Dragons Among Them (Kingdoms of Fire and Ice)
Read Dragons Among Them (Kingdoms of Fire and Ice) Online
Authors: Kyra Jacobs
Tags: #dragon-shifter, #England, #medieval, #photographer, #princesses, #sorcery, #wizards, #kingdoms, #Dragons, #romance, #royalty, #shifter romance, #witches, #princes, #kings, #prince, #sword and sorcery, #queens
Table of Contents
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Two secret worlds. One unstoppable passion. A fiery secret that could destroy them all.
Kingdoms of Fire and Ice
, Book 1
Prince Zayne Godfrey, heir to Edana’s throne, is betrothed to the lone princess of rival kingdom Forath. While his heart is not in the arranged marriage, he will do his royal duty.
When he finds a beautiful stranger cornered by a pack of wolves, he doesn’t hesitate to shift into his golden dragon form to save her. She thanks him by taking one look at him and fainting dead away.
Photographer Adelaide Miller is in England for a career-making shoot when a bizarre jogging mishap lands her in a dangerous, medieval-like world of royals, wizards and dragon-shifting men. Her first instinct is to find her way back, but the fire-breathing prince intent on protecting her threatens to melt her heart.
Zayne’s burning passion for Adelaide not only jeopardizes the fragile peace between two kingdoms, it uncovers a ruthless plot to destroy his family. Remaining together may change Adelaide’s very definition of home—and expose one searing secret that could forever shift the balance of power in Zayne’s world.
Warning: If you smell smoke upon opening this book, please don’t dial 9-1-1. That’s just the hero and heroine burning up the pages. Uncork a chilled bottle of mead and enjoy!
Dragons Among Them
Kyra Jacobs
Dedication
To the power of dreams—may they take you wherever your heart desires to go.
Chapter One
Adelaide Miller stood at the window of her postage-stamp-sized hotel room and marveled at the English landscape a pane away. Sure, the Midwest had rolling fields and open spaces, but nothing like this. Everything here was so green. A whole new world, just waiting to be explored.
And an ocean away from the crappy childhood she planned to spend the foreseeable future trying to forget.
She turned from the view with an appreciative sigh and dropped into her room’s lone chair. This trip wasn’t for exploring, it was for work. And after forking out nearly all the money she had, if tomorrow’s shoot didn’t go well, she might end up stuck on this side of the pond.
“But it will go well,” she whispered to her reflection in the tiny room’s chipped mirror. Addie had an eye for photography—her teachers had always said as much. The steady line of work since graduation proved it. Even so, between the jet lag and the great beyond beckoning her to come out and play, she felt rather out of sorts.
Nothing a nice long run couldn’t cure. Thank goodness she’d packed her Spandex and Sauconys.
Addie yanked her hair into a ponytail, then grabbed her running essentials—shades, earbuds, iPhone, its worn armband case, pepper spray, and room key—and headed for the door. Two minutes and a quick consultation with the middle-aged, heavily accented British doorman later, she was jogging across the hotel’s parking lot and out onto the streets of Watford, Hertfordshire. The midafternoon traffic went from sparse to nonexistent as she headed out of town and turned down a worn gravel road. Away from the hustle and bustle of civilization, Addie allowed herself to absorb the majesty of the countryside.
Soon she settled into her usual pace—not a full-out run, but not a walk either. Just a good, healthy clip to get her heart pumping and mind clear. Though, no matter how fast or far she went, the ghosts of her past always seemed to follow.
The road snaked up and over the rolling green hills before her, a brilliant afternoon sun hovering above their crests. Its rays competed with the cool UK air and chased the chill from her bare shoulders. A few miles farther, Addie drew upon a field dotted with black-headed sheep. She couldn’t help but grin as she watched several wobbly legged lambs frolic amidst the fleecy congregation.
“Sorry, Adam,” Addie breathed as she slowed to a stop and hit pause on her playlist. The Maroon Five song’s high note was instantly replaced by the bleating members of several dozen living, breathing cotton balls. The largest sheep in the flock turned to watch her watching them, its eyes unblinking.
“I know, I know,” she said to the fuzzy beast. “Typical city girl, standing here gawking.”
Its jaw shifted to chew whatever it’d been munching on a moment before, but the sheep remained tense, wary. With a laugh, Addie offered it a mock bow, then started off again on her run. She glanced over her shoulder at the flock one last time, then turned her attention back to the phone in her armband and Adam Levine.
A car horn blasted.
Addie looked up in time to see a small black car fishtail on the gravel road ahead and skid sideways toward her. With a shriek, she dove out of the way and tumbled head over heels down the road’s sloped shoulder. What should have been a short tumble seemed to stretch on and on.
When finally she rolled to a stop and the vertigo had passed, Addie sat up and stared out at her surroundings. Everything looked…different. The lush green fields she’d admired only moments ago were now covered in dense, straggly underbrush.
Just how far had she fallen, exactly?
