Draconis

By Jessica Raven

Draconis versus the Kingdom of the Vampires

When Sedy first comes into contact with magic and magical beings, she ends her adventures wanting nothing more passionately than a relationship with Damien, King of the Vampires. Now he has invited her to his palace, and she has accepted his invitation fluttering with nervous anticipation.

The romantic weekend Sedy had hoped for begins with malicious subterfuge from his subjects and ends with her abduction from the palace by Tyke, Ruler of Draconis, who has a score to settle with Damien.

What neither Tyke nor the vampire has counted on are Sedy's own feelings, which take a wholly unexpected turn--and Tyke himself is soon no longer sure whether he's holding Sedy captive for revenge or purely to satisfy his own desires...  

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jessica Raven
• Release date: Jul 31, 2021
• ISBN: 9781667408453

Book preview

DRACONIS

Warriors of the Wind

Jessica Raven

Don’t let anyone take away your dreams.

Draconis versus the Kingdom of the Vampires

When Sedy first comes into contact with magic and magical beings, she ends her adventures wanting nothing more passionately than a relationship with Damien, King of the Vampires. Now he has invited her to his palace, and she has accepted his invitation fluttering with nervous anticipation.

The romantic weekend Sedy had hoped for begins with malicious subterfuge from his subjects and ends with her abduction from the palace by Tyke, Ruler of Draconis, who has a score to settle with Damien.

What neither Tyke nor the vampire has counted on are Sedy's own feelings, which take a wholly unexpected turn—and Tyke himself is soon no longer sure whether he's holding Sedy captive for revenge or purely to satisfy his own desires...

Chapter overview

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Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Epilogue

The Dragon Stone

Tyke

Chapter 1

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Sedy

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Exhausted from work, I kick my shoes into a corner, toss my bag onto the couch, and drag my tired body into the kitchen.

Ever since my best friend became Queen of the Underworld, work has become more and more stressful and annoying. Mostly, though, I just really, really miss Sinita. I hardly ever get to see her in person, which upsets me a lot. Unfortunately, there’s no cell phone reception in those ancient caves, or wherever she is, so I can’t even pester her with a text or call.

At the moment, I feel like simply breaking down and bawling—which is alarming, because I’m not like that at all. No, I’m Sedy, the tough girl who always speaks her mind, who never lets herself be fooled, and who gets what she wants.

I just can’t have my friend back, which for me is an especially hard blow.

Irritated, I press the button to turn on the coffeemaker. I just need one more shot of caffeine in order to calm down—otherwise I’ll have no hope for a relaxing Friday evening.

The beans begin to grind, and seconds later the fresh brew streams into my favorite coffee mug. Gratefully, I close my eyes and inhale the aroma deep into my lungs. Before returning to the couch with my mug, I add sugar and milk.

Stirring with a spoon, I stroll back to the living room, turn on the television, and drop onto the sofa like a sack of potatoes—a ritual I’ve gotten down so perfectly that I don’t spill a drop.

Relaxing, I cross my legs and start clicking through the various channels; at a certain point, unable to make a decision, I give up and start watching an episode of Charmed for the hundredth time. That’s the upside of pay-TV—there’s always a rerun on for me to watch. I sip my coffee and stare at the television; when Cole appears on screen, a sigh escapes me. What a man!

Hooo, boy! What I wouldn’t give to have a demon like that on my side.

I’ve already bugged Mattio about it, asking whether he doesn’t have some insanely hot demon for me tucked away in some forgotten corner of his den. He told me they’re not for me, alas.

Hah! He actually said that to me, the person who helped him save his Dream-Woman-slash-My-Best-Friend from those stupid witches. And what did I get in return? Just a thank you. That’s not going to help me snag a Cole for myself.

Staring at my Dream Demon on the TV, I suddenly remember that I picked up some mail on the way in. Awkwardly, I turn to my bag and fish out some letters and junk mail. At first everything looks unimportant, but then a red seal on the back of one letter jumps out at me.

Curious, I turn the letter over and read my name and address, which are written in wonderful slanting handwriting. Odd—the writing doesn’t look familiar. I turn the white envelope over again, this time examining the red seal closely. I draw my index finger across the wax and determine that it’s a genuine seal. I bend down to look more closely at the symbol on it.

