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

Hey there!

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

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

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

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

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

XO Ava

WARNING - SPOILERS AHEAD!

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

CHAPTER 1 – FIGHT

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not one bit.

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

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

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

Or how to reverse it.

Fuck my life.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Two of a kind.

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

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

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

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

From roaring and rageful—to utterly black with wrath.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Though his vibrant emerald gaze is watchful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The subtlest dark and sexy smile on his face.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just like it’s been this entire week.

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

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

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

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

When we need his rageful power more than ever.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Even though I know he has to be my mate.

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

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

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

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

Waiting.

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

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

Black like death in the Void. 

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

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

And earn the right to be with me.

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

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

Or get the fuck out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Right at me.

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

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

Hey there!

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

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

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

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

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

XO Ava

 
 

WARNING—SPOILERS AHEAD!

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

CHAPTER 1 – ALLY

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

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

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

 Even the innate kind.

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Famed for their brutality up here in the far north.

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

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

 The dragon who has captured me.

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

 Waiting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Watching me eat like a ravenous beast. 

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

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

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

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

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

 For what reason, I have no clue.

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

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

 As is my Second Drake, Ström—somewhere nearby.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 The fiery gold of his drake.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hey everyone!

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

Release date is March 15th.

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

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

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

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

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

Reserve your copy on Amazon today!

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

Get ready for the heat!

XO Ava

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.

PRE-ORDER NOW! Sea Dragon's Destiny: Royal Dragon Shifters of Morocco #6

It’s almost here!

Sea Dragon’s Destiny: Royal Dragon Shifters of Morocco #6 is now available to pre-order on Amazon – click here to pick it up today!

I am so excited for this book! If you're a Reginald fan, this one is for you. This book is all about HOT SIRENS as Layla and Rhennic help Reginald face his father the Siren King and his clan's demands of him.

I have really been looking forward to this installment, as I am fascinated with Siren culture – the romance is uber-spicy, the settings are fantastic, and we get some ultra-badass action in this one. 

Watch out! The North Sea Sirens are going to seduce you. :)

Official release date is now April 10th, 2020.

Get ready for the heat!

XO Ava