Dragons Among Them

By Kyra Jacobs

As heir to Edana’s throne, Prince Zayne Godfrey is betrothed to the princess of rival kingdom Forath. His heart is not in the arranged marriage, but he will do his royal duty and go through with it.

When he finds a beautiful stranger cornered by a pack of wolves, he doesn’t hesitate to shift into his golden dragon form to save her. Her thank you? Fainting.

Photographer Adelaide Miller is in England for a shoot that could make her career when a bizarre jogging mishap lands her in a dangerous, medieval-like world of royals, wizards, and dragon-shifting men. Her first instinct is to find her way back, but the fire-breathing prince determined to protect her is a threat to her heart she never anticipated.

Though Zayne’s intense desire for Adelaide risks the tenuous peace between Forath and Edana, it also uncovers a plot to destroy his family.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Macmillan Publishers
• Release date: Jul 31, 2017
• ISBN: 9781640630796

Book preview

To the power of dreams—may they take you wherever your heart desires to go.

Chapter One

Adelaide Miller stood at the window of her postage-stamp-sized hotel room and marveled at the English landscape a pane away. Sure, the Midwest had rolling fields and open spaces, but nothing like this. Everything here was so green. A whole new world, just waiting to be explored.

And an ocean away from the crappy childhood she planned to spend the foreseeable future trying to forget.

She turned from the view with an appreciative sigh and dropped into her room’s lone chair. This trip wasn’t for exploring, it was for work. And after forking out nearly all the money she had, if tomorrow’s shoot didn’t go well, she might end up stuck on this side of the pond.

But it will go well, she whispered to her reflection in the tiny room’s chipped mirror. Addie had an eye for photography—her teachers had always said as much. The steady line of work since graduation proved it. Even so, between the jet lag and the great beyond beckoning her to come out and play, she felt rather out of sorts.

Nothing a nice long run couldn’t cure. Thank goodness she’d packed her Spandex and Sauconys.

Addie yanked her hair into a ponytail, then grabbed her running essentials—shades, earbuds, iPhone, its worn armband case, pepper spray, and room key—and headed for the door. Two minutes and a quick consultation with the middle-aged, heavily accented British doorman later, she was jogging across the hotel’s parking lot and out onto the streets of Watford, Hertfordshire. The midafternoon traffic went from sparse to nonexistent as she headed out of town and turned down a worn gravel road. Away from the hustle and bustle of civilization, Addie allowed herself to absorb the majesty of the countryside.

Soon she settled into her usual pace—not a full-out run, but not a walk either. Just a good, healthy clip to get her heart pumping and mind clear. Though, no matter how fast or far she went, the ghosts of her past always seemed to follow.

The road snaked up and over the rolling green hills before her, a brilliant afternoon sun hovering above their crests. Its rays competed with the cool UK air and chased the chill from her bare shoulders. A few miles farther, Addie drew upon a field dotted with black-headed sheep. She couldn’t help but grin as she watched several wobbly legged lambs frolic amidst the fleecy congregation.

Sorry, Adam, Addie breathed as she slowed to a stop and hit pause on her playlist. The Maroon Five song’s high note was instantly replaced by the bleating members of several dozen living, breathing cotton balls. The largest sheep in the flock turned to watch her watching them, its eyes unblinking.

I know, I know, she said to the fuzzy beast. Typical city girl, standing here gawking.

Its jaw shifted to chew whatever it’d been munching on a moment before, but the sheep remained tense, wary. With a laugh, Addie offered it a mock bow, then started off again on her run. She glanced over her shoulder at the flock one last time, then turned her attention back to the phone in her armband and Adam Levine.

A car horn blasted.

Addie looked up in time to see a small black car fishtail on the gravel road ahead and skid sideways toward her. With a shriek, she dove out of the way and tumbled head over heels down the road’s sloped shoulder. What should have been a short tumble seemed to stretch on and on.

When finally she rolled to a stop and the vertigo had passed, Addie sat up and stared out at her surroundings. Everything looked…different. The lush green fields she’d admired only moments ago were now covered in dense, straggly underbrush.