Looks like a bat, I whisper to myself. I stroke it again with my fingertip, and this time a strange feeling comes over me.

It’s as if my subconscious mind knew who the mysterious sender was.

I start to fumble at the envelope’s upper edge and, my heart pounding, slowly tear it open, so that I don’t have to destroy the beautiful seal.

My hands tremble slightly as I finally get the envelope open and reveal a slightly yellowed piece of paper. Filled with foreboding, I pull it out and hold it with exaggerated care.

I only realize that I have been holding my breath when I find myself loudly gasping for it. Still a bit out of breath, I unfold the paper—it really looks incredibly old—and, both nervous and curious, begin to read:

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My enchanting Sedy,

As I do every year at this time, I will soon celebrate my birthday.

At least my subjects always throw me a grand party around now. I have come to find it rather tedious; this year, however, that will change.

To that end, I bid you most heartily welcome to Castle Dracul of Dracula.

Please do me the honor of celebrating my long existence with me.

I have taken the liberty of enclosing tickets for you—first class, naturally. I truly hope that you will come and visit me next weekend. The celebration takes place on the evening of the 31st of October, but I would very much like you to stay longer with us in the palace: your flight here departs on the 30th of October and your return flight is booked for the 5th of November.

We will have a wonderful time.

I very much look forward to your arrival.

Until then,

Damien

Dumbfounded, with my mouth hanging open, I read the letter a second time. What tempers my joy at his unexpected invitation is this: I would very much like you to stay longer with us in the palace.

What’s up with that? Is that supposed to mean with him and his playmates? Mattio has always warned me about the Vampire King because he recognized from the first how drawn I am to him. Still, nothing happened with Damien during the rescue mission for Sinita. Nothing, that is, apart from a few yearning glances on my side.

Gnawing on my lower lip, I consider what to do. My fingers take on their own lives in the meantime and fish the tickets out of the envelope. My heart beats more quickly as I hold them in my hands and stare at them in disbelief.

Damien had really gone all out for me. Is that a sign? Should I just drop everything, pack my things, and fly out to Transylvania next weekend? Or should I ignore him, as he has ignored me for the ten months since the rescue mission?

Damn! This is exactly the kind of moment where I could use my friend Sinita. The advice of a best friend would be super useful just now—but she’s busy sitting on her dark throne, watching the demons grovel at her feet.

There was only one thing to do.

Coin toss! Heads or tails.

I spring up quickly from my couch, rummage through my bag for a good coin—yes, there can also be bad ones—and emit a joyful squeak when I find a shiny one that feels right to me.

Heads means no. Because my head says no. Tails means yes, because I should get off my tail and take a chance, I muse. With trembling fingers I lay the coin on my thumb, close my eyes, and count to three.

On three I flip the coin up into the air and then snap open my eyes in time to catch it again. In a flash I turn over my fist and slap the coin onto the back of my other hand.

Drawing a deep breath, I move my fingers from the back of my hand.

I can hardly believe my eyes. I had hoped to get tails, but I hadn’t actually counted on it.

Tails, I say aloud, so that it really sinks in. Looks like I’ll be spending next weekend in Transylvania. I try to ignore the fact that there’s a great deal of anticipation in my voice.

That, and the tingling that spreads through my entire body.

Chapter 2

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Sedy

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Just as on my first journey here, I find myself dumbstruck by Dracula’s palace: it’s truly breathtaking—and also a bit scary-looking.

The taxi driver up front seems to feel the same way. I can tell even from the back seat that he is beginning to sweat, and, though he hasn’t moved his head at all, it’s obvious that he is scanning our surroundings for danger.

Yes, even after centuries, Damien still has the entire region under his thumb. It’s obvious to me that the ancient-but-still-somehow-incredibly-hot vampire is intentionally keeping the inhabitants in a constant state of fear. Damien is clearly very reluctant to yield his power—and he probably never will.

The driver clears his throat nervously, interrupting my little daydream about Damien. I look ahead and realize that we’re rounding the last curve before we reach the massive entrance. I look through the side window to get one last glance at the marvelous palace from a distance, with clouds for a backdrop; it looks incredibly romantic—even to me, a woman not much inclined to the romantic.

