson, not right now.” The Captain chuckles, amused. “The Erikssons are our neighbors to the east and have tricks up their sleeves in battle. But you would know that… having already life-mated to the Jarl-Heir of the Eriksson Clan. Not to mention the drake who should have been Jarl-Heir to ours.”

 “You can feel our life-bonds? Me, Ström, and Bjorn?” My eyebrows lift. It’s not usually possible to feel another dragon’s life-mate bonds, only one’s own. 

 “It… simmers in the air around you. Stretching towards them.” A strange look comes into his eyes. He sniffs the air near me and I see the gold in his eyes roar.

 The fiery gold of his drake.

 Clearly, Captain Olander Mortensen has some of our Blood Dragon extra-sensory gifts in his power. In another clan, he might have become a shaman rather than a warrior. 

 Here in Magnussen lands, every young drake or drakaina becomes a warrior from birth. The Captain’s unique abilities are something I note, however, if we need to use them later.

 “So are you a friend of Bjorn’s?” I challenge him now, finishing my plate and pushing it away, though I’m pretty certain I already know his answer.

 “I serve my Jarl,” he says, though he gives me a clever eyebrow lift. “I am not willing to treat a possible contender for the entire Blood Dragon Kingship badly while in my care, however, Hög Skjaldmær. You’ll get what you need here, within reason. As long as it doesn’t cross my Jarl’s orders… I shall treat you with the deference your royal station requires until the King can be contacted to sort all this out.”

 “I need my cell phone,” I say at once, then, knowing the Captain is going to play ball, albeit carefully. “And some proper warrior’s leathers, preferably from my own things. And I need to see both Bjorn and Ström, to see if they’re alright. Immediately.”

 “Two of those things I can do.” The Captain nods, though a warning look comes into his eyes now. “Your drakes must stay separated from you until the Jarl brings you all before him for questioning. I’m sorry, but those are his direct orders. He doesn’t want the three of you together until—”

 Captain Olander Mortensen cuts off, smiling wryly and shaking his head. He pushes up to standing, gazing down at me. Not one to be left sitting in the presence of drakes, I push up to standing as well, though my body is still so exhausted from everything that happened in the dragon-cairn that I barely make it.

 The Captain doesn’t reach out to steady me as I wobble. Fierce approval shines in his eyes that I need to face off with him, even though I can barely keep my feet. I see a smile tease his lips, and I know I’ve impressed the Magnussen Border Captain. With a low chuckle, he turns to go.

 “I’ll get your cell phone and your things. Be right back.”

 Before he can leave, another thought hits my mind. The entire reason we went into that dragon-cairn in the first place was left behind there.

 A place I can’t get back to now that the Magnussen Jarl is onto us.

 “The contents of the stone altar in the dragon-cairn?” I ask the Captain quickly, needing to know. “What happened to it?”

 “The Jarl confiscated it. All of it.” Captain Mortensen frowns now, though he tells me what happened to the strange arcane items and scrolls that were in that altar, which once belonged to my Bloodwalker ancestor. He turns back, a curious look on his face. “That’s what you went down there to find, wasn’t it? Everything in that altar.”

 “It was.” I nod, not seeing any reason to not tell him. “We need those things, Captain. To stop something truly heinous. A terrible creature I’ve been charged to investigate by the King himself.”

 “You’re on an investigation for the King?” Captain Mortensen’s eyebrows rise now as he blinks. “Why didn’t you say that before? That changes things.”

 “We have a Blood Seal from the King that confirms our passage through any territory we need to enter on our hunt, which is in the pocket of my vest from the cairn,” I say firmly now, knowing that being on an investigation for the King trumps whatever bad beef Bjorn has with his father and vice versa. It even trumps breaking into a forbidden heritage site, though Magnussens are deeply superstitious about their dead and wouldn’t see things that way.

 Still, it’s a card I can play, and a good one.

 But there’s been a rebellion against the King; a number of his Jarls pulled their personnel from his military and Kingsguard six months ago, citing that they didn’t like King Huttr Erdhelm’s foreign policies regarding our historical enemies, the Ice Dragons. 

 The whole thing has been a shitshow for months, leaving the military wanting and the Kingsguard crippled as they trained new people. It’s compromised security across the Lineage, allowing a massive blast to happen on an Ice Dragon-settled island, which started all this bullshit. 

 I know Jarl Oggi Magnussen was not one of the Jarls who pulled his clan’s support from the King, but he’s also one of the most powerful Jarls in the entire Blood Dragon Lineage.

 His warriors unsurpassed—if he ever decided to challenge the King.

 “I’ll bring your things, and you can find your Blood seal,” Captain Mortensen says then, watching me. “Don’t let anyone take it from you. Bring it with you when you have your audience before the Jarl; you must be the one to show it to him, in public, for him to consider it. The Jarl is a dragon who considers the pressure of public opinion in his rule. You’ll need that when you talk to him. The more ammunition you have to hit him with in front of his court, the better.”

 “Thank you,” I say now, grateful for the advice. “And the things from the cairn?” 

 “I can’t bring them to you, but know that they are safe.” The Captain nods as he watches me. “But… why do you need those things, Hög Skjaldmær? They’re nothing but a pile of oddities; historical, yes, but empty of whatever magic they once contained. And the scrolls are downright illegible; they’re all written in some dead language nobody here can decipher. Why are they so important for this investigation of yours?”

 “I don’t know yet.” I scowl now, knowing the Captain speaks the truth as I sigh. “I honestly don’t know what might aid me in killing the Black Dragon of the Usurper from that pile of magical trash. But something in there is valuable to our hunt; the Ancestors told me so.”

 I don’t tell the Captain my uncertainty about exactly who has been speaking to me from our Blood Dragon Ancestors. But my mention of the Ancestors at all has the Captain on very high alert now. Lifting an eyebrow, he peers at me.

 His eyes flaring all gold now with the power of his dragon.

 “The Ancestors themselves have charged you with this hunt? Not just our King?” he asks.

 “They have,” I respond, hearing an echo of all those dead voices screaming in my ears, like when I was down in the dragon-cairn. Kill it! They shriek at me. Because whatever the Black Dragon of the Usurper is, it decimated tens of thousands of Blood Dragons in its time, giving them terrible deaths. 

 And my ancestor created it, with my same Bloodwalker magic in her veins. 

 That knowledge sickens me now, even as it straightens my exhausted spine. I face the Captain down hard, knowing I do my Ancestors’ will as I hunt this evil thing to the ends of the earth and back, besides resolving my own need to see it die. 

 Wherever I need to go to kill it, I will, permission or not, trespassing or not. Captain Olander Mortensen sees that determination in me. He gives a slow nod.

 Then sets his fist to his chest—in a Blood Dragon salute.

 “Hög Skjaldmær, Bloodwalker of the Ancients,” he says now, with reverence, “I will fetch you the things you need. I will do everything in my power to help you in your Ancestor-bidden hunt. Though I cannot cross my Jarl. I hope you know that.”

 “I understand.” I get it that the superstitious nature of the Magnussen Clan makes the Captain deeply reverent of our Ancestors. “But how did you know I was a Bloodwalker? Lots of our shamans can contact the Ancestors.”

 “Yes, but only Bloodwalkers take multiple mates.” Captain Mortensen’s fist is still on his heart. “And a Bloodwalker’s power only calls to the strongest drakes; which is why I feel your magic calling to me. Like many Magnussens of station, I was trained in our Blood Dragon mystical arts. Bjorn and I grew up together and trained together in the Magnussen Border Guard. We also trained with the famed Bloodwalker shamaness Maryse Allbright when we were young. I knew the feel of her power, then. Just as I know the feel of yours now.”

 “Maryse is dead,” I say then, feeling like he should know, as some deep instinct fills me. “She was killed by this demon I’m chasing, the Black Dragon Usurper of the ancients.”

 “I had not heard that.” The Captain’s voice is deadly soft now, as sorrow sweeps his eyes. Tightening his fist, he pounds his heart once, twice, thrice, in a gesture of Blood Dragon mourning.

 “Kill it for me,” he says softly now, so softly it makes me wonder what his relationship with Maryse actually was long ago. “Kill whatever it is you’re chasing, which gave Maryse her demise. I will do… anything in my power to make it happen.”

 As he says it, I see love shine from his eyes now. Captain Olander Mortensen was never chosen as one of Maryse’s mates when he was young—but I see how he wished he was, back when he was training with her. 

 Love lost pummels from him in waves before he puts it away. His gaze is barren now, bleak, as he stares at me. He gives me one last deep nod before turning and walking away.

 And I know we have an ally in Jarl Oggi Magnussen’s court.

 Even if he can’t come out openly to save us.

All content copyright Dragonlight Publishing LLC 2024. All rights reserved. No portion of this content may be reproduced without the author’s written permission.

PRE-ORDER NOW OPEN! Dark Fae's Destiny: Vampire Masters of Italy #5 is coming Friday, September 6th!

Hey Vampire Masters of Italy fans!

I know you’ve been waiting to sink your teeth into the fifth and final book in the newly completed Vampire Masters of Italy series… and the wait is almost over.

Dark Fae’s Destiny: Vampire Masters of Italy #5 is coming to Amazon and Kindle Unlimited on Friday, September 6th!

Who doesn’t love an exclusive pre-release excerpt? Enjoy Chapter 1 of Dark Fae’s Destiny below, but please beware of spoilers if you have not yet read Dark Master’s Redemption.

Enjoy chapter one, and get ready for ALL THE FEELS!

XO Ava

SPOILER ALERT

IF YOU HAVE NOT READ BOOK FOUR, there are spoilers ahead!

Chapter 1 – GoodBYE

Quinn, Lucca, and I stand on the grand black and white promenade in Livorno, ready to say goodbye. The moon shines above us in the Twilight Realm; beneath a sky full of stars, the waves crash upon the rocky shore.

      The singing of countless Sirens fills the night. Because the person we honor this evening was one of them when he died. Returned from his un-death as a Vampire-Siren just a week ago, Arturos Morregain met his true death with a living heart, and blood beating through his veins. His kin welcome him now.

      As we commit his body to the ocean beneath the stars.

      Dressed in draping silk and seaweed fronds, with long strings of pearls over our chic clothing, we wear our finest for him tonight. My Dark Fae Master Quindici DaPonti, my Dark once-Summer Fae Prince Lucca Bellari, and I all hold hands now as we bow our heads for our fallen friend.

      Laid out on a bier of seaweed, pearls, and thousands of seashells stacked intricately to make a low bed, Arturos is dressed similarly for his final send-off. A beautiful crown of seashells and pearls, woven with silver, seaweed, and gold graces his brow.

      A massive pearl shines, luminous between his brows. His dark lashes will never open again, but it’s as if I can see his beautiful darkwater eyes shining with that pearl beneath the stars.

      The Siren music crests; far out in the ocean, I see a deep wave of Night magic with watery tentacles roil. The Vampire-Siren Queen Luliana Ouros waits in the deeps to take Arturos out to sea.

      Coiling through the water in her tremendous Siren-Dragon form, the Queen of the Dark Haven of the Deep is unique in her power. Though she is long dead, she can still become her dragon. Her scales and watery fins glimmer opal and black in the night, the same colors seething through her watery Night power as she waits for our ceremony.

      Quinn, Lucca, and I can’t dive beneath the sea like she can to visit the place she’s picked out for Arturos’ tomb. Thus, we say our goodbyes here on the shore before she takes him to those endless deeps.

      To lay entombed in a pearlescent shell of her magic beneath the sea.

      Forever.

      “We say goodbye to a dear friend tonight,” Quinn begins now, taking up our informal eulogy as the Siren song crests. “He was like a brother to me, really, though we never shared blood of any kind. Infuriating, upright, loyal; Arturos was everything I could have ever wished for in family. He strayed from his loyalty because of a deep loneliness in his heart, then gave his everything to make amends. Now, he shall be with his true family, evermore beneath the sea. Though his found family above the waves will miss him dearly.”

      We listen to the Siren-song surge, far out in the waves that crash upon the rocks. Arturos had been a Vampire, but he died a Siren; his people wait with Luliana now to take him home to have their own ceremony for him.

      As Quinn finishes, he takes one draping string of pearls and seaweed off from his neck, placing it upon Arturos. Clasped in his dead hands, Arturos’ heart is with him. Though torn from his chest in a terrible strike from the Gold Eyes, it has been saved to be entombed with him. Quinn wraps his pearl garland lovingly around that heart now.

      Kissing his fingertips, he places them upon that beautiful organ which has forever ceased to beat.

      “I didn’t know him long.” Lucca takes over our eulogy now as Quinn says goodbye. “But it was clear Arturos was a prince of his kind. Strong, thoughtful, bold, he never shied away from danger, always running towards it to save an ally or a friend. Long have the Morregains been Kings and Queens of the seas; now we return a lost monarch to them, as kingly a man as anyone could ever hope for. I forgive him his faults, and the loneliness that drove him to side with our enemy. Because he showed his true colors in the end. He died a savior, for all of us.”

      As the Siren-song in the waves crests again, full of sadness, boldness, and woe, Lucca repeats Quinn’s gesture with a garland of pearls from his neck. He doesn’t kiss his fingers, but gives Arturos’ shoulder a squeeze like warriors do when welcoming their brethren home.

      As Lucca finishes, I know it’s my turn. I don’t know what to say, even though I’ve rehearsed countless options for this moment in the past few days.

      “I loved Arturos,” I say now, baring my deepest, truth-telling heart as a low hum of the Music of the Spheres chimes inside me, moving all around me in the darkness. “Like Lucca, we didn’t know each other long… but something about him touched my heart right from the first. I could say he was noble, brave, etcetera. But what I really want to say is… I loved him and he loved me. Though we were never meant for each other.”

      Quinn glances over and squeezes my hand, then threads his fingers through mine. Through our Dark Fae bonds to one another, I can feel how much he loved Arturos also, though they were never lovers in truth.

      But Arturos and I could have been lovers; I feel that knowledge move through me now as those ephemeral harmonies of the Music stir me, and my Animante Dark Fae aura curls around me.

      Dark, oilslick rainbows with shimmers of silver and gold light, my power mourns for Arturos as much as I do. My Fae wings unfurl from my spine, cascading across the promenade and the sandy rocks nearby.

      “I want to let him go.” I gaze at his beautiful face, so somber yet still so impossibly handsome, even in death. “I want to set him free. And myself, somehow… though I don’t know how.”

      “Just say goodbye, from your heart.” Quinn’s voice is quiet to not break the sad peace of the moment. “Just say goodbye, Ariana… he will hear it. Wherever he is.”

      As Quinn speaks, I know he is right.

      My deepest truth-reading power sings, knowing this is how the final tale of mortals goes.

      “Goodbye,” I whisper, as waves crash all around me from the ocean and the singing of the Sirens sweeps my ears. My soul is filled with their song and our loss; blinking my lashes, I cry as my heart seizes for Arturos.

      It’s a beautiful moment; tender and sad. As Quinn squeezes my hand again, and Lucca does also on my other side, I know we’re finally ready. We stand back from the lovely bier of shells, pearls, and seaweed, and let Luliana sweep the ocean in. She does it in a slow, gentle tide; as Arturos floats up from the bier, her dark waters roll out, claiming him.

      The Siren-song goes with him. As Arturos’ last wave rolls out, I feel more than see dozens of Sirens shift into their massive water-dragons, then slip beneath the seas to follow Luliana. They’ll have their own ceremony beneath the waves, to honor a man who might have once been their king. But it leaves the shore empty now beneath the full moon.

      As the waves splash and crash naturally now, devoid of any Siren presence.

      We listen for a long while, silent. As if the Siren-song and the simple ceremony have laved our souls, Quinn, Lucca, and I heave a deep breath now, finished saying goodbye.

      We’re about to turn from the shore and head to our car to drive back to the Red Letter Hotel Florence here in the Twilight Realm when a small, white, defiant flower pops up through a crack in the black and white stone causeway.

      Another comes next to it, then another next to that. Suddenly, the entire causeway and the rocks before us blossom with endless flowers and vines in the night.

      I know the touch of Arturos’ Sire the Wanderer, as I see that heady cascade of night-blooming flowers surge in a riot all around us. They have devoured the ornate stone railing of the quay; Quinn, Lucca, and I are brushing flowers off our attire now as we step out from ropes of vines to not be overtaken.

      It’s only then I see the Wanderer, standing beside us beneath the moonlight. Clad only in her night-blooming flowers and vines, she stares up at the sky as her willowy frame hovers above the ground, her feet standing only upon her gossamer flower petals, rather than the earth.

      She shines beneath the moon like a goddess. I know that is nearly what she is, as her long moon-white hair shimmers, moving in a wind of her ancient magic.

      For her power came from a true Ascendant who was her father, and another who was her mother, after they Fell to earth. I don’t know quite what that makes her, but the progeny of celestials carries an unfathomable power that runs through her veins; though for millennia, she’s been masquerading as a Vampire.

      She glances at us; the light of endless stars is in her gaze, along with the moon. She looks back up at it, then out over the water.

      Heaving a sigh.

      “I never meant for him to feel so alone,” the Wanderer says as she watches where Arturos went, the Vampiric progeny of her quasi-celestial Bloodline. “He never wished to be a Vampire; though I would have made him something else, this was what he became when I saved him from certain death all those years ago. Even back then, he was sad in his heart. He never recovered from the pain he had endured in his living youth. Evermore he blamed me… though he was never anything towards me but kind.”

      “He was the son of kings. That comes with its own sadness, along with nobility.” Quinn’s voice is soft as he watches the water, though I can feel a thrill of astonishment move all through him now that the Wanderer has come to us.

      The very person we need to talk to—that we had no clue how to summon.

      “Nobility never interested me.” The Wanderer turns her head, pinning Quinn with her shining dark eyes. “Arturos’ true heart did. Which he of the Golden Orbs has forevermore slain.”

      “The Gold Eyes is your father. The Descendant Staphylogenes.” I watch her. “Why did you not tell us?”

      “The Golden Orbs is many things,” she says, sad but sharp now as her ethereal eyes penetrate mine. “But there is one thing he has not; he has not a heart. And to me, that is the greatest tragedy of all. Because of the ruination that now drives him.”

      “Ruination?” Lucca is gentle, trying not to offend her or make her whisper away. “Does he mean to ruin this world with his plans for us?”

      “I do not know.” It’s a simple answer as she looks at him next. A deep wind stirs from her power as she takes in Lucca, watching him like he’s done something interesting. She glances at Quinn, then at me again—holding our gazes a long moment before speaking once more.

      “My father was not always the way he is now,” she says, finally using the term that connects her to her sire, though the way she says it is as if a vast bitterness lies upon her tongue. “For once he was glorious and golden, the power of the sun to my mother’s luminous rainbows, pouring forth upon the earth. I was the only child of their loins after they Fell to earth and became incarnate. I carried not the sun but the moon in my veins, however; it made my father hate me. To him, I was impure, tainted by the creation of the body I had entered. He sought a way to fix me, to make me glorious like him and golden, with the beautiful daylight rainbows of my mother.”

      We listen to the Wanderer’s tale, enrapt as it comes spilling out. Quinn, Lucca, and I don’t hardly dare breathe for fear she’ll cease speaking and leave in the way she does.

      Wandering away forever and never giving us what we seek.

      A way to end her father, the Descendant Staphylogenes—at last.

      “He tormented me.” She is fierce now as she gazes at us—and I see the side of her power that is brutal and cold, Night in its manifestation, as it boils around us, pushing up flowers in a riot. “He used the Music of the Spheres to batter me day and night, trying to hone and shape me to his desires. For he wished I become as he was, and my mother, and be beautiful in the Light with them. But I would not. My mortal body had already taken its chosen shape upon this earth; I was not a Descended Ascendant like them, but a mortal child, though I was borne of their angelic loins. My chosen form would not change, nor would my powers. And when the Music could not change me, wielded from my father’s new mortal shape, he undertook a desperate measure. He ripped his beating heart from his chest and committed it to the land, to use the entire earth and all the vast beauty it contained to heal me. I was not broken, however, and I did not need to be healed. Thus, in his final, desperate measure to change me, he instead changed himself. He tore himself asunder that day. And he became the black, tormented, heartless creature he is now… though it took many millennia for him to change shape permanently.”

      “Into his smoke-dark Revenant with the gold eyes,” I say as I watch the Wanderer, amazed and horrified by her story.

      “Indeed.” She glances at me, her gaze devouring me, deep. “For the beautiful heart that was given to him as a mortal in his human shape when he Fell was something he did not treasure. He did not know its power; celestials have heart and will, love, mind, and soul all wrapped up together in their endless ways. He lost that all-encompassing, endless Light when he tore his heart from his body and committed it to the land, to use the earth’s power to alter me to his wishes. Only then did my mother see what I saw in him. That he had been altered from his sublime, celestial state the moment he Fell to earth and began to delve so deep into the debauchery of the flesh. Which I have forevermore resisted…”

      “By wandering.” I understand now, as my deepest truth-reading power sings within me. “That’s why you never stay in one place, why you never form relationships and get close to people, much less let them get close to you. You’re afraid of becoming like him; of losing your celestial nature by getting too close to energies that are physical and of the flesh. That’s why you never became close with those you Sired. Or anyone else, for that matter.”

      “I wander,” The Wanderer says simply as she gazes at me. “I take in the endless moon and stars, and remember the people I came from. Distant through they are.”

      “And eschew your physicality,” Lucca says as he releases a growl now. “Making all those you Sire, like Arturos, think you don’t care about them. Because you don’t. Because you never let yourself get close enough to love them.”

      She sighs, and it’s the saddest sound. Where I think she might lash out in ire at Lucca for his harsh words, she doesn’t. She only stares out at the water where Arturos went.

      As a single, shimmering tear drips down her cheek.

      “I must go,” she says, turning away.

      “Wait.” Daring to reach out, Quinn snags her by the wrist.

      The look she gives him could shatter daggers.

      “Tell us how to stop your father,” Quinn says as he stares her down. He doesn’t relinquish his grip on her wrist, though her fierce power makes night-blooming flowers push up all through the skin of his hand now as he winces.

      “You do not stop him,” she says as she stares at Quinn, then Lucca, and me. “You cannot stop him.”

      “Tell us how to free ourselves from him, then.” Quinn pushes as he pins her with his gaze. His Mentale Dark Fae energy rises in a black tidal wave all around him in the darkness. Flickers of gold and crimson fire blister the Wanderer’s white flowers from his hand and wrist, burning them off his body as soon as they grow.

      She seems impressed by it. Staring at his unmaking of her flowers, she watches the phenomenon of someone resisting her power. Then she glances at me.

      Pinning me with her dark gaze beneath the starlight.

      “The weakness of my father’s heart lies beneath your feet. Ask my mother how to find it, for I cannot; she has gone back to the city of sunlight, water, and stone that she loved much when she was still in physical form, before my father twisted her into his darkness. The rainbows upon the water call to her; the endless stars in the vast night sky call to me. Farewell.”

      With that, she waves a hand—causing all her beautiful vines and flowers upon the shore to die. As they wither to desiccated ropes and dead leaves upon the quay, she takes us all in one last moment.

      Then wanders away, surrounded by a wind of magic and darkness in the night.

All content copyright Dragonlight Publishing LLC 2024. All rights reserved. No portion of this content may be reproduced without the author’s written permission.

NEW EXCERPT AND PRE-ORDER! Dark Master's Redemption: Vampire Master's of Italy #4

Hello, my lovely readers!

