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! 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.

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.

NEW EXCERPT! Blood Dragon's Heat: Royal Dragon Shifters of Morocco #4

It’s here! The first chapter of book #4 of the Royal Dragon Shifters of Morocco series is ready for your reading pleasure.

By popular demand, this book is all about Layla’s Seattle friends, and the twists and turns they get into in the Twilight Realm.

I’m aiming to have this book out Mid-October, and while that’s a bit to wait, there will be more goodies coming your way in the meantime, I promise! :)

BLOOD DRAGON’S HEAT: ROYAL DRAGON SHIFTERS OF MOROCCO #4

About the Book:

When everything she loves is taken from her, will she be strong enough to reclaim it?

Layla Price’s life has never been more complex. With three sexy, tempestuous Royal Dragon men bound to her, she’s got all the hot tempers she can handle.

Add to that her upcoming debut as a Courtesan for the Red Letter Hotel – a deadly gamble to draw out her mate Adrian Rhakvir’s enemies – and tensions couldn’t be running higher.

But when her human friends and her devastatingly hot ex-boyfriend come to visit, then are abducted, Layla must wrangle her fractious Dragon lovers.

Can she unite her bound Royal Dragons in order to save her friends?

Or will they break – taking her down into darkness?

CAUTION: SPOILERS AHEAD!! Read no further if you want the end of book #3 to be a surprise!

CHAPTER 1 – FRIENDS

Waiting on the promenade outside the Red Letter Hotel Paris, Layla Price shifted from foot to foot as snow fell all around. Off-work for Yule, she wore skinny jeans with russet leather boots, bundled in her navy peacoat with a cream scarf and hat against the chill midwinter day. Though the afternoon was bright all around the innermost quadrangle of the Palace of Versailles, a storm had moved in, snow swirling down to the grand black and white marble courtyard – though by some trick of Twilight Realm magic, it evaporated before it could stick. 

Waiting with her, her boss and bound Royal Crystal Dragon lover Dusk Arlohaim grinned at her, a wave of light rippling through his artfully-styled dark hair. His sapphire eyes were luminous in the snowy day, serrated ridges of midnight Dragon-scales at his temples outlining his exquisite handsomeness. Wearing a slim charcoal Italian suit with a midnight-blue pocket square and matching tie, he was comfortable in the cold. Grinning at her like a handsome devil as he tucked his hands in his trouser pockets with nonchalant grace, Dusk was calm as Layla fidgeted, until she finally glanced over, her breath puffing in the late-December air. 

“What?”

“Layla Price, I do believe you’re nervous to see your Seattle friends.” Dusk chuckled in his rolling baritone, though it was absent of his deep earth-shaking magics today.

“I’m not nervous.” Layla spoke stubbornly, shoving her hands into the pockets of her peacoat in an attempt to get control over her fidgeting. “I just want to make sure my friends get a good impression of the Hotel while they’re here, that’s all.”

“You’re nervous.” Dusk grinned more, watching her with astute humor glinting in his bright sapphire eyes. “I can feel it vibrating all through you. Not to mention it smells like a Yule-log soaked in bourbon out here.”

“Thanks.” Layla sassed with a lift of one dark eyebrow, though she was smiling now. It was hard to not smile at Dusk’s handsomely cheeky nature. 

But a car moving through the wrought-iron gates distracted her and she glanced over – a silver Jaguar rather than one of the Hotel’s black limos. Juniper boughs with fae-lights like fireflies wreathed the gilded gates for Yule. Gold and white ribbon with sprigs of holly and bright crimson berries had been woven through the wrought-iron. The same decorated the entirety of the sprawling complex of the Palace of Versailles, evergreen and holly, gold and white twining up every column and through every rail. Massive gilded braziers twisting with magical white-gold flames had been set up around the courtyard, highlighting the enormous cream and gold banners of the Hotel with their crimson ‘R’ and gilded crown that flanked the main ingress. 

The effect was gloriously elite, a winter wonderland for Yule. Layla knew her friends were going to love it; the interior of the Hotel decorated the same though with the addition of mistletoe everywhere. But all the same, something moved restlessly inside her. As another car drove through the gates, a white Tesla Roadster, she shifted again. 

“I think it’s cute that you’re nervous for the arrival of your Seattle friends.” Dusk spoke, interrupting her reverie. “Let me guess: nervous about Luke and I meeting? Your current hottie versus your ex?”

“I’m actually thinking about a lot of things right now, not just your ego.” Layla snarked at him with a teasing smile. But even she couldn’t deny the intensity boiling off her right now. Her Dragon-magics were rioting, waiting from her friends to arrive. She and Dusk had only been standing in the snow a few minutes, but as Layla shifted her stance again, it felt like an hour. 

“You’re worried Luke’s going to be jealous.” Dusk spoke cheekily beside her. “Even though he and I have talked on the phone about this trip, getting your friends ready for everything they’ll encounter in the Twilight Realm, he’s still your ex, and I’m your current beau. One of three. That’s got to be on your mind.”

“So what if it is?” Layla glanced at him, though deep inside she knew he was one hundred percent right. Her nervousness roiled, not knowing how to explain to her friends that she had not one, not two, but three bound lovers since Thanksgiving. And all of them were handsome-as-hell Royal Dragons who could slay even the hottest human man Layla had ever met in the looks and sex appeal department. 

Though Layla had yet to sample one of them in the bedroom. 

“Well, I know how protective Luke is of you.” Dusk held her gaze with gravitas now, snow settling into his sculpted hair and onto the shoulders of his slim Italian suit. “He’s already taken my measure, and fortunately, we get along. But he’s going to size up Adrian and especially Reginald, once they get a chance to meet. Luke has already judged Adrian badly. And Reginald… well.”

Layla gave short sigh. Dusk was right. Luke was a tempest in a teakettle, and Layla was already dreading him meeting Reginald Durant, Royal Siren and Head Courtier of the Hotel – and perpetual dick to anyone he judged as beneath him. Dusk and Adrian were arrogant in their own ways, but Reginald was ten times that. “Small favors that Reginald is still away visiting his clan right now in the North Sea. Any word when he’ll be back, by the way?”

“Not yet.” Dusk sobered, heaving a hard sigh as he stared off into the settling snow. “The North Sea Sirens are a tempestuous bunch, Layla. Reginald has a family score to settle with his clan now that Bastien is dead. Though Reginald won their battle a month ago, it was with intervention. His brothers and father are debating if that raises Reginald into the Clan Second position or not. If it doesn’t, he’ll likely continue on here at the Hotel as Head Courtier once his mandatory leave is finished. But if it does…”

“Reginald’s going to be more embroiled in his clan’s politics than ever.” Layla sighed heavily, her breath puffing in the chill air. Deep inside, her Dragon coiled through her veins with a tight, bitter worry. “What about Adrian? Any word from him yet?”