The car comes to a stop with an abrupt jolt as the driver jams on the brakes. I quickly hand him his money, along with a tip, grab my duffel bag, which is the only luggage I brought, and swiftly convey it—and myself—out of the vehicle, before it disappears in a flash, tires squealing.

That guy was even more panicked than the last one, I murmur, as I try to shield my eyes from the dust left in his wake.

I turn around and look up at the vast black oak door, which opens at that very moment. My heart makes an unnatural leap, which I try to ignore. I train my eyes on the opening, eagerly awaiting the sight of him, when—what a disappointment!—a small, dainty woman appears.

Linn, I growl. The smile that had been forming on my face completely vanishes.

Sedy, nice to see you after so long. Why does her delivery sound so sarcastic?

The pleasure’s all mine, I lie right back, smoothing my hair. Her right eyebrow raised, she looks at me with a gleam in her eye that any woman could read.

She wants a cat fight? Then she can have one.

With a knowing grin on my face, I casually climb the stairs to the entrance. Linn holds the door open for me—presumably, at Damien’s instruction, playing the part of the friendly host. Holding her gaze, I walk past her and enter the gigantic entrance hall. I had almost forgotten how imposing the interior of the palace is.

Marveling, I look around, and the atmosphere begins to work its magic on me—that is, until Linn interrupts me. I’ll show you to your room right away. Dinner is in an hour; Damien would like you to finish by then whatever it is that you humans busy yourselves with after such a long journey. A servant will come fetch you and lead you to the dining hall.

Isn’t Damien coming to greet me? I ask aloud, and I immediately want to bite my tongue. Those words have been on my mind since I left the taxi.

With a wry grin, Linn answers: Damien is busy with more important things. But you’ll see him at dinner. Until then— She breaks off in mid-sentence. Until then, what? I want to snap at her, but before I’ve drawn a breath to utter the words, the little bitch has disappeared.

I hate that you’re all so damn fast, I growl softly. Before I can get properly agitated about it, though, a man with grey hair is suddenly standing in front of me. Shocked, I take a step back and clutch at my chest: Dear God, this place is like a haunted house!

Please forgive me, Miss Moonrose. My name is Hector. I will bring you to your chamber now. Gallantly, as befits an ancient vampire, he bows before me. I nod and manage a friendly Hello. Hector seems genuinely decent, as far as I can tell. Please give me your bag, he asks, and I immediately hold it out to him. Thank you. Please follow me, Miss Moonrose. This Miss business makes me feel very old all of a sudden, which at twenty-four I am most decidedly not. But to draw Hector’s attention to it also seems wrong, so I hold my tongue and follow him obediently up the stone stairs.

After we’ve walked through half the palace—or so it seems to me—Hector stops in front of a gilded door. My fingers itch to stroke the gleaming surface, which I assume is real gold. I’ll do it later, when I’m alone and not being watched.

Here is your chamber. I will call for you again and lead you to the dining hall, just as Lady Linn wished. That cow, I add mentally. If you should need anything in the meantime, you will find a small red button inside, next to the door. Simply press it and I will be with you again more quickly than a bolt from heaven. I don’t question Hector, as I’m sure he’ll be as good as his word. Thanking him, I say goodbye and take back my bag. Hector opens the door to my chamber and closes it noiselessly behind me after I enter the room.

Once I look around, I decide that neither chamber nor room is the right word for it. It’s larger than my apartment. Open-mouthed, I take a few steps further in.

Incredible, I murmur, astonished, and look around the vast suite. The next thought that pops into my head is this: I could stay here for quite some time.

Chapter 3

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Sedy

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Wrapped only in a towel, I stand before the large canopied bed: I can only say that it would be the dream of any princess.

My eyes wander over the items of clothing spread out on the bed. There aren’t many, I realize to my dismay: I somehow hadn’t counted on needing many nice clothes, but I now realize my error. There’s only one formal gown in my bag, and that was meant for the party. It would look strange if I showed up in the same dress two evenings in a row.

Every woman there would notice. We’re catty; there’s no denying it.