I am thrilled to announce that the pre-order for Dark Master’s Redemption: Vampire Masters of Italy #4 is NOW OPEN!

Mark your calendars—the release date is Friday, June 28, 2024.

This next book is high-stakes and packed with magic, battles, and a love that defies all odds. Remember, for the best experience, this series should be read in order.

To give you a taste of what's to come, I'm excited to share the first chapter with you below! Please beware of spoilers, though, if you have not yet read Light Fae’s Love!

Sending endless thanks for your support. Enjoy chapter one, and get ready for the heat!

XO Ava

SPOILER ALERT!

IF YOU HAVE NOT READ BOOK THREE, there are spoilers ahead!

CHAPTER 1 – COLD

Snow blows everywhere in the night, and I can see nothing.

       Dark like the night’s endless chill, a maelstrom devours this terrible midnight. My heart is dark along with it; everything inside me is echoed by this torturous storm as I fight through the howling gale. The rim of the Twilight Realm sky provides only the barest light. It’s only enough to know this bitter plain of snow and ice goes on and on.

      Endless, like the woe inside my heart.

      Before me, the Lady Eiseth Pendragon, Mistress of Britain, pushes on through the gale. Marching with her head down, she’s hardly visible as she fights through the hurricane winds in her draping Arthurian gown and silver armor, stalwart to the end.

      My bound Summer Fae lover Lucca Bellari struggles through the snow beside me, his white Victorian suit encrusted with ice like a ghost. Only Curio Silverfrost, Head Concierge of the Red Letter Hotel Florence, whistles like wintery sleigh bells as he walks behind us. A Dark Winter Fae, Curio is perfectly at ease in the bitter snow that engulfs us.

      As I feel ready to die in this cruel, devouring cold.

      It feels like we’ve been walking for decades, since our failed attempt to return a Vampire Revenant before the Vampire Council of Rome tonight. Though it’s only been maybe an hour since we crossed from Florence to Siberia via a portal Eiseth made, I clutch Lucca’s arm, shivering to my bones.

      The screaming wind rips through my white and black Vampire couture; as Eiseth gestures ahead through the storm’s fury, I see something. Just a shimmer in the darkness, that bare glimmer stretches far into the blizzard, in both directions as we come to it. Eiseth moves forward and sets her fingertips to that ephemeral nothingness.

      Making it blossom with dark and light magic at her touch.

      “This is it! We’re here!” Eiseth says, as oil-slick rainbows curl outward from her fingers across the barrier. As they spread in a vast wave to either side and straight up, those rainbows reveal a transparent wall now—rising hundreds of feet into the howling snow.

      Eiseth sets her palm to that shimmering surface, then closes her eyes. Lucca and I are nearing hypothermia now as we huddle close and do a Summer Fae heating breath to keep warm.

      Eiseth concentrates, drawing an enormous breath. As I hear ancient angelic harmonies cascade off of her, I know it’s the Music of the Spheres, something I didn’t know she could create. But at the Music’s rise, that sheen of dark and light rainbows shimmers away.

      Creating a portal into a calm, full moon night.

      Eiseth leads us through the barrier, and it closes behind us. We’ve entered a place where there is no snowstorm; barren ice stretches all around us now, vast.

      A high moon and stars shine on planes of ice so jagged they could only be a glacier. As we walk upon that glacier now, peaks of ice thrust up to the midnight sky all around.

      We’re still in the Twilight Realm; I know it because a glowing, blue-white nimbus is still present at the rim of the sky. But we’ve come through the barrier now, as something else is revealed in this incredible plane of ice.

      A towering wall rises before us in the night, with a rim of white frost shining off of its black structure. I see it’s a fortress, massive and ancient, as it stretches endlessly across the glacier.

      There is no opening, no door nor windows in that gargantuan, black wall of ice. It’s three hundred feet straight up if it’s an inch; as we approach, I gaze up at the fortress’ towering heights. This isn’t just any fortress, however. This is a citadel—the Siberian ice citadel of Novakitsk where Master Vasily Ilyov rules.

      An ancient Dark Fae citadel—hidden from the world by magic.

      But this ancient city is protected to the nines, I know. Even as we near, horrible monstrosities like undead dragon wraiths hurtle out from towering battlements with ear-splitting shrieks.

      As they dive towards us, each bigger than a house and cruelly boned in their jagged awfulness, halos of terrible violet-blue light manifest around them. They open their wraith-maws; that light concentrates as they come for us.

      Even as they focus those massive flows of magic at us, shrieking to attack, however, Curio whistles a three-note tune that rings through the thin air like sleigh bells.

      The creatures pull up; they veer out of their dives, away from us. As they touch down now, settling beside us in two long rows like they welcome a dignitary home, a massive portcullis is revealed in the black ice wall.

      It carves right out of the ice as we all watch, snow skirling away on the midnight breeze. Ancient Fae-runes glow a furious blue-white across the fortress now, blazing in the black wall as they show us a doorway.

      Those doors part, grinding open as they pivot out towards us. They slam open with a massive boom, revealing a dark hallway of ice behind.

      Lit by sorcerous blue-white torches in brackets of ice, that black hallway is forbidding. But as Curio takes the lead, moving to one of the wraith-beasts and scratching its dead, bony chin, I hear it whistle an approving sound like a hawk.

      As Curio moves forward, the ice beneath his feet polishes smooth like a promenade, etching with glowing white-blue sigils. Where he passes, the fortress carves with the most beautiful whorls and designs now, entire tableaux of tall Fae spearmen and axe-warriors riding fell wraith-beasts into battle over vast, icy planes.

      It’s Winter Fae magic, I know as our group nears that gargantuan doorway. More intensely beautiful scenes and script carve along both walls now as we approach the high portcullis and open doors. It’s haunting and lovely, as we face the silent black ice citadel under the high moon.

      Though Curio throws out an arm now—his palm slapping to Eiseth’s breastplate and stopping our group from going any further.

      “Wait.”

      Eiseth glances at him as I huddle against Lucca in the biting cold.

      “The entrance is right there. What are we waiting for?” Lucca gestures at the doorway with a scowl now.

      “For my father. And his traps.” Curio is terse as he holds his ground, giving us an eyeball to make sure we stay put rather than enter the citadel just yet. As Lucca lifts a challenging eyebrow, Curio gives him a dire look. Scooping up a handful of snow at our feet, Curio tosses it out before us.

      Power bursts in a shockwave through the air, as the snow is zapped into nothing. All at once, the towering reaches of the black ice wall are no longer empty. As the high, sleek cliffs shine dark beneath the moon, niches and guard-towers are carved out of all that ice. It’s the same magic that carved the beautiful scenes beneath Curio’s feet and upon the walls—except these are filled with guards now as thousands of sentinels stand tall in those niches.

      Massive, ice-armored behemoths, those sentinels are made of the fortress itself as higher niches carve away to reveal actual Dark Fae guards standing above them. The Dark Fae guards raise their hands as one to create a seething cloak of blue-white magic that cascades down the wall of the fortress now, blazing in the night.

      That magic rushes out, and the towering ice-sentinels come alive. A grinding chunk comes as the enormous sentinels heave massive ice-lances up into their fists, hefting huge ice-shields to boot.

      They step out onto promontories that carve out of the wall for them, poised to hurl those incredible lances right at us. As the cloak of seething ice-magic protects the Dark Fae in their high niches, the sentinels’ lances glow a caustic blue-white, covered in ancient Fae runes.

      That I’m certain will kill us the moment they strike.

      “Fuck.” Lucca’s low growl says it all as Curio stands tall beneath the ice citadel’s terrible protection, watching his father’s warriors and the mighty sentinels they control.

      No one has made a move yet; though the giant ice-sentinels are ready to strike, they wait now, the Dark Fae guards far above holding their position with hands elevated. Though they’re ready to make those ice-guards move with their terrible, coordinated magic, Curio doesn’t blink at our welcome. Steel comes into Curio’s eyes now as his winter-white power flares beneath the chill Siberian moon.

      Roaring up the ice wall to pummel the guards far above.

      “I am a Prince of the Dark Winter Fae come home. What is this welcome you give me, Defenders of Novakitsk?”

      Curio’s voice is in my mind and my ears all at once, thundering through me in a terrible shockwave as he speaks. As it barrels through me like an avalanche of ice roaring down a mountain, I clap my hands to my ears. A grinding, bone-shredding agony fills me from the sudden power in Curio’s magic. I’ve never felt him do anything like it; as Lucca grunts in pain beside me, Eiseth grits her teeth. Still, Curio seethes up at the guards who waylay us.

      Giving them what-for with his massive power.

      They say nothing, only hold their standoff at the fortress’ door. Curio lifts his hand, whispering his wintery power through the air before us now. I see fractals of ice shimmer upon the invisible power barrier that bars our way. It wavers in the air with a chill mirage, but holds fast.

      As Curio scowls—setting his hands on his hips and lifting his chin in defiance.

      “Well, friends. Welcome to my home,” Curio says with a sour chuckle as he turns towards us. Ungodly Dark Winter Fae power still shines in his blue-white eyes, something I’ve never seen from him before, though he snorts entirely like himself at our hostile welcome. “We’re going to have to wait a moment, I’m afraid.”

      “Wait for what?” Lucca snarls as he gives a deep shiver. I second it. Beyond chilled, I can barely feel my fingers and toes, despite the heating breaths Lucca and I have been doing for the past hour. I shiver like I just might shake apart now as Lucca wraps his arms around me, briskly rubbing my shoulders with his hands in my thin Vampire couture to warm me up.

      But he’s just as cold as I am; both of us were born Summer Fae in Italy and are not made for the far north ice and snow.

      Not to mention Novakitsk’s deeply cold shoulder.

      A presence swirls into being before us, then. In a whirl of ice and snow, a man coalesces from that brisk vortex of power. Tall and so thin he’s almost gaunt, Vasily Ilyov, the Master of Novakitsk, stares us down with his wintery white-blue eyes. Though we’ve met before, I can see now how his eyes are just the same as Curio’s. Master Ilyov’s gaze is penetrating, though, and terrifying in its judgement as his regard slowly sweeps us, standing in our thin Vampire couture on his doorstep.

      Dressed in laced black leathers and black leather boots like one might wear hunting in the Dark Ages, the Master of Novakitsk has a white ice-cat pelt slung around his shoulders. His long, silver-white hair is braided half back from his temples in Fae fashion tonight, the rest flowing freely over his shoulders. His hair is so long, it whispers around his hips in the night wind. He does not release the power barrier before us, as fractals of ice spread across it from the other side, from Master Ilyov’s incredible might.

      Only watches us with his icy, intense stare—like we’re intruders he must keep out.

      “Father. Nice to see you.” Curio’s smile is the coldest I’ve ever seen as his eyes burn, frigid upon his father.

      “Curiosity.” Master Ilyov pins his son with an equally cold stare, giving him tit for tat. My eyebrows lift in shock, however; I never knew Curio’s name was a moniker. It’s not the time to wonder about Curio’s past, however, as father and son stare each other down across the barrier.

      Each of them, frozen with pure hate.

      “Your welcome leaves something to be desired, father.” Curio jests now, though his eyes still hold pure wrath as they pin his father. “You’d think we were midnight marauders come to sack the citadel, rather than allies and friends. And your own flesh and blood.”

      “You bring something dangerous here, my son. I could not, in good conscience, let you in. With all the innocent souls we protect in this place,” Master Ilyov says, as his gaze bores into his progeny.

      His gaze flicks to me, then, and I feel a deep thrust inside my mind. It’s Master Ilyov’s massive Dark Winter Fae magic, which he can use to read minds in an instant and compel others to do his will even faster than that.

      Before I know it, I’m rolled by that fast, ice-cold lance of power. I’m reaching inside my dress, pulling out the small Florentine Box I stashed in my couture as we came through Eiseth’s portal tonight.

      Compelled by Master Ilyov’s power to show Ilyov Quinn’s cage so he can see the box and the Vampire Revenant that roils within.

      Quinn—lost to his own worst darkness.

      “Quindici DaPonti. What have you done?” Master Vasily Ilyov says as he sees the box. Quinn’s Revenant seems to sleep until Ilyov speaks; in a whirl of wrath and darkness, furious red eyes pierce out from the box now, vicious beneath the bright light of the moon.

      Ilyov’s narrow gaze pins the box for a very long time. It’s so long, my heart pounds in my throat as our one hope of salvation evaluates Quinn’s Revenant.

      Then he pins me with his formidable, wintery gaze—no compassion anywhere in him.

      “He is almost gone,” Master Ilyov says now as he regards me, then Lucca. “You both would do better to turn around, Animante and Courante Dark Fae, and cut ties with him, seeking a new Dark Master elsewhere. He has gone deep into his Revenant to escape the horrors of his past. Some undying lives are too brutal, and some Master Vampires have endured too much. To go Revenant is a blessing for them, to escape what has gone before. Though Quinn is a Mentale Dark Fae, he is like a Master Vampire. And the result of his tortured inner darkness swamping him… is the same.”

      “Is there nothing that can be done for him?” Something dies inside me at Master Ilyov’s words. I had such hope from seeing Quinn’s flashes of gold and crimson Summer Fae Light inside his box earlier tonight, along with his dark onyx eyes, when he asked for my help.

      I feel empty now as Master Ilyov’s pronouncement hits me like a death-knell. Woe takes me as I dive into the endless void that lives deep inside my Dark Fae power.

      Terrible black rainbows boil from me, dark as death in the moonlight as they surge around me like a never-ending sea. It’s Lucca who holds the Light for us, and hope, as he steps solidly behind me now.

      Though his Light is exhausted from everything that’s happened tonight, I feel his luminous power flare all through my veins as he wraps his arms around me. As his Light blazes all around us now, startling in its intensity, his auric wings emerge from his spine like sunlight searing through the darkness. Cuddling me, he calms my empty annihilation, even as we both still shiver from the cold.

      Stalwart in the face of utter darkness—and keeping hold of the Light.

      “We will not abandon Quinn,” Lucca says, as he holds me, insistent. “We will do everything in our power to get him back. I don’t care how far gone he is. He’s ours. And we will reclaim him. With everything I am, I swear it.”

      “A brave heart.” Master Ilyov’s gaze is piercing as he takes in Lucca’s power in the night, then Lucca himself. “I can see why your Light is the balance to Quinn’s Night, both so strong in your powers that I could barely sense you were Dark Fae at all. For you have formed the Ascendant’s Triad—a triune bond, with a Cuorante Dark Fae that holds but a single whisper of Night, and a Mentale Dark Fae that holds but a single blaze of Light. Such extremes can hold only the strongest Animante—like geysers, they catapult her to the endless stars with their power. And her power is supreme, the Ascendant Animante, vaulted between them. But she is still sleeping, isn’t she?” Ilyov studies me now as something thoughtful comes into his gaze. “Sleeping like a dreaming knight who has yet to awake … and understand how she can truly fight the empty dream that assails her.”

      Those cryptic words hang in the crystalline air, as Master Ilyov’s pale blue eyes pierce my very soul. It’s not lost on me how accurately he’s described the strange Vision of a Knight painting by Raphael that I evaluated on the very same day I first met both Quinn and Lucca.

      I have a moment to wonder if he knows about that painting, and if all of it relates to the Gold Eyes and his unknown agenda with my trio’s power—but then Ilyov waves his hand. The barrier before him dissipates, leaving only a shimmering swirl of ice crystals blowing away upon the midnight breeze. As its vast spread of magic flashes out, Master Ilyov inclines his head to me.

      Pinning me yet again with his intimidating, ice cold stare.

      “Welcome to Novakitsk, Ascendant’s Triad,” he says as he watches me. “Bring the caged Revenant third of your trio inside my domain. And we shall see what can be done with Quinn, who never learned that those who seek ultimate power pay ultimate prices.”

      At that, Master Vasily Ilyov opens his hand, gesturing our group into the incredible ice fortress. At Curio’s nod it’s safe, we move forward—though the cold look he gives his father as they pass could freeze diamonds.

      Master Ilyov is stalwart, emotionless under his son’s chill rage. As I tuck Quinn’s Florentine Box back inside my gown and take Lucca’s hand, I wonder what bad blood exists between them—and why Curio thought he could help us win his father’s favor, if they hate each other so much.

      As we finally enter the hidden city of the Dark Fae to get our beloved Master back, the ancient doors of ice grind closed. Master Ilyov does not accompany us, but watches us enter the fortress until the closing of the doors nearly shuts him out—then whirls away on a wind of snow, disappearing elsewhere.

      The towering doors of ice boom shut, sealing us inside the black hallway. As sorcerous blue-white torches light in glittering ice sconces all along the walls now, illuminating our way through the long darkness, I notice the temperature inside the vast hallway is many degrees warmer than it was outside.

      It’s so warm now from all those torches giving off a wonderful, radiating heat that I’m nearly done shivering. As Curio sets out, leading us down the long tunnel, I stand taller beneath Lucca’s arm. I realize we’re walking not into darkness but towards light, as the color of the ice walls fades from black to charcoal, then to a far lighter grey, then to a vivid blue-white.

      Brilliant light shines throughout the tunnel now from both the torches and ancient magic, as Winter Fae images and ornate script write themselves into being upon every wall. From a forbidding tunnel, the long hall has become almost impossibly ornate; vast icy vaults and hallways branch off our main tunnel now, each more lovely than the last.

      Staircases of ice curl up on every side as enormous ice chandeliers hang down from the vaults above. Everything chimes with a delicate sound now, like icicles falling in a light wind. What I thought was going to be a terrible, forbidding place has achieved a mystical wonder as we reach a blazing brightness at the end of the tunnel. As we step out into the moonlight, I see we’ve come out from beneath the enormous outer wall of the fortress.

      And into a city of such splendor, that it makes my heart beam.

      Before us and all around, pinnacles of ice soar into lofty buildings beneath the bright, full moon. Made of such beautifully-wrought ice that it looks like a Tolkien elvish city, frozen on the glacier in the deep night, this ice does not hold death, but life.

      All around, Dark Fae of many varieties pass beneath the high moon, not just Dark Winter Fae. As they go about their business in the massive, ancient city, glowing blue-white globes accompany them, lighting their way.

      Fountains burble in the night, crystal-blue water jetting up from diamond-bright ice, sculpted into fantastical animals and towering, regal Fae. Trees and flowers grow everywhere beneath the moonlight; like nothing I’ve ever seen, their strange silver-green or blue-white leaves chime in the night, or shiver under the full moon as they tremble in the breeze.

      Trailing vines climb the buildings and drape across lofty bridges of ice; they glow blue, with little silver berries that white night-birds swoop down to pluck. Luminous blue-white moths with big, fuzzy wings drift by; I even see white arctic foxes yipping as they play beside a fountain.

      It’s a paradise, here in the far north. And all of it is somehow cold enough to keep the structures frozen, yet warm enough to feel like an early spring night rather than the deathly frigid temperatures we encountered outside on the glacier.

      Magic is everywhere, shimmering with white soap-bubble rainbows and dark, black oilslick ones. It’s almost exactly like my magic, I realize as I take it all in with wonder.

      A city of Dark Fae.

      Alive and well in the world.

All content copyright 2024 Dragonlight Publishing LLC. No portion of this material may be reproduced in any way without written permission from the author.

PRE-ORDER IS NOW OPEN! Get ready for Singe My Nights: Dragons of Blood and Bone #2

Hey everyone!

Get fired up! PRE-ORDER IS NOW AVAILABLE for Singe My Nights: Dragons of Blood and Bone #2. 🔥

Release date is March 15th.

This is a hot one, and there’s also a special giveaway this time. ❤️‍🔥

For three days only, Friday, 3/15 – Sunday, 3/17, a link will be available in the back of your ebook to enter the Launch Weekend Giveaway for a chance to win signed paperbacks PLUS a $25 Amazon gift card!

Don’t wait to grab this new book, because the giveaway ends Sunday at midnight!

If you pre-order now, Singe My Nights: Dragons of Blood and Bone #2 will be delivered instantly to your Kindle Friday, March 15th. 

It will also be FREE in Kindle Unlimited, and available in ebook and paperback on launch day. 

Reserve your copy on Amazon today!

This book was so much fun to write and I can’t wait to hear what you all think. Your support means the world to me. 🤗

Get ready for the heat!

XO Ava

COMING MARCH 15th! Singe My Nights: Dragons of Blood and Bone #2

I’m so excited!

I’ve finally finished up the last edits on Singe My Nights: Dragons of Blood and Bone #2 and it is HAWT!

Rikyava’s story with her Blood Dragon mates is really turning out to be a scorcher, and this book has one of the best endings I’ve ever written… :)

Release date is Friday, March 15th, and the pre-order will open two weeks before that.

This book will be available in ebook, paperback, and Kindle Unlimited, and I anticipate 5 or 6 books for the series.

Enjoy this first sneak peek at the beginning of chapter 1!

And get ready for the heat!

XO Ava

---

CHAPTER 1 – HOME

Rage burns the dragon blood inside my veins and always has. Few things soothe it; the ocean is one of those things, as I stare out over the shining water below. I remove my motorcycle helmet and gloves as I stand on the Swedish headland; the crash of the ocean eases my inner fury. Gulls whirl and call on the rocky bluff, and a cold spring wind whips my long blonde hair in its braid. 

My sleek black Ducati stands beside me on the bluff; as I wait in my motorcycle leathers, I hear two more bikes roar up the winding coast road. Their engines cut and I feel more than hear two drakes dismount in the gusting wind, coming to me.

One my bound Bloodmate.

The other mine, but not Bloodmated to me yet.

Bjorn Magnussen’s energy roars like a forge fire as he comes to stand beside me on the promontory. My First Drake smells like good cigars and peat whiskey with honey in it, plus a scorched flavor like battlefield char as the wind blows his scent to me. 

His six-four, massively fit body vibrates with anger in his black bombardier jacket with its lambswool collar, dark jeans, and boots. His palpable anger fixes upon the fishing village of Jurggadden, nestled in the inlet’s jagged cliffs, as he stares out over the cove. 

  As he echoes my fury, both of us raging at what we’ll face there soon.

Ström Eriksson feels like the ocean wind, however, as he comes to stand at my other side. Perfectly built in his tawny bike leathers, Ström’s energy is like the brisk north wind as those gusts tease my hair. No less intense than Bjorn, Ström’s dragon-power feels like the vibrancy of a rushing river. His scent is like glacial river water with elderflower in it as it hits my tongue, brisk and fresh. 

A drake of bright humor but deep thoughts, Ström is unusually quiet today. I feel his tension, even though I can only sense a whisper of his thoughts, since we’re not Bloodbound yet. Like Bjorn and me, Ström’s considering the fact that a lot of potential enemies could be in the village below us right now.

Everyone who’s anyone, gathering for my mentor Maryse Allbright’s wakes this week. 

At my signal to get going, we break from our trio, donning helmets and gloves and returning to our bikes. I fire up my Ducati, turning it hard and peeling out, back to the winding coast road. 

Bjorn and Ström roar out fast behind me, to head down into the village of Jurggadden. I resist seething up into my rageful dragon now as we head down into the town. Usually a sleepy fishing inlet, this town is nevertheless the hub for the surrounding countryside with its festivals. 

Done up to the nines for Beltane, the village is a riot of flowers, colorful ribbons, and party lights strung from every thatched roof and white silberskrae timber. All the rustic Viking lodge-houses have flowers and streamers overwhelming their ingresses, lights cascading between the houses into the city-center and down the steep, winding causeway to the wharf. 