“Adrian’s settled in a safe location, finally.” Dusk smiled gently as he slung an arm around Layla, hugging her close. “He’s at one of his safe-houses, though I can’t tell you where just now. Everything’s going to be ok, Layla. Adrian’s safe and Reginald’s in no immediate danger from his clan or the Hotel Board. Your friends are going to have a fantastic time this week at the Hotel. I’ve set up all kinds of fun activities for them. Everything is taken care of, I promise.”

“I know.” Layla glanced up and cuddling close to Dusk, she kissed his lips. “You’re like this incredible grounding force in my life, Dusk. Every time I start to worry, it’s like you’re always there, cool and calm, planning six steps ahead of anyone else. Believe me, I’m grateful.”

“Your welfare matters to me,” he spoke, his bright sapphire gaze smiling at her, genuine. “And as a Crystal Dragon, I have a lot more grounding than most. If I can use that to better your situation – I will.”

“But how are you not infernally jealous of the other men in my life?” Layla protested, still held in his his arms though she pulled back slightly. “It’s like you’re always just steady, smoothing tempers, helping us all get along in this crazy new world that you and Reginald and Adrian and I have entered with our Bound power.”

“I am jealous.” Dusk’s smile was wry though his blue eyes were honest. “But I get time with you while we’re working. I get time when we sleep together at night. Adrian isn’t around now that the Hotel Owners want his head on a platter. Reginald is off at his clan home, working to get a handle on his Dragon and dealing with his clan’s shit. And your Dragon attacked Luke as an inferior mate, so he’s out of the running to be your beau. Plus, I understand complex relationships. You forget how many lovers I’ve juggled over the years. A Dragon’s sex life is a crazy world, Layla, and you’re just getting started. I’m jealous, but I know how to put it aside and be practical. The last thing you need in your life is a pissy Crystal Dragon trying encase all the rest of your men in quartz cocoons and hide them outside in the snow.”

Layla laughed; she couldn’t help it. Dusk had an ego as big as the moon, but she couldn’t deny his endless practicality. Lifting up, she gripped his lapels and kissed him. It was deep and sensual and he wound his arms around her with a deviant rumble. It thrilled Layla, making her Dragon turn over deliciously inside her as she became breathless, her heart hammering. Dusk chuckled as he pulled away, his sapphire eyes luminous and impossibly cheeky. 

“Besides. You like me best. I can feel it.”

“You wish!” Layla laughed, slapping his chest lightly. “How many lovers do you still have, anyway?”

“I’ve cut the impossibly long roster to three these days.” Dusk grinned, nuzzling her nose. “You, Amalia DuFane strictly because she makes me the best outfits, and Rake André when the mood strikes me. Royal Dragon Binds are a lot to handle in bed. Sometimes six or seven times a night, I’ve discovered.”

“Rake is one of your regular lovers? Not Rikyava anymore?” Layla blinked, ignoring Dusk’s innuendo about her ridiculously high libido, courtesy of her new Dragon-magics. He wasn’t kidding that there were occasionally nights where Layla woke up numerous times needing to be satisfied – and Dusk was always happy to supply. 

Layla had known her best friend and Head of the Hotel Guard Rikyava Andersen slept with Dusk on and off, though it was a surprise to hear Dusk had cut that particular association off. She hadn’t known that Head Bartender Rake André, who was also interim Head Courtier now that Reginald was on hiatus, was one of Dusk’s lovers. Layla had known Dusk occasionally took men to bed, and the thought suddenly made her body grip hard. A wash of sweet bourbon and orange peel scent wafted up around her as she imagined the fit-as-shit Dusk and the slender, gorgeous Rake André in bed together. 

It was a hot image and she knew her cheeks burned as Dusk laughed.

“Rikyava’s too busy these days. And besides, she’s still pining for a man she can’t have, though she won’t tell anyone who. But you didn’t know Rake was one of my regular partners, did you?” Dusk chuckled, teasing as he leaned in, speaking by Layla’s ear with a delicious rumble of his magics. “Maybe I’ll let you participate sometime. Rake’s not a Dragon but he slays them in bed, believe me.”

“Shut up.” Layla rolled her eyes, solidly facing the promenade once more though she couldn’t help it; she was smiling now. Dusk had a point with his lurid innuendo – all Dragons had disastrously high appetites for fighting and fucking, and Dragon-relationships were far more complicated than anything she could typify in human terms. Layla was still getting used to it, and managing the urges of her magic was an hourly task even despite her significantly better control since she’d bound Reginald. 

Especially with the temptingly sexy Dusk around night and day to trigger it now.

Black Bentleys and Jaguars had arrived, guests being escorted into the Hotel through the snow, their baggage hefted up by crimson liveried Hotel Guards. But none of the cars held her friends yet, and watching the guests, Layla’s impending position as a Hotel Courtesan hit her. Panic flooded her about her debut at the Yule Ball tonight: not knowing who would win her at her debut auction, or what she would have to do for them in the sack tonight. 

But then she felt Dusk step in behind her with a chuckle. Winding his strong arms around her, he set his chin on Layla’s shoulder, kissing her neck tenderly and making a twist of passion surge through her.

“You’re really having a hard time with this, aren’t you?” He spoke knowingly. “Stepping into a world where monogamy isn’t the currency of the realm? Not just with your three Bound men, but also your impending position as a Hotel Courtesan.”

“It’s driving me insane, Dusk, trying to reconcile the values I was raised with, with my new Dragon-appetites.” Layla spoke with a sigh, knowing she still had a lot of internal judgments to face about her own sexuality.

“I like how insane it’s driving you.” Dusk kissed her neck, grinning into her skin. “It’s nice.”

Layla smiled, feeling all the intimate time she and Dusk had shared these past weeks. Sex with Dusk was mind-blowing, and Layla felt herself heat with a delicious roll of pleasure as she thought back over everything they’d been doing since Thanksgiving. Reginald had permitted them to be together while he was away, though Layla still needed to train with Rikyava in the fight-halls beneath the Hotel daily to blow off extra magical steam. 

“Anyway,” Layla spoke, trying to push down her libido since her human friends were soon to arrive, “monogamy is different for you and Reginald. He’s lived his entire life as a Courtier, and you’ve had numerous lovers all of yours as an important pressure-release for your crazy high energy. For Adrian and I… it’s different.”

“Is it different?” Dusk spoke, his voice flat now. “Or are you just less bothered by Reginald and me having sex with other people, rather than Adrian or yourself?”

That stopped her. Layla went utterly still, her Dragon pausing within her. She felt like a rabbit pinned in the drifts by a snowy owl’s talons. Dusk had said it with glib panache, but Layla could feel him, waiting for her answer with a tense stillness. Layla suddenly smelled his cool river-water scent blossom up around her, tension in it like a whitewater flood. Dusk was casual about sex, but he wasn’t casual about love. Layla could feel how he’d given his heart to her.

And the tension in him as he waited to hear if he was less important to her than Adrian Rhakvir.

