Dragon's Thief: A Reverse Harem Serial (Blood Prophecy Book 1) Page 2

  Shifter plasma is expensive. Each treatment costs fifteen thousand dollars.

  Silas was a thief his entire life, but he was never a saver. He lived large and spent his wealth generously, giving to everyone who needed it.

  Six months ago, my bank balance had a hundred thousand dollars in it, the money I earned thieving. Now, after six treatments—one a month—I’m down to my last ten thousand dollars.

  In the next twenty days, I need to come up with another five thousand dollars.

  Thirty days after that, another fifteen thousand.

  And so on, and so forth, for at least five years, until the disease can be brought under control.

  If I could, I’d rob MagLab in a heartbeat, no matter what the risk to myself, but the business has been shuttered. I stole from the dragons and got away with it, but MagLab has paid the price.

  One step at a time. Focus on the five grand.

  I step out of the shower, still cold, and mutter a curse as I glance at the clock on the wall. Brooke, the manager at Trendz Jewelry and Accessories, the store I work at, will take an extremely dim view if I’m late to work, and she’ll write me up if I’m there even a minute after nine. I’ve got to run.

  3

  Bastian

  All the magic in the world is trapped inside the Bloodstone, and the Dragon Princes no longer have the power to access it.

  Gideon Zyrian did this. Even his name causes me to see red.

  “My Lord Jaeger.” The Alpha of the Eclipse Pack bows to me. It’s rare for a pack Alpha to seek me out, and I have a sneaking suspicion that I’m not going to like what Lukas Hyde has to say.

  “Alpha.” I incline my head but don’t rise. Not that the wolf would expect me to. Shifters have a hierarchy, after all, and dragons are at the top.

  As is our right. Other shifters can only access their magic to change forms. Dragons, on the other hand, can pull the threads of magic from the very earth itself, wielding it for our use. It makes us powerful.

  And, as the Dark Dragon has demonstrated, it makes us dangerous.

  “Something is wrong with the wolves, Lord Jaeger.” Hyde gets directly to the point. “More and more of our women are giving birth to Norms. In the last year alone, seven babies were born into my pack without any magic. It is as if we no longer have the power to pass our gifts to our children.”

  Gideon Zyrian is the most powerful Dragon Mage alive. Five hundred years ago, when my mother broke off her arranged betrothal with Zyrian and chose my father, her true mate, instead, the angry mage had invoked an old, dark blood curse on all dragonkind.

  Since that day, no dragon has found his true mate. Zyrian was denied love, and he made sure that all of us would feel his grief.

  The curse has had an unexpected side effect. Dragon magic has been steadily eroding, and worse, it’s not just us. I’ve heard from all of the magical races. The wolves. The bears. The panthers. Even the secretive alchemists have sent a delegation.

  But every curse can be broken, and on her deathbed, it is said that my mother made a prophecy. When the Dragon Princes find their true mate, the curse will be broken, and the dragons will be restored to their former glory.

  So we search for our mates. We hoard treasure, and we keep the peace among those with magic, but most of all, we sift through the magical beings, looking for a woman with the power to break the curse that binds our magic.

  Hyde lifts his head and stares at me. “It is said that the dragons possess an artifact, Lord Jaeger,” he says, boldly, foolishly. “One called the Bloodstone.”

  I rise slowly to my feet. Anger swims around me. How dare this wolf speak of our most valuable treasure? Who told him? Who has betrayed us?

  “Run, you fool,” a voice shouts out in warning. Casius. Of course. Of the five Dragon Princes that still remain, Casius Slater is the one that’s most likely to stay calm and level-headed. “Can’t you see Bastian is shifting? Do you want to burn to a crisp?”

  My dragon bursts forth with a roar, my fury erupting unchecked. The Alpha of the Eclipse Pack is brave, I’ll grant him that, because he stands his ground for a heartbeat before flinching and diving for cover. Fire shoots from my throat as I vent my anger. How does Lukus Hyde know of the Bloodstone?

  Casius strides in front of me in human form, unfazed by my display of temper, and snaps his fingers in my face. “Bastian, calm the fuck down. If you burn Hyde, we can’t question him.”