Beltane is a gay time, the best festival of the year here. The beauty and light of this week’s festivities are only marred by portraits of Maryse around town, draped in colorful streamers and flowers for her passing. 

Black crow feathers and white ones from gulls are woven into those streamers, to speed Maryse’s flight to the Void of Ancestors. She was a pillar of the community, and a member of the Black Dragon Knights, the covert ruling body that commands every aspect of Blood Dragon life, even more so than our King. 

That my drakes and I are part of also—subject to their orders, though we may hate it.

I feel not just my loss but everyone’s now, as Bjorn, Ström, and I park our bikes and cut their engines before Maryse’s traditional lodge-house near the highest edge of town, backed by the cliffs. Flowers engulf the porch, streamers and feathers everywhere; we have to palm them aside to get to the open front door, servants coming and going as they prepare for a family wake tonight. It’s darker inside the lofty hall than out in the bright, spring day. As I enter, I blink to adjust my vision.

And am accosted into a massive bear hug.

Trublut Lakkvie growls with delight, heaving me up and spinning me around before setting me back down. He’s dressed in black tactical gear, combat boots, and a white wolf pelt like always; his kind lavender eyes beam in his grizzled, battle-scarred face. Basically my father since my teens, he’s not even that much bigger than me. The strength in the wiry Trublut is massive, though, as he roars with joy, clapping my shoulders and kissing cheeks.

He crams me into another of his big hugs then, as if we haven’t seen each other in ages. He knew I was coming; I called yesterday telling him we’d be here for Maryse’s send-off, and also to talk with him about a Bloodbonding ceremony she mentioned in her last words to me, to help bond my drakes better and gain more control over my Bloodwalker power. Everything with Trublut is like this, though, as he roars with laughter to see me, despite his beloved lifemate’s passing. 

A heart as wide as the sky—and arms that hold the world.

“Rikyava! Darling girl. You made it. Good, good,” Trublut says in his thick Swedish accent as he grins at me, then winks at my two mates. “And you brought your drakes. Good. A Blood Dragon drakaina should have a few drakes with her for Beltane. Should she not?”

I blush instantly. Trublut has always been very frank about sex, and though I am a grown-ass woman now, it still embarrasses me. I brush my innate squeamishness aside, however. I fuck; I like it. 

And I want to do it with both drakes now lingering beside me. 

As Ström laughs in surprised delight and Bjorn gets uncomfortable, sticking a hand out to Trublut like he’s taking me to the prom, Trublut laughs and slaps them both on the shoulders.

“Younglings! Come inside. You’ve arrived just in time for tonight’s family party. Khosh has the feast cooked already and Vjen and I were just working on Maryse’s send-off net. There is much to do before her send-off to the Ancestors in three days. But first, you must go get changed! Our party starts in half an hour and you do not want to be late to the drinking. Yes?”

As Trublut grips my men’s shoulders, then mine, giving me a kind smile, I finally see the sadness in him. It grips my heart as my own ache returns it; he sees my agony and pulls me into a gentler hug now. He holds me as we breathe together for a moment. 

Then pushes back, cupping my cheeks with his rough hands.

“Yes. Yes.” He smiles. “Let the sadness flow, Rikyava. For if we do not, it lingers in the heart, devouring us. And we need our hearts to be alive, to celebrate with those who are still with us. Let your sorrow move you like a great tide and set you free. Yes?”

“Yes,” I say, even as I smile back tears. I don’t want to lose it right now, but I want to cry for my mentor’s passing. Though I loved her, Maryse and I had been on the rocks these past twenty years, because of how I thought she pushed me away after my sister’s coup against our King. Little did I know Maryse was protecting me from danger; perhaps even from inside the Black Dragon Knight’s High Council, to whom I used to report.

Danger we’re all in now—though we have no clue where it’s coming from.

As we follow Trublut into the house, I put danger and intrigue aside, for now. We’re here to help Maryse’s soul go to the Void of Ancestors with her wakes and final send-off this week; as we enter the house, I see the long, Viking-style lodge hall is much the same as when I was last here a week ago. 

Rustic and comfortable yet elegant, built in a traditional style with a ginormous fire pit in the center and a venting hole far above, Maryse’s abode with her mates is made of soaring silberskrae timbers that create vaults like a ship far above. Suites of rooms sprout off the sprawling main area, with heavily carved white wooden doors; every timber and beam are lovingly decorated with Blood Dragons in battle and celebration. 

Our classic rune-language tells ancient stories of valor as it winds around every pillar, even on to the elegant yet rustic wooden furniture. The hay and cedar scent of the longhouse contrasts with a sharp, musky incense that wafts through the gables from beautiful silver censers that smoke blue-white as they hang from the eaves. 

Bearskin rugs and wool blankets are everywhere on the driftwood-carved couches and chairs; the polished timber floors are covered with massive, woven rugs. Charms of feathers, driftwood, nautical rope, and dragon scale dangle from every vaulted window and door. 

To push back darkness and keep evil away.

A dozen massive trestle-tables are laden with food and drink around the perimeter of the hall now, however, in preparation for tonight’s wake. This evening’s party is only a family affair, but more food is still coming from the kitchens—a veritable feast being prepared for tonight. 

When Blood Dragons party, they party hard; since so many of us die in epic battles thanks to our Berserker nature, we celebrate life rather than mourn death. Only after we have thoroughly celebrated our dead do we send them off to the Ancestors. 

As lively music starts outside in the town, I know tonight is about to get crazy. Because we’re celebrating not only Maryse’s life this night, but also the start of Beltane. The entire village is going to get roaring drunk in an hour or less, as the sun sets.

And I plan on being one of them…

All content copyright 2024 Dragonlight Publishing LLC. No portion of this material may be reproduced in any way without written permission from the author.

PRE-ORDER NOW OPEN! Light Fae's Love: Vampire Masters of Italy #3

Ahhh! It’s almost here!

I am SO excited to share the PRE-ORDER IS NOW OPEN for Light Fae’s Love: Vampire Masters of Italy #3!

Official release date is Friday, November 17th, 2023.

If you’ve been anticipating the release of book three in the Vampire Masters of Italy series, it will have been worth the wait. This is the best one yet!

Several months ago, my vision for this series changed. In preparation for the third book, I rewrote the language of the first two books, Dark Master’s Kiss and Dark Fae’s Rise, to deliver the entire series in the first-person POV.

You’ll now enjoy the narrative as told by Ariana, Quinn, and Lucca—I hope you love it!

(If you’d like to update your Kindle copy of the first two books, read more on my blog here.)

Are you ready for the heat?!

Click below to pre-order Light Fae’s Love: Vampire Masters of Italy #3, and thanks so much for reading!

XO Ava

PRE-ORDER NOW OPEN! Burn My Heart: Dragons of Blood and Bone #1

Who is ready for a smokin’ hot new series!?

Burn My Heart: Dragons of Blood and Bone #1 is NOW AVAILABLE to pre-order on Amazon – click here to pre-order today!

So many of you expressed an interest in a series for Rikyava, the bad-ass Blood Dragon best friend of Layla Price from the Royal Dragon Shifters of Morocco series.

As I was writing the Royal Dragons series, I found myself really loving Rikyava and was excited to explore her story in a full spinoff series.

I can’t wait to share this first book in her story with all of you!

A spicy, slow-burn reverse harem dragon shifter romance with fated mates, enemies-to-lovers, and a kickass heroine, the Dragons of Blood and Bone series is for mature audiences who like their dragons hot! I am hoping to eventually extend this into a 5-6 book series.

Official release date is Friday, December 1st, 2023.

Get ready for the heat!

XO Ava

Enjoy the NEW VERSIONS of Vampire Masters of Italy Books 1 & 2

Hey lovely readers!

We have really exciting news to share about the Vampire Masters of Italy series!

I originally wrote the first two books of this series in the third-person POV, but I've known for some time that I wanted to shift the story into a first-person POV, he-said / she-said experience for my readers. There is something so intimate about enjoying the story from each character’s perspective—to know their thoughts as the story unfolds.

I’ve been working on the re-writes for both books, and guess what?! They are ready for you to enjoy!

The NEW versions are now published on Amazon, KU, and paperback. If you previously downloaded these ebooks, you can easily receive an updated version.

Click here for instructions from Amazon on how to update your ebook.

It will be worthwhile to read them again for a completely different experience! 🔥 We really hope you enjoy the story from Ariana, Quinn, and Lucca's perspective! Thanks for reading!

xo Ava

---

*Revised!* Dark Master’s Kiss: Vampire Masters of Italy # 1

Excerpt from Chapter 6 - Truth

Made of wrought-iron and glass, the Glass Bar is like a haven in the sky as we walk upon glass that looks down on mid-air. It is beautifully disorienting; I feel Ariana’s pulse speed with delight as we pass the main art déco glass bar and head up yet another set of glass stairs to a further lounge above.

Made of wrought-iron and glass like the level below, this upper floor is accented by potted palms and walls of orchids of my selection. Private royal blue padded booths are shrouded in greenery here; as I gesture to a booth reserved for me as Hotel Head, unclipping a blue velvet rope, Ariana slides into the curved blue silk bench.

I’m not thinking straight as I watch that movement—wanting her to move like that in my bed as we heave together all night. As a bartender in a smart black vest and tie rushes up, one of my Vampires named Julio, I’m not thinking about my usual, more refined drink orders. I ask for a dirty martini—the drink I get when I’m going to fuck long and hard all night. The man blinks at me, knowing what that drink means; I cover my lapse in judgement by raising my eyebrows at Ariana.

“Boulevardier, please.” She says to Julio, and he nods with a quick smile—though the look he gives me could core diamonds. I don’t fuck guests, and Ariana is our guest—and my Vampires know that. As Julio leaves us, I slide in to the bench opposite Ariana.

Though I want nothing more than to slide in next to her and lay her down on that padded bench as we’re suddenly very alone in our heady sky-nook.

Get Your FREE NOVELLA! Ice Dragon's Holidays: A Royal Dragon Shifters of Morocco Christmas Novella

Hello lovely readers! Happy Spring!

I am thrilled to announce that I have a brand new Royal Dragon Shifters novella waiting for you when you sign up for the Ava Ward Paranormal and Fantasy Romance mailing list!

Signing up is a breeze, just click the button below to provide your email address. Not only will you receive exclusive access to Ice Dragon’s Holidays: A Royal Dragon Shifters of Morocco Christmas Novella, you’ll also become one of the first to know about book releases, promotions, and other goodies.

Thanks for signing up! Are you ready for the heat?

XO Ava

NEW EXCERPT! Dark Master's Kiss Chapter Two!

Hello lovelies!

I am very excited to bring you CHAPTER TWO of Dark Master’s Kiss: Vampire Masters of Italy #1 today!

Please enjoy this second chapter below, where Quinn and Ariana have a heart-to-heart about her options as a newcomer to the Twilight Realm.

And if you’d like to read CHAPTER ONE, you can find that here.

Release date for this series is still TBA, but I anticipate having the first book out sometime later this spring.

Happy February, and get ready for the heat!

XO Ava

**********

CHAPTER 2 – FAE

Ariana woke to the quiet sounds of someone nearby, a fine china teacup clinking as it was set upon a saucer. As her eyelashes flickered open, she found she was in an unfamiliar bed, a sumptuous affair of tall ebony bedposts and luscious cobalt silk in a massive suite. There was a canopy above, but daylight streamed into the room, a warm morning breeze from open wrought-iron and crystal windows fanning the heavy drapes of her bed. Stirring, Ariana found her body no longer hurt like it had.

And then she remembered the battle at the Pitti Palace against the black smoke creature – and her blast of silver-gold light that had harmed it.

A sinking sensation filled Ariana as she stared up at the beautiful canopy, seeing an intricate pattern of roses and brambles embroidered in gold upon the cobalt silk and wondering if she had gone insane, or if she’d had a seizure and just collapsed and imagined it all. For a moment, Ariana gazed around the Florentine Renaissance room, marveling at it. Everything was gilded and ornately carved, enormous paintings of Florentine masters upon the walls. The theme of the room seemed to be roses and brambles, for every painting featured Renaissance women being spied upon as they bathed at a waterfall near a rose garden, or devils condemning wretched sinners into bramble-patches as the heavens rained fire. 

But the decor of the room was royally done, creating a calming environment despite the intensity of the art. Even as Ariana decided she was never going to leave this bed, wherever she was now, someone in the room noticed she was awake. Rising from a lounging-chaise where he’d been reading near a cold fireplace, a tall man set a leather-bound book and a gilded china teacup aside as he moved elegantly to her bedside with a calm smile.

The Barone Quindici DaPonti – Ariana realized as she stared up at his handsome face.

As she blinked, the fiercely elegant Barone regarded her back. Wearing a dark crimson slim-cut Italian suit with a black shirt, tie, and pocket square, he was utter elegance as he came to sit at Ariana’s bedside in a high-backed chair. Regarding her with a frown upon his straight dark eyebrows, his onyx eyes were pensive, gold rings shining upon his fingers and a gold Rolex upon his wrist with onyx cufflinks. Exquisitely tall and lean but somehow strong, Ariana’s mystery Barone had a beautiful elegance as he crossed one knee over the other, showing maroon argyle socks and shiny black shoes. His short waves of dark russet hair were expertly styled, his high cheekbones and defined jaw beautifully intense. As a glimmer of sunlight found him from the open windows, Ariana saw a fiery crimson shine in his dark onyx eyes, and deep russet highlights in his rich dark hair. 

“Your fever’s broken, finally.” He spoke in his lusciously smooth, sonorous baritone as Ariana stared at him. Suddenly, she felt like she wanted to wrap herself in that delicious voice and never leave as her tall, dark, mystery Barone watched her. Handsome and deeply elegant, his subtle allure seemed to curl through the room as Ariana shivered.

But not from fear.

“I was sick, at the palace?” Frowning, Ariana set her hands to the bed and pushed up. She was stiff from whatever had happened; but as she settled against the richly brocaded silk pillows, propped up by the headrest, the Barone poured her a glass of water from an ornate copper pitcher, extending it. Accepting the glass, Ariana drank, feeling her stiffness abate. Gazing at her, the Barone’s eyes were a dark, smooth onyx as he waited. 

“You were ill, yes.” He spoke as she finished. “How are you feeling now? Any pain still?”

“Not much.” Ariana spoke honestly, feeling quite a lot better. “How long have I been here? And am I at the Pitti?”

“No, you’re at the Red Letter Hotel Florence, actually. And you’ve been here under my care for three days. I am Head of this Hotel.” Her host the Barone Quindici DaPonti spoke soberly now in a calm, no-frills manner. “And may I ask… your real name, Ms. Summers?”

“My real name?” Ariana spoke confusedly. “What do you mean? Ariana Summers is my real name.”

“I see.” Quindici spoke quietly now as he sat back in his gilded chair, lacing his long white hands around one knee. Cocking his head, his gaze was penetrating as he watched her, as if still not believing what she’d said. As she watched him back, she saw a flash of red in his dark onyx eyes. “And are you really the acclaimed new Associate Curator from Robar, Fisk, & Lund?”

“Yes.” Ariana continued with a bit more heat now, incensed at his doubt but still confused about just what was going on. “My name is Ariana Summers. I’m from the United States and have a PhD in Art History with a specialization in curation and authentication, and have been working for Robar, Fisk, & Lund for three years. So just who the hell are you, Barone DaPonti?”

“I am who I say I am.” He chuckled quietly now, though he still watched her with a piercing intensity. “My name is Barone Quindici DaPonti and I was born here in Italy. I run this fine establishment and donate frequently to the Pitti Palace’s restoration from my extensive collection of human-world antiques.”

“Human-world… what?” Ariana blinked at his strange statement.

“You heard me.” He spoke very softly now, watching her intensely. “You are no longer in the human realm, Ms. Ariana Summers. You are in the Fae Realm, what we call the Twilight Realm, and you got here by manifesting a rift between worlds, before I brought you to my Hotel by manticore carriage, I believe you recall that part. You were in and out of a fever these past three days, waking a little for broth and water, but delirious. You expended quite a lot of your life-force fighting that Vampire Revenant back at the Palace of Light. As far as I can surmise, your magic opened up suddenly for an unknown reason, causing a reaction in time and space that formed a rift between our Realms – something that is vastly rare. But opening that rift and fighting off a Revenant took far more out of you than you have right now with such newly-opened magics. It nearly killed you. Though… it was formidable.” 

“The fuck?” Ariana whispered with her heart in her throat now as she heard him speak nonsense. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about magic, Ms. Summers.” Her host Quindici DaPonti spoke soberly as he sat back in his chair, his gaze dire as it pinned her like an eagles’ talons. “You have it, I have it, and you are currently sitting in a world of it, though you are still recuperating in bed from overusing yours.”

“Magic?” Ariana spoke softly, holding the man’s gaze as a terrible faintness sluiced all through her. “Tell me you’re joking.”

“Do I look like I’m joking?” Quindici spoke quietly now as he raised one cuttingly beautiful dark eyebrow at her. “Hear my words and know them as true. You are a creature of magic. And nothing you do will ever change that.”

This last was said to her with a strange lilt to his voice, as if the Barone Quindici DaPonti had sung the phrase of a song right into Ariana’s mind. Suddenly, his dark onyx eyes seemed drowning as she stared into them, the red intensely bright like summer fields on fire as the room around him seemed to darken with a shadowy nimbus. All at once, his pale skin seemed luminous where he sat in the flickers of morning sun coming in the windows, his wavy hair a luscious combination of deep chestnut with copper highlights and dark ebony shadows. His beauty was overwhelming as Ariana stared at him.

As his words pressed into her mind.

“I have magic?” Ariana breathed again as she tried to process what he was telling her. But even though his mind-messages told her to absorb his words calmly, her heart suddenly gripped, her breath frozen as she stared at him. “And I used my magic back at the Pitti Palace? What does that mean? I’m some kind of… fairy princess or something?”

“Not exactly.” He chuckled now, smooth and elegant though his eyebrows knit, his gaze curious as if feeling her battle against his suggestions. “As far as I can tell, you are a Summer Fae, and did not know you were until your magic spontaneously opened back in the human world for what reasons we know not just yet. It caused a rift – joining the human realm to the Twilight one. But your dark-bright magic is far more than a regular Summer Fae. Which is why the Summer King wishes you dead… now that he knows about you.”

“Wait. Hold on. Back up.” Ariana spoke tensely now as she reached up, rubbing her temples and trying to process. “You’re saying… I’m a fairy? And that I came through from my world to some… fairy-realm when I was in that hall.”

“Essentially.” He spoke with elegant wit now, watching her. “But fairies are not like the human stories. And the fae-realm, known as the Twilight Realm to those of us who live here, has far more creatures in it than you could ever imagine.” 

“So we’re in the fae realm right now?” Ariana blinked around at the opulent room. “But… everything looks so normal! I mean, if a bit ornate.”

“Much about the Twilight Realm is similar to your world, and much is different.” Quindici DaPonti spoke with deep patience now. “But it does not change the fact that if you leave these walls, you will be caught and put to death by the Summer Fae King. Prince Lucca Bellari had to tell his father about the battle in the palace, for the King’s guards had already become alert to a Dark Fae’s signature in the halls, not to mention a Vampire Revenant. The Summer Fae Prince fought long and hard these past days to have you pardoned since your magic is new and you have no idea what to do with it yet, but his father was against it. It seems the King wishes to make an example of you, under Summer Fae Court law. If you even so much as step foot beyond these walls, you will be imprisoned and killed, though the King has agreed it may be a merciful death.”

“Some Fae King wants to kill me? Why?” Ariana breathed incredulously now. “And that blond man fighting with you was a Fae Prince?”

“The Summer Fae Prince Lucca Bellari, yes.” Her host spoke patiently now, compassion and directness in his dark onyx eyes. “You have amnesty here at the Red Letter Hotel Florence, for now. But the Summer Fae King Incentio Bellari has already put an edict out that should you step foot outside this Hotel, any Summer Fae may hunt you. You must understand that most of Florence and the surrounding countryside are entirely Summer Fae territory in the Twilight Realm, except for this Hotel and our ancient Vampire Dark Haven. The King has already set a guard all around the Hotel to watch for your escape. If you try to go beyond these walls, you will be caught and put to death. And if you try to return to the human world, you will be caught by the Intercessoria, the Twilight Realm’s magical police force. And put to death by them, for endangering humans with your powerful new magics.”

“So I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t?” Ariana spoke with her heart screaming in her chest now with anguish. “Either I leave this Hotel and have this Summer Fae King hunt me, or try to return home and have some magical police force hunt me? Well, how long does magic last? How long will it make me a fugitive and prevent me from returning home?”

“Forever.” Her host answered, watching her with a deep frankness. “Magic does not disappear once it has been opened. You will be always on the run from one law or another. You must understand, Ariana,” her host Quindici spoke with a deep gravitas now, “your magical imprint is tremendously unique – and the Summer Fae Prince felt it also. You are not just Summer Fae, but that plus Vampire powers – a tremendously rare kind of Fae called an Unseelie, or Dark Fae. If my instincts and the Summer Prince’s are right, you are a Summer Court Dark Fae, one of the strongest Fae-types out there. A young woman with tremendous magic… that might even rival the King’s someday.”

“So you’re telling me my magic could rival this King’s. Bring him down so my head’s no longer on the chopping-block?” Ariana’s breath caught as hope suddenly flared in her, making her feel something sear inside her like a fiercely sunny day, though still weak. 

“Patience.” Her host spoke languidly now with an almost elegantly bloodthirsty quirk of his full lips, as he watched Ariana. “You will not live to see tomorrow if you act rashly. There is hope that if your powers grow, you will gain your freedom. But that is far away, and a massively difficult task.”

“But you’re saying it’s possible.” Ariana returned, even as her hope strained. 

“Perhaps.” Her host nodded. “But you cannot count on your magic growing strong enough to challenge the Summer Fae King anytime soon. You must face your choices as they are now: to either beg myself and the other Vampires who run this Hotel for amnesty, though it will deeply strain our already tenuous relationship with the Summer Fae Court, or flee and face the consequences. Neither is an easy choice. And your life is not guaranteed either way.”

“Ohmigod. You’re a Vampire?” Ariana blinked, her head truly whirling now.

“Did you think I was a Pixie?” He spoke softly now with a glimmer of handsome crimson in his dark eyes as his full lips curled up. As he smiled, he widened it slightly – and Ariana saw fangs pierce down from his incisors, though they were far smaller than what she’d seen in the hall during the fight. As he let his smile slip away, he suddenly came to a deep stillness, so deep that Ariana could feel a cool breath of graves sighing from him. As he regarded her with flat onyx eyes now, beautiful as a marble statue and terrible as the darkness itself, she saw a deep swirl of shadows all around him.

Seething through the room and devouring the light.

“You’re a Vampire.” Ariana breathed quietly now as she digested this information about her host. Drawing a deep breath, she swallowed, leaning back against the pillows. 

“A Master Vampire.” Quindici spoke simply, as he regarded her with his dark onyx eyes. But something about a Vampire sitting with her in the morning sun suddenly made Ariana blink.

“How are you sitting here with me during the day?”

“I have the power to daywalk,” he answered, not perturbed in the least by her question as his dark eyes pinned her. “It is a unique Vampire gift, and happens rarely. I can walk in the day and sleep when I wish to, rather than when my fading blood calls me to like other Vampires. But we will discuss my situation later. For now, I have a problem plaguing me, Ms. Ariana Summers, and so do you.”

