PROLOGUE
Aldren metamorphosed swiftly. He was showing off for her. But he was justly proud of his hard won and rapid changes. Of course, a shield-kin confined to barracks when not on duty, had a lot of extra time to polish his transformations.
His real skill was in accomplishing his metamorphosis in the blink of an eye, while retaining
more than ninety percent of his energy in mortal or in dragon. Changes were an enormous energy suck. Already he was ravenous, but he had lots of stamina left – in case they were attacked by sand fleas or burrowing crabs. Or she needed his services.
Petra’s mewls had changed to outraged bellows. He looked over his shoulder. She was still huddled on the sand. Her head remained in dragon as did her feet. The rest was human. She looked pissed. And she smelled scared. She was obviously in pain.
He bent over her murmuring encouragement. “You can do this, sweetheart. You are almost done. Imagine your hair streaming over your shoulders.”
She tried to bite him. His reflexes took over and he leaped six feet in the air. “Cut that out,” he ordered when he landed.
Strong he might be, but driven by her powerful jaws, those needle sharp teeth would puncture
his skin and slice through muscle like a hot knife through butter. Petra was cute, but she was no kitten.
With a last roar, she returned to human. The narrow line of triangular bumps gradually merged into the satiny bumps of her human spine. She was sweaty. Her braid was gone and in its place she had a tangle of damp and salty curls.
She was more lovely than she had been at sixteen. Her hips were fuller, her bottom lusher. Her breasts more generous. Her bush had darkened from platinum to gold. He gawked.
“Get me a towel,” she snapped. “How’s your ankle?”
She was squatting on both feet. “Fine, I guess.” “Was it worth the agony of turning?”
“I suppose. How come it doesn’t hurt you?”
“I’ve had years to get over the growing pains.” He kept his tones businesslike even though his pits were damp and his skin prickled just looking at her. To say nothing of his boner. “I’m going to
take you straight to your room. We should evaluate that joint before you put more stress on it.”
“You could have gotten a towel first,” she grumbled when he had her balanced in his arms. She put her right hand over his tat. “It’s hot,” she said in surprise.
“Hmm.”
Half-way up the staircase she asked, “ So do all dragons have that double dong action?”
*Six years earlier, Chateau Lind, Loire du **Bois*
He pulled her behind the door where no one could see them and planted an inexpert kiss on her lips. Petra Vandemark wound her arms around Aldren’s neck and kissed him back. When his tongue asked for entrance, she opened her mouth and tasted him.
It wasn’t her first kiss. Not even her first French kiss. But apparently it was Aldren Caraveth’s first. But he made up for his lack of skill with husky murmurs and brute enthusiasm. When he raised his head his eyes were unfocused. She wasn’t a giggler, but she giggled.
He placed her hand over his heart. “You are the one,” he declared.
Petra peeked up at him through her lashes. He was so intense. In the last two days this blond giant had tugged her into a dozen of the alcoves and niches that formed part of this sixteenth century castle. Each time he had uttered versions of the same desperate phrase.
Her trouble was that she was beginning to believe him. Could fate intend her to find her one true love already? Was she destined to marry a dragon after all? To become a dragoness? Her father would be ecstatic. She needed to be careful of this handsome boy.
Aldren’s phone beeped. He turned scarlet and answered it promptly. He spoke rapidly and
respectfully into it before turning it off. “I’m sorry, Petra. I have duties. Forgive me. Do you know the way to where you were going?”
She nodded. “The Chateau Corvaine is a big place, but no larger than the Vandemark Castle. I’ll be fine.”
He bowed as if she were a princess. Pressed a hard kiss on her lips. “Later.” He was gone before she had her eyes open.
That evening after dinner when the house guests were gathered in Lady Caraveth’s music room for an impromptu recital, Aldren sang a credible accompaniment to one of his aunts ’ piano playing. He executed the lyrics in flawless German. It was an old love song, but he sang it for her, in the language of her homeland. At least that’s what her heart thought.
Vater nudged her when the song was over and a laughing group of giant Caravaths were arranging themselves into a chorus. “Would you fetch my reading glasses, please?” he asked.
“Of course.” She glanced at the front of the room. Aldren was already gone. He kept telling her that he had duties. And it seemed to be true. He was always vanishing. She smiled as she slipped past the rest of the audience and went for her father’s glasses.
Aldren followed her up the curving staircase. “Where are you headed? This isn’t the way to
”
your room.
“My father needs his glasses.” “I will come with you.”
“Don’t you have duties?”
He shrugged. “I have to play the violin later. Do you know where your father’s room is?” She grinned at him. “Lady Caraveth put him in the Chinese room.”
His brows rose. Obviously he had recognized that the Count Vandemark was a highly honored guest. “I know a shortcut.”
Of course he did. “Why would I want to rush?” she teased.
He let her pick up *Vater s’** *spectacle case and start back to the music room. On the second floor landing, he tugged her behind the drawn curtains of the bay windows. The gold satin lining enclosed a tiny space with the windowpanes forming the three other walls. Aldren’s big hands pulled her against him. He brushed kisses all over her face. Tender, exploratory, reverent kisses.
He stopped with a huge sigh of regret. “We need to get you back, before they notice.” “Who?”
“My family. Your father. Your brother.” He sounded cross. “Don’t play games, Petra.” “I’ll go to bed early. Come to my room. We’ll …talk.”
His smile made her feel feminine, powerful, grown up.
Petra had cocooned herself in the top sheet. She huddled sobbing and trembling on the edge of the bed. With each shudder, her pearly shoulders peeped tantalizingly through the pale hair that
cascaded over them.
Aldren stared helplessly at his mate. Her tears made his heart cramp. The harder Petra cried,
the faster her tears trickled down her face and tinkled onto the floor in a flood of tiny crystals. He had no idea how to make her stop.
He rolled out of bed and grabbed his pants, stuffing his legs into them commando style. He
rounded the ornate footboard to sit beside his mate. “It’ll be all right,” he said as comfortingly as he knew how.
If anything, Petra cried harder. Her tears made a small and musical backdrop to her sniffling. He edged closer to try and put his arm around her and trod on a great pile of them.
“Damn.” His mild expletive frightened Petra. She shrank further away.
This was dreadful. He had not expected her to be so frightened and sad. He knelt before her
and tried to take her hands. She clutched the sheet and shook her head. Blonde waves bounced. The
diamonds, for she was weeping diamonds, cascaded faster. They bounced off her lap and puddled on the carpet.
Aldren tried again. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said desperately. “I’m sorry.”
Abruptly her tears stopped. “You didn’t hurt me.” Petra wiped her face with the corner of the sheet. “Ijust don’t want to marry you.”
That rocked him back on his heels. “Oh.” He ran a hand through his hair. Now what? “I don’t think we can get away with that.” He enunciated slowly and carefully. It was far too late for her to change her mind.
She took the sheet away from her face. Despite her distress and her grief, she was still the most beautiful girl he’d ever met. “I know. But I don’t want to get married. I’m only seventeen.”
Aldren looked down at his hands. What the hell had he done? He was older than Petra. He was pretty sure her father and his parents would blame him. And the Patriarch of his House – it didn’t bear
thinking what Lord Caraveth would have to say to his nephew and youngest shield-kin.
He swallowed hard. “I don’t think,” he began.
“I haven’t even finished school,” she said despairingly. “I don’t want to go off to some island in Sweden to make babies.”