Unfortunately, it’s not only the evening wear dilemma that confronts me: no, I also have no clue who else will be present at the dinner tonight. Neither Hector nor Linn clued me in on that (the latter, I’m positive, deliberately).

In any case, I don’t have much choice in the matter: wearing the evening gown tonight is completely out of the question. Apart from that, though, I only have a pair of shorts that go with a simple oversized top and a pair of skinny jeans that go with a tank top. I must say, I’m quite an expert at packing. Sinita would slap me for not having planned better—but I’m practical, which accounts for my practical things.

I had assumed that we would go for walks during the day so that Damien could show me the country; it would be pleasantly warm then, so the shorts would come in handy. In the evenings, by a cozy campfire, I would wear the skinny jeans.

Why the hell should I have assumed that they also wanted me to dress formally tonight?

Groaning, I throw my head back and close my eyes. There was no help for it: the jeans and tank top would have to do. At least I’ll make Damien really take notice: he won’t be able to get enough of me.

Hector will soon be knocking on the door to fetch me, so I slip into my clothes, rush back into the bathroom that adjoins my bedroom, and blow-dry my long black hair. I’ll just wear it down—it goes with the outfit. I do a decent job lining my blue eyes with kohl and top it all off with some mascara, which makes my long lashes stand out nicely. I take one quick last look in the mirror, but before I can pronounce everything completely okay, there’s a knock on the door.

Dead on time, I whisper and go to the door. As expected, Hector stands there and, when he sees me, he bows in his old-fashioned manner. I just need to grab my shoes, I say to him and spin around again. A few steps away, I grab my ballerina flats and slip them on. We can go now, I remark, unnecessarily. I follow Hector silently, gawking again at my surroundings. The corridor is done all in white: it looks so incredibly luxurious that I’d be afraid of doing serious damage to the wall if I leaned against it.

As we descend the marble grand staircase, I notice how nervous I am. A lump is forming in my throat, and my hands are damp. With the tip of my tongue, I moisten my lips. May I ask you something, Hector? I croak.

Hector stops in the middle of the staircase and turns to me. Certainly, Miss Moonrose.

Who. . . um. . . who will be at this meal tonight? Mildly embarrassed, I lower my gaze.

You have no need to worry. No one from outside of the palace will be here tonight. Was that supposed to calm me? Before I can inquire as to who actually lives at the palace, we’ve already arrived at the door to the dining hall.

For the first time in my life I’m afraid to enter a room on my own. Hector opens the door for me, bows, and indicates that I should enter. I swallow drily, gather all my courage, and order my legs to move forward—and, if possible, not to buckle. Blinking, I enter, and, jittery as a colt, look around the grand room. It’s brightly lit, and here, too, everything looks opulent and glittering. I haven’t yet had time to notice who is present when I suddenly run smack into something hard as a rock and am thrown backwards by the impact. I fall hard on my backside, and the wind is knocked out of me, partly from fright. Gasping for breath, I lift my head and find myself staring directly into Damien’s eyes.

I would happily die right now and sink into the earth.

Raucous laughter erupts and grows louder and louder. Oh my God, did I just say that out loud? I ask, completely embarrassed. Damien nods and gazes at me with an amused twinkle in his eyes; nevertheless, he behaves like a gentleman and makes no comment on my ridiculous entrance. Instead, he stretches out a hand and helps me to my feet.

How I’ve missed you, my dearest Sedy. It’s wonderful to have you here. His voice is soothing. I lose myself in it; it’s as if my head were swept clean. Somewhat bothered by the effect, I shake my head and put on a charming and grateful smile.

Thank you for the invitation, I respond, somewhat breathlessly and with a raspy voice. I realize that Damien is still holding my hand, which makes me redden slightly. At the same time, my pulse speeds up—surely never a good thing in the company of vampires. Now my gaze sweeps the whole room for the first time.

I suddenly remember where I am.

In a room full of vampires.

The lump in my throat grows bigger. I retreat a step to Damien and whisper, "I’m here for the meal, not as the meal, right?" Damien throws his head back and begins to laugh out loud. I, meanwhile, shrink inside of myself.