Just how far had she fallen, exactly?

Addie stood and gave herself a quick once-over, relieved to find no blood or protruding bones. But the change in scenery had her utterly confused, and she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d hit her head during the fall. There hadn’t been woods nearby a moment ago, had there? And where were the rock-wall-lined open fields? Or the sheep?

That was when she heard rustling in the direction of a cluster of thorny bramble maybe twenty paces away.

H-hello?

A startled bird took wing overhead. Addie flinched from the sound, but nothing else came into view. She kept her sight trained on the underbrush and reached for the bottle of pepper spray at her waist.

I-is anyone there?

Silence followed. Utter silence. No birds, no bugs, nothing.

She’d just begun to think she’d imagined the noise when dual low, throaty growls reached her ears. A scream wedged in her throat as Addie took off at an all-out sprint in the opposite direction.

…

Prince Zayne Godfrey snaked his way through a wall of dense underbrush, cloaked by deep shadows in the Forathian forest. He’d intended to return to Edana’s castle today, perhaps grovel a bit for his father’s mercy after delaying the king’s agenda yet again. But upon waking, the prince decided hunting sounded infinitely more exciting than groveling and far safer than marriage. If only he could convince his father of the same.

The twelve-point buck he tracked stood within striking distance now, its head down as it nibbled from the mossy woodland floor. An earlier rain had dampened the leaf-riddled ground and filled the air with smells of vegetation and decay, masking both his steps and scent. It was almost too easy.

Zayne’s stomach rumbled as he paused behind a giant oak. The beast would have assuredly been caught, cleaned, and cooked by now if the prince had been gifted with armor of ebony or deep scarlet instead of a shiny gold. No matter, he thought as he leaned around the tree to gauge the distance between them one last time. The color’s gleam had forced him to perfect the element of surprise on two legs as well as four—a skill especially helpful when hunting on lands he was forbidden to trod until after the wedding.

The wedding.

Zayne shook the thought from his mind. He had come here to forget his impending doom, not wallow in self-pity.

The prince drew an arrow from the quiver on his back, nocked it to his favorite bow, then shifted away from the oak and lined up his shot on the buck. During battle, the action would have taken him but a second—two, perhaps, if he were dodging an attack. Here in the deep woods where any sudden movement would give his location away, it took several minutes. Time well spent, he knew from experience, if it resulted in fresh venison for dinner.

The deer raised its head and stared in the direction of his hunter with unseeing eyes, ears twitching as he chewed. Zayne held his stance, praying his patience would pay off. After a long moment, the great beast turned its rack in the opposite direction. A victorious smile tugged at Zayne’s lips as he squared his shoulders, took a deep breath to steady his aim—

A woman’s scream shattered the forest.

The arrow slipped from his fingers and sailed six feet over the startled buck’s head. In a flash, he drew another, but the opportunity was already lost. The deer zigzagged over brush and bramble, bounding away to seek refuge in the darkest depths of the forest, and Zayne cursed his own arrogance. He’d taken too long, been too sure of himself. And while his stomach rumbled painfully at the thought of foregoing his anticipated evening meal, he knew better than to pursue the beast. Dangers far greater than the dark awaited him in that direction, and no buck was worth the risk.

A second high-pitched scream sounded, closer this time, and commanded his attention. Whoever joined him in the woods today sounded terrified, not hurt. Lord knew he’d been through enough skirmishes to recognize the subtle differences.

Zayne slung his bow onto his back and charged forward, sacrificing stealth for speed to try to reach the woman before one pitch bled into the other. Thick underbrush snagged at his clothes and sliced his skin, but still he surged forward. It would have been easier for him to transform, faster even, but then his whereabouts would be discovered, and he was not yet ready to return and face his father. Or his betrothed.

The wall of vegetation around him thinned as he drew upon a small clearing. Zayne slowed to quiet his footsteps, then stopped altogether as the scene before him came into view. A pack of wolves milled around one side of the clearing, snapping and snarling as they pawed at their muzzles. Across from them stood the clearing’s other inhabitant: a lone peasant woman.