  Damn it. Why does Casius have to be so reasonable? My dragon is furious, and would love nothing more than to snack on the wolf.

  I shift back to my human form, ignoring both my nakedness and Casius’s smug look. “Hyde,” I growl, seating myself back on the Jaeger throne. “Talk.”

  The wolf is cowering behind a tall stone pillar, reeking of fear. We dragons tend to have that effect on people. Casius tsks in impatience. “He’s not going to burn you, wolf,” he snaps. “You’re safe. For now.”

  Hyde slowly moves forward and kneels in supplication. “Who told you about the Bloodstone?” I ask him again.

  “Three months ago,” he replies, “a wolf from Alaska visited our pack. His name was Drakkar Raedfwulf.”

  “Alaska.” Casius exchanges a worried glance with me. “Are you sure?”

  Zyrian’s fortress is in Alaska. On a hidden island near Nome, Alaska, to be precise. The stone building juts from the Bering Sea like a rock fist hurtling defiance at the sky. Or so I’ve been told. For obvious reasons—the Dark Dragon would like nothing more than to see me dead—I’ve never visited myself.

  The location could just be a coincidence, but I’m uneasy.

  “Yes, Lord Slater,” Lukus nods vigorously. “Raedwulf didn’t mean to mention the Bloodstone, I’m sure, but it was a full moon night, and after our midnight run, the pack gathered in celebration. One thing led to another, and he let the secret slip.” He gulps visibly. “I beg your forgiveness for my impudence, Lord Jaeger.”

  Someone moves in the shadows. Mateo. I feel the flare of his magic as he probes the shifter’s mind. Knowing he’s caught my eye, he nods in confirmation.

  The Alpha is telling the truth.

  “If you wish to watch your cubs grow into adulthood,” I growl, “you will speak of this to no one. Now, go.”

  If Zyrian is after the Bloodstone… My stomach clenches with anxiety. We must protect our most precious treasure because, without the magic embedded in it, we are lost.

  4

  Aria

  “Aria, I’m going to need you to work late,” Brooke says as she pulls on her coat. “This merchandise needs to be put away before you leave.”

  “My shift ends at five today,” I protest, completely irked. Brooke was supposed to work until nine and close up afterward, but her boyfriend called, and she’s decided to take off. This is the sixth Friday in a row that she’s pulled this crap. I hate this job. With no real education to speak of, no work experience I can point to—it’s not like I can put the MagLab job on my resume, can I?—and the desperate desire to not flip burgers for a living, this stupid, shitty mall job was the best I could do.

  Once again, I question if giving up the trade is worth it.

  You promised Silas.

  Brooke’s keys jangle as she makes her way to the front doors. “You’ll want to make sure those displays shine before you leave. I’d hate to have to write you up again.”

  Bitch.

  She wouldn’t hate it one bit. In the last six months, she’s managed to write me up five times, all for made up reasons. The first time I refused to stay late because I had to take Silas to the doctor, she decided I was insubordinate and combative. Then, there was the ‘clocking in early’ write-up. Apparently, her boss got angry at the overtime I had been clocking. She got an earful, and I got written up. From there on out, no more overtime even if I earned it.

  With a resigned sigh, I pull out my cell phone and type out a quick message to Beatrice.

  Not going to make drinks tonight.

  My phone vi
brates almost instantly. Bullshit. Get your ass down here, it’s your birthday!

  My birthday’s actually next Tuesday, but Bea loves parties, and she’s always eager for an opportunity to celebrate. Can’t. Have to work.

  Her response is a slew of emojis, and I have a feeling that the eggplant she’s texting me isn’t a sign she’s hungry for eggplant parmesan. My lips twitch at my best friend’s antics. I met Bea in high school. I was the new student who’d been drastically behind in my coursework, and Bea was the only person in my class who’d been nice to me.

  She got me this job. I can almost forgive her for the hell this place puts me through daily.

  I’m kidding. I need every penny I earn to cover Silas’ medical bills.