Addie stood and gave herself a quick once-over, relieved to find no blood or protruding bones. But the change in scenery had her utterly confused, and she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d hit her head during the fall. There hadn’t been woods nearby a moment ago, had there? And where were the rock-wall-lined open fields? Or the sheep?
That was when she heard rustling in the direction of a cluster of thorny bramble maybe twenty paces away.
“H-hello?”
A startled bird took wing overhead. Addie flinched from the sound, but nothing else came into view. She kept her sight trained on the underbrush and reached for the bottle of pepper spray at her waist.
“I-is anyone there?”
Silence followed. Utter silence. No birds, no bugs, nothing.
She’d just begun to think she’d imagined the noise when dual low, throaty growls reached her ears. A scream wedged in her throat as Addie took off at an all-out sprint in the opposite direction.
* * * * *
Prince Zayne Godfrey snaked his way through a wall of dense underbrush, cloaked by deep shadows in the Forathian forest. He’d intended to return to Edana’s castle today, perhaps grovel a bit for his father’s mercy after delaying the king’s agenda yet again. But upon waking, the prince decided hunting sounded infinitely more exciting than groveling and far safer than marriage. If only he could convince his father of the same.
The twelve-point buck he tracked stood within striking distance now, its head down as it nibbled from the mossy woodland floor. An earlier rain had dampened the leaf-riddled ground and filled the air with smells of vegetation and decay, masking both his steps and scent. It was almost too easy.
Zayne’s stomach rumbled as he paused behind a giant oak. The beast would have assuredly been caught, cleaned, and cooked by now if the prince had been gifted with armor of ebony or deep scarlet instead of a shiny gold. No matter, he thought as he leaned around the tree to gauge the distance between them one last time. The color’s gleam had forced him to perfect the element of surprise on two legs as well as four—a skill especially helpful when hunting on lands he was forbidden to trod until after the wedding.
The wedding.
Zayne shook the thought from his mind. He had come here to forget his impending doom, not wallow in self-pity.
The prince drew an arrow from the quiver on his back, nocked it to his favorite bow, then shifted away from the oak and lined up his shot on the buck. During battle, the action would have taken him but a second—two, perhaps, if he were dodging an attack. Here in the deep woods where any sudden movement would give his location away, it took several minutes. Time well spent, he knew from experience, if it resulted in fresh venison for dinner.
The deer raised its head and stared in the direction of his hunter with unseeing eyes, ears twitching as he chewed. Zayne held his stance, praying his patience would pay off. After a long moment, the great beast turned its rack in the opposite direction. A victorious smile tugged at Zayne’s lips as he squared his shoulders, took a deep breath to steady his aim—
A woman’s scream shattered the forest.
The arrow slipped from his fingers and sailed six feet over the startled buck’s head. In a flash, he drew another, but the opportunity was already lost. The deer zigzagged over brush and bramble, bounding away to seek refuge in the darkest depths of the forest, and Zayne cursed his own arrogance. He’d taken too long, been too sure of himself. And while his stomach rumbled painfully at the thought of foregoing his anticipated evening meal, he knew better than to pursue the beast. Dangers far greater than the dark awaited him in that direction, and no buck was worth the risk.
A second high-pitched scream sounded, closer this time, and commanded his attention. Whoever joined him in the woods today sounded terrified, not hurt. Lord knew he’d been through enough skirmishes to recognize the subtle differences.
Zayne slung his bow onto his back and charged forward, sacrificing stealth for speed to try to reach the woman before one pitch bled into the other. Thick underbrush snagged at his clothes and sliced his skin, but still he surged forward. It would have been easier for him to transform, faster even, but then his whereabouts would be discovered, and he was not yet ready to return and face his father. Or his betrothed.
The wall of vegetation around him thinned as he drew upon a small clearing. Zayne slowed to quiet his footsteps, then stopped altogether as the scene before him came into view. A pack of wolves milled around one side of the clearing, snapping and snarling as they pawed at their muzzles. Across from them stood the clearing’s other inhabitant: a lone peasant woman.
The source of the screams.
Her outer layers of clothing must have been ripped away during her attempted escape, as she stood quaking in scraps of clothing the likes of which Zayne had never seen before. The bizarre black-and-purple fabric failed to do much more than contain her supple bosom, rounded hips, and slim thighs. Her long, golden hair was pinned up and back and, though mussed, offered him a clear view of her delicate shoulders and creamy pale skin. But what struck him the most was her eyes—startling blue, like brilliant sapphire ice.
A ray of sun broke through the clouds and washed over her, giving the girl an angelic appearance. Never had he seen a woman more beautiful. The sight took his very breath away.
A wolf stepped free from the pack, and the air around Zayne began to swirl. He gasped, as helpless to resist the beast within as he was to draw his next breath. Never before had the transformation begun without his prompting, nor surged forward with such haste. An armor of golden scales replaced his skin, his fingers stretched into talons, and human logic gave way to animal instinct. As the growing fire within his chest sought to consume him, Zayne could comprehend but three things:
He must save her.
He must protect her.
He must have her.