Claimed by the Dragon King

Claimed

by the

Dragon

King

Caroline Hale

Copyright © 2014 by Caroline Hale

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or actual events, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Prologue

Asher

It’s been over 36 hours. That’s what this useless Council keeps saying to each other anyway. I’m starting to realize why Lindy hates that sorceress Madame Hazel so much. She’d barely been gone overnight when the hag told me I should pick a replacement from the coven. Suddenly I’m the unreasonable one when I start breathing fire in her general direction and scorched that ridiculous hat. And her eyebrows.

This place would fall apart without Georgia. She genuinely cares about Lindy, not just what she can do with her magic. I keep telling myself that’s the only reason I’ came here, but I don’t know where else to go. This isn’t my world. It’s Melinda’s. But that won’t stop me from finding her.

There has to be something I’m missing. I’ve spent enough time standing on the outskirts of the council’s endless meetings as they argue about the right course of action. It always spirals into a decades-old disagreement about something irrelevant. I actually prefer that to whatever terrifyingly inadequate ‘plan’ they conjure up to bring Lindy back, especially when that mad wizard Izor starts talking to me about her chance of survival like I’d actually accept anything under absolute certainty.

Fools. There’s no use listening to them blather on now. After a particular vicious argument, Georgia and Ruby took the rest of the girls back to their house to look into this on their own. I didn’t follow. I know where to find them and I can tell by the worry lining Georgia’s kind face there’s nothing the witches can do for me.

I have a much better chance at learning something useful here. Not from the wizard, the sorceress, and certainly not from the giant. Lucky for me, they keep busy spinning their own wheels and blaming each other. It’s the other creatures bustling around this atrium hidden in the middle of the humans’ city that hold my interest.

No one notices a plain black cat sitting on the curb at the edge of the marketplace, aside from the meat vendors. I have hundreds of them all over the Underground, looking and listening for anything that could help us learn where SIGMA’s prisons are and which one Lindy could be trapped inside. I don’t trust Cats and suffice it to say they don’t trust me, but thankfully Lindy had one of the little beasts inside her apartment for years that despite, or perhaps because of, his perverted shortcomings remains fiercely loyal to her. As far as the scouts now, Edgar is leading this mission, but that scoundrel knows what I’ll do to him if he crosses me.

But there are other tiny allies, these strange little men that barely stand as tall as my knee. Every time that demented Madame Hazel starts her screeching, I see the gnomes fade into solid stone walls as quickly as a fish leaps back into the water from a hole in the net. Their tiny brains are slow and their tongues ramble, but their little feet are quick and their hearts are true. The moment one of them sees a single strand of Melinda’s fabled red hair, I
will
know about it. And the Fae King will finally pay for all he has done.

Chapter One

The slow drip drip of water is the only thing keeping me sane. My eyes have adjusted enough to this murky darkness so I can see the blurry dark shapes of the rocks that surround me. My stomach twists again with hunger. Food should be coming soon. It’s been awhile since anyone has brought me sustenance but at least they’re feeding me. The dripping water tastes like the earth, but I think it must be pretty clean. It’s cold in here but I’ve finally stopped shivering. I wonder if I’m just becoming numb. I don’t even get up when they bring food. Sometimes I don’t eat it for a few hours-- at least I think it’s a few hours. I can’t really be sure.

Sure enough, the door squeaks open. I keep my back to the door, if it’s that SIGMA guy again, I don’t want to see him. His creepy eyes are the fodder for my nightmares, and I don’t think I could stand to see his red eyes glaring at me in real life too. I wait, holding my breath for the metal plate to scratch across the floor and then for the door to clang shut. It doesn’t happen. Instead I hear feet shuffling towards me. No, no, no. I don’t want to see him. I keep my eyes scrunched up, he can’t make me look at him. A soft hand brushes against my shoulder pulling me around.

“Melinda?” an oddly familiar voice whispers and I can’t help but open my eyes. My father’s wrinkled face floats close to mine. “They didn’t tell me that they had my daughter. This wouldn’t have been so miserable for you if they had.” His hand strokes my hair, his gaze lingering on the wild length. It wasn’t this long the last time we were in each other’s presence. I wonder if it’s making him think of my mother. I hope with bitterness that he is. I scramble away from him. He’s the last person I expected to see and I find that I’m actually embarrassed that he’s here.

It’s been so long since I’ve seen him that I forgot how much we look alike. Our blue eyes are practically identical, down to the dark lashes, the one trait I got from him that I actually preferred over my mother. That used to bother me when I looked in the mirror every morning. Now I never even think about it. His wrinkled face actually looks worried. If only the people of the Underground could see him like this instead of the usual stern, cold faced dictator that he is, people might actually like him. Too bad it’s all probably a ruse.