“It seems I have a lot of problems right now,” she snorted. “What’s yours?”

Her biting answer received a quirk of Quindici’s full lips and a flash of amusement in his eyes, before he spoke again. “Our mutual problem is that your Summer Fae King, Incentio Bellari, has stationed his Brightwatch all around my establishment for the past three days, waiting for you. And it’s scaring off my clientele.”

With a blink, Ariana realized the depth of the political situation, when the Summer Fae Prince had sent her here to save her. “Your Vampires and the Summer Fae of Florence are now at odds because I came here.”

“Indeed.” Quindici nodded sagely now. “For thousands of years, my Vampire Dark Haven of Florence has occupied this area. And when the Summer Fae Court were kicked out of their homelands in Rome six hundred years ago due to the War of Rome, my people allowed yours to take up residence in Florence and let your King have a new high seat here – known as the Treaty of the Light and the Night.”

“A treaty between Summer Fae and Vampires.” Ariana spoke. “Appropriate.”

“Though our peoples have never really gotten along,” Quindici continued soberly, “this treaty has been the cornerstone of our mutual tolerance in this area of the world. Though the Summer Fae King still treats Vampires as little more than dangerous animals, it is not so – we are a highly civilized people who have adapted well to the modern age. For thousands of years, my people have had our Dark Haven here in this city. The Red Letter Hotel Florence is the primary income for my Dark Haven. And your King’s Brightwatch are scaring that income off.”

“Because of me.” Ariana spoke quietly.

“I do not blame you for this predicament,” Quindici spoke gently as he nodded, though his gaze was still piercing. “Your situation is unique, and I deeply support the downtrodden and displaced. But it harms my Vampires, and my Hotel, to have the Brightwatch swarming around waiting for you to come out so they can arrest you. Which is where we come to the problem of your amnesty here.”

“You can’t let me stay.” Ariana swallowed hard, feeling her stomach drop.

“I can,” Quindici spoke softly now, his onyx gaze boring into her as his dark power suddenly swirled more purposefully around the room, a subtle mirage of shadows in the bright morning. “But as long as you are here, an unclaimed Dark Summer Fae with no master over your developing magic, your King will hold his standoff before my doors. But if you were claimed… he would have no jurisdiction over you. And would thus need to remove his men from outside my palace.”

“What do you mean, claimed?” Ariana spoke, shivering now as she watched him.

“You could be claimed,” Quindici spoke back with a dire glint in his eyes, “if you were blood-sworn to a Master Vampire – taking his Master’s Kiss and binding you to his service. The contract would make you mine instead of your King’s – and thus, free of the Fae King’s edicts and laws. And blood-oathed to me.”

Ariana’s breath ceased. Her heart stopped with a hard thud in her chest before racing on, her entire world reeling as she stared at the Master Vampire Quindici DaPonti, seeing what he hinted at. Her first option of claiming asylum here at the Red Letter Hotel Florence would fail eventually, due to the pressure of the Summer Fae King upon the Vampires. Her second option of escaping was also likely to fail, considering the intensity with which the King now pursued her as a rogue power. But now, the Master Vampire before her provided her a third option – to take his Vampire’s kiss and become oath-bound to him.

And everything that went with it – whatever that entailed.

All content copyright Ava Ward 2021. All rights reserved. No portion of this content may be reproduced without the author’s written permission.

NEW EXCERPT! Dark Master's Kiss: Vampire Masters of Italy #1

I have been writing like crazy this winter, and am pleased today to bring you the first chapter of Dark Master’s Kiss: Vampire Masters of Italy #1!

Woo-hoo!

A scintillating, dangerous rollercoaster of a story set in Florence, Italy in the Twilight Realm, this story has been brewing in my mind for more than two years, and I’m so excited to be bringing it out now!

It involves Vampires, Summer Fae, and Dark Fae as the heroine Ariana Summers discovers the Twilight Realm and her own Dark Fae magic – and two beautifully sexy men, the Master Vampire Quindici DaPonti and the Summer Fae Prince Lucca Bellari, to help her discover her power in the Twilight Realm.

Please enjoy CHAPTER ONE from the first book below.

And if you’d like to read CHAPTER TWO, you can find that here.

I’ll be in touch soon with more info on release dates for this series – six books that will all come out in 2021.

Enjoy the excerpt, and get ready for the heat!

XO Ava

*********

CHAPTER 1 – STOLEN

Art was more reliable than people, Ariana Summers mused as she glanced over a Renaissance painting by the Italian master Raphael. People could lie about their motives and hide their truth, but art never did. As Ariana tapped through a few notes on her tablet and lowered her chic reading glasses to peer at the painting more closely, she saw the poplar base was the right kind of wood and the egg tempera  was the correct paint to be original. But though this painting was recorded by the donor as being a true Raphael , it was unlike any works of Raphael’s that Ariana had ever seen. A depiction of Vision of a Knight, it was done with a fantastically dark demon looming over the sleeping knight and a luminous, almost fae-like being on the other side, a wilder version of the original.

That had seemed at once like it was fake.

But unlike people, when art was false, there were always tells; as Ariana frowned and leaned closer, noting Raphael’s trademark brushstrokes, she tucked a lock of her red hair back into its loose side-twist. Putting on white silk gloves, she slid her fingertips over the painting, feeling for imperfections in the wood. Turning it over, she inspected every inch of the piece, looking for signs of modern work, though she couldn’t find any. Wearing a slim charcoal pantsuit with a white silk shirt, the gold torque around her neck was classy, a matching bracelet on her wrist. Making her final assessment with an astounded shake of her head, Ariana turned on her grey lace stilettos to the Director of Florence’s Pitti Palace waiting beside her.

“Strangely enough, Direttore Voglio, this one’s actually a Raphael.” She spoke, putting her glasses up on her head and removing her gloves. “I’ve never seen anything like it, but it looks like an alternate version of Vision of a Knight. While the version in London depicts two women thought to be Pleasure and Virtue standing over a man, this has men who are clearly of demonic or angelic persuasion standing over a female knight – though if you ask me, this darker man looks like a vampire in modern lore, while that one looks like a fairy. It’s a very odd but unique donation to your auction, and since it has never been seen before, will fetch quite a lot. Your donor has very fine taste, and is extremely generous to donate this for the Pitti Palace’s upkeep.”

“Thank you, Ms. Summers. We will put this in the auction, then.” The director, a balding man with a nice smile and alert brown eyes spoke in a brisk Italian accent. Hired from the international Antiquities Authentication and Curation firm Robar, Fisk, & Lund, Ariana could tell the director of the Pitti was more of an architectural restorationist than an art hound as he smiled at her in relief. Standing in a drawing-room behind a formal parlor of the Pitti Palace in Florence where the exclusive invite-only antiquities auction was about to begin, he smiled at the item in question. “The donor of this piece often contributes to our restoration auctions here at the Pitti, and has donated many period-original items over the years. Still, we were happy to have you look at this one since it was so very odd.”

“Of course.” Despite her fatigue from having flown in from an auction in Cairo the day before, and Singapore the day before that, Ariana smiled at the palace’s director. “Your donor must be very generous.”

“He is.” The man smiled with pleasure now. “We are very lucky to have the Barone Quindici DaPonti donate to our cause as often as he does. Though he forbids us from erecting a plaque anywhere to thank him for his generosity.”

“It would mar the beauty of this palace you are trying to so painstakingly restore, Direttore Voglio. Which we cannot have.”

Turning, Ariana blinked at the beautifully smooth, sexy voice that had interrupted the Pitti Palace’s Director. Only approved individuals were allowed back here during the auction; but though the Palace’s security guards in their black Italian suits glanced at the man who now entered the ornate Italian Renaissance room, they kept their beefy hands crossed.

As for the man who approached, he was nothing short of exquisite. Ariana’s russet eyebrows shot to the ceiling as he arrived, and she was suddenly acutely aware of how she must look from five days of back-to-back international flights. Though Ariana was a professional with her slim grey suits and stiletto heels, her wild waves of long red hair always managed to make her look more renegade than she intended, even when they were mostly constrained like this afternoon. Smoky makeup accentuated her bright emerald eyes, but her look had been managed hastily on the plane.

And this guy looked like he demanded perfection from everyone around him. 

Wearing a slim black Armani suit with a dark red silk pocket square, the man was exquisitely tall with nice shoulders, a lean waist, and elegant height. Wavy short dark hair had been perfectly styled back from his forehead, showing gold and auburn hi-lights as he passed beneath the overhead spotlights. With straight dark eyebrows and almost viciously high cheekbones above his perfectly cut jaw, he might have looked severe except for his sensually full lips and his piercing delight as he took in Ariana. As he clasped hands with the Pitti Palace’s Director, Ariana saw he wore a plain gold Rolex with gold and onyx men’s rings on his long white fingers, cufflinks to match. The stones in his ensemble matched his dark onyx eyes – as he looked back to Ariana, she found herself falling into those eyes, deep. With cordial manners, he lifted her hand before she had even known he’d done so.

And bent, leaving the softest kiss upon her skin.

“Ms. Ariana Summers.” He spoke in his silken, luscious baritone. “Your reputation precedes you, and it is an excellent reputation indeed. I am honored to have my donation to the auction today be evaluated by the rising star of Robar, Fisk, & Lund.”

“Barone DaPonti.” Ariana recalled his title, even as she also noted he had hardly any accent to his perfect English. His looks were drowningly Italian, however; the epitome of tall, dark & handsome as he brushed his thumb over the back of her hand. As he stared her down, Ariana felt a deep heat flush inside her. His touch was cool, almost astonishingly so – but as that deep heat flooded Ariana, she saw him catch his breath. His dark eyes sparked with a fierce passion as his touch upon her hand suddenly warmed ten degrees in an instant. As that fierce wave of heat and light rushed through Ariana, she reeled, seeing starbursts even as she cursed herself for skipping lunch earlier. 

But this seemed like far more than her usual forgetting to eat as she reeled from the man’s touch. In her peripheral vision, it suddenly seemed as if a dark nimbus devoured the drawing room; like a massive sea, it boiled all around her, swallowing the lights cast down upon the auction pieces like some wrathful god. As Ariana saw it, she startled; and as she watched that black nimbus boil through the room, she saw it flash with crimson and gold fire. 

Coming from the Barone.

Startling backwards, Ariana jerked her hand away from the Barone’s – now scalding upon her skin as he stared at her with his drowning black eyes. Her heart raced, impossibly fast as if her very blood leapt to him and he’d somehow provoked this massive flush all through her. Reaching up and rubbing her neck, she slowly backed away.

Allured, yet somehow terrified of him.

“Ms. Summers? Are you well?” Direttore Voglio asked as he frowned at her reaction to his best donor. Blinking, Ariana found herself released from the Barone DaPonti’s gaze as she glanced to the Director. 

“Forgive me, Direttore, it’s been a long few days. I think I simply forgot to eat today. Is there anything…?” She asked apologetically, though that strange sunlight heat still blazed through her, making her feel more alive than usual, electric.

“Of course.” The palace director smiled, gesturing to a side door. “We have a catering spread through there for our staff working the auction tonight. A ladies’ bathroom is across the hall beyond, if you’d like to freshen up. The auction will begin in twenty minutes – please make yourself comfortable now that you are finished with your work. We are very lucky to have you.”

“Thank you. Barone DaPonti, if you will excuse me.” Ariana smiled to them both now, though she felt a strange resurgence of that reeling sensation as she glanced to the Barone. But though he gave a gentlemanly nod, he stood with almost marble perfection as his dark eyes watched her. A sensation like graves sighed from him now; and Ariana shivered, feeling that dark nimbus around him as she continued to see it in the air. Setting a hand to her temple, she worried she was getting a migraine or having a pre-seizure, seeing things like this.

And as the Barone watched her with a subtly piercing gaze, he moved a step closer. 

“Ms. Summers, would you like an escort to find a bite before the auction?” 

“No, that won’t be necessary, thank you.” She spoke briskly, though as she turned, she had to clutch the nearest table in her disastrous fugue. Seeing it, both the Italian guards moved forward with alarm, but the Barone was the first to reach Ariana. As her vision blanked out, his hands shot in fast, catching her. But he clutched her close to his perfectly-sculpted frame now; as Ariana gazed up into his dark eyes, she saw them flare with a ring of crimson-gold. Drawing a short breath, she suddenly felt as if the entire universe had dropped away as she stared into that ring of fire around the Barone’s drowning dark eyes. It was like watching the corona of the sun during a total solar eclipse; as Ariana saw it, the lights in the drawing room seemed to dazzle her with a thousand colors. A high whine hit her ears, her vision blazing white. When the room returned, Ariana found herself still in his arms.

Staring up into the dark eyes of the Barone.

Inhaling swiftly, she backed away from him – even as something deep inside her screamed to be closer. Using the tables for support where the auction pieces waited, she actually held out a hand to ward the Barone off as she backed towards the side door. She hadn’t meant to make such a rude gesture to a wealthy donor, but it was like she had to ward him away. Brightness still blazed inside Ariana and darkness surged around the Barone as she made it to the door. A vast aura of darkness and burning roiled from him as he stood watching her with his strangely knowing black eyes. 

Ariana knew no one else in the room could see it as her back hit the door. Her heart thundered as she entered an unrestored royal suite with mildewing green velvet drapes and a moth-eaten bed with only a few dusty floor-candelabra. A lush spread of food and drinks waited on tables for the Palace staff. But Ariana barely saw it as she untangled her wild red hair from her jewelry in a nervous twitch. She could still feel the Barone’s dark aura boiling all around her, not to mention that searing light inside her. Taking a door marked Toilette, Ariana came into a new section of the palace.

And blinked, shocked by the hall she had stepped into. 

The door she’d come through led into a long hall, and as Ariana gazed left, she saw the indoor marble colonnades of the Pitti Palace. But as she glanced right, that hall morphed into colonnades that were open to the sky, with greenery all around and ornately gilded fountains spouting from the white marble walls. Past a glimmering seam of white, it all seemed intensely real – as if two worlds existed simultaneously and she had somehow stepped into both at once. Though the marble hall of the Pitti was regal, the other side was insanely beautiful, ornate with details that existed nowhere else in the palace. As Ariana stared at the colonnaded hall, astounded by its fae-like opulence, she saw something materialize in a fountain grotto directly across from her. 

Like a demon of the otherworld, a mist of darkness suddenly swirled up from the shadows inside the fountain-grotto, overhung with purple wisteria. Writhing up into a menacing swirl of black smoke that darkened the late summer afternoon and the ornate fae-hall, Ariana felt a chill pass all through her from that menacing black void. As she watched, it grew, filling the grotto as her entire body became riveted with fear. Eyes manifested inside that seething black mass.

Red eyes – that wanted to devour her and give nothing back.

Her breath froze. Her heart hit panic mode, thundering so hard she thought it might pound her apart. Ariana’s hands were clammy, terror rooting her to the marble beneath her stilettos as she stared into those vast red eyes. They were endless, full of death and destruction; and as she stared into its gaze, she saw her life reduced to nothing compared to its own ancient malevolence. As it whirled, eager to have her fear it, she felt something lance out from its mind with its terrible black smoke.

And thrust deep into hers.

Come to me… and we shall devour your dark summer wind, together…

As Ariana screamed at the thing’s intrusion, she felt something slam out from her in a tremendous wave – hammering the thing back out of her head. It was like a wave of silver and gold sunlight, starlight, and moonlight all at once as it seared the creature – and Ariana saw a massive wave of light blaze from her entire body, shot through with dark rainbows. A scream boiled out of her at the creature; a sudden roar of power coming from her mouth. And as she roared, the thing roared back, screeching like nails on a blackboard all through her mind.

As its red eyes blazed gold – insane to their depths. 

As that scream left Ariana, two individuals suddenly rushed in at opposite ends of the hall, skidding to a stop with wide eyes – one in the real Pitti Palace, the other in the fae-side of the hall. One was the Barone Quindici DaPonti, staring at her from the Pitti’s hall, while the other man was just as intensely elegant; beautiful even as his lips fell open and he stared at Ariana in amazement. As searingly light as the Barone was darkly elegant, a blistering energy roared from the tall, blond man at the fae end of the hall as Ariana clutched her head.

Blitzing with pain now from the blast of power that had left her. 

As Ariana collapsed to her knees, keening with pain in a vicious silver-gold maelstrom, she vaguely saw the Barone DaPonti and the unknown man rush into the hall – coming together in front of her and blocking her off from the creature. Tall and well-built, the Barone’s darker, intense beauty seemed to flow with raging night as he faced off with the creature, while the blond was as searingly vicious but sun-bright with power. As both men faced down the creature, the Barone raised hands. 

Seething now with a terrible black menace. 

As he did, the man with short white-blond hair ripped enormous gold-silver longknives from sheaths in his boots as he roared at the black creature also – light and fire flaming all along the lengths of those vicious blades as he shone, terribly bright. Wearing an embroidered sky blue doublet and charcoal breeches tucked into tall chestnut boots tooled with vines, the newcomer looked like a warrior-prince as he snarled, facing off with the smoke-creature as a vicious battle commenced in the hall. Barely conscious from the pain ripping through her, Ariana reeled as the Barone and the blond lord battled the smoke thing. Roaring and whirling as the black thing shot out thousands of smoke-tentacles to trap and skewer them, the dark-light duo fought like banshees through the fae-bright hall.

Before crashing back to the Pitti Palace’s marble colonnades. 

Down on her knees at the seam of light that bridged both halls, Ariana watched as terror and exhilaration filled her. Like fire and darkness, wind and light, both men careened into the creature over and over, blazing it with dark power and bright, raking it with blades and talons and fangs. As Ariana gasped, fighting to remain conscious, she realized the Barone had actually manifested dark talons on his fingers, roaring with vicious fangs now as his eyes blazed with crimson-black darkness. Likewise, the blond had grown enormous wings of dragonfly-light from his back and shoulders, his eyes blazing with gold-white menace as he and the Barone fought like twin stars now, one hot-bright and the other deadly-dark. The smoke creature was gradually being beaten back; with one last heave of blades and a roaring slash of talons, the two men bested it, making it scream with nails-on-a-chalkboard sound inside Ariana’s mind. 

As it whirled out – disappearing from the hall.

“What have you done, Vampire?!” The blond man turned upon the Barone as the creature vanished, menacing the Barone with his shining blades and tremendous wings of light. “Letting one of your Revenant brethren into the Palace of Light is forbidden, Quindici!” 

“I did no such thing, Lucca, as you know very well!” The Barone DaPonti snarled back as his talons suddenly retracted into this long white hands and he swiped an irate Italianate gesture at the blond man, sharp fangs receding from his upper incisors. “Your precious palace is a warren of sub-basements and under-passages for them to haunt, idiot Fae!”

“They should have been kept out by my father’s wards!” The blond snarled again, though it seemed more to himself now as he blinked around the merged hall – and saw Ariana collapsed at the seam. Rushing to her, he came to his knees; but at his touch, light blazed all through her.

Her pain roaring like it might rip her apart. 

The Barone rushed in as she screamed, falling to his knees and curling her into his strong arms. As a cool wind poured through her, calming that bright power back, Ariana gulped air, fighting to not pass out. As the blond lord touched her hesitantly now, his straight ash-blond brows knit, that power inside Ariana became tinged with gold and silver both, a darker blaze like she languished beneath a summer midnight moon. As a vision of the night sky full of endless stars spread all through her, she heard both men gasp. Staring at her as she blazed with silver-white moonlight now in addition to gold-light glory, lighting up the entire hall, she saw them stare at each other.

Astounded.

“She’s Unseelie – a Dark Fae! Sweet Levennia of the Woods, Quinn! Where in blazes did you find her?” The blond man whispered as his bright eyes fixed upon her.

“I didn’t find her; she’s an artifact authenticator in the human world. She was assessing a donation I had for auction at the Pitti Palace tonight.” The Barone returned, tender but perplexed as he gazed first in one of Ariana’s eyes, then the other. “I didn’t think her energy was anything other than human, until I felt it surge. I think she created this rift between worlds, spontaneously.”

“Powerful magic. We need to get her out of here.” The blond man spoke urgently now as his warm fingers caressed her face, pouring a steadying power through her now rather than his former blaze. “My father will kill her if he finds her here. Come. Quickly.”

But as the tall white-haired man hefted Ariana up from the ground, she lost her contact with the Barone. Pain went blazing through her again – creating a terrible spiral of burning all through through her. As Ariana screamed, the Barone moved in, clamping his long white fingers upon her wrist and pouring a soothing flow of darkness through her again. That starlight and moonlight sensation inside Ariana returned, now that both men touched her.

And as they glanced at each other now, the blond gave a quick nod down the ornate fae-hall. 

“Hurry, Quinn. This way.”

As they raced down the hall, leaving the normal Pitti Palace behind, the Barone kept his hand on Ariana’s wrist. A commotion like guards followed as they took turn after twisting turn; pushing fast through halls both ornate and strange. Ariana was flickering in and out of consciousness from whatever energy had left her; as they broke into a colonnaded courtyard with what looked like dragonfly-wing domes far above, she felt herself whisked up into a carriage.

As the blond lord laid her upon a bench of light blue velvet, the Barone heaved up into the carriage beside her, still pouring his soothing powers through her. As the lord touched her cheeks with his sunlight-warm hands, his beautiful eyes appeared above. No longer flooded with light, his eyes were summer blue, as lovely as the noon sky – and Ariana lost herself as she stared into them. Staring back, his full lips had fallen open, his cuttingly high cheekbones handsome and exquisitely beautiful. Something passed between them like a lance of energy; as Ariana caught her breath, the dark-haired man sluiced it back. 

And agony came into the lord’s blue eyes as his ash-blond eyebrows tightened.

“Take her to the Florence Hotel, Quinn. It is the only place a Dark Fae might be safe, for a short while at least.” He spoke quickly as he looked at the Barone. “If any harm befalls her… I swear, I will rip your corpse from this world and banish you to the four winds myself.”

“Lucca.” The Barone Quindici DaPonti spoke with dark intensity as he regarded the lord with his fiercely onyx and crimson eyes. “You’re a fool if you think I’ll let anything happen to a Dark Fae, especially one this strong. Back away. And leave her to me.”

“Bastardo.” The lord growled. But though his eyes flashed a terrible sun-hot gold, they left his rival. Glancing to Ariana, agony was in his every motion as he backed quickly out of the carriage, slamming the door and pounding the side with a strong hand, snarling up at the driver to take them away. As a whip cracked, the carriage lurched and some beast like a lion roared. And then they were pulling away, rushing out through rows of colonnaded archways topped by dragonfly wings.

Stolen away into the city of Florence – that wasn’t entirely Florence anymore.

All content copyright Ava Ward 2021. All rights reserved. No portion of this content may be reproduced without the author’s written permission.

NEW EXCERPT & PRE-ORDER! Golden Dragon Bind: Royal Dragon Shifters of Morocco #9

Ooooh, it’s almost here!

Golden Dragon Bind: Royal Dragon Shifters of Morocco #9 – the final book in the Royal Dragons series – is nearly finished and will go live on Amazon, in Kindle Unlimited, and in paperback Friday, October 16th!

I’m super excited for this book, which wraps up the series, though I am planning a few stand-alone novels with the Royal Dragons and possibly even ANOTHER series with them in the future – more on that soon. :)

This book concludes the long-awaited final conflict with Hunter, Layla’s Royal Dragon Bind enemy – there are big battles in this one, hot action, and LOTS of intimacy between Layla and her men as the talons come out.