I liked your sense of humor from the start, Sedy. Come, sit by my side: you’re my guest of honor.

Red as an overripe tomato, I follow Damien to his table. I feel like hundreds of pairs of eyes are trained on me, skewering me. I try to make myself even smaller than I already am and follow Damien, my eyes cast down.

I’m afraid that if I unintentionally look into someone’s eyes, I’ll be devoured.

Come, says Damien, purring like a cat. Be seated. As charming as ever, he pushes my chair in for me. With my most enchanting smile, I turn to face him and breathe a soft thank you very much. Damien nods and seats himself—thank God!—immediately beside me. But when I lift my gaze, I’m no longer happy about it. No fewer than four female vampires are staring at me as if I’ll be their next murder victim. I try to force down the lump in my throat, but I can’t manage it. Sweat breaks out on my forehead; I want to fan myself with my hand, but I’m afraid to make the slightest movement. Desperate for help, I look at the table before me, hoping for a glass of water.

Meanwhile, my throat has become increasingly dry and scratchy. When Damien begins to speak to me, I can’t understand a word. My blood is roaring in my ears, which upsets me even more, as I’m sure that every vampire in the room can sense my out-of-control circulation.

Just as my desperation threatens to be swept away by a wave of outright panic, I feel a light pressure on my forearm. My eyes travel to my arm, and I see Damien’s white finger there. I look at him with wide eyes, no longer capable of giving him a sweet smile. Take mine, Sedy, and have a sip of water. As if my thoughts were like shouts to him, he offers me his water glass. Why he actually has a water glass, I don’t care in the least. And when I tear it from his hand a bit too energetically and greedily gulp the water down, I don’t waste a moment thinking about whether I’m making myself look ridiculous.

I’ve already done that, anyway.

When the glass is empty, I slowly set it on the table and wipe my lips with the back of my hand. Thank you for the rescue, I say, softly. Damien presses my hand and stares intently at me; I am instantly captivated by his gaze.

You don’t need to be afraid with me here, Sedy. You are my guest of honor, and everyone in this room knows it.

My blood sings with happiness.

And what is there to eat? I suddenly ask, much too loud. Irritated at myself and my abrupt change of topic, I frown.

Just a few dishes for you. We won’t be eating, but we’d like to watch you. Damien says this with such an earnest expression on his face that my jaw drops, and I gape at him, flabbergasted. Wh-what? I ask in a shrill voice. There’s no way.

Just as I think I’ve pulled myself together and am ready to proceed to my next brilliant question, loud shrieks, cackles, and gales of laughter break out. I recoil in fright at the sudden pandemonium.

I’m merely teasing, Damien says, grinning. Unfortunately, I’m unable at the moment to laugh along at the joke. He must be able to see that I don’t feel at all comfortable, and his stupid joke—at my expense—is making things worse. I’m beginning to question my decision to accept this invitation.

Please forgive me, my dear Sedy; that joke was simply too tempting. Though I reward him with a forced smile, I don’t fully forgive him yet. He is supposed to be looking out for me, not entertaining his vassals.

Or did I simply have the wrong impression of the vampire clan?

What if he’s not at all what I had thought he was?

Before I become overwhelmed by further questions, Damien claps his hands—loudly enough to be audible throughout the room—and servants hurry in carrying heavily laden silver platters. In a moment, a marvelous aroma of delicious dishes fills the room. My stomach begins to growl like a starved lion. The smells intoxicate my senses and remind me that I haven’t eaten for hours.

Next to me, Damien laughs. It seems that the food offered on the flight was not very good. Giggling, I nod and hold a hand in front of my roaring stomach.

It was fine, but there wasn’t much of it. I’m a grown woman; I need something more substantial. I was fully aware that my answer could be considered suggestive. That was actually the point: I had finally revived the old Sedy in me, tough and quick-witted.

With a small smile of triumph at the group of women, I turn my attention to the silver platter in the middle of our table.

Chapter 4

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Sedy

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Although I’m already full, I can’t resist the delicious desserts. My mouth waters when the server places a small white dish of crème brûlée in front of me: I savor the splendid aroma.

I pick up the dainty spoon and try, as I have all evening, to eat as