“This is terrible,” he says looking around at my prison cell. “It’s filthy!” I can hardly believe it but he actually looks frustrated. Maybe he’s just offended that
his
daughter was subjected to such harsh conditions.

“What are you doing here?” I croak. My throat is dry and my voice so unused it sounds strange even to me.

“I’m here to help you,” he says conjuring up a blanket. He wraps the fuzzy wool blanket around my shoulders and it radiates heat into my cold skin. The blanket grows and completely covers my body, radiating a magical heat. I’m tempted to throw it off and rub it into the muddy ground just to spite him but I can’t. Damn him. Why is he trying to help me anyways? “Why?”

“I’m your father Melinda. I don’t need a reason,” he says gruffly. Yes, he does. There’s no way he’s just here for me. But what could he possible want? He looks me over. I’m as filthy as the cell I’ve been trapped in. The dirt from the cave clings to my pale skin in patches of dark brown.

“Can you stand?” he asks gently. I have to fight the urge to hit him. He’s never been nice or gentle in his life. Maybe he’s putting on a show for the guard.

I get to my feet, ignoring his offered hand. I try to brush off some of the dust and dirt but it looks like I’m just going to have to get a good shower.  My head spins a little and I end up tripping into his arms. I shiver at the awkward embrace, not because I’m cold, but because I know what those thick fingers are capable of. How they can wield kind touches as well as ones that leave welts, or even the distinct impression of a hand on the soft skin of a sweet woman’s throat. I shove him off of me.

“Don’t touch me,” I spit at him. I turn back to him and find him hunched over with a deep frown, accentuating his wrinkles. The weakness only lasts a minute. He straightens up, brushes dust off of his clothes, and sinks his face into the mask he wears in public. Firm, unflinching hardness. A politician through and through.

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” Kylan says, strolling towards the door. Is it really going to be that easy? Are we just going to walk out of here? I don’t want to follow my father but when I weigh my options, I would rather take the chance on the abusive bastard.

The soft light from the doorway takes a few minutes to get used to. I rub my hands over them and blink a few times to get them adjusted. Where are we? This part of the Underground is completely unfamiliar. I suppose I must be in some sort of SIGMA holding jail or something because the walls are lined with solid doorways, probably leading to more cells like mine. Hopefully there aren’t any other poor souls inside them.

My jailer is casually leaning up against the wall, his arms crossed against his chest. He looks furious but he only nods at my father and locks the door behind us. I manage to not make eye contact with him, thank my lucky stars. I shiver as we turn and head down the long stone hallway. His stare burns into the back of my head as we walk away.

We walk in silence for some time and I make sure to keep a few paces behind him. Every time we turn down a new hallway, I search the corridors for some way out but all of the tunnels look the same.

“Are you in a lot of pain?” my father asks, suddenly breaking the silence.

“I’m fine,” I lie. My head is throbbing and my whole body feels like a giant bruise. “Where are you taking me?”

“Nowhere you want to go. Unfortunately,” he huffs. “I have little choice in the matter.”

“Really?” I say boldly, my tone laced with just a hint of condescension. “The great and powerful Kylan Merrick forced to deliver his daughter by hand to--”

His eyes flash with anger. Ooops. He looks both ways down the long hallway before grabbing my shoulder and roughly pushing me into the wall. There’s the dad I remember. His eyes flash with anger and his hand flies up. I flinch and look away, waiting for the once familiar stinging contact but it never comes.  “You don’t honestly expect me to bring you home, do you?”

“Of course not.” The last words he ever said to me play back in my mind--
“Don’t you dare come back…”
I’ve been nothing but a thorn in his side since the day I was born. After I moved Uptop, he was publicly shamed for having an unmagical daughter who scorned tradition and family values. I wonder what they would have said if they knew about our actual family values...

“Do you have any idea what you’re involved in, Melinda?”

I don’t answer, deliberately looking at the floor as he shakes his head in disbelief and tightens his grip. I try to squirm out of his hold but he’s still as strong as ever.

I don’t want to let on how much he’s hurting me but I can’t hold back a painful yelp. I grit my teeth and try to access my magic. My head throbs at my probe but I can feel something there… I pull at the spark, longing for the inferno within. A slight electric pulse echoes through me and my father gasps pulls his hands back, shaking them. I don’t know what I did to him but it’s so satisfying  to inflict some pain his way. I lean heavily against the wall.