Please enjoy this excerpt from the book, which is available to pre-order here.

XO Ava

***SPOILER ALERT! READ NO FURTHER IF YOU DON’T WANT PLOT POINTS EXPOSED FOR BOOK #9!***

CHAPTER 1 – ROAR

As Layla Price strode through the halls of the Red Letter Hotel Paris, her thoughts were on battle. Though impressed as always at the Hotel’s transformation for a Grand Masquerade, the Palace of Versailles’ French Baroque marble halls in the Twilight Realm resplendent with summer garlands, she could hardly admire the opulence. Moving briskly towards the Hotel Head’s office, summoned for a war-council by her Bound Royal Dragons this afternoon, Layla could feel the star-bright energy of the Bind pulling her towards her drakes as she moved down the ornate halls.

Calling her forward into battle.

Wearing a stretchy burgundy lace cocktail dress with black lace shoulders and blush patent-leather heels, her sable curls pulled up into a chignon, Layla was comfortable in the midsummer heat. Exquisite flower garlands wrapped around the columns; decadent blooms crowding the cupolas for the Litha Bonfire in two days’ time at summer solstice. Gilded braziers were ready to be lit for solstice night, and bonfires had been set up in the gardens, the primary one directly behind the Hotel. Gazing out a bank of windows to the rose gardens, Layla saw the main edifice waiting to burn – five stories tall and fashioned into a massive Desert Dragon raking talons at an unseen foe. Smiling, Layla noted her Royal Golden Siren and Hotel Head Reginald Durant’s intention – that the largest fire of the night show their fierce resistance against their enemy Hunter.

When he came to attack them on solstice night. 

Turning in to the Hotel’s Administration Wing, Layla stepped quickly towards a glowing ember in her heart, Bound by a bright coil of love. Her Royal Desert Dragon mate Adrian Rhakvir’s signature was ever-present inside her since they had re-Bound a week ago and he had been named the Desert Dragon King-Heir. Layla could feel him anywhere in the world now that they’d rejoined with the Star Bind at Wahdi Atlamenta, like they were standing in the same room together. It was like breathing golden fire through her entire body as Layla knocked on the Hotel Head’s office door with its ornate fleur-de-lis, then stepped inside.

Finding her Royal Dragon mates within.

This meeting wasn’t an official battle-planning session, only a progress update Layla had been summoned for by Adrian just now through the Bind. Layla and her men had been at it constantly this past week since Hunter had attacked the Hidden City of Petra. As she entered the vaulted French Baroque office with its massive bay windows and sky-blue drapes, Layla admired how the office had been remodeled with oil paintings of krakens and sea-Dragons by the Hotel Head, her Royal Golden Siren Reginald Durant. 

But it wasn’t Reginald who commanded her attention as she entered. Stepping away from the unlit fireplace, her primary mate Adrian Rhakvir came to greet Layla first as she arrived. Dressed in a charcoal grey vest and trousers with a turquoise pocket square, the sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up to display his black, gold, and red Desert Dragon leadership tattoos on his forearms. Adrian’s vivid Mediterranean-blue eyes pinned Layla with a sexy tension as he bent his tall, lean frame down to kiss her. For a moment, everyone in the room disappeared as Adrian’s scorching cinnamon-jasmine winds devoured Layla, diving in through her lips as they rushed around her, stroking her everywhere. 

Rising with a hot growl in her throat, Layla’s Desert drakaina was just as eager to greet her primary mate. As Adrian wound her in his arms for a long moment, oblivious to everyone else present, Layla kissed him back, passionately. Heat scorched her veins, lifting a wind of gold, white, red, and turquoise etheric fire in the room. Though it burned nothing, that wind swirled the drapes, flooding summer sunlight through the office as they kissed. 

“Hi.” Adrian breathed as he at last pulled away, nuzzling her nose. “Glad you could make it.”

“Me, too.” Layla spoke as her heart hammered. “Give me more than five minutes’ warning next time though, huh?”

“Sure.” He answered as a small smile curled his perfect lips.

But then Layla’s Royal Golden Siren Reginald Durant was moving out from behind his stout desk to welcome her with a kiss also; just as loving, but brief today. Succinct but tender, Reginald was in business mode as his deep waters churned through their Bind. Dressed in an elegant tan vest and trousers with gold pinstripes, his long golden hair was clipped half-back, showing his sharply exquisite features as he smiled at her – tense.

As her Crystal Dragon King Dusk Arlohaim moved in next, Layla gave him a smile. Wearing a slim midnight blue Italian suit, plus diamond cufflinks and a Rolex that brought out the bright diamond-sapphire of his eyes, light refracted through Dusk’s dark hair as he enjoyed his kiss. Standing near the fireplace, Layla’s best friend and Head of the Hotel Guard Rikyava Andersen nodded to Layla as Layla finished kissing Dusk. Fighter-statuesque with her long Swedish-blonde braid pulled over the shoulder of her crimson 1800’s Guardsman uniform, Rikyava was armed to the teeth with obsidian Dragon-killing blades that glimmered violet. 

And as Layla finished greeting everyone, she saw who was making her lovers and friend irate today in the Hotel Head’s office. The Master Vampire Quindici DaPonti – who gave Layla an elegant nod from where he stood in front of Reginald’s desk. 

“Layla. Good to see you.”

“Quinn.” Layla blinked as she returned to Adrian and he wrapped an arm around her. “I didn’t know you were coming to help with the battle.”

“Reginald asked for my help. So I’m here.” Tall and regal, Quindici DaPonti was an enigma; Layla still didn’t understand him even though she’d trusted him often enough. As he turned to her, his short waves of dark russet hair were expertly styled, his onyx eyes penetratingly intense, a flash of red-copper blazing in both as he stood in the sun’s rays. Dressed in a charcoal jacket and slacks with a crisp black shirt, he wore a blood-crimson pocket square along with a plethora of gold men’s rings. A dark nimbus of power flowed around him in the day, devouring the light. As Quinn glanced to Reginald, returned behind the desk, Reginald lifted a straight golden eyebrow at him. From the firm set of Reginald’s jaw, his eyes a frosty blue, Layla could tell her Royal Golden Siren wasn’t liking this discussion.

Whatever it was about. 

“I asked for you to organize Guard reinforcements for the upcoming battle, Quinn.” Reginald spoke now, continuing their conversation. “Not bring your entire Dark Haven of Florence here like you did when you arrived last night.”

“My Dark Haven Vampires make up the bulk of the Florence Hotel’s Guard, Reginald.” Quinn addressed Reginald now, returning to what was apparently an argument between them. “I have arranged for a number of Guardsmen from other Hotels to arrive in the next few days before solstice, but on such short notice, you get what you get. My Florentine Vampires are tremendous fighters. Are you saying you would refuse our aid?”

“No, I’m not saying that.” Reginald spoke sharply. “But I’ve seen how your Guard operate.”

“Yeah, brutal is putting it elegantly.” Rikyava snorted now as she crossed her arms, staring Quinn down.

“Are you saying my Vampires are too brutal to have on your Hotel’s grounds?” Quindici spoke dangerously to both Rikyava and Reginald as his dark aura swirled around him. “Because you know I have my younger brethren well in hand, Aldo. They are not Revenants.”

“I know, Quinn.” Reginald passed a hand over his eyes now in a gesture Layla had never seen, frustrated and irate all at once. “It’s just that Rikyava and I are already receiving complaints from allies who have remained to fight that your Vampires are terrifying them almost to the point of abandoning the Hotel and going elsewhere to wait this out.” 

“Some of them are my own Guard.” Rikyava spoke up again with a severe eyeball at Quinn.

“It’s not my fault your Paris allies lack courage. Or your Guard.” Quinn spoke with a cutting edge now as he glanced to Rikyava, a scathing tone in his voice before he looked back to Reginald. “Love is war, Aldo. The Florence Hotel has never allowed perfumed weaklings in its ranks.”

“Yet we at the Paris Hotel uphold that love is love, Quinn – not war.” Adrian spoke up now from where he and Layla stood. “The original tenets of the entire Hotel organization.”

“An organization we’ve discovered was begun by Hunter.” Quinn turned his ire upon Adrian as he raised a caustic russet eyebrow, his dark aura cool as it licked over Layla’s skin. “An experiment to unite the world, but why did Hunter abandon it? Because he knew love is weak without dominance behind it.”

“You can believe that if you want to.” Adrian spoke back, matching Quinn’s dark iciness with a formidable power of his own. “But Reginald and I and everyone else who works here at the Paris Hotel don’t see it that way. Love becomes stronger when we all work together – and power does, too. Domination only leads to fracturing in the ranks.”

“As we’re already seeing with your Vampires intimidating everyone else here in just a scant twelve hours.” Rikyava snorted again, though Reginald held a hand out to her now.

“Domination gets things done.” Quinn spoke with the deep chill of the grave as he looked back to Reginald. “It is efficient.”

“Domination is the tactic Hunter uses, Quinn.” Reginald spoke quietly now, a fierce intensity on his face. “And if you want to work that way… then we don’t need you.”

Layla held her breath at Reginald’s sudden ultimatum against their longtime ally, watching her Royal Golden Siren and the Florentine Master Vampire stare each other down. Suddenly, she understood why Adrian had summoned her, as Reginald’s powers contested with Quinn’s in the bright afternoon. A drowning swirl of Reginald’s etheric golden Siren-energy crashed against Quinn’s dark nimbus; for a moment, Layla actually saw the two powers fight in the room with dark flare of wrath and shining swirl of etheric water. 

As if Quinn’s dark power was trying to wrestle Reginald’s bright seas into submission, both magics heaved up in a wrathful contest, and Layla felt an old feud in it. Standing by, she felt for a moment how intensely strong Quinn was – in a way he’d never shown before. But drawing upon the steady energies of Layla, Adrian, and Dusk, Reginald suddenly overcame his feuding with Quinn. And with a hammering sweep of the Bind, Reginald washed that contest away – his vast etheric waters rushing out and surrounding Quinn.

Confining the Vampire’s darkness.

“You dominate me at last.” Quinn’s smile was cold as he stared Reginald down, and only then did Layla realize she’d been watching a battle of wills and mind-magics as the Master Vampire and Royal Siren engaged. Something Adrian had anticipated and wanted her here to help with when he’d summoned her just five minutes ago. “Fine. I will command my Vampires to be less overbearing with your people. But we are not the monsters you think us. I hope someday to impress that upon you.”

“Indeed.” Reginald spoke, easing his etheric magic around Quindici like a tsunami rolling back now. “We will have a conversation about all this once Hunter’s threat is over. In the meantime, I thank you for your efforts on behalf of the Red Letter Hotel Paris.”

“I do this for you, Aldo. Never think otherwise.” Quinn spoke bluntly then, staring Reginald down as his dark nimbus gave one last impressive swirl. And then he turned, nodding stiffly to Adrian and everyone else as he flowed to the door and moved out, closing the door so firmly behind him it was nearly a slam. A dark aura permeated the space for a long moment, as if Quinn had left some of his black mood behind to drain all joy from the day. But with a wash of sea-gold energy, Reginald banished the last of the Vampire’s power. Taking a deep breath, Reginald looked over as Adrian curled Layla to his side.

“Thank you. All of you.” Reginald spoke softly as he watched Layla, Adrian, and Dusk. “It’s not easy for me to face Quindici sometimes, and be strong with him.”

“No problem.” Adrian spoke back as he and Reginald shared an accord that was new between them since Reginald had pushed Adrian at Wahdi Atlamenta to show his true power.

“Well, I suppose that was a win.” Rikyava spoke with a snort, one hand resting on her rapier as if she’d wanted to use it. “Who knows what Quinn getting his Vampires to be less overbearing means, but at least maybe it won’t drive our allies off before the fight in two days.”

“So what’s up Quinn’s butt?” Layla asked, having never seen him so irate.

“The fact that he wants me but can’t have me.” Reginald spoke succinctly, though his voice was decidedly warmer now as he came out from his power-position behind the desk. Moving over, Reginald stroked Layla’s cheek with his knuckles, then kissed her on the lips far more tenderly than when she’d first arrived. “Quinn has desired me a long while, Layla. But he does not see himself as a person who can have true love, only dominate others, and so it frustrates him that I am no longer submissive to him. I have discovered true love with you in the Bind, whereas Quinn doesn’t understand that equal sharing of hearts. I no longer function in a hierarchy of dominance and submission with my loves; and Quinn doesn’t know how to be that way with me.”

“But he’s helping the Paris Hotel because he wants you back,” Layla understood suddenly.

“Yes, Quinn does nothing without personal motivation.” Reginald spoke as he brushed one of Layla’s sable curls back from her face. “And while I appreciate his help, there is no room in the Bind for someone like him, who believes only in dominance and not love.”

“Just like Hunter.” Layla spoke back with a sigh, knowing what Reginald was getting at, yet hating that every conversation turned back to their enemy these days.

“Indeed.” Reginald replied as he smiled softly.

Just then, a knock came at the doors, breaking Layla and Reginald’s moment as she felt a deep wave of silver-dark oceanic energy flow through the room. As her Royal Silver Siren Fury Durant entered, Layla was mesmerized for a moment by Reginald’s twin, just as elegantly beautiful as his brother though more sensually moon-dark. With his long silver hair braided loosely over one shoulder, he was intensely poetic, dressed in a dove grey three-piece suit with a midnight blue tie and pocket square that matched his dark blue eyes. As he entered, the massive power of Fury’s tremendous oceanic Siren-drake washed him to Layla for a deep kiss before he turned to the others.

“Layla, everyone. I’ve received an update from our sister Leni just now over the phone.” Fury spoke in his sensually musical voice, lovely as the deepest currents of the ocean. The Siren’s half-sister Leniana Morregain was Queen at their clan-home of Deep Harbor in the North Sea, helping to house non-combatants until things were over with Hunter. 

“What did Leni say?” Layla asked, blinking to break her trance at Fury’s ridiculous beauty. 

“She’s found space for all our non-combatants in the Siren’s underwater grottoes.” Fury continued with a soft smile now, knowing the effect he had on Layla. “They’re being protected by her best warriors, though she says it leaves few people to send us for the fight. But as of now, innocents from Château de Chambord, Deep Harbor, the Scandinavian Blood Dragon cities, Manadora, and the Paris Hotel are safe undersea. As for our allies, Storm Dragon fighters from France and the British Isles have already departed from Deep Harbor. They’re en route here, though Rhennic’s making one last stop at Chambord to leave instructions for his Lightning-Strikers defending the palace.”

“My Crystal Dragon non-combatants are in our caverns also,” Dusk spoke up briskly now, adding to Fury’s report. “Our cities are emptied except those left to protect them; my mother Sky Arlohaina is coordinating the underground. And as of this morning, Adrian’s and King Lethou Mathii’s Desert Dragon non-combatants are also in our care, in caverns near Wahdi Atlamenta.”

“Good.” Adrian nodded. “Riad Rhakvir and Wahdi Atlamenta are emptied now, except for a few protectors. King Mathii and his Black Spear Dragons arrived here this morning, along with Rachida, Emir, and my best Wind-Warders from Morocco.”

“My uncle King Huttr Erdhelm and our Scandinavian Blood Dragons got in last night.” Rikyava added also now. “And Jenna Ostlheim and Lars Kurs in Concierge Services have rooms ready for the Storm Dragons when they arrive.”

“Good.” Fury nodded to Rikyava with a flash of silver in his dark blue eyes, the look of his Siren-drake ready for a fight. “I’ll contact Rhennic and let him know when we’re finished here.”

“Sure ’nuff hot stuff.” Rikyava winked back, and Layla watched them share an accord. The closer they got to battle, the more Rikyava and Fury had both become almost viciously cavalier, as if both were looking forward to the fight ahead. Dusk shared their battle-ready eagerness, and as Rikyava slapped Dusk’s shoulder now, she glanced to him and Fury. “Hey. We’ve got a breather this afternoon. You two wanna practice fighting down in the Guardhall? We could work with blades again, make it some really fun trouble.”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Dusk grinned back, though Fury only gave a nod, his eyes shining silver. 

“Wait. Forbidden blades?” Holding a hand out, Layla stopped Rikyava. “The fuck? You’re going to practice with Dragon-killing weapons on my men?”

“Chill, Layla. We’ve been practicing with them all week.” Rikyava winked at her now. “Dusk and Fury can each withstand ten strikes per hour now. And they’re healing in under three minutes.”

“Dusk, Fury, why didn’t you tell me?” Astounded that they’d been doing such dangerous combat-training, Layla blinked incredulously at her mates. 

“Easy, Layla.” Dusk spoke back as he corralled her around the waist, pulling her away from Adrian. Holding her close, he sent a soothing rumble into her. “We’re doing fine. And if Hunter Binds any of the Desert Dragon King Lethou Mathii’s Black Spear Dragons against us, we’ll need to know how fast we can recover from poison. Don’t worry, we’re holding back enough that we have strength to heal.”

“I know, just…” Layla protested as she smoothed her hands down his lapels. “I worry about you. All of you.”

“We worry about you, too.” Dusk smiled sweetly as he kissed her lips. “But you’re a ball-busting powerhouse of a drakaina and we’re ovary-busting powerhouses of drakes. You’ve got to let us flex our muscles for battle, Layla.”

“Just as we trust you to do, too.” Fury spoke up also. 

Fury had a point, and taking a deep breath as Dusk held her, Layla absorbed it. Nothing was assured in this upcoming battle; and no one’s life was, either. If they were going to fight Hunter, they had to bring it – and Layla knew everyone practicing close to their edge would make their Bind stronger when battle came. Still, her drakaina gave a roar of fire through her veins with a scorched bourbon-orange scent, worrying about her drakes fighting with deadly poison. But Hunter and his army of Royal Dragon Binds were deadlier still – and as Layla looked to Adrian and Reginald and then back to Fury and Dusk, she saw that knowledge in them all.

“We’ve got to bring our A-game at solstice, huh?” Layla spoke with a wry smile.

“Good thing we have an A-Team to do it with.” Dusk grinned tenderly down at her. 

As her Bound men’s energies smoothed through her with a deep, loving support now, Layla cinched an arm around Dusk, reaching out to clasp Adrian’s hand. But even as she did, she suddenly felt a massive roar hit her through the Bind. Reeling, her fingers clamped hard upon Adrian as all her men staggered from that roar. 

And as a vision suddenly opened up through them all, Layla saw it was her Royal Storm Dragon Rhennic Erdhelm far away in the Loire Valley who had roared through them. A view of a storm-dark sky suddenly filled them; Rhennic rushing up fast into his massive Royal Storm Drake with another terrible, thundering roar. As Layla watched, Dragons of all kinds came flooding out of a black rift in the sky over Château de Chambord, home of the Storm Dragons of Europe. 

As Rhennic engaged Hunter in battle.

All content copyright Ava Ward 2020. All rights reserved. No portion of this content may be reproduced without the author’s written permission.

NEW EXCERPT & PRE-ORDER! Royal Dragon Renegade: Royal Dragon Shifters of Morocco #8

I’m so excited!

The pre-order is finally here for Royal Dragon Renegade: Royal Dragon Shifters of Morocco #8 – the next-to-last book in the Royal Dragon series – releasing on August 28th!

This book is all about Adrian as he fights to prove his worth to Layla as a mate, as their final confrontation with their enemy Hunter looms…

Pre-Order here on Amazon – the book will also be on Kindle Unlimited and in paperback on release day.

Get ready for the heat!

XO Ava

*************

ROYAL DRAGON RENEGADE: ROYAL DRAGON SHIFTERS OF MOROCCO #8

CHAPTER 1 – ADRIAN

Layla Price woke up from a dead sleep, on fire. 

She wasn’t actually on fire, but the covers were; and as Layla cried out, rolling quickly out of the king-plus sized ebony bed and hitting the marble floor of Adrian’s rooms in Riad Rhakvir on all fours, she heard an earth-shattering roar from Adrian. As Layla yanked the burning sheet off the bed, along with the duvet which was starting to catch fire now also, she saw Adrian twist in bed – still asleep as he roared again. Naked in the sheets, he writhed with nightmares, each roar flooding another wave of red-aqua fire from his skin.

Making the bed a conflagration.

“Adrian!” Layla shouted as she rushed in, seizing him with her drakaina’s shocked strength and hauling him off the bed to the floor also. Tall and lean but deeply muscled, Adrian Rhakvir was heavier than he looked; as he crashed to the floor he jolted awake, though another wave of red-aqua fire rushed from him, flashing up the tall ebony bedposts to the teal silk drapes and canopy above. As Adrian’s long black eyelashes flashed open, Layla saw only the madness of nightmares in his beautiful Mediterranean-blue eyes for a moment. But then his eyes focused and with a swift in-breath, he heaved up to a crouch.

Corralling Layla back from the burning bed. 

At a safe distance now in his palatial rooms, Adrian squared his shoulders as he faced the bed like an enemy with Layla behind him. Raising his hands and making a brisk maneuver like a fast Tai Chi, he produced a tightly-swirling vortex of wind with his Desert Dragon magics, pouring that wind over the flames. In half a moment, his wind-funnel had sucked the oxygen from the fire – snuffing it out to swirling black smoke and leaving the rest of the room untouched.

But the bedding was ruined – and both their sleep with it.

“Holy hells, Adrian!” Layla coughed with her elbow over her nose and mouth as smoke devoured Adrian’s rooms, lit only by low-flickering votives in blue and gold Moroccan glass lanterns in niches around the walls now. “What was that?!”

“I had a nightmare.” He spoke tersely as he moved his hands again, creating a brisk wind through his beautiful Moroccan room with its vaulted white stone arches and ornate zelij tile in cool blues and greens. That wind whirled through the gables, throwing open blue glass and wrought-iron window panes to let the night breeze in and the smoke out. Raising a hand next at the smoke still seething from the bed, Adrian started a gentler wind, driving the rest of the smoke out a far bank of arched windows with filigreed walls and into a moonlit garden of honeysuckle and night-blooming jasmine. In a few moments the room was clear, though the lower bedsheet, pillows, and the silk drapes on the canopy continued to smolder. 

Moving in with a fierce tension in his tall, lean frame, Adrian rifled a hand through his brush-cut black hair, then yanked the lower sheet from the mattress with a deep growl. As Layla stood watching, raising her eyebrows at his furious motion, Adrian ripped the smoking mattress-topper from the bed next along with the blackened king-sized pillows. Beneath, the mattress had thankfully been spared from the fire, and Adrian heaved a sigh of relief. Yanking down the singed silk drapes from the tall ebony bedposts but leaving the upper canopy which was merely smoke-smirched, he bundled everything up and took it to the massive marble bathroom adjacent to his suite. Layla heard the tub water run then shut off, and soon Adrian returned sans burned bedding.

His hands washed free of soot.

As Layla raised her eyebrows he merely looked at her, something dark in his beautiful blue-green eyes. Out in the gardens of the Riad it was still deep night, and Layla finally heard crickets and night-birds begin to whir and chirrup again now that the disturbance was over. But she was still shaken as she watched Adrian move to a large ornately-carved teakwood hutch in his rooms, fetching out new sheets, pillows, and a back-up white duvet. Stepping back, he avoided eye contact as he resolutely began re-making the bed, finishing with the pillows. But as he turned to face her, there was suddenly nothing more for him to do. 

Lifting his gaze, Adrian’s eyes were full of conflict as he said, “Forgive me.”

“I mean, I do,” Layla spoke, flustered, “but what the hell was that all about?”

