Drakon Jericho Drake, the child of a pure-blood dragon and
a simple plan: Kill the leader of the Knights of the
and start a
war. Except, when he meets his target, Karina Azarov, she
remember who she is. Worst of all––he can’t kill her. His
has just claimed the dangerous woman as his mate.
Karina has no idea why these Drakon’s have taken her to
And she most certainly does not understand why she’s so
drawn to her
captor. Maybe because he’s strong, intelligent, and
enigmatic sort of way. One thing she knows, he’s not going
to hurt her.
If only she could remember something from her past that
why these Drakon’s hate her so much.
"We're enemies then?" She already knew that, since he'd
kidnapped her, but for some reason it seemed more real
"We are." He sat back in the chair, putting some distance
between them. It felt like he was abandoning her, which
stupid. They'd always been on opposite sides, it seemed.
"Sadiq said the group I'm leader of wants to capture 'your
kind.' What does that mean? You're dragons?"
He was silent for a long time, so still he seemed more
statue than flesh and blood. "Not quite."
She nodded. "I thought not. Dragons aren't real." It was
ludicrous to think otherwise, in spite of her flash of
"Oh, they're real enough. They came to this world from
another dimension four thousand years ago. They weren't
long. Less than two decades. They changed forms long
to mate with human women. Those women had children. Sons."
It was like a fantasy story, but deep inside she was
beginning to accept the core truth in his tale. It was
crazy, but he had no reason to lie to her. "And?"
He dragged his fingers through his thick hair. It spread
like a silky black curtain, touching the top of his
shoulders. She curled her fingers in her lap to keep from
reaching out to touch it.
"And those sons weren't pure-blooded dragons. Their base
form was human like their mothers, but they could shift
dragons as well. They were true half-breeds, inheriting
best and worst traits from both species."
She leaned forward, unable to stop herself. It was all
fascinating, yet familiar at the same time. "So, there
He absently shook his head, lost in the story he was
her. His eyes seemed ageless, but there was a weariness
about him that made her long to reach out and offer
"Not dragons, drakons. That's what we call ourselves. We
the sons of the dragons and the human women. The dragons
went back to their own realm when their sons reached
and they realized their dragon genes hadn't created more
like them, but a hybrid of sorts."
He looked at her, then—really looked. His eyes were pure
black, but there was something in their depths. Red and
violet flames. She blinked several times, not quite able
believe what she was seeing.
"You're a drakon?" Who believed such things? Obviously,
had, and so did Jericho.
He nodded. "Yes. And you're my greatest enemy."
Her stomach sank. It wasn't safe to be his foe, to be on
wrong side of any of these men. Drakons aside, they reeked
of danger, of determination and drive. They'd do whatever
took to get a job done.
"Why haven't you already killed me?" Maybe she was crazy
ask, to remind him of his original intention, but she had
He gave a rough laugh, but it wasn't a pleasant sound.
I've asked myself that a dozen times since I pulled you
the wreckage." He absently rubbed his chest. "It seems
or Nature or whatever you want to call it is a fickle
and has played a mean trick on us both."
She didn't want to ask, afraid of the answer.
"And that trick is?" He leaned forward, a scowl on his
rough-hewn face. "That you're my mate."
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Blood of the Drakon
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