“Was that… Fire Magic?” Shit. All of the sudden I feel like a little kid who just got caught and can’t keep a guilty look off her face. My father’s hand flies to his mouth. “I can’t believe this is happening…” he says, walking over to the opposite wall and sinking down it. I slide down the wall and lock eyes with him defiantly, my energy is absolutely drained after that little spark of magic. “I have been thinking about you,” he says. Yeah, right. “Occasionally.” I guess that’s more plausible.

“Mhmm,” I grumble after an awkward pause.

“I was informed of the incident at the library the following day. I never thought you could actually be involved, so I put it out of my mind. But here we are.” He pauses, running his hand across one of the stone walls. “I must say, I started to forget about the entire thing. Definitely didn’t think it would turn out this way.” There’s no way I’m telling him anything, but he still waits an uncomfortable amount of time for me to answer. “You always were a chatterbox,” he chuckles. “Perhaps a subject change then. How has life Uptop been treating you, Melinda?”

“Good enough.”

“How old are now? I can never remember.”

What an ass. “30 years and 67 days younger than you are,” I retort.

My father inhales sharply, as if it hurts. “Must you put it that way?” he laughs. “Though come to think of it, I don’t recall seeing you at my 50
th
birthday celebration.”

I grin and wonder if I should tell him that I actually crashed that ridiculously opulent event. It was easy to go unnoticed on the fringe of a crowd of a thousand, of course I wore a human brunette wig. “I heard your speech was inspiring.”

“I’m told it was,” father replies. “Melinda… why haven’t you been at work for the last week?” He sits on the floor, shifting uncomfortably. “We don’t have all day,” he says impatiently, kicking his booted foot against mine. “You’ll be explaining yourself to SIGMA again soon, you may as well try your story on me.”

“I don’t intend to explain anything to anyone,” I inform him.

“Goddammit, Melinda! How did you get involved in all this?” he growls before taking a deep breath and composing himself. “Your cousin came to see me.”

Well, what the fuck. I should have figured that petty bitch Delilah would say something to my father. The moment I saw her at the first coven meeting, I knew it would come back to bite me in the ass. Foolish impulsive council! I’m glad Ash obliterated their beautiful ceiling. “Delilah isn’t exactly trustworthy.”

“I know. Which is why I ignored her when she forced her way into my office, rambling something about a secret council of misfits living Uptop that oppose the Fae King. About a resurrected
Dragon
on a quest to reclaim the throne. About red haired, low level witch candidates in some strange competition to…” His brow pinches together as he looks downward uncomfortably, whispering, “to mate with the beast.”

My eyes widen. Did that seriously just come out of his mouth? “I don’t know what she’s talking about,” I answer shakily.

“Then why are you here?” he says softly. “And why are your powers working now, connected with Fire magic no less?”

He just stares at me, refusing to speak until I answer. “I… I don’t know,” I murmur, clenching my fists to keep him from noticing my shaking hands.

“Has the beast hurt you? Has he… Did he make you… Is that what was happening when you triggered the spell?”

I never honestly thought I’d be eager to tell my father the real story. That a dragon-hide bound book just fell off the shelf one night and the energy signature that set SIGMA on our trail to begin with was my inopportunely timed and incredibly intense orgasm brought on by touching the symbol that is now branded into my thigh. And that I’ve been ‘mating with the beast’ for about five years now in the dreamworld.

But I’m not the kind of girl that worries if her father will approve of her boyfriend, so I bite my tongue before I succumb to the urge to clear Asher’s name.

“Melinda, I know we’ve had our differences but… there is simply no way I’ll stand for this.”

“How touching,” I reply.

He lets out an exasperated sigh. “I suppose I deserve your skepticism. But I am on your side.”

“You are only ever on one side, Father. Your own.”

A prideful smile crosses his face. “You always were quite intelligent, despite your other shortcomings.”

“Thanks?”

“You’re welcome. Is the beast fond of you?”

My stomach turns. He is clearly not going to let this go, probably because he senses he’s not that far off base. “I still don’t know what you’re talking about, father.”

“Don’t play dumb, child. Though I suppose you really aren’t a child anymore, are you? So let’s get to the point. Is coupling with the beast too dangerous and intolerable, or something you can endure?”

“
Stop calling him that
,” I snap at him, despite my best efforts.

“Well.” One of my father’s bushy eyebrows raises as his lips part in surprise. “That answers my first question. Now let’s move on to the most important one.” Of course a giant dragon sexually violating his only child would be at the bottom of his list, though I do appreciate the honesty. “Will he be able to defeat the Fae King?”