“I’m having nightmares again.” Adrian sighed, something tired filling him as his rage finally left. Raising his left hand with his Clan First tattoo of a red, black, and gold Desert Dragon coiling up to his elbow, he rifled his short black hair again. “And I don’t know what to do about it.”

“Since when?” Layla spoke quietly, moving towards Adrian like one might approach a wild animal. But he was fully awake and the danger passed now, and he let Layla come to him, his hands rising to cradle her waist as their bodies came close. He was warm in the night; so warm, as if he had a fever. Close now, Layla could see how his entire body glistened with sweat as if he’d actually had a fever during his sleep, or had run a race in his dreams. Reaching up, she touched the beads of sweat on his brow and Adrian flinched, reaching up and touching his sweat also.

“I should go shower.” He spoke shortly, though as he tried to pull away, Layla didn’t let him. She could still feel something dark churning in him, even though they weren’t yet re-Bound since she had gotten her drakaina’s power back a week ago after visiting her enemy Hunter. Layla couldn’t read Adrian’s mind or magics well right now, but his dark eyes and body language told her his dream had been something bad, to have sparked one of his nighttime fires. 

Adrian had warned Layla a number of months ago that he sometimes had bad dreams and they sparked fires in his sleep. It had been a thing when he was younger, but he’d told her he mostly had it under control; in all their nights sleeping together these past months, he’d never once torched the bed. But Layla had experienced it now – and as she stared up at him, she saw anger and deep embarrassment in his eyes. 

Reaching up, she cradled his beloved face in her hands, so striking and handsomely elegant with his high cheekbones and defined jaw. Her heart opened for him, and she felt him sense her emotions through the small thread of Bind that still remained between them. But their mystical connection wasn’t fully re-opened yet, and even though Layla felt Adrian sense her love for him, she also felt him suddenly pull away from that love. As they stood together, a wry smile took his lips as he reached up, pulling her hands gently down.

Though he did set their foreheads together as he heaved a deep sigh.

“I’m sorry you had to see that just now. I’m sorry I almost torched you.”

“Don’t apologize,” Layla spoke, reaching up and touching his cheek again and the soft black stubble on his defined jaw. “I’m a Desert Dragon, too, remember? A little scorch and heat doesn’t hurt me, Adrian. But I’m worried about you. What are these nightmares you’re having, and since when? And why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’m dreaming of—” But Adrian hesitated then, his straight dark brows knitting as he frowned. Blinking his long dark lashes, he finally said, “I’m dreaming of battle, Layla. It’s been happening ever since you came back from Hunter’s realm a week ago. They weren’t so bad at first, but now… Jesus, they’re getting fucking vivid.”

“And clearly fire was involved in these battles.” Layla frowned at him now as she watched his eyes roil through twenty different colors of green and blue like the Mediterranean Sea, flecks of gold brightening in them then fading. “Were they Dragon-battles? Are you having dreams about battling against Hunter?”

“They were Dragon-battles, but not against Hunter, no.” Heaving a sigh, Adrian reached up to brush one of Layla’s long sable curls back from her face as he cradled her closer. “I don’t want to go into details, Layla, but suffice it to say it was intense.”

“I guess so.” Layla spoke, though she was tender as she stroked Adrian’s lean, chiseled chest. His beautifully cut runner’s muscles were outlined by the slanting moonlight and the Moroccan colored-glass votives burning low in the midnight hour. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk?”

“Later.” Adrian smiled softly now as he raised Layla’s hand to his lips, kissing her gently. “Right now, I just want to go back to bed. I feel like I just ran twenty marathons, and you need to get up early tomorrow to fly out to Cinque Terre for your vacation with Reginald.”

“Re-Binding Reginald and the rest of my men can wait, if something’s going on with you.” Layla spoke with a soft frown as she and Adrian watched each other in the night. “I know that’s what I’ve planned for the week, to go see them all and give them my surprises so we can re-Bind – but if something’s up with you, Adrian, maybe I should cancel and be here instead.”

“No.” Adrian smiled down at her now as he brushed her curls back from her face again. “You already planned this entire week with the rest of your mates, Layla, to re-Bind them so we’ll be stronger against Hunter when he finally comes for us, after everything that happened a week ago. You need to go to them. I’ll be fine. And I’ll be right here when you get back so you and I can re-Bind also. Come on, let’s get back to bed.”

But even as Adrian stepped back, tugging her by the hand and entreating her with his eyes to return to bed, Layla hesitated. As her fire-bright drakaina coiled over restlessly inside her veins, making a lightly scorched bourbon-orange scent roll from her skin, Layla understood her Dragon’s deep intuition. Even without her Bind to Adrian re-opened yet, she could feel something was up with him – something he didn’t want to tell her about just yet. 

But Adrian had always been secretive, even though he’d gotten a lot better since he and Layla had become Bound. She’d learned that sometimes he just needed a little space to process; and even though she could tell he was avoiding something right now, Layla at last relented. With a sigh, she stepped to him, letting him guide them back to the now non-burning bed.

“You’ll tell me, right?” She spoke with a lifted eyebrow as she came to the bedside. “About whatever is giving you nightmares? I can feel something’s up with you, Adrian. Even without us being re-Bound just yet.”

“I know.” He smiled wryly, pulling her close at the beside and netting her in his long hands again. “I can’t hide much from you, Layla, and I want to tell you about these dreams, I just… think I need to get some clarity on them myself first.”

“I get that.” Layla spoke understandingly as she smoothed her hands over his firm chest. “I do. It just hurts me to see you twisting about something, Adrian. Our couples counseling sessions with Rake André have been going well this week, and I feel like we’ve reached a new level of honesty with each other since I returned from Hunter’s realm… but I know that whole thing was really hard for you, and if there’s something lingering—”

“There’s not, Layla.” Adrian spoke gently but firmly now as he whispered his soft lips over hers. “Let’s just go back to bed. Please?”

“Okay…” Layla’s Dragon-intuition told her to be stubborn with her most headstrong mate – but as he whispered his lips over hers, Layla suddenly couldn’t think. As her drakaina rose high in her veins in a fire-bright rush, she felt herself heat to Adrian. Suddenly, her entire body was on high alert; every place their skin touched scorching with a deep arousal that had nothing to do with Dragon-fire and everything to do with burning the bed up in a different way. As Adrian opened his lips, still running them slowly over hers, Layla’s breath was suddenly very high in her chest. Her lips fell open as he caressed her, his hands kneading at her waist.

Deep and possessive and sweet. 

Pulling her in closer, Adrian eased his lips over hers; touching, pressing. Her heart hammered in her chest now as she moved to his rhythm; pressing back, seeking him until they finally began to kiss. Drawing her lower lip gently between his, Adrian sucked her sweet and slow as he wrapped his arms around her waist, pressing her tight to his very firm, hot body – and other very firm, hot things. Layla made a sound in her throat as he kissed her more strongly now, bending her back with his tall, iron-lean height. Heat rushed through them both as he began to devour her with his lips, and her body with his strong hands.

And her magic with his burning, graceful power.

As they kissed, their Dragons began to race through their bodies and beyond them in a cascade of gold-white and red-aqua etheric flames, flaring through the room. Spiraling into each other like a slow vortex, a coil of molten gold began to braid between their bodies and hearts – but even as Layla felt it sear her, so bright, Adrian suddenly pulled back. Heaving hard breaths, he pressed their foreheads together as their hearts beat hard, and Layla felt him pull his magic back from hers.

And his ardor with it as he took deep breaths of cool night air. 

Frowning now, Layla wondered why Adrian was shutting down their Bind just as it had begun to re-open. More than any of her other mates, she needed to re-Bind Adrian; not just to be stronger against their enemy Hunter, but also because she loved her primary mate and missed him. But all this week since her return from Hunter’s realm, Adrian had done this – pulling away just as things began to get hot between them. Gazing up at him now, Layla’s brows knit as she fought a sensation of rejection howling through her veins from her upset drakaina. 

And her deeply confused heart.

But Adrian’s eyes were open; as Layla pulled back, she found his gaze unfocused and staring – as if he’d returned to his previous nightmares. Reaching up, she touched his face and he startled beneath her fingertips, as if he’d somehow fallen back asleep while still awake. Deeply concerned, Layla felt a roil of worry flood her veins for her mate as another scorched wave of bourbon and orange peel scent wafted from her skin.

Wondering what was going on with him.

“Adrian? Are you alright?” She asked, watching him carefully in the night.

“I’m just… tired.” He spoke quietly, though his gaze had slipped away again. “I think I just need some sleep tonight, Layla. These dreams have been wearing me out all week. Let’s go to bed and we can deal with it in the morning before you fly out to Manadora. And when you get back from re-Binding all your other men this week, we can talk about it further. Maybe I’ll have some clarity by then. But I think I may need to go see someone while you’re gone, who can help me through these battles I’m dreaming about.”

“Rake’s good with dream-guiding,” Layla brainstormed, still not wanting to let this go tonight but sensing how tired Adrian truly was. “You could call him, maybe do some dream-seeking this week while I’m gone, like I did at the Dreaming Canyon a few weeks ago in Moab.”

“Maybe.” Adrian nodded, nuzzling her nose again. But without further talk, he threw the new covers back on the bed, sliding in and scooting over so Layla could climb into the king-plus sized ebony bed with him. As he settled on his back, she snuggled close beneath the featherweight bedding, listening to night-creatures peep in the midsummer gardens outside. Sliding his arm around her, Adrian’s strong shoulder and bicep became her pillow as she curled around his long, lean body, snugging her leg up over his hip. He turned his chin in to her and their lips met.

Kissing in the darkness of the night. 

But the passion had gone from him now, and Adrian was simply quiet as he kissed her, not allowing his powerful Desert drake to rise in his veins or blister around her any more tonight. As their kiss ended and he settled to his back, Layla stroked her lips over his strong chest, cuddling in to him. But though he tucked his arm around her, cupping his other hand over her hip as he curled her to him, he said nothing more.

And Layla lay awake a long time – wondering why Adrian was blocking them from re-Binding.

All content copyright Ava Ward 2020. All rights reserved. No portion of this content may be reproduced without the author’s written permission.

NEW EXCERPT! Desert Dragon's Hunt: Royal Dragon Shifters of Morocco #7

Oooh, the new book is on its way!

I’m very excited to bring you an excerpt today from the newest book in the Royal Dragon series, Desert Dragon’s Hunt: Royal Dragon Shifters of Morocco #7.

CAUTION: SPOILER ALERT! READ ON AT YOUR OWN RISK! :)

In this book, Layla is still reeling from losing her Dragon-powers after her battle with Hunter at the end of book 6.

At the beginning of this book, she works with Rake André to do deep meditations and find out why her Dragon-powers aren’t available, even though she feels they aren’t completely lost.

But though I love the start of this book and Layla’s time with Rake, I really love this chapter here, in which Dusk and Adrian decide to surprise Layla with a Caribbean vacation to ease the tension they’ve all been under.

Enjoy the chapter, and I will post more news soon!

Tentative release for this book is JULY 2020.

XO Ava

***

CHAPTER 6 – HUMAN

Dressed in a beige vest and slacks plus russet oxfords and a white collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up, Adrian pulled down chic sunglasses as Layla ran down the jet’s steps. He was already laughing as she threw herself into his arms, kissing him with abandon and feeling him devour her back. For the first time in two weeks, not having her Dragon active was surprisingly okay; Layla simply reveled in the feel of Adrian’s ultra-fit, lean body and his ridiculously soft, smooth lips. She loved the way his long hands splayed at her waist, the way his tall, iron-hard body bent into hers to kiss her deeper. His desert winds teased her lips as he kissed her, playing with her hair and stroking her collarbones. As she finally pulled back, breathless, Adrian was breathing hard also, growling a sexy chuckle at her lips.

“Wow! So I guess you figured some things out with Rake this week.” Adrian smiled deeply, his Mediterranean-blue eyes sparkling in the bright day as he nuzzled her nose.

“I did.” Layla grinned, feeling so light her heart might burst to be in Adrian’s arms. Nuzzling his nose back, she grinned. “And I am really looking forward to this vacation you and Dusk planned.”

“It was all Dusk, actually.” Adrian smiled, corralling her closer with his strong hands. “Shall we get to the resort?”

“Totally.” Kissing him one last time, Layla pulled back. Though a chauffeur in a breezy white Caribbean suit stood nearby, Dusk slung their bags in the Bentley’s trunk and slammed it, as Adrian slung an arm around Layla’s waist.

“Everything all set at the resort, Adrian?” Dusk asked with a cheeky smile and a wink, as if further surprises awaited. 

“All set.” Adrian spoke back with a sly glance to Layla and a smile nearly as devious as Dusk’s as his Mediterranean blue eyes twinkled. “We’re going to have one hell of a vacation. Provided you like sand, sun, sex, and booze, of course.”

“Well, it just so happens I love all those things.” Layla spoke cheekily back, slinging an arm around Dusk now in addition to Adrian and pinning him close to her other side. “But mostly, I like the both of you.”

“Cheeky drakaina.” Dusk growled brightly as he kissed her lips. “Let’s go. I am getting out of this stuffy suit at the first opportunity and into some jams for the beach!”

“But I like your suit!” Layla protested with a laugh as they stepped to the car. 

“I like it, too.” Dusk grinned at her. “But wearing one every day and most nights ruling as Crystal Dragon King has made me look forward to beach wear, we’ll put it that way.”

As the chauffeur opened the door to the backseat, Adrian slid in with Layla and Dusk, rather than take the passenger side like he normally did. All three cuddled together in the back with Layla in the middle as the driver fired up the car and they pulled away from the tarmac. Reaching over Dusk, Layla hit the button to roll down the window so she could smell the ocean, and Adrian did the same on the other side. Cuddling back into Adrian, Layla turned so she slung her legs up over Dusk’s lap as they drove from the airport through a swath of trees and onto a road that wound along the coast. 

Sun dappled the car as a warm Caribbean breeze wafted through with the scent of the ocean. Layla heaved a deep sigh as Adrian wound her into his arms and Dusk curled her bare legs close, stroking her ankles as they drove. All were silent a while, simply settling into their mutual closeness. It had been five days since Layla had last seen them, and though the time hadn’t been all that long, it felt like years. She’d been such a ball of tortured sadness and confusion ever since the battle, that she’d eschewed close time with them. And though her drakaina still wasn’t in her veins, Layla could feel both Adrian and Dusk’s deep relief that she’d found her balance again at the canyon, and her tenderness. 

Cuddling back into Adrian, Layla devoured the way his soft lips whispered over her cheek, and the way she could feel him smile as his nose nuzzled into her hair. Dusk’s warm hands were smooth as he stroked her calves and then suddenly gripped her ankles.

Making Layla writhe as Adrian’s hand tightened around her ribs.

“Oh, don’t do that.” Layla breathed as her heart hammered fast, a very natural human flush taking her. “We’re not going to see the island if you both do that.”

“It’s been a while since all three of us last got to do that.” Dusk rumbled with a sexy chuckle, leaning more against the door of the car so he could watch Layla and Adrian with a dark delight in his sapphire eyes. 

“Maybe we miss it.” Adrian murmured sexily at her cheek as he nuzzled her hair again. “Maybe we like you feeling calm and bright again, even if your drakaina isn’t calling us. There’s a lot more between the three of us than just hot magic, Layla.”

Layla could feel the truth of Adrian’s words as he palmed her ribs, massing her in a way that was possessive and oh-so-good as he nuzzled her neck. Dusk was growling as he watched Adrian’s attentions – slipping a hand up Layla’s thigh and gripping her, hard. The combined sensation of their strength made Layla writhe, her heart beating fast in her chest. They’d not made love since Layla had lost her magic; she’d just not felt into it, and they hadn’t pushed. 

But now, lust was surfacing between all three of them, and Layla felt how all of them missed it – Dragon-power or no. And though her drakaina didn’t rise to her men’s scintillating possession of her as Adrian kissed her neck with his soft lips and Dusk massaged her thigh with his strong hands, theirs did. The hot scent of Adrian’s cinnamon-jasmine wind swirled through the car as a low roll of Dusk’s power shuddered the Bentley like an expertly installed subwoofer. The combination left Layla breathless as she writhed between them.

A very human passion surging in her veins.

But there was no time for anything else as they suddenly arrived at the resort. A beautiful island resort with natural groundskeeping that used native trees and flowers in an artful riot, they’d come to an old-world French Colonial building. Massive, the sprawling antique building had extensive grounds and a wrought-iron fence out front, bordering a circular drive with a fountain full of flowers and vines. As the chauffeur opened the doors and the three of them came untangled, Adrian helping Layla out with Dusk exiting from the other side, Layla saw they had arrived at a private section of cove with a deep inlet. 

And a lovely bay of bright Caribbean-blue ocean. 

Surrounded by forest, Layla saw incredible huts and yurts, tree-houses and more cascading up the mountains that rose from the waterline. Like a jungle paradise by the sea, the sight took Layla’s breath away as the chauffeur got their bags, then led them to a beautiful wrought-iron ingress with two gates between the driveway and the sprawling main house. Beyond each of the closed gates, an impeccably-dressed butler in a white linen vest and trousers waited, watching them as they arrived. With a blink, Layla realized both men – and the chauffeur – wore the classic red ‘R’ pins of the Red Letter Hotel.

Glancing at Adrian, the chauffeur spoke in a cultured Caribbean accent. “Twilight side or human side, sirrah?” 

“Ladies’ choice.” With a renegade smile, Adrian looked to Layla. “We have the same group of suites booked in both.”

“What?” Layla blinked, seeing both Dusk and Adrian grin at her now and not understanding. 

“The Red Letter Hotel Antigua has both a Twilight Realm side and a Human Realm side,” the chauffeur explained to her kindly as he gestured to each of the gates in turn. “Dragons are welcome at both, provided they maintain an appropriate glamour on the human side, if needed.” This last was spoken directly to Dusk, who nodded at the chauffeur with understanding.

“I don’t know.” Blinking, Layla glanced to Dusk. “Have you been here? Which side is better?”

“The Twilight side has better services,” Dusk gave her with a cheeky lift of one eyebrow, “but the human side’s activities at night are more fun. Rowdier bar. You know. More tequila and rum.”

“Can we go between both?” Layla asked, glancing to their chauffeur.

“Of course, madame.” The man smiled kindly. “It is one of the perks of this Hotel, that any guest may move as they please between Realms and enjoy both sides. But unfortunately, we can only set you up in guest rooms in one place at a time. Though since you have the same suites booked on both sides, if you’d like to switch your rooms to the other Realm after a night or two, it can be arranged.”

Cocking her head, Layla thought about it. She’d spent so much time in the Twilight Realm lately that some part of her was actually looking forward to having a mostly normal human vacation. It was the Red Letter Hotel of course, so it would be ridiculously opulent either way. But Layla had never had a ridiculously opulent human-world vacation. When she’d been in grad school and doing her PhD, she’d not had the money, and when she’d been dating that train wreck Gavin Abernathy, he’d always promised to take her someplace nice but never done it. Since she’d met Adrian and Dusk, it had been all Twilight Realm all the time except for a few short excursions. And now, with her Dragon slumbering inside her, Layla suddenly realized she would quite enjoy a human vacation. 

A sunny, fun, drunken, sexy, and relatively normal human vacation.

“Human side.” She spoke decisively, as Dusk and Adrian both grinned.

“Human side it is.” The chauffeur nodded with a kind smile. 

And then he was moving to the right-hand gate, nodding to the butler behind it. With a professional smile, the butler opened the gate, stepping back and welcoming their trio in with a deep bow. As they moved through, Layla didn’t feel the rush or whine of passing through Realms. Stepping into the lush gardens beyond the gate, she saw the second path with its butler and gate had vanished, leaving only theirs. And as she looked around the gorgeously unchanged view, smelling the normal scents of ocean and flowers and sun, something inside Layla eased in relief.

She smiled wide, feeling her entire body suddenly beam with excitement. “Crazy human vacation, here we come! First thing: where’s the rum?”

“On its way!” Dusk laughed as Adrian laughed also. “Come on, wild woman. Let’s head inside and get checked in.”

Everything was bright and exciting as the butler led them up the sprawling main steps of the beautifully royal French Colonial mansion with its tall white columns and wide, sprawling verandas. Stepping inside, everything was smooth mahogany wood and ornate rattan, with silk loungers in bright Caribbean prints, potted ferns, and flowering vines in a riot everywhere. Rattan fans whooshed above, antique Tiffany floor lamps of wrought-iron and colorful glass providing a splendid mood. 

As they approached the broad mahogany desk – which Layla saw was the welcome desk, Concierge desk, and bellhop’s station all at once – a tall man with lovely dark skin and incredibly long, glossy black dreadlocks looked up. Dressed in a tan and white vest and trousers like the rest of the staff but with a ruby and diamond pin on his vest, he gave a hearty laugh with a singsong lilt to it, flashing a brilliantly white smile below his lovely onyx eyes. Rounding the desk, he embraced Dusk like a brother, slapping his back. And then shook Adrian’s hand solidly with a grin before giving Layla a deep, reverent bow.

“Well!” He exclaimed in a flowing baritone deep as the sea. “I never thought the Crystal Dragon King Dusk Arlohaim and the Moroccan Desert Dragon Clan First Adrian Rhakvir would choose my most humble side of our grand establishment!”

“Parties are more fun on your side, Florian.” Dusk beamed, grinning to beat the band as he gestured to Layla. “But actually, Layla chose.”

“I am humbled to the roots of my fins, Ms. Layla Price, Royal Dragon Bind.” The man nodded to her now. It was then that Layla saw a shimmer of ear-fins beside his sleek dreadlocks and gill slits beneath his lobes, disguised by a glamour, and realized he was a Saltwater Merman. “Please, allow me to introduce myself. Florian DeVray, Hotel Head of this fine establishment. At least, on the human side. My beloved partner Merea DeVray runs the Twilight side of things. We are a humble Hotel with but seventy employees, nearly the smallest in the entire Red Letter Hotel chain. But what we lack in grandeur we make up for with fun and style. I do hope you enjoy your stay.”

“I’m sure we will.” Layla beamed, enjoying Florian’s beautifully welcoming manner. 

“Your other guests have already arrived, my King,” Florian spoke, turning to Dusk next, “and we have set everyone up with rooms in the Parrot’s Nest overlooking the bay, though all three of them have chosen to be on the Twilight side of your suites. Of course, if you would like to have everyone together—”

“Hold it, Florian.” Dusk held up a hand suddenly. “Guests, plural? Only the Storm Dragon Regent Rhennic Erdhelm was supposed to—”

Just then, a commanding presence entered the lounge beyond a group of potted palms, and Layla felt a swirl of peeved oceanic energy hit the desk. Wearing a slim tan waistcoat and slacks with gold pinstripes that fit his perfect dancer’s build like a second skin, Reginald Durant’s long braid of golden hair shone in an errant ray of sunlight as he stood tall at the mahogany desk. As Layla’s Royal Siren set his long white fingers to the desk and stared down the poor Concierge on duty with menacing allure, Layla felt a slap of oceanic wrath hit the poor man. He gaped at the Royal Siren, and Reginald’s voice dripped with cold disdain as he spoke.

“Mermaid-weave linens are simply atrocious, and I will not tolerate them on my bed. Your fellows on the Twilight side of this tawdry Hotel are busy, so I am coming to you to see to my needs. Please see to it that my room on the Twilight side of this establishment is freshened with Siren-silk linens at once. I know every Hotel seaside resort has them. You are dismissed.”

