Dragon's Fire: A Reverse Harem Romance Read online

  Dragon’s Fire

  A Reverse Harem Romance

  Lili Zander

  Rory Reynolds

  Copyright © 2017 by Lili Zander, Rory Reynolds.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Design by Kasmit Covers

  Contents

  The Blood Prophecy Series

  Prologue

  1. Aria

  2. Aria

  3. Bastian

  4. Aria

  5. Rhys

  6. Aria

  7. Mateo

  8. Aria

  9. Aria

  10. Aria

  11. Erik

  12. Aria

  13. Casius

  14. Aria

  15. Bastian

  16. Aria

  17. Aria

  18. Rhys

  19. Aria

  20. Aria

  21. Mateo

  22. Aria

  23. Aria

  24. Aria

  25. Bastian

  26. Aria

  27. Casius

  28. Erik

  29. Aria

  30. Bastian

  31. Aria

  32. Bastian

  33. Aria

  34. Erik

  35. Aria

  36. Rhys

  37. Aria

  38. Aria

  39. Casius

  40. Aria

  41. Casius

  42. Aria

  43. Aria

  44. Erik

  45. Aria

  46. Aria

  47. Mateo

  48. Aria

  49. Erik

  50. Aria

  51. Aria

  52. Aria

  53. Aria

  54. Bastian

  55. Aria

  56. Erik

  57. Aria

  58. Rhys

  59. Aria

  60. Casius

  61. Aria

  62. Aria

  63. Aria

  64. Aria

  65. Aria

  66. Mateo

  67. Aria

  68. Bastian

  69. Aria

  70. Aria

  71. Casius

  72. Aria

  73. Aria

  74. Bastian

  75. Aria

  76. Aria

  77. Mateo

  78. Aria

  79. Aria

  80. Aria

  81. Rhys

  82. Aria

  83. Erik

  84. Aria

  85. Erik

  86. Aria

  87. Aria

  88. Mateo

  89. Aria

  90. Bastian

  91. Aria

  92. Casius

  93. Aria

  94. Rhys

  95. Aria

  96. Aria

  97. Aria

  98. Erik

  99. Aria

  100. Bastian

  101. Aria

  102. Mateo

  103. Aria

  104. Casius

  105. Aria

  106. Aria

  107. Erik

  108. Aria

  Epilogue

  Dragon’s Ghost

  The Blood Prophecy Series

  About the Authors

  Books by Lili Zander

  Books by Rory Reyonlds

  The Blood Prophecy Series

  The Blood Prophecy series is now complete. Don’t miss any of the books.

  Dragon’s Thief

  Dragon’s Curse

  Dragon’s Hope

  Dragon’s Ruin

  Dragon’s Treasure

  or

  Dragon’s Fire (the omnibus edition, containing all the Blood Prophecy episodes) and a bonus story, Dragon’s Ghost.

  Wolf’s Mate - a free Blood Prophecy companion story, available only to mailing list subscribers.

  Subscribe to Lili Zander’s mailing list and be the first to find out when new Blood Prophecy books are released!

  Prologue

  When I was young,

  The ravens Huginn and Muninn,

  Thought and Memory,

  Messengers of Odin, AllFather,

  Came to me in a dream.

  They offered me the gift of power.

  I was foolish.

  I forgot to ask the cost.

  I forgot that the AllFather can be a fickle trickster.

  I accepted.

  The ravens gave me magic.

  Power and treasure both.

  And with it, an unasked offering.

  The gift of foresight.

  I see everything.

  I see my beloved mate wither and die.

  I see the ending of magic,

  And the ruin of my people.

  Every path in front of me ends in destruction.

  All paths but one.

  It is treacherous.

  And I may yet fail.

  But fight I must.

  1

  Aria

  I’m not a people person. I’ve a comically large collection of t-shirts to prove it. T-shirts with slogans like ‘Go away, I’m introverting,’ ‘A large group of people is called No Thanks,’ and my personal favorite, ‘I hate people and bras.’

  That last one, I’m too chicken to wear outside the house.

  Which is why I’m extra-annoyed that Pieter has insisted on accompanying me tonight. I do my best thieving alone, damn it.

  Speaking of Pieter, he stumbles against a desk, and I turn to glare at him. “Tell me why you’re here again?” I mutter in irritation.

  It’s a rhetorical question, but the tattoo artist answers anyway. “I’ve already told you why a hundred times,” he bites out, his tone just as annoyed as mine. “Unless you became an expert on dragon blood overnight and forgot to tell me?”