But she was saved from answering as an entire cadre of Hotel Guards suddenly marched out the main doors of the Hotel and formed a chevron before the Hotel’s primary entrance. Glancing back, Layla smiled, recognizing Dusk’s handwork: he’d arranged a formal Hotel welcome for her friends, just as Layla had received when she’d started in Concierge Services. It was something the Hotel only did for the highest dignitaries, and Layla smiled even wider as her Blood Dragon friend and Head of the Hotel Guard Rikyava Andersen strode forward, clasping arms with Dusk and then snapping her black boots together and bowing smartly before Layla. Rikyava rose with a reckless, fun grin on her full Swedish lips and high cheekbones, her lavender eyes sparkling with delight as she set a hand to the rapier at her hip and swept her long blonde French braid back over her shoulder.

“Hey chica.” Rikyava grinned at Layla with a wink. “The Guard heard there were some important folks coming in today.”

“Is this your doing?” Layla laughed, gesturing at the Guardsmen and women lined up in their chevron, standing at stiff attention in their crimson 1800’s uniforms with long pikes and baldrics of frightfully impressive weapons. Some of them looked human, but most didn’t – including four enormous Red Giants at the rear of the chevron whom Layla knew were intensely loyal to Adrian.

“Oh, a little birdie might have just whispered in my ear.” Rikyava winked at Dusk, who was smiling now with a fun, devious wit. 

“A little birdie with crystal Dragon-scales?” Layla turned to Dusk, grinning also now.

“Hey. A royal welcome is sometimes approved for human guests.” He chuckled. “Though I can’t say I ran this one by the new Hotel Head. He’s a dick, and—”

Dusk was about to say more, when a black Bentley limo suddenly pulled up before them at the edge of the checkered marble courtyard. Layla’s friends from Seattle were suddenly spilling out of the car with squeals of delight and her joy surged, watching her friends gape at the opulence of the Red Letter Hotel. 

Moving forward, Layla was in their arms. Laughter was in her heart as she did a happy dance with geek-chic Celia Caron, wearing a quilted parka that squished fluffily as they hugged. Big buff Charlie Avondale was next, swaddling Layla in his massive arms, clad in a UW sweatshirt and jeans. Layla laughed into his Adonis-blond curls, longer and more stoner-like than ever. Her best friend Arron Jacobs pushed in third, wearing a lean navy pinstriped suit with a hot pink pocket square, sweeping Layla up into his tall frame. Lifting her off her feet, Arron made Layla laugh breathlessly as his goodness poured through her. 

But Arron set Layla down with a twinkle in his grey eyes as Layla’s last housemate rounded the car. Wearing a blue blazer with nice jeans that fit his lean, mean body to a T, Luke Murphy was gorgeous as ever. Moving close, he ran a hand through his Irish-thick dark hair as he watched Layla with a careful gaze. She suddenly forgot all her troubles as she stared into his impossibly green eyes. Like emeralds shining through spring grass, those eyes spoke of tempestuous heat and renegade fury – and Luke’s impossibly deep love. Their history held Layla as she drowned in his eyes for a moment. 

And then he swept forward, gathering her into his arms. 

The feeling was like coming home as Layla let out a deep sigh, cradled close to his strong, lean body. Luke’s hand slid up her neck, holding her, and she felt him relax as she did, her hands lifting to clutch his blazer. His cheek turned to hers and Layla felt her passion leap to him as it always had. He didn’t kiss her, just breathed her in as they held each other. Tears pricked Layla’s eyes. Her Dragon didn’t want him as a mate, but Layla would always love him. 

Luke was just too special.

“Hey.” He murmured at last, nuzzling his nose into her jaw.

“Hey,” Layla breathed back, smiling. 

“I missed you.” He spoke, pulling her closer.

“I missed you, too.” 

Layla felt a deep tenderness pass between them, the best of what they’d once had as a couple. But it held sadness now, something poignant that hadn’t been there before as Luke set his lips to her temple in a soft kiss, then pulled back. His eyes were luminous, bright with pain as he hesitated to let her go. Layla felt emotion stretch between them, even though her magics had never bound Luke, human as he was. 

But something held her close to him all the same – something that could never be replaced for all the magic in the world. 

But as they watched each other, movement caught Layla’s attention. At Luke’s open shirt collar, she saw a silver chain, a dark pendant resting in the cleft of his sculpted chest. Layla perked as her gaze moved to it. Jewelry on men was something Luke had been adamant against all the years she’d known him, even more than dancing. Luke’s new teardrop pendant was a forest-green bloodstone flecked with rust-red, twined into an ornate filigree of silver. And as Layla watched, the stone writhed with stunning currents, veins of silver and gold flowing through the green and twisting into the red like currents of smelted blood.

It was so stunning that Layla blinked. 

And so obviously magical that she glanced up at Luke with alarm rushing through her. 

Copyright Ava Ward 2019, All Rights Reserved. No portion of this content may be reproduced in any way without written permission of the author.

Royal Dragon Bind - Chapter 2: Opportunity

CHAPTER 2 – OPPORTUNITY

The restaurant’s open space was brightly-lit, cozy yet modern with a cascade of wine racks down one wall and enormous picture windows upon the other. Layla and her mystery billionaire were quickly seated at a two-top table near the floor-to-ceiling wall of wine; a cozy nook with the clink and chatter of people all around. Asking what kind of wine she liked, her mystery guy immediately ordered a bottle of the restaurant’s best chardonnay, and was given a crisp nod as the host poured their water. Settling in as darkness devoured the street outside, Hot Mystery Guy sipped his water, his piercing eyes never leaving Layla – though he seemed to have regained his composure.

“So,” he began, “tell me about yourself.”

It was an extremely open-ended question and Layla balked. It was unclear if they were on a date, his body language genial now that they were seated. She still felt like she wasn’t thinking clearly since the gallery, though he seemed to be taking the strange events in stride. Blinking, Layla amassed her wits, unfolding her cloth napkin in her lap and taking a drink of water to fortify herself. Lesson one of strange men: don’t tell them much about yourself. 

Lesson two: don’t sink into those amazing eyes, no matter what.

“Well,” Layla set her water down, her regular brisk nature coming back online, “maybe you could start. By telling me just what exactly happened in the gallery back there. That was not your normal Friday afternoon.”

He gave a chuckle, his eyes twinkling with mischief and also with a secret. “Seems like you had a pretty severe allergic reaction to the cuff’s metal. Gave you quite the burn.”

“Bullshit.” Layla leaned forward and was about to tear him a new one, her feisty nature truly coming back now that he had tried to pull a fast one on her, when the wine arrived. In that moment, Layla realized her mistake coming to Lark. She looked up into the face of their lean, impeccably-dressed server as he set down two white-wine glasses, giving Layla a quick smile and a waggle of his blonde eyebrows. Layla’s chest gripped; it was Arron Jacobs, one of her housemates. She’d forgotten he was working tonight, Lark one of his two regular serving jobs. 