“Paris Hotel Head! At once!” The poor young Concierge, whom Layla could tell was a Merman now, bowed with reverence to Reginald before he scuttled quickly away to do the scary Royal Siren’s bidding. The whole episode left Layla laughing and covering her mouth as she tried not to. As she, Dusk, and Adrian all turned toward her Royal Siren, he blinked and turned their way – feeling them in the lobby suddenly also. 

“Ah. You’ve arrived. Good.” Reginald spoke archly with a raised golden eyebrow above his piercing blue-grey eyes. “Though I can’t imagine why you would choose the human-world side of this awful place, I’ll get them to refresh your linens also with—”

But Reginald got no further as Layla swept to him. Practically jumping into his arms, her heart swelled at his astonished blink, and the way his sculpted arms suddenly closed around her. Her lips were on his without a thought, and Reginald made a sound in his throat as Layla kissed him – as if his entire body had been swept away by her sudden act. His golden eyelashes flickered as he kissed her deeply back, winding her into his arms, and Layla felt the beautiful susurrations of his oceans surge up around and through her as they kissed. 

Breaking from her gently, Reginald breathed deep at Layla’s lips like he’d come completely undone. His eyes were flooded with grey and gold as he stared down at her with amazement, reaching up to brush a curl back from her face.

“As ever,” he spoke quietly, beautiful love shining from his eyes, “you astound me, Layla Price. Here you are with your two primary lovers in your hands… and still, you kiss me like that.”

“You deserve it.” Layla breathed at his ultra-soft lips. “When will you finally realize it?”

“Not for a thousand more kisses, I’m sure…” Reginald breathed. And then he was kissing her again, slow and deep, putting all of his vast Courtier’s wiles into it. Layla melted in his arms, until it was only his strength holding her up from sinking into a puddle on the floor. He chuckled, dark and delighted as he pulled away, then put an arm around Layla and turned her back to the others, moving into their group.

“Reginald.” Adrian’s nod to the Royal Siren was stiff, no love lost between them. But even Layla could see the calm way Adrian and Reginald tolerated each other now since the battle at Deep Harbor. Adrian didn’t like it that Reginald was in the Bind and shared Layla’s bed, but he also couldn’t refute Reginald’s power flowing through them all now because of it. Extending a hand, Dusk was more civil, shaking Reginald’s hand solidly.

“Aldo!” Dusk exclaimed, his surprised face showing Layla he certainly hadn’t planned this. “I thought your duties up at Deep Harbor and the Paris Hotel would keep you from coming.”

“You extended me an invite, did you not?” Reginald’s humor was scathing as his lips curled up in a devious smile. “In any case, someone has to see to standards being upheld here while a Dragon King visits, and I figured it might as well be me. You three miscreants would most likely slum it up on yoga mats and fuck in ratty hammocks without me to bring this place some class.”

“You twin-finned, elegant shit.” Dusk grinned, shaking his head as he set his hands to his hips. His eyes sparkled with pure pleasure at Reginald’s ferocious wit – a side of Reginald that was new to Layla also now that her Royal Siren was no longer obligated to become his clan’s next King. “What about Fury? Doesn’t he still need tending?”

“He does still need tending,” another voice flowed through the elegant lobby, silver like the moon to Reginald’s caustic gold, “and what better place to convalesce than the beautiful waters of Antigua?”

Turning, Layla saw a sight she never thought she’d see. Moving into the grand old lobby was her incredible Royal Silver Siren Fury Durant, his long silver hair bound loosely over one shoulder as he leaned heavily on Layla’s Royal Storm Dragon Rhennic Erdhelm. Dressed casually in a linen shirt and pants with the cuffs rolled up, Fury looked like the most gorgeously shipwrecked poet as he entered the hall, barefoot and still moving with a dancelike, fey grace though Rhennic provided him a strong arm. 

Dressed in dark blue jeans with leather sandals and a nice white Cuban shirt, Rhennic was robustly glorious in the most casual outfit Layla had ever seen him in. She suddenly felt hot seeing his immensely built blond Viking glory beside Fury’s perfect, fey grace. A scalding flush rolled all through her as they approached, Fury holding her gaze with something like apology in his silver-midnight eyes as he solemnly kissed her cheek. Rhennic gave her a pleased grin from his handsome face and bright lavender eyes as he leaned down to briefly kiss her lips.

“Layla. I hope we’re not too much of a surprise.” Rhennic rumbled with a chuckle.

“A good one.” Layla breathed, reaching up to touch her Royal Storm Dragon’s short red-blond beard before he stood back to his full height.

But as she finished greeting Rhennic, Layla suddenly realized she was standing in the lobby with all five of her Royal Dragons. They’d never been all together like this, and suddenly Layla found herself flushed with nervousness and not a little desire – wondering how this vacation was going to go. Around her, her men shuffled as if experiencing their own sudden awkwardness also. But like the thoughtful rogue he was, Dusk broke the tension with a beaming grin and a clap of his strong hands. 

“Okay! Layla, Adrian, let’s go settle into our rooms. Rhennic, take Fury out to the shade by the pool bar while Reginald finishes berating the staff to make our amenities top-notch. We’ll all meet back down by the pool in twenty minutes for lunch and cocktails. Florian, can you make sure the margaritas and rum punch are flowing like wine by the time we get there?”

Layla had completely forgotten the Antigua Hotel Head was still standing with them, when Florian raised his voice in a deep basso laugh. “My King, of course! Settle in, friends, and I will see to you personally tonight! Anything you need, we shall provide – until your nights are nothing but merriment and your days are nothing but ease!”

As Florian beckoned, the tension in the lobby suddenly lessened. Stepping to the Hotel Head, Dusk, Adrian, and Layla peeled away towards the rear of the grand main building as Rhennic gave them nod and a bright smile. Fury was sober as he watched Layla go, not stepping from Rhennic’s side. But Reginald was the consummate Courtier as he swept Layla a deep nod, giving her a sexy smile of pleasure.

It was everything Layla needed as she moved away. And though she still had no idea if this vacation was going to be a shitshow or ridiculously pleasant with all her men there, she found she was suddenly looking forward to it. Even if there was drama, this was the kind of adventure she wanted on a Caribbean holiday. 

She only hoped their bedrooms were fortified with magical barriers.

So anyone with cottages around theirs wouldn’t feel… you know. 

All content copyright Ava Ward 2020. All rights reserved. No portion of this content may be reproduced without the author’s written permission.

PRE-ORDER NOW! Sea Dragon's Destiny: Royal Dragon Shifters of Morocco #6

It’s almost here!

Sea Dragon’s Destiny: Royal Dragon Shifters of Morocco #6 is now available to pre-order on Amazon – click here to pick it up today!

I am so excited for this book! If you're a Reginald fan, this one is for you. This book is all about HOT SIRENS as Layla and Rhennic help Reginald face his father the Siren King and his clan's demands of him.

I have really been looking forward to this installment, as I am fascinated with Siren culture – the romance is uber-spicy, the settings are fantastic, and we get some ultra-badass action in this one. 

Watch out! The North Sea Sirens are going to seduce you. :)

Official release date is now April 10th, 2020.

Get ready for the heat!

XO Ava

NEW EXCERPT! Sea Dragon's Destiny: Royal Dragon Shifters of Morocco #6

It’s almost here!

I’ve finished the final edits to book #6 in the Royal Dragon series – Sea Dragon’s Destiny: Royal Dragon Shifters of Morocco #6 – and am so excited to share an excerpt with you today!

This book is all about Layla’s Royal Siren Reginald Durant as he faces off with his father the Siren King, torn between the demands of duty to his clan the North Sea Sirens, and the duty of his heart to Layla.

We get a LOT of sexy screen-time with Reginald, plus an appearance from Layla’s Royal Storm Dragon Rhennic Erdhelm – AND a new potential love interest for the Bind.

But you’ll have to get the book to find out! :)

Release date for this book is still TBA, but I hope to get it out mid-April or so.

Enjoy the excerpt, and…

Get ready for the heat!

XO Ava

CHAPTER 3 – NORTH

Sipping a bourbon on Adrian’s Learjet, Layla read through the Hotel’s annals on her encrypted laptop, searching for any and all information she could find on Sirens. Dressed in an emerald wrap-dress with a cream lambswool dress coat and tall tan boots, a warm outfit for the chilly north, Layla wore Reginald’s pearls today so he could track her whereabouts. Fiddling with one luminous grey pearl and diamond earring, she rubbed the bracelet of pearls and diamonds around her left wrist, suddenly realizing she’d not told Reginald about Adrian’s news yet. In the haste of last night and this morning, it had slipped her mind; but feeling a wash of soothing oceanic power flow through her now from Reginald’s gifts, she continued reading. 

She and Reginald would have time to cover Adrian’s news in the coming days – and hopefully a whole lot more.

Seagulls called in Layla’s ears as a feeling like ocean spray dappled her cheeks while she read about Reginald’s clan. She’d done casual searches before, but now she read voraciously about everything she was to face at Deep Harbor, the clan-home of the North Sea Sirens. Layla didn’t want to face Reginald’s family unprepared, and she committed everything she read to memory as Adrian’s jet soared over the North Sea. 

As Adrian’s French co-pilot made an announcement over the intercom for their arrival, the jet began to angle down sharply. Glancing out the window at the news, Layla saw only blue ocean below. But even as she watched, the jet suddenly passed through a gut-wrenching barrier of light; the familiar yet disrupting sensation of passing back into the Twilight Realm from the human world. All of a sudden, a sprawling island of green hills and white cliffs appeared below where there had only been deep blue water before. 

And a massive white city, devouring the entire island.

Ringed by sheer cliffs, sprawling tide-pools, and marinas filled with boats, the island had a dark blue harbor right in the middle, so deeply indigo that it looked like it dove straight down to the bowels of the ocean. As Layla admired the sprawling white city, glittering in the sun like it was made out of sea shells or pearls, Adrian’s Learjet tightened its descent towards a white runway that stretched out into the ocean to the north. Gripping the arms of her chair, Layla let out a slow breath as they touched down. After taxiing to a berth on the small runway, Adrian’s French co-pilot opened the jet’s door, and Layla smelled the sweet-cool scent of the ocean.

And felt her Royal Siren Reginald Durant’s vast power flood her even before she saw him.

Stepping down the jet’s stairs, a spring wind whipped Layla’s curls from her chignon as thick white clouds scudded above, creating a pattern of light and darkness over the island. Waiting before her on the white runway was her Royal Siren, haughty and perfect. Cuttingly beautiful like a Versace model, Reginald wore a dove-grey vest and trousers with gold pinstripes that caught the morning sun, with dark grey alligator-skin boots and a slim belt. A pearl-white pocket square was in his vest, his shirt collar open to bare his beautiful collarbones and creamy-white skin, his sleeves rolled up to show his talisman on his left wrist. 

A decadent cuff woven of gold, diamonds, and grey pearls, Reginald’s talisman was something Layla had often spied in her visions of him these past months, though he’d never had it at the Hotel. Additionally, he wore an ornate gold, pearl, and diamond dragon-ring on his right index finger, another item that was new since he’d left the Hotel. His bright golden hair was longer than Layla had last seen it, flowing over his shoulders even though it was bound half-back from the wind. Gold wisps were loose around his chiseled face, his cutting cheekbones and straight gold-blond brows fiercely handsome, his elegant and usually clean-shaven jaw now accentuated by a short golden stubble. 

But though Reginald Durant was perfection in every way, his eyes were what smote Layla hard as she came to stand before him, drawn by his implacable tides. Sea-grey and ice-blue yet shining with gold, they held her like a vise with his perfect poise. 

As he waited for her to draw near.

“Layla.” Reginald breathed, and Layla felt the gold of their Bind weave between their bodies, pulling them close as his oceanic power surged around her. Diving through her, his dominant power made her drakaina roar to be touched by its luscious depths, his coils of oceanic energy shining with sunlight as they swirled around her, intimate. Shivering, Layla was undone by Reginald’s vast magic as he stepped forward, stroking her cheek with his knuckles. Utterly dominant, he pinned her with his eyes and Layla surrendered to him – his gaze softening from dominantly pleased to beautifully wistful as his touch lingered. Layla’s world lit with joy as his eyes brightened, luminous like the dawn over the frozen north. 

And then his full lips smiled – and he was more beautiful than anything in the world. 

Sweeping in, Reginald’s oceans drowned Layla as he seized her, kissing her hard. Layla forgot she could even breathe as Reginald’s power dove into her, commanding her roughly as he devoured her with his lean, mean dancer’s body and powerful grace. Drowning beneath his sudden wildness, Layla felt the wind whip and the ocean slam against the jetty as they ate at each other’s lips. Power crashed; Layla’s drakaina roared in a wave of heat and pleasure, making Layla cry out into Reginald’s kiss as he growled. Crushing her in his arms, he poured wave after wave of oceanic power so hard and fast through her that Layla suddenly erupted into climax. Screaming into his kiss, she bucked and surged with pleasure. 

Caught fast by Reginald’s obliterating tides and loving it.

With a gasp, Reginald released their kiss, cradling Layla in his strong arms as she collapsed against him, her knees buckling as she shuddered with aftershocks. With a cruel chuckle, Reginald kissed her temple as he held her tenderly up from sinking. She felt him smirk at her cheek – that terrible, viciously sexy smile she loved so much as he murmured at her ear.

“My Partner. What a pleasure to see you.”

“The pleasure’s all mine!” Layla gasped, unable to stand from the ecstasy still rushing through her. As she was cradled close to his lean yet incredibly strong frame, Reginald rocked her like the ocean, humming a sweet tune of impossible harmonies like chimes in a sea-wind as he let his power calm her now. Rocked by her Partner’s seas, Layla smiled with bliss as she wound her arms up around his neck. As she buried her nose in his silky golden hair and breathed in his ocean spray and brisk Arctic scent, Reginald chuckled more sweetly. Stroking her back with his long fingers, he swayed with her like they danced in the wind and waves, and Layla sighed.

Feeling more safe in his arms than she’d felt in months. 

When he at last pulled back, his blue-grey eyes were bright with joy. “I’ve missed you these past months, Layla.” He murmured, stroking a few of her sable curls back behind her ear. “More than you know.”

It was a very frank admission for Reginald, and Layla blinked, feeling her heart melt for him. It wasn’t like Reginald to be open with his emotions, and as they stood together, Layla could suddenly feel how much she meant to him. It overwhelmed her, the vast tide of his love. With a wry smile, he realized what he was doing and tried to pull it back. 

But Layla shook her head. “Don’t put it away. I like it, what you feel for me. What I feel for you.”

Like the sun coming out from behind high-north clouds, Reginald smiled his true smile again, and it made everything about him luminous. He laughed and it was such a bright, beautiful laugh that Layla beamed as he curled her closer in his arms, chuckling as she surrendered. Kissing her lips sweetly now, he was smiling, reveling in her as much as she reveled in him. Layla was grinning beneath his kiss as he finished, moving his lips to her ear and whispering, “Forgive me. I’d love to kiss you until you melt entirely in my arms… but we do have an audience.”

As Reginald nodded over his shoulder, Layla looked left. A trio of the most gorgeous men Layla had ever seen stood on the runway nearby. Watching Reginald and Layla, their faces ranged from amusedly pleased to downright disgusted. All were slender and tall like Reginald, their hair colors ranging from white-blond to a lusciously dark ebony. Each was more sexy than the hottest models on any runway in Paris or New York.

A devastating gorgeousness that suddenly made Layla shiver with heat and sex. 

Clearing his throat, Reginald turned Layla toward the three elegant men, though he kept Layla tucked close to his side with his arm around her waist. “Layla Price, Royal Dragon Bind of the Desert Dragons of Morocco and the Mediterranean. May I introduce my elder siblings in the North Sea Sirens. On your left is Vindaris Durant, Clan Sixth. In the middle is Typhos Durant, Clan Fifth, and on your right is Atlantos Durant, Clan Third.”

Giving an elegant nod with Reginald’s arm still around her, Layla spoke cordially, “Pleased to meet you all.”

Layla had read about Reginald’s family in the Hotel’s annals. She knew there had originally been ten brothers, though only six were still alive. As Reginald’s brothers stood before her, she suddenly saw how dangerously impressive Sirens were. Bold, audacious, the brothers had an elegant cruelty about them as they watched her. Deceptively calm yet intimately alluring, Layla saw that all three knew they were the apex predator of the oceans, just like Reginald. The North Sea Sirens had ruled their Lineage for thousands of years, primarily because they held incredible abilities to bend minds. 

And reveled in breaking their enemies. 

Reginald’s father, Léviathan Durant, had been King for two hundred and fifty years, taken over from Reginald’s mother Queen Auriana Morregain when she’d died in Reginald’s youth. Queen Auriana had ruled for over a thousand years, but before that, her mother had ruled, and her mother before her. The Morregain bloodline had been the dominant power in the world’s oceans for generations, their daughters ascending high. But Queen Auriana had had no legitimate daughters with her mate and then Battle-Lord Léviathan Durant, only sons, so the pinnacle position in the clan had passed to him when she’d died. 

And to the Durant male heirs – if one of them was strong enough to battle for the top spot.

Layla could feel a love of power seething from all three Siren brothers as they watched her, though Vindaris beamed with a cheeky pleasure, while Typhos simmered with a haughty, sexy glower. But it was the Clan Third, Atlantos Durant, who stepped forward to greet Layla formally with a calmly political panache. 

“On behalf of the North Sea Sirens, I declare the pleasure of meeting you ours, Dragon Bind.” Atlantos spoke in a flowing baritone. “Please be welcome in Deep Harbor.” 

Just as handsomely slaying as Reginald though clearly older by a few hundred years, Atlantos reminded Layla of Tempeste Durant, Reginald’s deceased eldest brother. Wearing a slim pearl-white Italian suit with brush-cut silver-blond hair, Atlantos smiled at Layla with a pleasant nature. Sporting a pearl cuff similar to Reginald’s but done in platinum, he moved forward, taking up Layla’s hand and pressing it with a light kiss. 

But Atlantos’ dark grey eyes pinned her as he kissed her hand, and Layla felt a press of power in her mind, roaring like a gale over the ocean. With a chuckle, he left off as Reginald’s brighter power sluiced it away, but Layla had felt the edge of Atlantos’ Siren-magic. Though he smiled elegantly, his power was immense, roaring and deep like the entire Atlantic Ocean. It shuddered all the way through Layla and she had no doubt he was a strong Royal as he pulled away, watching her with clever quietude. 

Stepping back, the eldest Siren brother nodded for the others to greet Layla. Second came Typhos Durant, who lifted a haughty dark eyebrow at Layla in a similar manner to Reginald as he approached. Built like a brick house, Typhos was as tall as his brothers, though his hair was a dark ebony. Looking Layla over in a chilly fashion, his vibrantly Arctic blue eyes bored into her, simmering with sex and lust and battle. With a snort, he lifted his chin, glancing to Reginald. “This is the Bind? I thought she’d be prettier.”

“Don’t be an ass, Typhos, she’s gorgeous.” The third brother, the bright blond Vindaris Durant, stepped forward with a sprightly step, his jubilant laugh pressing his dour brother back like a spring wind. Hands tucked in the pockets of his sleek charcoal pants with a pearl-grey silk tie and pocket square, he wore a matching vest but no jacket, his sleeves rolled up like Reginald’s. Though Vindaris wore a talisman at his wrist, his was fashioned of woven seaweeds and held no diamonds, only pearls. With a debonair grin, Vindaris reached out, taking up Layla’s hand though she felt only a teasing press of magic from him. His eyes were a grey so pale they were nearly white as he grinned, kissing her hand with delight.

“Layla Price, Royal Dragon Bind, be welcome. I am Vindaris Durant, Clan Sixth and the least asinine of all my brothers. Anything you need while you are here, you have but to ask. We’ve set a banquet in your honor tonight, and I am Host of our clan, which to us is like a Concierge. Anything you need, any time of day or night, I am at your service.”

“Thank you.” Layla could feel how pleasant Vindaris was as it radiated off him, and Layla brightened. He had a brisk, teasing energy like Dusk or Arron, and Layla got the feeling he only caused trouble to have a little fun.

“We’ve heard quite a lot about you these past months, Ms. Price, though very little from Reginald’s tight lips.” Atlantos spoke again with a lift of one eyebrow, a darkly clever glint in his eyes as Vindaris stepped back. “Father is eager to meet you; the Royal Dragon Bind who has been making waves in the Twilight Realm. He is curious to see the woman Reginald has decided to become mated to. Only the second woman our youngest siro has taken into the Louenou Virdii during his three centuries of life.”

As he spoke, Layla felt a subtle challenge in Atlantos’ demeanor. At his double-edged words, Layla suddenly knew she was in for a fight here at the home of the North Sea Sirens. Not just because she was the Royal Dragon Bind, but because she was only Reginald’s second girlfriend, essentially. She saw Atlantos’ gaze flick to her ears and wrist, noting Reginald’s pearls – bridal-gifts to his original wife, the Blood Dragon Avri. Layla was only the second person to wear them, and she felt that knowledge now in the gaze of all three of Reginald’s brothers as they weighed her.

But just as she was about to respond, a willowy woman approached their group. Wearing a pearl-white silk blouse with a plunging neckline, dark skinny jeans, and badass blush platform stilettos, her lusciously long black hair was braided into ornate waves over one shoulder with strings of grey pearls. Those silken strands were so black they shone blue in the sunlight, her long braid cascading all the way down past her slender hips. Everything about her was royally elegant, from her vibrantly cobalt eyes to the opal sheen of her very white skin to her lusciously full, pink lips. One of the few Siren women Layla had seen, she held a calm surety as she neared, a sound like evening tides easing from her as she came straight to Layla. 

Taking up both her hands with a beaming smile. 

“The Dragon Bind!” The woman spoke in a lusciously joyful alto. “So lovely to meet you, Layla Price!”

“Layla, may I present my half-sister Leniana Morregain, Clan Fourth and my mother’s only daughter.” Reginald nodded to the woman, though he was smiling subtly as if pleased his half-sister had come to greet Layla. 

“Call me Leni, I insist.” The woman beamed, squeezing Layla’s hands like a sister, her cobalt eyes brightly kind. “I wouldn’t have it any other way for my dearest Reginald’s darling mate.”

Stunned, Layla realized this woman was the scientist Adrian had sent her here to meet, and enjoying Leni’s presence tremendously, Layla smiled wide. “Good to meet you, too. But I thought Reginald had only brothers?”

“Only brothers from our parents together,” Vindaris interrupted helpfully as Leni and Layla made acquaintance. “Leni is our mother’s child, but Siren birth-lines follow a mated pair.”

“My father was an Arctic Siren,” Leni smiled genially at Layla. “I wasn’t Léviathan’s child, so I’m not considered legitimate to the royal mates, though I am considered part of the extended royal family. It’s common for Sirens to stray from their mated pairs; Léviathan had his share of trysts over the centuries and my mother had hers, with plenty of illegitimate children along the way. But I was raised with the legitimate siblings because of my power. Reginald and I grew up together; I’m six years his elder, and just a year older than Vindaris.”

As if called back into the conversation, Vindaris stepped forward, indicating a path of stones that wound up from the landing strip to the soaring citadel on the white cliffs. “Come. Leaving a Royal Dragon Bind standing on our doorstep is poor form, and I would never have it be said that the North Sea Sirens treat their guests like paupers. Let us go up to the palace. Everyone is quite excited to meet Reginald’s new mate, and I for one, can’t wait to hear everything about you, Layla.” 

