Mina glanced around the foyer—at the art, the furnishings, the opulence—and her breath hitched in her throat. “Dante,” she whispered softly, no longer using his formal title, “we’ve come full circle, haven’t we?”
He rose to his feet and nodded. “Thirty-one long years.”
A smile as brilliant as the noonday sun gilded every nook and cranny of the opulent foyer, and she shuffled softly to the side, once again standing in the same place she’d stood all those long decades ago. “Hi,” she whispered coyly, holding out her hand. “I’m Mina Louvet.”
He stared at her elegant hand, her delicate fingers, her slender wrist, and took it in his own. “I’m Dante Dragona, your humble servant.” He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed the back of her knuckles…and she laughed with abandon. “What’s so funny?” he asked.
She snickered and tossed back her head. “Humble servant…humble?”
He shrugged.
“More like primordial dragon, fearsome beast, domineering monarch. Handsome—but deadly—predator.”
He sniffed. “I can be humble.”
She covered her mouth with her hand, and her shoulders shook from the mirth. “No, you cannot.”
“Sometimes?” He raised one brow.
She shook her head. “Pretty much…never.”
The corner of his mouth quirked up in a sardonic smirk. “Well, I can still be your servant, at least some of the time.”
She curled her pouty lips around her teeth, and bit down to keep her laughter from getting out of hand.
“On Sundays?” he proffered.
She angled her head to the side like an adorable little puppy confused by nonsensical words.
“Once a year?” he ventured.
Her laughter slipped out, and he smiled with abandon.
Ah, hell, so she knew him well. “Well, there is one place where I’m both master and servant,” he purred, allowing his fire to spark.
Her eyes grew wide and she took a cautious step backward, but her pupils betrayed her delight. “And where is that?” she teased him.
He moved so quickly, his motion was a blur, gathering her by the waist, tugging her back against him, and dragging his fangs along the slope of her throat. “In our bedchamber, Mistress Mina.”
She let out a responsive moan, reached back, and stroked his jaw. “Show me then, my king.”
She didn’t have to ask him twice.
Dante Dragona scooped Mina Louvet into his arms and headed toward the grand foyer staircase, eager to make love to his mate, to show her all the raw, eternal passion she truly commanded from his dragon.
This amazing, beautiful creature who had stolen his heart.
This brave, fearless Ahavi who had changed the fate of the Realm.
This unassuming slave who had become a queen.
His queen.
A Sneak Peek from Zanaikeyros
Zanaikeyros – Son of Dragons
By Tessa Dawn
PANTHEON OF DRAGONS, BOOK ONE
Jordan gathered the lapels of her lamb’s wool coat, clutched them in her fist, and hurried down the narrow cement stairway, trying to avoid slipping on the steep, polished stairs. The night was cool, the air was crisp, and it reminded her of a late autumn evening, rather than the middle of June. As her two-inch heels clicked against the pavement, she gripped the rail with her free right hand and slowed down to maintain her balance.
She absently glanced to the right, and her eyes locked with a stranger’s: a huge, imposing man ascending the otherwise empty stairway. She couldn’t help but notice that he was strikingly handsome—in a rugged, medieval sort of way—his hair was as dark as night, he was naturally tan, and there was something almost savage in his bearing. His ethnicity was odd—curious, indefinable, impossible for Jordan to place—and she shivered involuntarily, thinking immediately of the caller, the guy who had threatened her earlier, the one who had called her a witch.
She quickly dismissed the connection.
First, she would remember the likeness of a guy she had sent to prison, and second, she would never forget this particular man’s face.
Realizing she was staring, she nodded politely in greeting and planted another foot on another cement stair—and then she drew back in surprise.
He was practically gaping at her!
Staring straight through her.
His piercing sapphire-gold eyes were locked, like lasers, on hers.
As gazes went, it was both terrifying and ominous, as if he could see into her soul, as if he were seeking the same…
She licked her bottom lip in a nervous gesture, even as she consulted her common sense: Get a grip, Jordan. It’s just a curious glance, a fleeting intersection of eyes, the kind that happens a dozen times a day. She forced a good-natured smile and quickly glanced away, hoping to pacify his curiosity—to dismiss his attention—and to remind him of common courtesy.
As expected, the stranger followed suit.
He continued to take the stairs, two at a time, until he had passed her without incident, and then he suddenly stopped in midstride and spun around to face her.
She sensed it more than she saw it.
She could literally feel his domineering presence behind her, and despite her immediate impulse to run, she turned to face him instead.
The stranger tilted his head to the side and emitted some strange, feral sound. It was almost like a snarl, and Jordan’s heart began to race. They locked eyes a second time, and she almost let out a yelp: He was glaring at her now, like she had stolen his firstborn child, his dark, sculpted brows creased into a frown.
She unwittingly took a step back, clutched the rail once again for stability, and stifled a terrified gasp. Determined to appear calm, she stuffed her free hand into her pocket, hunched her shoulders in some instinctive, submissive gesture, and slowly backed away, feeling carefully for each stair beneath her.
He took a casual step toward her, and she almost bolted.
He halted, almost as if he dared not frighten her any further, and then he did the oddest, most animalistic thing: He inhaled deeply, sniffed the air, and he groaned.
Whether it was a groan of annoyance, impatience, or anger, Jordan had no idea, but that was the final straw—she had no intention of sticking around to find out.