  Sadly, no. I’m 100% Norm. I could be staring at a vat full of the precious commodity, and I wouldn’t have a clue.

  It’s after midnight, and there’s not a single person in sight. The two of us are in the research section of MagLab, one of the largest private blood banks in the country. According to Pieter’s informant, they’ve just received a shipment of dragon blood.

  I’m here to steal it.

  Dragon blood—rare and magical—is almost impossible to come by, and the three pints that MagLab has hidden away somewhere in this building are worth more than a quarter million dollars on the open market. Not that I’ll ever see that kind of money, of course. I’m a thief-for-hire. If I get Pieter Van Den Berg safely into and out of the lab, he’ll pay me five thousand dollars.

  Which is fine by me. There aren’t a lot of fences with the balls to cross the fearsome magical lizards.

  “They don’t have a lot of security.” The voice in my ear is Silas Archer, the closest thing I have to a father. Rogue wolf shifter, genius hacker, and former master thief, Silas has taught me everything I know. “I’ve disabled the alarms on the main laboratory door.”

  “You’re a rock star, Silas.”

  He grunts. “My spidey senses are tingling, Aria,” he warns. “That code was a little too easy to crack. They should have more than two guards at the front. Get in, get the stuff, get out. I have a bad feeling about t
his job.”

  A smile curves at my lips. Silas loathes that I’m following in his footsteps. My mentor worries like it’s an Olympic sport. “So what’s new?” I quip. “You have a bad feeling about every single one of my jobs.”

  I hold my stolen access card—male scientists are pathetically easy to seduce—in front of the reader, and the light turns green as the lab doors unlock. “Bingo. Card works like a charm.”

  Pushing open the double doors, I pause in the doorway, putting up my hand to stop Pieter from barreling in. “Wait.” Fucking amateurs. I count under my breath to thirty, listening intently for any whisper of sound, but the only thing I can hear is the dim whine of the overhead fluorescent lights. “Clear.”

  “Drama queen.” Pieter, looking as offended as Silas’ cat Madam Buttface, stalks toward the stainless-steel refrigerators lining the back walls and throws them open, revealing shelf after shelf of plastic bags filled with blood, each one neatly labeled with a serial number and nothing else.

  My heart sinks. “Umm, Silas? How much blood were these guys supposed to have?”

  “Why?” His voice sharpens. “They should be down to a two-day supply.”

  I catch a glimpse of Pieter’s face. It’s deathly pale. Fuck. He’s about to lose his shit. “There’s at least a month’s supply here,” I reply. “Judging by Pieter’s reaction, it’s all shifter blood.”

  “Fuck,” Silas swears on his end. “He’s not going to be able to sense the dragon blood. Too much noise.”

  Pieter reaches into the refrigerator and pulls out a bag at random, holding it to his nose and inhaling deeply. He’s not a shifter, but somewhere in his family history, there’s a magical being or two, because the South African tattoo artist can work with magic, incorporating it into his ink. I watch him hopefully, but it’s to no avail. He shakes his head. “My senses are too clouded,” he says, his voice pitched high with nerves. “The guards will be back in this wing in another five minutes. We don’t have enough time.” He sighs regretfully. “Let’s get out of here, Aria.”

  He’s a good guy, but he’s also a slippery bastard. If we leave here without the dragon blood, I know, as surely as my name is Aria Archer, that I won’t get paid. Leaving isn’t an option. “Silas, the bags have a serial number on them. Can you hack into their database?”

  “Nope,” he replies at once, his voice regretful. “I’ve already tried. Their research database is locked down tighter than Fort Knox. Whatever they’re doing, they don’t want people to find out about it.”

  Shit. Maybe Pieter is right. Maybe we should walk away.

  I stare at the back walls of the lab. This is worse than finding a needle in a haystack. The lab has more than a dozen refrigerators, all filled with blood. We need to find three bags in a thousand.

  No wonder they don’t need guards.

  Pieter is throwing open refrigerators at random, his hands shaking and his eyes wide. I lift my head to tell him to be quieter—security is lax, but there’s no point tempting trouble—and I see it.

  Three bags in the back are glowing softly, pulsing with a warm light. They call to me, whispering into my heart, telling me to touch them, to hold them, to take them…

  And I can’t ignore the siren call. I stride up to the shelf and reach for them. “These,” I say, in a voice I can’t recognize. “These are the bags.”