  At nine-thirty, I’m about halfway through the boxes when there’s a tapping on the display window. Bea is standing there holding up a bottle of wine. Shaking my head, I let her in.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “There’s no way I was letting you spend your birthday alone.”

  “My birthday is next week, Bea,” I say, not for the first time.

  She pays no attention. With a grin, she cracks open the wine, takes a swig straight from the bottle, and passes it to me.

  I do my level best to resist the temptation. “You know I could get fired for this?”

  She snorts. “That bitch wouldn’t dare. If she did, she’d be here putting all this shit away instead of you.”

  She’s right about that. Brooke might write me up for every minor infraction, and she might try to dock my pay for the pettiest of reasons, but she’s not going to fire me. What the hell… When in Rome—or Trendz Jewelry and Accessories—do as the Romans do. Whatever that means. I take a deep drink from the bottle and try to hand it back to Bea, but she’s already rummaging through the boxes of merchandise.

  “Let’s get this crap put away so we can hit the club!”

  “You mean, go to the Cellar and flirt with Jesse?” I smirk.

  “Don’t judge me,” she replies with a wink. “My lady cave needs a little love, and that man is fine.”

  Jesse’s not my type, but Bea’s been mooning over him for months. She really likes him. I hold my hands up. “You know me. No judging. Just calling it like I see it.”

  Beatrice has got the attention span of a gnat. She’s already moving to a display case. “Who buys this shit?” she asks, holding up a gaudy orange and hot pink necklace.

  I point back to the large Clearance sign hanging over the display, which is overflowing with more ugly jewelry. “Nobody.”

  We work in silence for a while, passing the wine back and forth. As I drink the cheap cabernet, I allow myself to forget about everything hanging over my head. Silas wasn’t well enough to get out of bed this morning. When I’d gone into his room to check on him, he’d waved me away. “I’m going to be lazy today,” he’d said, smiling weakly. “Take a leaf out of Madam Buttface’s book.”

  I promised him I wouldn’t do any more jobs.

  It’s the only way to save him. You’re not going to scrape up money for his treatments working this minimum wage gig.

  I promised.

  My thoughts ping-pong around in my head. Silas isn’t a fool. He knows I’m tempted. Even this morning, he’d grabbed my hand before I could leave, and he’d given me a meaningful look. “You promised, Aria,” he’d said.

  “Oh my God!” Bea shouts into the quiet room, startling me out of my bleak mood and scaring the ever-loving crap out of me.

  “Jesus, are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

  “Remember that sexy red dress?” she asks excitedly.

  “The one you forced me to try on last month, even though it’s completely out of either of our price ranges?”

  “That’s the one.” She holds up a silver necklace with an onyx stone that dangles low. “This would be perfect for it.”

  I have to admit, she’s right. The stone hangs at just the right length that it would settle right between my breasts where the neckline plunges dangerously low.

  You don’t have time to dream of frivolous things.

  Before Silas’ illness, I might have indulged in the dress and the necklace, just because they made me feel pretty. Not anymore. I have too many responsibilities. I can hardly justify my girls-night-out with Bea tonight, let alone splurge on a two-thousand-dollar dress.

  “Let’s just get this done.”

  5

  Rhys

  “I cannot believe you’re going out.” Bastian eyes me with exasperation. “Have you not heard a single word I said?”

  “All of them.” I roll my eyes at my friend. Bastian is wound so fucking tight that if he’s not careful, he’s going to start shitting diamonds. Life is going to pass him by, and he won’t even know it. “But I’m in New York. It was a long flight, and there’s a great Norm bar not too far from here.” I grin in anticipation. “I love Norm girls. So perfectly good on the outside, so deliciously wicked once they lose their inhibitions.”

  “Magic is leaching out of all of us, and you’re hunting for pussy?”

  Erik snorts. “There’s something reassuring about your shallowness, buddy. The end of the world is here, and you want to get laid.”

  I stare out of the floor-to-ceiling window at the city spread below us. It’s dark, and Manhattan looks like golden treasure, bright and sparkling. The park is darker. The zoo is probably still open, since it’s lit up. Not that any of us can step into a zoo without spooking the animals. Dragon magic is powerful, and we can hide our essence from shifters and Norms, but true animals can always sense their predators.