The source of the screams.

Her outer layers of clothing must have been ripped away during her attempted escape, as she stood quaking in scraps of clothing the likes of which Zayne had never seen before. The bizarre black-and-purple fabric failed to do much more than contain her supple bosom, rounded hips, and slim thighs. Her long, golden hair was pinned up and back and, though mussed, offered him a clear view of her delicate shoulders and creamy pale skin. But what struck him the most was her eyes—startling blue, like brilliant sapphire ice.

A ray of sun broke through the clouds and washed over her, giving the girl an angelic appearance. Never had he seen a woman more beautiful. The sight took his very breath away.

A wolf stepped free from the pack, and the air around Zayne began to swirl. He gasped, as helpless to resist the beast within as he was to draw his next breath. Never before had the transformation begun without his prompting, nor surged forward with such haste. An armor of golden scales replaced his skin, his fingers stretched into talons, and human logic gave way to animal instinct. As the growing fire within his chest sought to consume him, Zayne could comprehend but three things:

He must save her.

He must protect her.

He must have her.

Chapter Two

Head servant Emeline Baker stood in Godfrey Manor’s kitchen yard, humming as she stripped bed linens from a clothesline. The scent of lavender hung heavy in the air, soothing her weary body after a laborious day, and the setting sun blazed like an ember upon the horizon. A shadow fell across the lawn then, darkening the grounds further as the familiar whoosh of giant wings greeted her ears.

With a start, she hurried to collect the last sheet before Zayne’s approach blew it free. The morning rain had delayed her chores, and a muddied sheet wouldn’t help. While the prince would likely wave off her worries about such things and insist she put the task off for another day, Emeline would be sure to sneak it back into the washtub. Though reckless and often self-absorbed, the prince was also compassionate and understanding. His father, on the other hand, did not possess the latter two characteristics. Present or not, Emeline’s inaction would inevitably reach the king’s ears, and she preferred to keep her head upon her shoulders.

Coarse wisps of graying hair tickled her cheeks as the golden beast landed a short distance off. She quickly finished with the sheet and dropped it into a basket at her feet.

Showing off again, eh?

Her teasing tone evaporated the moment she turned to see Zayne, still in dragon form, lying on his side. A longbow arrow protruded from his bloodied, skyward-facing rib cage, his breathing ragged. The prince’s long, serpentine neck and tail were both curled in toward his wings, which were folded low across his giant belly.

Your Highness! Emeline hurried forward, laundry quickly forgotten. What happened? Was it an attack? Shall we summon the royal army?

One closed eye slid open as his massive head shifted back and forth across the muddy ground. Relief coursed through her, if only temporarily. If the damned fool didn’t move forward with his wedding to Princess Rosalind, the fragile bubble of peace between Edana and Forath might soon crumble. Her eyes narrowed at the cottage-sized beast before her.

You went across the wall again, did you now? Startled some poor farmer working his fields?

The dragon’s second eye opened as his head slid across the slick ground once more.

Stop, save your energy. You can explain your actions when you are upright once again. But first this wretched arrow needs removed from your side. She moved toward his front shoulder, searching his crumpled form for an adequate foothold. Honestly, sire, some days I feel I cannot leave you alone for a single—

Zayne’s top wing drew back, revealing his front talons and the object they now slowly released. An object as beautiful as it was unexpected: a girl, slight in size, with pale skin and scant, unfamiliar clothing. She lay on his bottom wing, unmoving, her long golden hair blanketing both face and shoulders. As Emeline drew closer, she witnessed the girl’s chest rising and falling.

She was alive.

All this? Emeline seethed, stepping back to meet his golden gaze. "For a woman? Did you for one moment consider the consequences before you snatched up some silly woodland nymph?"

Zayne offered a weary snort in response and let his eyes slide shut once again.

A groan sounded at Emeline’s feet. The girl raised a trembling hand to brush a curtain of golden hair from her face. A pair of brilliant blue eyes blinked open once, twice, then focused on Emeline.

W-where am I?

Zayne’s body tensed at the sound.