  Pieter gives me a strange look. “I can’t sense the magic,” he says. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  The moment I remove the bags from the refrigerator and place them into my specially insulated backpack, all hell breaks loose. A high-pitched alarm fills the air, and in the distance, drawing closer, I hear the sounds of shouting.

  The doors click shut, cutting off our escape route. I sprint to the nearest exit and hold up my access card, but the light stays red.

  We’re trapped.

  Footsteps march closer. “They’re in the lab,” a man yells out.

  “They could be armed.” A different guy and he sounds more nervous than his gung-ho buddy. “We should call for backup.”

  Two Norms I can take, especially if they’re unarmed. Before Silas took me in, I spent three years on the streets, and I learned quickly to defend myself.

  “They could be shifters, Aria,” Silas points out. He must be going out of his mind with anxiety, but his voice is as calm as ever. “If the doors are locked, there’s only one way out.”

  “The windows.” We’re on the third floor, and it’s bitterly cold outside. The glass is coated with frost, and the ledges will be slippery. Ugh.

  “There’s a fire escape at the corner of the building,” Silas says. “It leads to a back alley. I’ll be there. Aria,” the concern in his voice intensifies, “You can’t get caught with dragon blood. Leave the South African behind if you must, and get the hell out of there.”

  Pieter can’t hear Silas, but he’s staring at me as if I’ve grown a second head. “The windows? You can’t be serious.”

  Once again, this is why I work alone.

  I’m already looking around for a chair with metal legs. Finding one, I lift it up and slam it against the window, and the cheap glass breaks into a thousand sharp fragments. A rush of icy air fills the room. I hate winter.

  “Did you hear that?” A man shouts. “They broke the window. They’re getting away. Where’s Carlos?”

  Whoever Carlos is, I have no desire to meet him. “How did this building get through a safety inspection?” I muse aloud, widening the hole so it’s Aria-sized. Seriously. One pane of glass so thin that someone leaning against the window could shatter it. “Come on, Pieter. We’ve got to go.”

  He’s as white as a sheet. “I’m scared of heights, Aria,” he forces out through stiff lips. “You go.”

  Fuck that. I might not like people, but there’s a code. No one gets left behind.

  I grab Pieter by the collar and propel him to the window. “You’re stealing from a dragon,” I hiss into his ear. “What do you think is going to happen when they find out?” Everyone is terrified of dragons for good reason. People that steal from them disappear and are never heard of again, and I can guess why.

  I have no desire to be a breakfast treat.

  Neither does the tattoo artist. Pieter comes to his senses. “Let’s do this.”

  The two of us make our way out of the window onto the icy ledge. My heart is hammering in my chest. Silas is silent, but I can feel his anxiety coming through my headset in palpable waves. We inch along the side of the building, Pieter with his eyes tightly closed, his fingers gripping the walls. When we get to the corner, I tap his shoulder to get his attention. He opens his eyes by a sliver. “We need to go down.”

  He nods, still pale, but he must have some kitty-cat-shifter in his ancestry because he clambers down that ladder with feline grace. I giggle at the idea of a cat shifter who’s afraid of heights as I follow him. Thank heavens I have gloves—the metal is painfully cold.

  “What now?” Pieter asks me when we reach the ground.

  I look around. We’re in a narrow alley behind the building. There are no street lights here. It’s pitch dark, and I have a very bad feeling about this. “Silas is on his way,” I whisper. “He’ll be here in less than five minutes.”

  “Umm, Aria?” Pieter’s voice has a distinct quiver in it. “I don’t think we have five minutes.”

  I hear a low, menacing growl. Two yellow eyes gleam in the darkness. With shaking hands, I reach for the flashlight on my toolbelt and direct the narrow beam in the direction of the growl, and when I see the hulking black shape, my heart jumps in my throat.

  Panther shifter.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck. We’ve jumped from the frying pan directly into the fire.

  I’m strong for a Norm, but shifters are a different league entirely. Panthers are legendary for their viciousness. Pieter moves behind me as the shifter crouches down. “It’s going to pounce, Aria.”

  Tell me something I don’t know, buddy.

 
; “Hey, kitty,” I say soothingly, staring directly at the big cat. Madam Buttface won’t pounce unless I turn my back on her, and I’m hoping this panther is the same way.

  The growling intensifies. The creature paws the ground, and I try not to notice how sharp its claws are. Then thankfully, the loud roar of a car engine drowns out the panther. Headlights light up the alley, and Silas’s grey Corolla rolls up behind us. “Get in,” he shouts.