Releasing the rail, she spun around in a whirl, leaped the four remaining stairs—almost twisting her ankle—and took off running for her car, all the while digging frantically for her keys as she ran. She could hear the stranger’s footsteps behind her, and she cringed at the stupidity of her choice. Why hadn’t she screamed or tried to push past him? Headed back in the direction of the mall, to the safety of other people?
Rounding the corner of the parking garage, she eyed her forest-green, metallic BMW, only five spaces away, and rotated her key-fob in her hand, pressing the unlock button over and over, just to be sure it opened. She glanced over her shoulder to judge the distance between herself and the stranger, and gasped, her feet skidding to a sudden halt.
He wasn’t there.
Even though she could have sworn she’d heard his footsteps just moments ago, the man was no longer behind her.
She pressed her hand to her heart and fought to catch her breath, feeling a curious mixture of both relief and embarrassment. She scanned the garage in all four directions, making sure she hadn’t overlooked his presence, that he wasn’t hiding behind a nearby post or a vehicle, and then she started once again for her car.
Angry tears filled her eyes as she finally reached her BMW, yanked on the door handle, and bent to climb inside.
“Stop.” An invisible hand snatched her by the arm, slammed her door shut behind her, and pressed her back against the driver’s-side panel. And then, just like that, the stranger was standing, once again, in front of her.
What the hell!?
She jolted in surprise, dropped her keys on the ground, and opened her mouth to scream, but the sound would not come out. Her eyes grew wide, and he
r heart constricted in her chest, beating so frantically that it pulsed in her ears. The dangerous, imposing male pressed both hands flush against the hood of her car, and caged her in like a trapped, helpless animal, framing her shoulders between two taut, muscular arms.
She dropped down, tried to duck beneath his right bicep, but it was all to no avail. He simply followed the movement of her body with his arms.
And then she foolishly tried to back up, to escape him with a twist, but once again, there was nowhere to go—the solid panel of her car was behind her. Her heart thundered in her chest, and she gasped for air. “Get away from me!” she finally bit out, shoving hard at his iron chest. Good lord, the man had to be six-foot-four, and his chest must have been made of iron, because he didn’t budge an inch. She clutched his wrists and tried to wrench his arms free from the hood of her vehicle. “Let me go!”
He leaned into her, pressed his forehead to hers, and his dark, silken hair fell forward, shrouding them in an intimate midnight curtain. “Shh,” he whispered softly. And then he pressed a finger to his lips to demonstrate the command as he slowly shook his head. “Be at ease.”
Be at ease?
Did he just say, Be at ease?
As if!
What the heck was that supposed to mean, anyway?
Jordan suddenly felt sick to her stomach. She wanted to scream—she had tried to scream—but it was like the scream was trapped in her throat. It simply would not come out. Her eyes clouded with angry tears, and she scanned the parking garage for a Good Samaritan, praying someone—anyone—would come her way. The mall didn’t close until midnight, and there was still a scattering of parked cars—they couldn’t all belong to employees.
She choked back a sob and forced herself to meet the stranger’s penetrating sapphire gaze. Dear God, he was frightening, and not even in a criminal way—his demeanor went so far beyond that. He was like fog rising off the sea, or that large spiderweb unseen in the corner: mythical, ethereal, and a part of the shadows themselves.
And suddenly she knew…
This was what she had feared all day, the cause of that deep, uneasy stirring in her belly, not some two-bit criminal who wanted to pay her back for a perceived wrongful conviction, not the caller who had threatened to burn her like a witch, but this man, the one standing directly in front of her.
She summoned every ounce of courage she possessed, suddenly realizing it was vitally important that she get away.
Now.
“Who are you?” she whispered. “And why are you doing this?”
Continued in ZANAIKEYROS ~ Son of Dragons
Also by Tessa Dawn
(The Blood Curse Series)
Blood Genesis (prequel)
Blood Destiny
Blood Awakening
Blood Possession
Blood Shadows
Blood Redemption
Blood Father
Blood Vengeance
Blood Ecstasy
Blood Betrayal
Christmas In Dark Moon Vale
Blood Web ~ Coming Next
(Dragons Realm Saga)
Dragons Realm
Dragons Reign
(Pantheon of Dragons)
Zanaikeyros ~ Son of Dragons
Axeviathon ~ Son of Dragons (Coming Next)
(Nightwalker)
Daywalker ~ The Beginning (A New Adult Short Story)
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About the Author
Tessa Dawn grew up in Colorado, where she developed a deep affinity for the Rocky Mountains. After graduating with a degree in psychology, she worked for several years in criminal justice and mental health before returning to get her master’s degree in nonprofit management.
Tessa began writing as a child and composed her first full-length novel at the age of eleven. By the time she graduated high school, she had a banker’s box full of short stories and novels. Since then, she has published works as diverse as poetry, greeting cards, workbooks for kids with autism, and academic curricula. Her Dark Fantasy/Gothic Romance novels represent her long-desired return to her creative-writing roots and her passionate flair for storytelling.
Tessa currently splits her time between the Colorado suburbs and mountains with her two children and “one very crazy cat.” She hopes to one day move to the country where she can own horses and what she considers “the most beautiful creature ever created” — a German Shepherd.
Writing is her bliss.
For more information
www.tessadawn.com
Tessa Dawn, Dragons Reign
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