Broken Aro (The Broken Ones)

Broken
Aro

Book one
of The Broken Ones

All Rights Reserved

Copyright © 2012 by Jen Wylie

Cover Design © 2012 by Christina Aubin

Frame artwork
© 2012 by
Depositphotos/Krystsina Birukova

Cover Photo
© 2012 by
Depositphotos/Inna Gusachenko

First Untold Press Publication / September
2012

All rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced
or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author's
imagination and or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales
or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Published by Untold Press LLC

114 NE Estia Lane

Port St Lucie, FL 34983

www.untoldpress.com

PRODUCED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

Dedication

To the
one who was my best friend before becoming everything else.

You’ve
kept me strong, and you’ve kept me going through all the hard times. Your
patience and constant encouragement not only brought me back to myself, but
made this book possible.

You’re
my angel, too.

Special Thanks

As with any great endeavor, there are always so many people who
help you along the way. Special thanks to my parents, kids, and Sean for their
continual, never ending support. To my new friends, Terri-Lynne and Kim, dealing
with authors may not be the easiest thing in the world, but I owe you a debt of
thanks for helping me make Aro even better. To Donna, Jackie, and Erin for
those last sets of eyes to make sure it is perfect, and to Rusty and Julie for
their continued support.

Prologue

Fifteen Years Ago

He soared high above the coast, air rippling beneath his
wings. Dipping through clouds, he enjoyed the coolness of the light wind
whirling around him. Sunlight sparkled on the ocean waves far below, little
winking lights breaking the monotony of the empty waters.

Like a fledgling, he played amongst the wispy clouds.
Snapping his giant wings open, he broke a dive, spun, and with powerful beats,
rose higher once more. Even after thousands of years, the joy of flying still excited
him. It was one of the few things still able to send a thrill coursing through
his veins.

From the corner of his eye, a dark spot caught his attention
and he turned, spiraling around it. A ship, while not uncommon along the coast,
usually wasn't found this far north. He dropped lower, noting it was a large
vessel capable of making the long journey across the sea. There were fewer of them
now that the humans occupied the entire eastern coastline with their pathetic
little cities.

He twisted, flicking his tail, and circled. There, on
the secluded beach...little spots scurrying around a smaller boat. The humans
of the east were mostly pirates and slavers. Few partook of practices such as
legal trade or simple transport, particularly anyone with such long range
ships. They were all criminals anyways, so why would someone be picked up from
a beach when there were perfectly good ports available?

Even more curious, he dropped lower, expanding his senses
and almost missing a wing-beat.

Fey? It couldn't be...
He circled above, watching with his senses fully
alert. Most of the little bodies below were human, but two were indeed Fey. He
watched the humans fill the small boat with items from the shore and then head
back to the larger ship.

He debated investigating further. If he was seen by
the humans in dragon form it could prove troublesome. He couldn't help himself.
This was
interesting
. Anything that could catch his attention, or give
his mind something to do, was treasured. Like flight, curiosity still brought
him joy.

He did take some care not to be spotted, dropping
quickly, and into a cove further north. Large rocks cut the beach into small
pockets and provided some cover. Once on the ground, he quickly shifted forms.

The Fey knew he was there before he emerged from the
outcropping of rocks separating the coves. The only two people left on the
beach, he watched their reaction to his arrival as he walked toward them. Their
momentary confusion amused him.

The woman's eyes opened wide as they took in his
appearance. They knew at a glance he was none of the known races. "You're
not..." Shock of
what
stalked toward them spread across their
faces.

A smile twisted at his lips as he drew closer. The male
stood straighter, stepping in front of the woman. Their eyes glowed with an
inner orange light.

Orange...not red. Even more interesting.

He stopped before them, extremely pleased with his
decision to investigate. These Fey could easily pass for human. Young,
beautiful ones, but still human. Each wore their hair long, covering their
slightly pointed ears. His hair was brown, hers pale as corn silk. By the
quality of their dress, he could tell they weren't wild Fey. They were not covered
in scavenged rags or hides. Their clothing was handmade, clearly bought from
one of the city's markets. Most importantly, they weren't raving mad. How this
could be, he couldn't fathom. Since their fall centuries ago, the creatures had
become red-eyed killers, locked in their fury, rarely able to escape or control
it.

This pair had managed it, somehow. That they did not
fall into it now, in his presence, spoke highly of them.

"Dragos," the male said stiffly. "You
are not wanted here."

He smiled. As if such things would ever bother him. "I
go where I wish, when I wish. You should know this, Fey." His eyes
narrowed slightly. There was something familiar about them... He searched his
vast memories, carefully flipping through those that involved past encounters
with their kind.
Yes...there.
Almost six centuries ago, the last time he
had visited their city and their queen. This male had been at court, though not
introduced.

He looked to the woman. She had been. "Dalsia."
He tilted his head slightly to her. "Seer's daughter."

She stiffened, her eyes widening and shifting slightly
more toward red. She tilted her head, not at him, but to whisper to her mate. "He
is the Dragos named Damon."

He pushed slightly at the males mind, searching for a
name.
Ketheris
.

The Fey glared at him. "Stay out of my head."

He ignored the demand and stepped to the side. He'd
found more than just a name, also the Fey's current most frantic thought.
Behind him, tucked against Dalsia and hidden in her arms, was a young child.

"What do you want?" Dalsia stepped forward,
no longer hiding, but still holding the little one tightly.

Damon regarded her a moment. His curiosity now fully
piqued, he smiled slightly. "Did you not fall in the fury? Or did you
somehow recover?"

"We did not," Ketheris replied tersely.

They were strong then, stronger than most. Not only
for keeping their sanity, but for surviving the mindless slaughter that came
after. "Why are you going west?"

They blinked at him, perhaps surprised he knew their
destination, or that he would care. "We are just traveling," Ketheris
said.

Lie.
He
looked to Dalsia. Her lips pressed tightly together. He slowly pushed at her
mind until she spoke.

"We're searching for an artifact to heal the Fey,"
she snapped.

He smiled. Her words intrigued him. "Continue."

The two exchanged glances.
He could see the intelligence in their
eyes. That intelligence meant he would have his answers one way or another. As
a race, the Fey were not telepathic and few had learned more than rudimentary
methods to shield themselves. These two had decent protection for their
thoughts, but their walls were only weak little barriers he could push through
in the blink of an eye.

"Some of the Seer's prophecies give us hope,"
Dalsia finally answered.

He knew of the Seer, of her garbled prophecies. All of
the races did, except the brainless humans who were concerned with nothing but
themselves. Being the only mortal race, he didn't particularly blame them. He had
not been aware knowledge of the prophecies had survived. Of course he never really
cared or bothered to find out either. He had been occupied and amused for
decades with the chaos that ensued and then went on to other pursuits.

Dalsia, he recalled, was the only daughter of the
Queen's Seer. She had been the Recorder, attempting to put the prophecies into
order and decipher them.

He held out a hand. "I would see them."

Her jaw trembled in anger as she glared at him. She
looked to her mate and nodded once sharply. Ketheris pulled a small book from a
leather bag at her side, her hands being full with her child.