The wine-dance began with the presentation of the bottle, followed by uncorking. From Arron’s smirk, he clearly thought Layla was on a date as he presented the first pour in Mystery Guy’s glass, who slid it over for Layla to taste. She swirled it, sipping and trying to hold back an embarrassed burn in her cheeks – to no avail. But the wine was lovely, smooth and buttery. She nodded and Arron poured the rest, then set the bottle on the table and whisked away with a grin, leaving two menus in his wake after announcing the specials.

Taking up her wine and having a good swallow, knowing she was going to hear it from Arron later, Layla leaned back towards Mystery Guy. “Look. You’re selling me a line about what just happened in the gallery, and I’m not buying. Something real happened in there; something I could feel. That damn cuff you purchased did something to me. I can still feel it like fire ants burning beneath my skin. So spill. Tell me the truth.”

He have a low laugh, swirling his wine and gazing down at it; stalling. She could see his mind working furiously behind those oceanic eyes and dark lashes, planning what he would say. At last, he looked up. “Would you believe it if I told you I’m a collector of rare artifacts?”

“Sure.” That, Layla did buy. His flagrant display in the gallery confirmed it, as did his scrupulous examination of every item in the place. But there was so much more he wasn’t saying. “What else?”

He chuckled again, but this time his eyes remained on her. “Artifact acquisition is not my only investment, but it is one that is important to me for personal reasons.”

“Heritage reasons?” 

“You could say that.” He nodded, swirling his wine and sipping. “I do only collect artifacts important to my heritage, like that cuff. The rest of the items in the gallery were common, but that one is special to my people.”

“Some tribe in Morocco? And special how?” Layla wondered out loud, digging for information. The more she could learn about him before telling him anything about herself, the better. She didn’t need any more Hot Enigmas in her life after Gavin with his secret harem of women and shady high-finance deals. 

“Indeed.” He nodded, watching her with the full force of those amazing aquamarine eyes. “My tribe’s heritage has been scattered over the centuries, and I’m trying to bring it back together. That particular cuff was crafted under unique circumstances. Rather like a talisman – and if you’re sensitive to energy dynamics like a psychic or a shaman, you likely felt its effects. Because of its unique crafting, that cuff is priceless. I admit I was tracking it down; the buyer was a fool for accepting my offer. He didn’t know what he had.”

“Interesting.” Layla pondered that information, watching him. She had a very good bullshit radar, and it didn’t quite feel like a lie – actually more truth than lies, though she could tell he was holding back. The history of the cuff she could believe. Much pillaging had been done in North Africa over the past hundreds of years, and Layla could understand wanting to return objects of cultural significance to their home. If he was in a position to do so, go him. She wasn’t sure she bought all the energy-stuff, but she had been affected before by crystals, seances, and the like. Even to the point of fainting, once. 

“What else do you do?” Layla pressed, determined to wrest more out of him. “You don’t make money buying Moroccan artifacts and returning them home.”

“No, I don’t.” He chuckled, his aqua eyes flashing in the light of the brushed-steel spotlights overhead as he sipped his wine. “I am part-owner in a hotel chain, actually. Very elite; very exclusive. Think Hilton, but for only the top one-hundredth of one percent.” Here, he produced another fine business card from the gilded card-carrier in his pocket, extending it. Taking it up in her fingertips without touching him, though something inside her wanted to, Layla examined the card. A scarlet “R” in an elegant script was embossed on the front of the exquisite cream cardstock, surrounded by a gilded crown. There was an international telephone number imprinted in the lower right corner in scarlet ink, but that was all. No name, no address, nothing else.

“Shady,” she commented, offering it back. 

“Keep it.” He extended his hand to stop her. 

“Okay.” She set it down on the table by her plate. “Are you sure you’re not James Bond or something?” She joked casually, though her alarm bells were ringing from that business card.

“No, I’m not James Bond.” He gave a lopsided grin, adorable and sexy as hell – almost diffusing her alarms. “Though like James Bond, my work does keep me traveling, constantly. I rarely get to go home to Morocco and when I do, it is with great relief. And you?” He queried, sipping his wine. “You were born in Morocco, but you live here – Seattle?”

“Yes.” Layla nodded vaguely, keeping her information as clean of personal details as possible with a man she knew nothing about. “My mother is Moroccan but my father is from here. Bartending is temporary. My PhD is in International Studies.”

“Recently graduated?” He queried, interested. “Any employment prospects?”

“I’m exploring my options.” Layla lifted a dark eyebrow at him, swirling her wine and getting peeved at his pushing. 

He gave a low chuckle, those arresting eyes pinning her as a dark smile lifted his lips. “Now you’re the one who’s giving me bullshit. Let me guess. You were the shining star of your program, top of your class. Witty, argumentative, opinionated. Dissertation to die for. Gave a speech at graduation. And then you got passed over for that big position – maybe the United Nations, maybe some consulate – and you’re fuming, pissed. Wondering what your life has been for as you tread water and tend bar. Up to your eyeballs in student debt while barely managing to scrape by with a house full of roommates in the scalding competition of Seattle’s urban housing market. How close am I?”

Layla’s cheeks were positively crimson. She could feel them burning her face off. She set her wineglass down, staring at him. Other than the part about having given a speech at graduation, which she had been sick for and missed after finding out she’d not gotten the position with the United Nations in Paris, he was spot-on. 

Scary spot-on.

“How the hell?” She whispered, furious – while also relearning how to breathe.

“It’s part of my job to read people, and a natural gift.” His aqua gaze was penetrating; relentless but also calm. “Too many graduates find themselves in your situation. Excellent credentials, high-achieving, talented, stepping out into a flooded job market that doesn’t want them. A cutthroat world of too much skill and too many people, plus overwhelming expenses and debt. But what if there was another way?”

“Excuse me?” Layla set her jaw, the conversation entirely too personal for her liking now. She crossed her arms, sitting back in her chair and lifting an eyebrow at him, making him see her rage. “Are you trying to sell me timeshares or something?”

“Not at all!” He laughed, his oceanic eyes sparkling, his own ease with the conversation warring with Layla’s tension. “I’m trying to say there’s a whole world out there that you are perfectly suited for. A life that could earn you everything you want, based on the credentials you have. If you’re willing.”

“Willing to do what?” Layla darkened, eyeballing him with fury coursing through her veins as she guessed where this was going. “Sleep with you?”

“No.” He smiled and actually blushed a little, his gaze almost embarrassed. “No, gods no.”

“Then what?” Layla’s brows furrowed. He was clearly working her up to something, but she still couldn’t place what it was. But that sketchy business card and his cagey dancing around the exact nature of his hotel chain was working her hackles up.

“I’d like to invite you to come work for my hotel.”

He watched her with a level directness, gauging Layla’s reaction. She blinked at him, feeling absolutely hostile even though he was still hot as hell. “Is this some kind of fluff-and-buff Dubai prostitution ring? Because if it is, you are going to get a drink your face and you’ll see my pretty ass walking out that door, stat.” She nodded to the tall glass doors at the front of the restaurant. “My life sucks, but it doesn’t suck as bad as that. No fucking thank you.”