With a pleasant grin, Vindaris beckoned. But nodding to Layla in a gesture that was almost a bow, Atlantos led the way, followed by Typhos and then Vindaris. Leni hung back with Reginald and Layla. Still tucked to Reginald’s side, Layla inhaled a deep breath before she set out, preparing herself for anything in the domain of her Royal Siren’s family. 

Pausing, she suddenly wondered if it had been a bad move to come here. But reaching out, Leni smiled as she gave Layla’s hand a reassuring squeeze. Leni’s presence was bright and kind as she held Layla’s hand. And even as Layla fretted, she felt a soothing wash of tides from Reginald, bolstering her as he held her close. Reginald was here, he was strong, and he could protect Layla from anything his family might throw at her. Plus, it was clear he had allies inside his family, certainly his powerful half-sister and probably also the beaming Vindaris.

Taking a deep breath, Layla stepped forward, heading up towards the palace of the North Sea Sirens.

Readying herself to face Reginald’s family at last.

All content copyright Ava Ward 2020. All rights reserved. No portion of this content may be reproduced without the author’s written permission.

NEW EXCERPT! Crystal Dragon King: Royal Dragon Shifters of Morocco #5

Hey lovelies! I’m so excited to bring you chapter one of Crystal Dragon King: Royal Dragon Shifters of Morocco #5!

Enjoy this first chapter, where Adrian and Layla receive news about Dusk’s condition in his crystal sarcophagus.

Anticipated release date is February 14th, 2020

WARNING! CONTAINS SPOILERS FROM BOOK #4! READ ON AT YOUR OWN RISK :)

CHAPTER 1 – VALENTINE

Layla Price stood upon the balcony, staring out over the bright morning. Snow shimmered in every direction, bending the boughs of laden pines surrounding the Swiss mountain chalet. Blowing steam off her espresso, deep peace suffused her. Birds flitted around the gables of the chalet, darting off into the sunshine as snow shed from the icicle-speared roofline. Dressed in a sky blue silk robe with fuzzy slippers on her feet, Layla smiled as a breeze stirred her sable curls. Scents of cinnamon and jasmine drifted around her, mingling with alpine smells of pine and ice. Layla smiled more, sipping her coffee as that heady aroma curled in with her espresso. 

That delicious spice scent wasn’t coming from her coffee. But it did complement coffee and slow mornings nicely.

“Good morning. Happy Valentine’s Day.” 

Stepping to her back, Adrian Rhakvir’s arms curled around Layla, cinching snugly around her waist and pulling her close to his exquisitely fit, lean tallness. Beaming, Layla settled back into Adrian’s arms, letting him cradle her to his almost scalding bare chest. Pleasure rippled through her as she felt the blistering energy of their Royal Desert Dragons slide against each other with a delicious ripple of scales and heat. Adrian’s desert magic was like a live thing as it curled around her, licking up her ankles, sliding in her parted lips. It was like kissing cinnamon and anise as Layla inhaled him with the espresso’s fragrance, exquisite. Her head fell back, her coffee forgotten as his hands gripped her, one slipping up to knead her ribs as his smooth lips kissed her neck – his magic delving in and teasing her tongue. 

“Good morning yourself.” Layla breathed, deliciously pleasured. “Do they even celebrate Valentine’s in the Twilight Realm?” 

Though Adrian’s mountain chalet was in the Twilight Realm, a next-door world to the human one, his refuge in this remote valley of the Swiss Alps was miles from civilization. Silence held court around them in the bright February morning, the two of them quite alone after arriving by helicopter a week ago. After their debacle at Chartres a month ago, followed by Layla’s sudden whirlwind Ownership in the Red Letter Hotel, Adrian had come to her with this idea for a vacation at Valentine’s, and Layla had jumped at it. 

A chance to spend some long-overdue quality time together.

“Want some breakfast? I’m cooking.” Adrian murmured into her neck as he kissed her. One of his hands slid up, cupping her breast while the other slid down, slipping under the robe and sliding sweetly between Layla’s thighs. She shivered in his arms as her smile curled more – as his long, hot fingers contrasted with the cold air, stroking her gently, his body radiating heat. 

“You are cooking,” Layla breathed, her body clenching deliciously in Adrian’s arms. “What say you be my Valentine right now, and we can cook up an appetite for breakfast. Maybe all day…” 

“I did have dinner reservations for us tonight in town, but I’m getting the feeling you’d rather skip all that hoopla of chocolates and a fancy meal today.” Adrian chuckled at her neck as his fingers slid into her now, sweet and slow. She bucked in his arms with a gasp, and his free hand took her coffee mug away, setting it aside on the snowy deck rail. 

“Yup. We’re definitely skipping anything you have planned today.” Layla gasped, shuddering in his arms.

“Back inside?” He growled at her neck, his fingers delving in slow and deep.

“Back inside,” Layla nodded fast. “Or I am going to throw you down right here and fuck you in the snow.”

“Maybe we can melt this whole valley and cause an avalanche. Like we melted my room back in Riad Rhakvir at Yule.” Adrian chuckled, truly grinning at her neck now. 

Layla laughed, but she got no further. In one smooth movement, Adrian turned her and hefted her up with her legs around his waist, one hand under her ass while his fingers still took their pleasure inside her. He was unrushed, but his kiss was hot as he turned, stepping them gracefully back inside. Pressed close to his bare chest, feeling him hot and hard through his navy silk sleep-pants, Layla couldn’t help but writhe. Her Dragon roared inside her like gasoline on a bonfire as passion ignited between them, hot and wild with the golden Bind between their bodies. Adrian had been angling for the king-sized bed along one wall of the open mountain chalet, but he didn’t make it. Ten steps from the balcony doors, he collapsed, spilling Layla to an enormous white sheepskin rug before the river-rock fireplace. 

She came down soft but fast as he controlled her fall, his hands bracing in the thick nap of the rug. He shed his silk trousers fast; her robe was shucked in one quick motion. She was naked beneath him now, his skin so hot and delicious against her, his lithe, mean muscles tense with excitement. Layla had a moment to watch his eyes shine like the dawn over the Mediterranean sea – aqua and gold and so many other colors – before he slid into her upon a wave of pure pleasure, making her forget everything else.

Layla cried out, arching beneath him as he gasped above her, shuddering. As Adrian moved inside her, it felt like it had this entire week. Like coming home; like there was no place to be but beneath him, gripping him deep inside her as he thrust smooth and slow, using every inch of his impeccable control. Coils of wind and heat surged around them with barbs of delight and powerful muscles. A spiced zephyr lifted inside the chalet, rushing through the old-growth cedar timbers and toppling lamps, swinging the deer-antler chandelier, and making the fire roar. Layla felt her drakaina roar also, deep inside as Adrian took her with his incredible heat and control. She cried out, scalding with a delicious passion that made her quicken, tightening her legs around him as it tightened her deep.

The sensation of her tightening made Adrian cry out above her. He was losing his controlled rhythm, and Layla wanted him to lose it. Her drakaina wanted this mating in the bright morning to be an exuberant call of the wild, and Adrian’s drake responded. Layla felt his Dragon roar, felt its scales and barbs tighten around her as a burning cinnamon-jasmine aroma flooded the room. Adrian cried out, shaking on his hands, his eyes opening as he thrust hard inside her now. His eyes burned with blue-gold heat, with too many colors as he lost control at last, and Layla cried out, loving every long, thick inch of him buried to the hilt inside her. It felt like a talon, like he’d gripped her deep inside and was never going to let her go. 

Like he’d dug himself into her very essence – possessing his mate.

But Adrian wasn’t about to let this come to an end so soon. Wrangling his Dragon, he trapped Layla close to his viciously sculpted body, and in one swift movement, lifted her up to a sitting position in his lap. They’d not parted, and still buried deep, the new position stole Layla’s breath as her ankles locked around his hips, his legs crossed beneath her. She gasped as their eyes locked, as he changed the angle to thrust as deep as he could get inside her. A sound spilled from Layla lips as he gripped her back with one arm, holding the nape of her neck with his hand. 

Trapped. She was trapped by her mate.

And she loved it.

Layla writhed; she couldn’t help it. It was part struggle as her Dragon tried to escape the talons of her mate, but mostly ecstasy. Breathing hard as he fucked her deeper, slower, Adrian watched her with his luminous aqua eyes. The gold in them seared as his winds surged around her, his passions pouring through her body. As if he could pour power and heat through his hands and the press of their bodies, a devouring wind rushed through Layla. Sliding through her with coils and muscle and talons, it rake her insides until everything shivered with pleasure. Throwing her head back, Layla arched in his arms, a sound between a roar and a scream spilling from her lips. 

And then she spilled over into orgasm. 

As she spasmed, crying out, Adrian crushed her close, rolling his hips to thrust infernally deep and bring her again. Layla shuddered with pleasure as he quickened. She was an inferno as her power locked to his. She was a wave of scalding heat as he took her, his breath ragged now as his body slicked with sweat before the fireplace. As Adrian exploded into orgasm, Layla gave in one last time; they came together, crying out and collapsing into a heap on the rug – laughing breathlessly as the last of their scalding zephyrs careened out the open balcony doors.

“My god!” Adrian laughed, shaking as he curled Layla around his impressively tall, lean nakedness.

“Wow! Just… holy fuck wow.” Layla laughed also, cuddling close to Adrian’s inferno as he tucked her beneath his arm. Laying her head on his shoulder, Layla sank into the feel of him. At the beginning, their passion had been unconsummated for months, and it had left this roaring heat inside their bodies too long. But since Layla had bound her Royal Crystal Dragon Dusk Arlohaim at Samhain, some of Dusk’s reasonableness had interested itself into Layla and Adrian’s Bind – and subsequently into her Royal Siren Reginald Durant and Storm Dragon Regent Rhennic Erdhelm. 

As if thinking about her bound Royal Dragons drew them near, Layla suddenly saw Dusk’s bright sapphire eyes in her mind. It had been a long while since she had felt anything from him, still entombed in his crystal healing cocoon since their battle against the White Chalice at Yule. But as if called by the explosive sex Layla had just shared with Adrian, she felt a heave from Dusk suddenly through their Bind. In her mind, she saw his sapphire eyes flare like diamonds beneath the morning sun. A tremendous rumble passed through their Bind and Layla shuddered, her breath stolen by the force of Dusk’s earthquake. 

But even as she felt Dusk’s energy smash through her, something exploded their connection, like a crystal shattering into a thousand pieces. Layla jolted with a soft cry from the force of it, but Dusk’s sapphire eyes were gone now as she stared out the balcony doors at the blue winter sky. Layla’s heart thundered; she didn’t know if it was from Dusk’s sudden quake or lovemaking with Adrian. But it left her massaging her chest as Adrian lifted up to one elbow beside her, gazing intently out the balcony doors also.

“Did you feel that, just now?” Layla spoke, glancing at him.

“Dusk.” Adrian nodded. The Bind Layla’s magic created between her and her men wasn’t just one-way. These past months, Layla had found the Bind affected everyone in a kind of synergy – allowing each of her Royal Dragons to feel another’s magics at a distance, though the effect was strongest with Layla. 

“Do you think he’s alright?” Layla asked.

“That quake was the most powerful we’ve felt from him yet, since his stasis,” Adrian spoke soberly as he settled back, one hand reaching out to trace patterns on Layla’s hip with his fingertips. “I think it’s a good sign.”

“Do you think he might wake soon?” Layla spoke with an eager thrill. “Come out of his crystal cocoon?”

“Maybe.” Adrian spoke quietly, his attention returning to Layla, though he was sober. “I hope so. But we can’t know for sure until it happens.”

Layla was about to say more when she suddenly felt Dusk’s energy shift again through their Bind. Like a sub-sonic quake now, it was deep and raw and wild, she felt his Crystal Dragon power shudder through her in a darkly erotic way. It was like a mini-orgasm and a good stretch all at once, and the sensation made Layla’s eyelashes flutter as she shuddered. Adrian responded with a hot growl also. As he sat up fully, she did too, pushing up to her hands on the soft white rug. But the sensation was too much as it rolled on and on, and Layla found it uncontainable as she raked her fingers through her curls, breathing hard with Dusk’s sexual passion as her gaze locked to Adrian’s.

“Holy hell, Batman.” Layla gasped, trying to control the enormous sensation from Dusk and failing miserably. 

“Sleeping Beauty needs to keep his sexy earthquakes to himself while he’s dreaming.” Adrian gave Layla a wry smile, though he rubbed his neck and let out a slow breath through pursed lips as if Dusk’s power had rolled him also. “I don’t care how much he can feel us fucking while we’re on holiday.”

“Adrian!” Layla laughed, embarrassed. It hadn’t occurred to her that perhaps Dusk could feel it in his stasis when she and Adrian had sex. If so, he had felt quite a lot. It had been a whole week of hedonism since she and Adrian had arrived at the chalet. Their first lovemaking had been here on this same rug, a fast explosion the moment the helicopter had departed from behind the house. Fast or slow, deep or teasing, they’d had sex in just about every way possible this week, and still found room for more each day. 

Adrian had relaxed now that he was no longer a fugitive from the Red Letter Hotel Owner’s Board. Their past two months at Riad Rhakvir in Morocco had been busy with clan politics, Layla’s new Hotel Ownership, and Adrian restructuring the entire Hotel. But now they were completely alone, and Layla was learning so much about Adrian that she’d longed to know. 

First, he loved being on holiday, and they’d settled into an easy yet energetic rhythm right from the beginning. They’d devouring their time with gusto, taking full advantage of everything. Fucking was followed by cooking, laughter and coffee, then more fucking and afternoon naps. Cross-country skiing had been followed by hot tubbing on the deck with champagne. Relaxing by the fireplace was followed by sex, sleep, then more sex in the deep of the night as the coals dwindled. Layla fixed them drinks from the amply-stocked bar, and had discovered both she and Adrian were vicious pool-sharks when drunk. Adrian was also a voracious reader, the chalet packed to the rafters with built-in bookcases. Most often when Layla woke from a post-coital nap, she found him sitting in his overstuffed chair by the chalet’s big windows, shirtless in his silk sleep-pants with his bare feet tucked up on the seat like a cat, devouring a book. 

It had been an excellent holiday, of exactly the kind Layla loved.

“And on that note, I think it’s breakfast time.” With a renegade twinkle in his hot aqua eyes now as if he knew what she was thinking, Adrian pulled on his silk pants and rose from the rug, stepping to the modern open kitchen. With sunshine streaming in over his sculpted frame and fit shoulders from the high windows, he moved through the kitchen with ease, pulling down a copper-bottom pan from the overhead racks, hauling the chrome fridge open, and cracking eggs into a glass bowl on the cobalt-tiled counters. 

Donning her robe, Layla went to the balcony to reclaim her coffee, shutting the doors behind her. Adrian was all sexy glances and teasing heat as he whisked fresh herbes de Provence into an omelette then poured it into the pan, chopping chanterelles and gruyere on a cutting board. Adrian was a terrific chef, Layla had discovered. And though he had a taste for all the best things, he maintained his lean, sexy fitness with a rigorous exercise routine – which Layla had discovered included running ten miles each morning on a treadmill. 

As she poured fresh coffee from the Italian bialetti on the tiled countertop, Adrian snagged her around the waist, wrapping himself around her as he continued to cook. Now a captive audience, Layla could smell the sweet sweat of a morning workout on his skin, in addition to the heady musk of sex as he cooked. As she sipped her coffee, he kissed her neck and reached around, sliding cheese and mushrooms off the cutting board into his omelettes. Adrian moved like lightning over desert sands when he prepared a meal – fast, liquid motions that were almost viciously precise. 

“I love the way you cook,” Layla spoke, watching his hands. “It’s like dancing.”

“I’ve had a lot of practice.” Adrian smiled as he worked. “My mother used to go into depressions when I was young, so Dusk and I learned how to do the cooking. When Mimi wasn’t around, that is. Your mother was a terrific cook, Layla, and taught me almost everything I know.” 

Curling Layla into one hand, Adrian moved her out of the way, then lifted the pan and slid the omelettes out upon two plates. As he poured himself a cup of coffee, they each took a plate and moved to the leather bar stools on the other side of the cooking area. With a sexy smile and a kiss, Adrian released her as they slid up to the breakfast bar. Layla tucked in, her stomach growling, their olympian sexcapades making both Dragons intensely hungry. Their food was soon devoured, and Adrian reached for the bialetti, pouring them both more coffee with an enormous amount of cream. 

“That was a fantastic Valentine’s breakfast. Cheers.” Layla lifted her mug and they clinked. 

“You’re welcome.” Adrian grinned at her as he sipped his coffee – a decadently sexual grin that said he was talking about more than the food. “I do enjoy helping my woman devour her favorite things on Valentine’s.”

“You cad. Does Dusk cook as well as you do?” Layla asked as she shook her head at him with a grin, wiping her finger over her plate to get the last of the melted gruyere.

“Not by halves.” Adrian chuckled. “But he does make excellent desserts. He’ll never admit it, but whenever he has spare moments, he loves to sneak episodes of the Great British Baking Show. Ask him about making you his apple tarragon tartlets sometime. They’ll rock your socks off.”

But then Adrian sobered and Layla understood why. They both had talked about Dusk this way in the past months, as if he was still with them even though he lingered in his crystal-cocooned coma back at Riad Rhakvir, guarded by the Desert Dragon clan. 

As Adrian sipped his coffee with a quieter demeanor, Layla decided it was time to broach the subject of Dusk, which they both had been studiously avoiding. Other than a few rumbles now and then, Dusk wasn’t necessarily improving within his crystal sarcophagus back at Riad Rhakvir. They had consulted all the best Crystal Dragon physicians and healers around the world for the past two months, and no one could tell them if he was healing or not, the cocoon Dusk had built for himself fiercely keeping out all outside vibrations. And now that Adrian and Layla’s vacation was ending in two days, it was time to broach subjects that had been shoved away while they were reveling.

Particularly, what they were going to do about their beloved Crystal Dragon.

Especially if he never woke up.

“Adrian, we need to talk about Dusk.” Layla began, swiveling on her barstool to face him. “I’ve been having a wonderful time with you this week—”

But before she could say more, Adrian’s cell phone suddenly buzzed at the end of the breakfast bar. He’d abandoned it there the moment they’d walked in a week ago, and had only checked it a few times since – a distinct change from when she’d first met him. It hadn’t rung all week, but now it was ringing determinedly, and though Adrian scowled, he reached for it. Looking at the name, he scowled more. “Layla, hold that thought. I need to get this. It’s Rachida, and she hardly ever calls. Probably just a bit of clan business. I’ll be quick, I promise.”

“Sure.” Layla gestured for him to answer, curious. “Go ahead.”

“Thanks.” Adrian nodded, then slid his thumb over the touchscreen to answer. Holding it to his ear, his eyes glanced at Layla. “Rachida. What’s up?”

Layla couldn’t hear what Rachida Rhakvir, Adrian’s Clan Second and paternal aunt, said on the other end. But suddenly Adrian’s straight dark brows lifted as his gaze pinned Layla, the aqua in them bright and astonished. “Tell them to stay back, give him space. He’s probably just disoriented – try ringing the crystal bowls from his old room to calm him. I know, I know. Rachida, I know he could bring the entire palace down. Have someone demonstrate deep breathing for him in Dragon-form; station people to ring the bowls non-stop. Keep your distance. We’ll be back as soon as possible. Yes, call Ghirard to get us the helicopter, stat. Yes, see you soon. Ok, bye.”

Layla’s attention sharpened as she sipped her coffee, trying to control a sudden hammering eagerness in her heart at Rachida’s news. As Adrian touched the screen to hang up, a swirl of hot cinnamon scent rioted off his skin. Layla watched him, trying to remain calm as Adrian curried his hands through his cropped black hair, though her heart was leaping inside her chest.

“What did Rachida say?” Layla hedged.

“Dusk’s awake.” Turning to her, Adrian blinked rapidly. “That pulse you and I felt, it was him, shattering his crystal cocoon and coming back to consciousness. But now he’s gone full-Dragon inside the palace and won’t calm; he’s trying to smash his crystal bower apart, where his sarcophagus was resting. No one can get near him, not even Rachida.” 

Adrian bit his words, a tense conflict emanating from him as his eyes burned a bright aqua-blue. Layla knew that look; Adrian was trying his best not to cry. Rachida’s news had hit him hard, and though Layla was filled with joy that Dusk was awake, Adrian was filled with fear that rioted through him like vicious zephyr. It alarmed Layla to the max as Adrian shoved back his barstool and strode to the balcony doors. Flinging them open as if he needed air, he strode out to the snowy balcony barefoot, gripping his hands into the icy railing. 

Shock and fear rising through her at Adrian’s reaction to Rachida’s news, Layla followed. Steam rose from beneath Adrian’s hands on the snowy balcony rail and Layla heard the crisp report of ice cracking beneath his preternaturally strong grip as his hands tightened. Stepping up behind him, Layla wrapped her arms around his tall frame and laid her cheek on his sculpted back, kissing his skin. A shiver went all the way through him as he straightened in her embrace. 

Heaving a sigh, he turned, wrapping her close in his arms. “We’ve got to get back to Morocco as soon as possible, Layla. Today. Rachida’s calling the helicopter to come pick us up at once.”

“Is Dusk ok?” Layla spoke quietly, trying to contain her emotions even though fear was rushing through her now, her Dragon giving a strangled roar in her veins. “Adrian, talk to me. What’s wrong? Is Dusk going to be all right?”

“Rachida doesn’t know.” Reaching up, Adrian stroked back one of Layla’s curls, his face grim though the tension of tears had left him now. “Dusk’s locked in his beast mind, he’s not thinking straight. And he’s not been able to return to his human mind yet.” 

“Shit.” Layla breathed now, knowing what that meant. As if all the brightness had been sucked out of the day, the sunlight seemed to dim as her heart clenched. “Dealing with someone locked in their Dragon-mind is tough under any circumstances, but with a Royal Crystal Dragon newly opened to the full wealth of his earth-shattering powers—”

“This could be bad, Layla.” Adrian spoke, completing her own thoughts as he gazed at her. “Are you ready for anything, with Dusk? Are you ready to put him down if he—”

“Shh.” Layla reached up fast, stilling Adrian’s words with her fingers to his lips. “We’ll figure it out. Even if he’s an animal, even if he’s gone rogue, you and I can bring him back. I know we can. We should get dressed. If the helicopter arrives soon, we’ll get back to Riad Rhakvir by this afternoon. And then we’ll see what’s what.”

“I hope so.” Adrian spoke soberly, gazing down at her with a terrible bleakness in his eyes. But before Layla could say or do anything more, his lips descended, kissing hers. It was slow and passionate, and contained everything their hearts had said to each other this past week. By the time he pulled away, Layla was breathless, staring up at him. He was gorgeous and intense as he gazed down at her with his perfect face and smoldering Mediterranean-gold eyes.

“I love you, Layla.” Adrian murmured, watching her. “Whatever happens… I want you to know this has been the best week of my life. Ever.”

Layla blinked. She knew her lips fell open, yet she couldn’t shut them. She blinked again and Adrian softened, beautiful in the morning. Crushing her close, he nuzzled her nose. “Come on, let’s get dressed and go save our Royal Crystal Dragon.”

Copyright Ava Ward 2020 All Rights Reserved. No part of this content may be reproduced without the author’s written permission.