  We’ve owned this penthouse for the last nine years. It takes up the entire floor and has nearly tripled in value since we bought it. Not surprising. Dragons know treasure.

  “We are dragon princes,” I point out to the others. “There’s always something to worry about.”

  To my surprise, Casius comes to my rescue. “Rhys is right,” he says. “We’re doing everything we can. I’ve lost count of how many parties we’ve thrown in the last five years. We’re going to find our mates, and we’re going to break the curse. We must have faith.”

  Bastian nods but doesn’t look convinced. He blames himself for Gideon’s curse. A night of drinking would do him good. “Come on, mate,” I tell him. “Let’s go get pissed.”

  He shakes his head, but Mateo, who’s been silent so far, tosses back his drink and gets to his feet. “I’ll go,” he says. “Someone has to keep Rhys out of trouble, after all.”

  6

  Aria

  Two hours later, I’m sitting at the bar in the Cellar, nursing my overpriced cocktail while Bea is flirting her pants off with Jesse.

  The small dance floor is packed. The Cellar isn’t really a dance club, more a mix of trendy lounge and dive bar. This is one of Silas’ old haunts. Under his careful eye, I picked my first pocket here, a young man who’d had too much to drink.

  Things are different now. Pete Solomon retired and sold the bar, and the new owner tried to cater to a younger crowd, thinking it would infuse new blood into the business. It’s worked to a certain extent. Cellar is an eclectic mix of old-timers and young investment bankers with more money than sense.

  My palms itch to relieve them of their wallets, but, remembering my promise to Silas, I stay put and people-watch. It’s loud and noisy and too crowded, and I think longingly of my bed.

  I don’t know why I let Bea drag me out like this.

  “Aria Archer?”

  A menacing figure settles onto the barstool next to me. I turn around, raising an eyebrow but not giving him any other acknowledgment. Even seated, I can tell he’s tall, at least six five. His shoulders are wide, and as Silas would say, he’s built like a brick shithouse. He’s bald, and he’s got a scary-looking wolf tattooed on his neck.

  Shifter. I’d bet my life on it. What’s he doing in the Cellar? Norms and shifters don’t tend to mix.

  His tone turns impatient. “You are Ar
ia Archer, are you not?”

  “My mother taught me not to talk to strangers,” I say flippantly, taking another sip of my drink. Gah. It’s too sweet. Should have known better than to order the pink cocktail.

  “No, she didn’t,” he replies calmly. “Your mother abandoned you when you were two. After that, you bounced around from one foster home to another, until you ran away when you were eleven.” He smiles humorlessly. “When you were fourteen, Silas Archer took you under his wing and taught you how to steal. You became quite good at it.” He takes a long drink from his bottle of beer and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Speaking of Silas, how is he doing? Those plasma infusions aren’t cheap, are they?”

  I go extremely still. Very few people know about my thieving, and even fewer people know about Silas’ illness. Each word hits me like a dagger, but I stay expressionless. I can’t let him see that I’m rattled. “Do you want a cookie for doing your research?”

  His lips twitch, but he catches himself. Score one for me knocking him off his game. “Come with me.”

  Bad idea, Aria. Really bad idea.

  I slide off my barstool, drink in hand, and follow him down a dim corridor. At the end of the hallway is the men’s washroom. A guy comes out as we get there, his fly unzipped and his footsteps unsteady. Tall, Dark, and Deadly waits until he’s out of sight before turning to me. “My boss wants a word,” he says. “He’s got a job for you.”

  Should have guessed.

  “I’m not interested,” I reply. “Your boss is just going to have to keep on wanting.” I turn back to head to the bar, and he places his hand on my shoulder.

  “I think you’ll want to hear what he has to say—”

  I cut him off before he can tell me more. I promised Silas. “Look, I don’t know what your deal is or who your boss thinks he is, but I’m out of the game. You’ll have to find someone else.”

  “Even if he is willing to pay for those pricey treatments Archer needs?”