He sat back, watching her closely, something mysterious settling about him as he swirled and sipped his wine. Layla realized he’d hesitated. She shook her head, an incredulous look taking her face. Lifting her napkin from her lap, she slapped it to the table and pushed up out of her chair. She was two steps into ditching his ass and this whole damn cluster-fuck, when he reached out, snagging her wrist. An intense sensation shivered all the way through Layla’s body, and it was all she could do to not throw her head back in ecstasy at his touch. Her body shuddered, flaring with passion so hard it left her breath heaving, and a small sound escaped her lips. Heat flushed Layla’s face; both from embarrassment and from her response.

Her body wanted him; hard. As his fingertips brushed the inside of her wrist where the cuff had burned her, she felt a thrill sear up her arm – deep into her chest and down into her groin. A breath left Layla’s lips as she stared at him, incredulous. His aqua eyes flared, the gold in them bright as a shudder passed through him also. Whatever was happening wasn’t just her, and as Layla turned to face him he rose from his seat, his fingers still at her wrist. Smoothing a circle on her inner wrist with his thumb, he gazed down, Layla staring up into his incredible molten eyes. They were so hot they could have burned the Sahara, a match to his burning touch at her wrist, and she realized they were breathing together – sharing breath, matching each other sip for sip.

“No.” He spoke at last, something intense in his visage. “It’s not prostitution.”

“You hesitated.” Layla breathed, feeling his closeness, wanting it and not knowing what the hell was going on.

“I did.” He nodded, something dire in his gaze. “Please sit, and I’ll explain.”

Layla was one step from bolting or two steps from retaking her seat. The solid heat of his nearness pressed her like a hand, stroking an amazing, shivering sensation through her. It was so strong she shuddered again, her eyelashes fluttering involuntarily. Though she flushed with embarrassment that he had such an effect on her, she saw an answering tremor wrack him.

And an answering flutter of his own black-lashed eyes.

That swayed her more than anything he could have said. Whatever was going on was not just her. Layla felt a deep mystery as he gently released her wrist, beckoning to her chair. She reclaimed it, watching him warily like a bird with a snake. But something about her was having an effect on him too – so perhaps they were two snakes facing off across the table.

“Talk.” Layla took up her wine, downing what was left and pouring again from the bottle. She didn’t refill his glass, eyeballing him with a tense composure. He downed what was left of his own wine and after he’d refilled his glass, drank another big swig before he set it carefully down.

“The Red Letter Hotel,” he began, watching Layla intently, “serves the most elite clientele on earth. Don’t bother researching it on Google or anywhere else. You won’t find anything.”

“The Red Letter Hotel.” Layla pinned him with her gaze. “What’s that? This?” She held up his business card. 

“That,” he nodded soberly at the card, “is an exclusive invitation. To become part of one of the most elite organizations on earth. Elon Musk wishes he had our connections. And that card in his fingertips, just as you have now.”

“But you prostitute people.” Layla frowned.

“No.” He tapped the pedestal of his wine glass with one finger, watching her with his searing gaze. “We invite luxury clients to have a one-of-a-kind experience during their stay with us. It can include sex, but not necessarily. We provide an experience that will blow a person’s mind, body, and spirit, and re-configure everything they ever knew about the world. Our guests value us for providing that perspective and pay handsomely for it. I’m inviting you to come be a part of it. To start in Concierge Services, using your formidable talents to navigate tricky political situations with grace, wit, and fire, for the benefit of both yourself and our establishment. Learning on your feet and coming to understand a whole new world by being a part of it. A thorough understanding of who you really are, and how much power and benefit it can bring you. If you’re ready.”

Layla was stone-cold for a long moment. “Who the fuck are you?”

He had opened his lips to respond when something near the door caught his eye. Layla could practically feel him bristle as he came alert, like spines or barbs prickling in the air. She could feel it all over her body, and she shivered as the man’s hand snaked out lightning-fast to a steak knife upon the table, touching it like he might attack someone. He paused, watching the door with a rigid, animalistic fury that made his eyes flash gold once more. The moment stretched, Layla barely able to breathe from the intensity flooding from him. Her breath came in small gasps, and his eyes flicked to her. Worry creased his handsome features, and taking a deep breath, his fingers eased from the knife – that bristling sensation in the air diminishing slightly until Layla could breathe again. 

He leaned forward, dropping his voice. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to upset you. But I can’t tell you my name. Not here, not now. It’s not safe. But please know, Layla Price, that with your International Studies PhD, the seven languages you speak fluently and how easily you pick up more, and with your mother’s heritage out of Marrakesh – that you are precisely the person I’ve been looking for. The cuff’s reaction to you tonight confirms it. Consider all that I’ve said. Please. I’m begging you to.”

With that, he rose, snagging Layla’s roommate Arron by the arm as he passed, pressing his black credit card into Arron’s hand. “Anything the lady wants, please see that she is taken care of. I have to leave, but make certain she gets this card before she goes, to take with her and use as she sees fit.”

“Sir.” Arron’s blonde eyebrows climbed his forehead as he nodded. He glanced between them with an incredulous look at Layla, then bustled off to the server’s station with the card. 

Gazing down at Layla, a complicated look washed through her mysterious stranger’s eyes. They seemed to change again in the bright light of the restaurant – like an ocean roiling with currents of sea green, royal blue, then gold. Layla’s breath caught, feeling like she was rolled under the Mediterranean – drowning in his desert-spice scent as waves of heat and cool flooded off his skin. 

Her breath was fast again as he reached out, touching her fingertips. At his caress, a spear of electricity shot straight through Layla. Blistering heat rolled from him; an answering heat rolled hard through Layla as he held her gaze and lifted her fingers to his lips. At the touch of his lips, so impossibly smooth upon her skin, passion roared through Layla’s every fiber. She could suddenly feel those lips kissing her everywhere. Her neck, her nipples, her groin – lust hammered her, then disorientation as if she were seeing him in a hundred different skins.

All of them changing except for the piercing blue of his desert-ocean eyes.

Sliding his free hand into his pocket, he retrieved the hamsa-cuff and set it on the table by Layla’s plate. Guiding her hand from his lips, he set her fingertips to the red coral and white bone. “This is yours. Call the number on the card. Become who you were meant to be.” 

With that, he released her, something like agony flickering across his face and flaring deep in his eyes as he devoured her one last time. And then he was gone, sidling through the restaurant and out into the night so quickly it was like he’d never been.

Stunned, Layla still simmered with annihilation, every nerve on fire. Reaching out, she claimed her wine, downing it. Arron was there quickly, refilling her glass, his big grey eyes deeply alarmed. “Layla? What just happened? Did your date just ditch you?”

“I don’t know.” Layla gave a slow blink and looked up at him. 

“Are you ok?” He spoke again softly, reading her distress. 