Not where you should be, I can assure you, Emeline snapped and turned to face the dragon’s curious gaze. "Scared her near to death, you did. And how would you have explained that to your father?"

The girl sat up and raised a hand to the back of her head, then sucked in a sharp breath. Wow, does that smart. I…I fell. Must have hit my head on something.

Clarity suddenly lit behind the girl’s eyes.

The wolves, she whispered, her wide-eyed gaze darting to the grounds beyond where Emeline stood. Where’d they go?

No wolves here. Emeline sighed and reached to help the girl to her feet. "Merely those in sheep’s clothing. At least they have the decency to wear some."

Thank goodness. The girl either missed the criticism or ignored it altogether. She teetered for a moment on the most bizarre slippers—purple in color, like nothing Emeline had seen before. Once the stranger found her balance, she offered Emeline a sheepish smile. I’m Addie, by the way.

Very well, then, Addie. Emeline’s gaze shifted back to the purple fabric on the girl’s feet. Are you well enough to climb?

Climb? Her thin brows tugged down into a small vee. I’m sorry, I don’t think I caught your name?

Forgive me, wherever are my manners? I am Emeline Baker, head servant of King Robert’s royal manor. Now, dear girl, can you climb?

Royal manor? Huh. Addie grinned. I didn’t expect to meet any royals on my trip.

I am not of royalty, my dear. But as you stand atop one who is, I would say you and the prince have now met.

Standing…atop…the prince?

Addie looked at the golden wing spread flat beneath her feet, dumbstruck. After a moment, the young woman’s gaze shifted to the dragon’s formidable belly and slowly continued along his scaled underside until reaching his raised head. A strangled squeak escaped her, and the dainty creature’s eyes rolled back in her head. Emeline stepped forward and caught Addie as she fainted once more.

Emeline cast the dragon a dark look. You had to go and pick yourself a meek one.

He offered her an unapologetic snort.

I am far too old for this horseplay. She half carried, half dragged the girl away from Zayne’s wings, then set her down with a grunt. And so are you.

Emeline gathered her skirts and hoisted herself onto his near shoulder. Heights were never a friend of hers, so she clamped both eyes shut as she felt her way along his broad shoulder. Soon her fingertips grazed the arrow’s shaft, and she slid one eye open to look at the weapon still lodged in the prince’s side. With a grunt and a sharp tug, she pulled it free. A pained roar erupted from between Zayne’s fiery lips.

Aim your fire elsewhere, beast. She chucked the bloodied weapon to the ground. ’Twas not I who shot you.

Slowly she made her way back down and breathed a sigh of relief. Then she bent to drag their unconscious guest off the prince’s pinned wing. Though if you make a habit of stealing female peasants from our rival land, I may do just that.

…

Queen Helena stood beside her bedroom window, watching the sun fade into oblivion. Another day had passed and still no word. Berinon had promised results, had spoken the prophecy, and yet here she was, left wondering still.

Beg your pardon, Your Majesty.

Helena turned to find her handmaiden standing just inside the door, the girl’s wide, brown eyes apologetic. What is it, Thomasina?

A scroll for you, my queen.

Helena’s skin pricked. Deliveries to the castle at this hour were unusual. Ones addressed to her rather than the king rarer still. She smoothed a hand over her thick, full skirt and applied the proper amount of concern to her countenance. By all means, bring it here.

Skittish as a mouse, Thomasina crossed the chamber and placed the scroll in her queen’s outstretched hand. Then she curtseyed and took several small paces back to await further instructions. A good girl, this one. Helena shifted her gaze to the glossy red wax seal stamped upon the rolled parchment and brushed a trembling finger across its intricate design. Had her plan been discovered? She drew in a deep breath and opened the scroll. Three words greeted her:

It is done.

The queen’s breath caught in her throat.

I-is everything all right, my lady?

News from my mother about the prince’s upcoming wedding, is all, lied Helena as she moved to toss her message into the fire. Fetch me my cloak, dear girl. I wish to take a walk in the gardens.

The young girl cast a nervous glance out the window at the darkening sky. "At this hour, Your