“I don’t know,” she spoke again, still reeling. 

Watching her intently, Arron slid to the chair that Layla’s stranger had just vacated. Reaching out, her sweet lean twink of a housemate took her hand. “You look flushed. Maybe you should eat something, sugar. Perhaps your date was an asshat, but he did leave his card. We can burn a hole in his plastic; give him what-for. I say good riddance. You don’t need another Gavin.”

Layla laughed despite her current state of shock. She realized it looked like she’d just been walked out on by some high-finance asshole who was trying to pay her off with his little black credit card. Layla looked up, a sly smile curling her lips. “Charge my meal and drinks to his card, Arron. Hell, use it to buy everyone’s dinners tonight and give you and your staff a hundred percent tip for every meal. I don’t want his little black card. He can shove it.”

“You go, girl!” Arron grinned, impish with delight. 

“And don’t stop with the wine, ok?” Layla swigged back her chardonnay. “Even if I get plastered. I’ll call a Lyft to get back to the house tonight.”

“Or if you get hammered long enough, I’ll drive you back at the end of my shift.” Arron laughed with tinkling delight, then whisked a second bottle of chardonnay out of the rack-wall and uncorked it, setting it to the table. “Be right back with some appetizers.”

Arron whisked away, leaving Layla staring at the door. Watching; waiting. She realized some part of her was hoping her hotel-owning billionaire with his absurd proposal, strange heat, and oceanic eyes would be back. But as she gazed around the restaurant, she noticed she was alone now in her little nook.

Except for the Moroccan wrist-cuff by her plate. The damn thing held court there, looking at her with its bloody coral teardrop and bone-white hamsa. Challenging her; forbidding. Layla reached out, touching the bone of the hamsa with her fingertips. But there were no fireworks now and the silver of the metal had warmed in the restaurant, freed from its climate-controlled case in the gallery. Sliding her hand out, she set her forearm in the open clamshell. Nothing. No burn, no sparks. Closing the cuff, she slid in the silver pin, setting it. Turning her wrist over, she admired the hamsa design, now on her outer forearm. It gazed back as if asking a question with its burning coral centerpiece. 

What was she going to do with everything she had discovered tonight? 

What was she going to do – with the rest of her life?

Copyright 2018 Ava Ward. All Rights Reserved. No part of this content may be reproduced or used without the author's written permission.

Royal Dragon Bind - Chapter 1: Artifact

CHAPTER 1 – ARTIFACT

The Moroccan wrist-cuff in the glass box was exquisite. Layla Price gazed down at the antique Berber artifact resting on its black velvet cushion, watching the gallery’s light reflect off the ornately-fashioned silver. Inset with red coral, amazonite, bone, and amethyst, not to mention exquisite turquoise and yellow cloisonné enamel, the cuff was part of a collection of North African artifacts featured at the Vermillion art gallery for August.

Leaning over the display, a glass of chardonnay to hand, Layla tucked a curl of her sable hair back up into its twist. The cuff, featuring a bone hamsa with a fiery red coral teardrop in the center of the palm, seemed to ward or forbid any who might touch it – as if it was not to be owned, lest it claim the one who owned it. Enameled vases and inlaid tables, Berber necklaces and archways of colorful zellij mosaics were forgotten as Layla stared at the cuff. Lifting her glass, Layla sipped her chardonnay, refreshed by the crisp, smooth flavor in the muggy space of the gallery. The Vermillion was a local spot in Seattle’s Capitol Hill neighborhood, the long, narrow space allowing almost no meandering room between the displays. The tiny gallery featured a bar in the back, though almost no-one wandered the exhibit today. It was a shame; the pieces were exquisite, and brought a feeling of desert spice and evening winds to the stuffy space.

As if called up from the hamsa-cuff, a breeze lifted the air inside the gallery, stirring Layla’s curls. She was still dressed in her little black work dress and heels, showing her slim curves and long legs. Simple but low-cut, the dress attracted attention when Layla shook up a drink at the Needle & Thread secret bar – from where she had just come, off her bartending shift for the night. 

Glancing over, Layla saw the zephyr was just the glass door, propped open by a geek-chic gallery host to let in the evening breeze. As the host set the door, a man slipped in from the street, nodding to the host then gazing around the fantastic display. Dressed in an elegant ensemble of a crisp white collared shirt with sleeves rolled to his elbows, narrow pinstriped charcoal trousers with a shiny black belt and Oxfords, he was obviously rich. Men didn’t get that lean, mean physique without dedicated training, and those tall, cuttingly handsome looks weren’t fed pizza and beer. 

Rifling a hand through his brush-cut black hair as he gazed around, his piercing green-blue eyes perused every glass case from the door as if searching for something. His gaze finally came to the hamsa-cuff and he noted Layla – then those eyes traveled up Layla’s curves from high-heels to hips, to cleavage, to her face. As the man’s eyes locked on hers, an electric current shivered through Layla. Piercing, drowning, she was suddenly unsure if those eyes were blue or green, or a searing Mediterranean aquamarine. Vibrant and molten, they devoured her as flecks of gold in their depths caught the evening sun through the gallery’s windows, scattering it like a sea on fire.

Staring at her, the man’s lips fell open. She saw him inhale, then lurch forward as if drawn to that electric sensation Layla felt tingling through her body. Like her entire nervous system had come alive at the sight of him, Layla’s breath was fast as she flicked her gaze away. Tingles and heat rushed through her. Her head reeled and Layla locked her eyes on the hamsa-cuff as if it were the only thing that could save her from the man’s intense, almost carnal presence. 

She felt him move closer – stirring the breeze from the door with a flush of heat that smelled of cinnamon and anise, even desert jasmine. But it was just his cologne wafting around her as he paused then moved on by, giving Layla a wide berth as he moved toward the bar with his hands thrust casually in his pockets.

Shaken by the man’s arrival, Layla breathed deep, one arm clutching her waist as she tried to hold her wine glass steady. She could still feel his heat surging across her skin with a palpable pressure – as if he had touched her as he walked by, even though he hadn’t. She couldn’t get enough of his inundating cologne; the scent intoxicating on her tongue. 

Alarm raced through her with her sudden attraction. The last time she’d experienced a heat so intense with anyone was Gavin, and what a train wreck that had turned out to be. Six months after they’d broken up, she could still feel the disaster of that relationship. Screaming and throwing art-vases at each other, Layla had stalked out of his penthouse apartment downtown and never looked back. Too-hot-to-handle Gavin could keep his tech money and his Tesla Roadster – and the five women he’d been fucking on the side. Now, two months post-grad from the University of Washington with a PhD in International Studies but with no proper job, Layla was only good enough to serve assholes like Gavin their drinks; the Seattle job market abysmal for non-tech positions. 

Feeling a presence return to the gallery, Layla’s gaze lifted to see Hot Guy idling near a tiled arch. His gaze shifted to her as he sipped a blood-red wine, as if he felt her watching. The sensation of a desert wind blew through Layla again as she met that searing aquamarine gaze – watching her with a level intelligence and dark passion. It rocked her and she dropped her eyes to the floor, the tiled mirrors – to anything but stare at Hot Guy Trouble.

Moving around the gallery, he took his wine and his tall, hot self in the opposite direction – idling at every mirror, gazing into every case of jewelry. Stepping to the wall, Layla avoided him. Admiring an inlaid vase, she was awed by the breathtaking detail. But the only piece that truly called to her of her mother’s Moroccan heritage, was the six-inch cuff in its spotlit box. Migrating back, Layla’s gaze sank into the shining silver, the bleak bone of the hamsa – the red coral like a drop of blood in the center of the palm.

“Arresting, isn’t it?” 

A smooth baritone voice at her side nearly made Layla drop her wineglass. Of course, her hot kryptonite had migrated to her side, admiring the wrist-cuff, his rakish good looks even more exquisite up close. She glanced over, trying not to stare and failing. His cheekbones were high, his jawline cuttingly defined, his short black hair thick and glossy. With slightly tanned skin, he looked Mediterranean, though those piercing aqua eyes with their flecks of gold were unreal. His short black stubble looked soft, and Layla fought an almost irrepressible urge to lift her fingers to his jaw and touch him.

“It’s lovely.” Layla returned, trying to make her voice firm. His heady desert-spice musk flowed around her as his presence pressed upon her like a hand caressing down to things unseen. Sipping her wine to cover her blistering reaction to him, Layla tried to ignore the wetness she felt down below and the hammering of her pulse. Usually, if she dismissed men long enough, her ardor got the hint. Working as a bartender in high-class Seattle establishments since undergrad had given her a lot of helpful tricks against sexy bad boys – and Layla set her determination firmly in place, knowing this one was as sexy and bad as they came.

“As if it could take you by the hand and lead you into danger,” he murmured, sidling nearer with his gaze riveted to the cuff. “Or out of it. Protection or devastation. The wound is the place where the Light enters you.”

“Rumi.” Layla’s eyebrows lifted; rich assholes didn’t speak poetry. She blinked as she turned to him, her determination to brush him off slipping. “The cure for pain is in the pain.”

His lovely lips quirked, his aqua eyes smiling with delight – transforming him from devastatingly handsome to absolutely annihilating. “Let yourself be silently drawn by the strange pull of what you really love. It will not lead you astray.” His gaze flicked down to the cuff then back up to pin her; flooding Layla with his intense presence. “I feel a strange pull when I look at this thing. As if my only option is to surrender, and be bound by it.”

Layla wasn’t entirely certain they were speaking of the artifact anymore. Flooded with heat, she flushed across her own light olive skin, unable to draw her gaze away from drowning in her unexpected companion. “As if there could be no other way,” she mused, feeling the strange pull of not only the Moroccan cuff, but also the man beside her.

A moment passed between them, shivering with heat. Currents of air stirred from the open doorway, the lurid smell of the city blending with the man’s cinnamon spice scent. Layla could feel him; pulling her, surrounding her with an almost animal magnetism. As if their bodies understood each other, Layla found them moving closer as they tried not to fall into each other and failed. His gaze pierced her, drowning her; though she saw something equally annihilated in his arresting stare. His lips had fallen open as they pulled steadily closer.

Suddenly, Hot Mystery Guy cleared his throat, his beautiful black lashes blinking. He made a quick gesture to the gallery host, lingering by the door and fanning herself with a Japanese paper fan. Hustling over in her black T-shirt, black jeans and combat boots, she beamed behind chunky square-rimmed glasses, her blonde hair shaven on one side. 

“Questions?” She chirruped, adjusting her glasses.

“How much is this piece?” The man queried, his baritone smooth and rich like Turkish coffee. Layla suddenly realized he had a vaguely Mediterranean accent, though she couldn’t place it.

“Oh!” The gallery host blushed and adjusted her glasses again. “It’s not for sale; none of these pieces are. They’re being displayed from a private collection. I’m so sorry. But we are taking donations for the gallery, if you’d like to make a gesture of your appreciation for the show?”

With a sly smile that made his handsomeness obliterating, the man produced a gilded pen from his pocket and a cream linen business card from a gold card-holder. Writing a number on the card, he held it out to the gallery host. “Please make a call to the owner. Here is my offer for this piece, and I can pay it right away. I’ll wait.”

She took the card, a doubtful frown pinching her ash-blonde brows. But when she saw the sum, those blonde brows climbed her forehead. “Sir! I’ll be right back.”

Hustling away so fast she was practically running, she headed for the bar. Layla glanced over, watching the man put the pen and card-holder back in his pants pocket, his smile rakishly delightful. 

“Couldn’t leave it alone, could you?” Layla sassed, sipping her wine. “Just had to go flashing that money around to get anything you like.” Being brazen and cheeky was her back-up against hot rich men, if her body’s dismissal failed.

Which it had. Spectacularly.

His gaze pierced her, full of delight and carnal devouring. “I know someone this piece of jewelry would be perfect for. It would be a tragedy to leave it languishing in a glass case rather than gracing her perfect wrist.”

“Lucky her.” Layla’s gaze fell back to the cuff. She felt forlorn suddenly, that this rich asshole had purchased it, probably for his wife or lover. And that he could – just throwing around his money and his Rumi and aqua eyes and making the world do his bidding. And yet, the most disappointing thing was that he was otherwise engaged. It speared Layla’s heart suddenly that he had someone else – someone who was not her and never would be. Her ardor struggled, as if he’d trapped it and now it needed to be free. Her heat diminished as she sipped her wine, staring at the Moroccan cuff and letting conversation with Hot Mystery Guy drop.

“And how is it that an arresting creature such as yourself has come to be here on a Friday night, when all the rest of the world is out dancing?”

Layla blinked, realizing that he was striking up conversation while he waited for the judgement on his price. She glanced over, trying to not be arrested by his incredible eyes and still failing. “I just got off work. I heard this show was coming in and I’ve been looking forward to it.”

He cocked his head, giving her a keen once-over that made her flush and tingle again, damn hormones. “Bartender,” he spoke with a slight grin. “And half-Moroccan, if I’m not mistaken. You smell like twists of orange and lemon-peel with a splash of sweet bourbon. And that light olive skin and loose curls I’d know anywhere. Though those pale jade eyes of yours… I can’t rightly say where those come from.”

“Worldly, aren’t we?” Layla sassed him again, swirling her wine. It both pissed her off and impressed her that his assessment had been so acute – a little too acute. “I was born near Marrakesh, though my family moved here when I was an infant. My mother’s Moroccan. Have you been to Morocco?”

“I was born there also.” Uncouth, he clinked glasses with her, his incredible eyes witty. “I still have a place there, and family. I try to get back as often as I can.”

Of course he has a place there. Layla thought sourly. Probably has a palace in every corner of the world and thinks nothing of it.

“Your eyes are hardly Moroccan, either,” she bit somewhat harshly, irritated suddenly. 

“No, they’re not.” He cocked his head, brows furrowing at her terseness. “Tell me, have I—”

But he got no further as the gallery host whisked back, practically tripping in her haste, her eyes wide behind her chunky frames. “The owner said yes!”

“Fantastic!” The man’s face opened from worry to immense pleasure and he gestured to the case. The girl produced a bundle of keys and unlocked the glass. She slid the velvet pillow out with reverence, liberating the artifact. The red coral and bright silver caught the lights, dazzling as if exuberant to be free. While the white bone ate the light – devouring it as if hungry for more.

“I’ll just be a moment boxing it. If you’d meet me in the back?”

“Leave the item here; I’ve no need for a box. Run the sum on this – and please add a twenty percent tip for the gallery.” Reaching out, the man slipped a black credit card embossed with a scarlet R into the pocket of the girl’s black t-shirt. Eyes enormous, she set the velvet pillow with the cuff on top of the glass case. 

“I’ll be right back.” She spoke, then hustled off.

With slow reverence the man reached out, fingers hovering over the cuff. His aqua eyes were a thousand miles away as he set his fingertips to the scarlet coral, stroking the bone and inlaid silver as if stroking a lover’s skin. His lips fell open and his sigh seemed to fill the gallery, susurrating upon a sudden wind that intensified the scent of his cinnamon-jasmine cologne. As if responding to his touch, the bloody coral teardrop threw the evening light in a pulse like a beating heart – though it was just the last rays of the sun flashing out through the windows. 

“Hold out your wrist.” The man’s voice was a whisper in the empty gallery. 

“What?” Layla startled, glancing at him. 

“Hold out your wrist,” the man’s gaze caught hers, drowning like a Mediterranean ocean. “I want to make sure it fits the woman it’s for.”

“Oh! Sure.” Layla was shaking as she held out her left wrist, wineglass in her other hand. She wanted more than anything to have the cuff bound upon her, yet it was somehow terrifying. Draining his wine and setting the glass on a pedestal, the man’s long fingers claimed the cuff. With a deft touch, he pulled the long silver pin, then clasped the cuff around Layla’s wrist. The silver was so cold it burned, as if the cuff held an otherworldly energy. Setting the pin, the man’s hands slipped away. 

But at the last moment, his long fingers strayed over Layla’s wrist – touching skin-to-skin with the silver cuff between. A hard pulse rocked Layla. Like a firebrand had been thrust through her from the cuff and the man’s touch, it caused her to cry out in exquisite pleasure and terrible pain. The man grunted, doubling over as if he’d been punched, his hand spasming tight upon hers. 

With a roaring flow, a bright wind rushed through Layla as his hand clamped down – filling her nostrils with cinnamon and anise, jasmine and orange peel, destroying her with a vision of light. Vast deserts rolled away from her. Vistas of canyons; cities of ancient splendor. The feel of a desert wind as it surged through an oasis at twilight; the roaring demon of the sandstorm. She cried out again, shuddering and dropping her wineglass to shatter upon the gallery’s floor as the man’s fingers twined into hers – flooding her with a roaring, ancient passion.

With a gasp, Layla broke away from the man’s touch, staggering to the gallery wall to prevent herself from falling. The man stood near the pedestal, his iron-wrought frame shaking like a leaf in gale as he stared at her with eyes that shifted through every color now, including gold – amazing and impossible. Heat and pleasure continued to rock Layla, flooding from the hamsa-cuff and where the man had touched her. 

With a shudder, Layla hastily unpinned the cuff, dropping it. It was saved from landing in Layla’s shattered wineglass by the man’s serpent-fast reflexes. Cradling her wrist as surges of pleasure just this side of orgasm rocked her, Layla saw a red mark burned into her inner wrist. The hamsa with its bloody teardrop was seared into her flesh – right over the spot where the bone inlay had been.

The gallery host came running with a broom and trash sweep-up as Layla massaged her wrist, still unable to process what had just happened. Handing back the man’s credit card with a receipt, the host nodded to him, then began sweeping up the glass. 

“Forgive us!” The man murmured, making a nominal motion to help, though he was still breathing hard as if he’d just run a sprint. 

“No, it’s no problem!” She waved him off. “People break glassware in here all the time. And you’re all set with the purchase. Thank you so much for your patronage, we truly appreciate it! If there’s anything else I can do?”

With an unsteady step back and a shiver, the man produced a scarlet silk handkerchief from his trouser-pocket and wrapped the cuff, then pocketed it. His gaze simmered upon Layla, though his eyes had returned to their regular piercing aqua. Those eyes snapped back to the gallery host. “Yes. Best restaurant in a three-block walk?”

“Oh, I recommend Lark,” she answered. “Take Pike west to 10th, head south, then over and down on Broadway. You can’t miss it.”

“Thanks.” 

Before Layla could react, the man set a hand to the small of her back, then whisked them out the door and into the Friday night bustle on Capitol Hill. He breathed out shakily as they passed through the door, heat rising from his body as he stepped close, his hand searing upon Layla’s back. With a chuckle, he flashed Layla a smile from his still-burning aquamarine eyes. 

“I could use a bite after all that excitement. Shall we?”

“Get dinner?” Layla balked, pulling back against his hand, shaken by what had just happened. 

“Unless you have other plans?” Though his touch eased as they gained the sidewalk, he didn’t let her go. Hot Mystery Guy cocked his head, his penetrating gaze gone so dark in the twilight it was cobalt. Layla was about to decline, but his gaze was so arresting, his hand at her back so hot that she hesitated. Her body still reeled from whatever had just happened; her pulse pounded with each whiff of his cinnamon-desert cologne as a flooding passion rocked her. The entire episode had left her unseated from reality – the mark upon her wrist vivid from the burn of cold silver.

“You paying for dinner?” Layla sassed at last. So much for all her protection mechanisms against Hot Guy Trouble.

“Of course. There is nothing I would love to do more.” Her Hot Mystery Guy smiled, annihilating like a falling star in the dusk, and Layla felt heat surge through her all over again. She was undone by that smile, she realized suddenly. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for it. As if it bound her heart, Layla felt her passion and pleasure leap to him – needing that smile in her world like she needed breath. It swept her away so completely that she was left dumbstruck by how fast he had snared her. How hard she had fallen to his searing touch, to that cinnamon-jasmine scent breathing around her like a desert zephyr – to this deep and ancient lust surging between them.

With a graceful gesture, he beckoned down the sidewalk. Trying to pull her shit together, Layla stepped into the throng before he could arrest her again. With easy strides he accompanied her, threading through the punks and early drunks with a serpentine grace, his hand never once relinquishing its place at the small of her back. As if he, like the hamsa-cuff that had marked her, couldn’t bear to parted from Layla.

And for her part, Layla didn’t shrug him off.

Copyright 2018 Ava Ward. All Rights Reserved. No part of this content may be reproduced or used without the author's written permission.