Dragon Flight: A Dragon Shifter Menage Serial (Seeking Her Mates Book 3) Read online

  Dragon Flight

  Carina Wilder

  Contents

  Copyright

  Foreword

  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

  Preview of Book Four: Loyalty

  Also by Carina Wilder

  Copyright © 2015 by Carina Wilder

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  Foreword

  This serial begins with Seeking Her Mates Book One: Torn

  A Note to my Readers:

  This is the follow-up to the Sought by the Alphas serial, which chronicles the story of Gwynne, a woman who finds herself thrust into another time and a life she never expected with two dire wolf alphas for mates.

  If you haven’t yet read it, you can find the books below. They’re all available for FREE on Kindle Unlimited. It’s not necessary reading, of course, but does occur in the days before Torn begins.

  The five-book boxed set is available here: Sought by the Alphas Boxed Set

  Sought by the Alphas individual books:

  Encounters

  Rituals

  Trial by Fire

  Kinship

  Dragon Queen

  Happy reading!

  ~Carina

  1

  “No. Please.”

  The words escaped through the thin opening between pale lips, sapped of their colour as if in solidarity with the man who lay inhumanly white on the bed, his skin almost translucent.

  “Please.”

  She repeated the word, though it was nothing more than a useless syllable, aimed at no one. And yet directed at everyone she’d ever known.

  For the first time in her life, Lily felt helpless.

  And, what was worse: Hopeless.

  She stood next to the bed where she’d spent the night with her two lovers—that perfect first night, during which she had found herself engulfed in warmth and affection, surrounded by a wall of masculine flesh on each side.

  On occasion she’d drifted into slumber, a hand stroking her bare skin under the covers, idly making its way along soft curves. Fingertips had delighted in their exploration of the body that was new to them. That would remain theirs as long as they lived.

  What a thought.

  Lily had slept fitfully but happily, waking many times and wanting to pinch herself, to believe, truly, that this paradise was to be her life from this day forward.

  And when her eyes had opened just after dawn, she had been at last convinced that in fact yes, this had happened. They were still with her, a smiling man on either side, the hands still eager to touch her, eyes still full of desire to take her in and to prove their own realism.

  Perhaps she really was just that fortunate. Somehow, the stars had aligned and Lily had come out the winner of the greatest prize in the history of the universe.

  But the elation had ended abruptly only hours later, and now she felt as though one third of her body, of her very life, lay before her, his beautiful eyes open and yet heartbreakingly devoid of sight or life of their own.

  The man who had lured her into his world, his soul, in London, was drifting away now. He had found his way through centuries with her not once but twice, her servant and master, her lover. Her mate.

  But it seemed so wrong. Just the night before he had made love with her alongside Graeme, the dragon shifter. And it had been an experience beyond imagining.

  Made love. What an inadequate expression. Wordlessly the men had opened Lily’s eyes to the world, to affection, to worship, to lust and reciprocity. They had taught her the body’s capacity for sensation and the mind’s gift for insatiable desire.

  The three had bonded in the Ritual, and their blood had become one, as was the custom of her kind. Each had gained power. Strength. Skills.

  But it was precisely this surge of overwhelming power that was now killing Conor, whose body had not been prepared as his mind had been. For too many generations his ancestors had mated as humans did, and they had lost most of the evolutionary traits that Lily and Graeme possessed.

  Conor was a mortal human, like any man who walked down the street carrying a briefcase and considering his mortgage. As much as he’d felt confident that he could thrive as a shifter like Lily or Graeme, his body was proving his theory wrong in the most devastating of ways.

  His eyes remained a glassy shade of grey, far from their original dancing spectrum of colours as they failed for once to take in the world around them: the large window overlooking green, rolling hills. The worn dresser which sat opposite the bed, marked by generations of use. The soothing light blue of the walls, offering the room a feeling of peace which was in direct conflict with all that was occurring within its confines now.

  Of course, it was perhaps for the best that he couldn’t seem to register Lily’s devastated face, or the look of worry that sat upon Merriman’s as the two stood by, studying him, attempting to come up with solutions that were proving nonexistent.

  It seemed to Lily as though her lover’s mind were now in another place, as if the battle raging inside him had transported him elsewhere, away from this weakened body to an arena where he would fight a solitary struggle for his life. As Lily touched him she felt his skin burn with enough heat to alarm even a dragon shifter.

  His body, she knew, was trying its best to take on the challenge that was threatening it. But the human flesh was giving in, attempting to accept its grim fate; a fate for which Lily herself felt responsible.

  “I did this to him,” she said quietly as she knelt down by the bed, holding his searing hand in hers as she tried to absorb the heat that he emitted. “If he dies, it’s my fault.”

  Her heart seemed to shred inside her chest, the pain of it weakening her so that she hunched forward, unable to straighten her back. She felt instead that she was closing in on herself; shutting down as her own walls crumbled from within, a fortress taken down by an enemy stronger than herself.

  It was inconceivable now to think of life without this man. Though he had only been a part of her for a short time, it felt now like an eternity, locked inside her mind and soul. As though he’d become woven into her own flesh in more ways than simply a physical one.

  And with each breath that he drew she felt it: his struggle, his pain, as though she too were inside him. His thoughts were a jumbled, incoherent mess, coated in a shroud of torment as he fought for his existence, and her own mind cried out in pain, wishing to replace him in his fight.

  She turned to Merriman, who stood behind her, a silent watcher with an expression of concern still embedded deep into the creases of his face.

  “What do we do?” she asked, her voice tightening, as weakened as her body. “Please tell me. There has to be something. You said you’ve
seen this sort of thing before…”

  The ancient man didn’t speak at first; he seemed to be contemplating any and all options. Lily chewed her lip, silently urging him to speed up his thought process. There was no time for this sort of slow pondering.

  “Please,” she pleaded, her mind uttering the word that her voice failed to speak again.

  “Don’t rush me, child.”

  She felt the words thrown back at her as his eyes met hers. He had not spoken them; his lips were still sealed tight. But there was a clarity to the sentence, like that of icy water in a wild creek streaming transparently over white stones.

  This was not the first time that Lily had found words transmitted into her mind by another; Conor had done it. And Merriman had managed to convey a message the night before. But now something had changed.

  She felt as though a door inside her had been opened to allow a steady stream of conversation. This was Conor’s gift to her—to allow her to see the world differently and to understand its inner workings. His Sight had become hers. Unfortunately it was no help now.

  And so in turn, he had most likely inherited hers and Graeme’s gifts during the Ritual; her talent for leaping through time, through space. And Graeme’s talent for telekinesis, thrusting objects through the air with his mind as he’d done in the London pub.

  And it was all proving overwhelming, too much for Conor’s human flesh.

  “I’m sorry, Lilliana,” said Merriman at last, his voice resolute, as though he’d come to an irreversible conclusion. “But Conor is in need of medical attention. From an experienced doctor who knows the workings of shifters as much as humans. I can help a little, but I cannot heal him.”

  “Is there such a doctor around here?”

  “No, unfortunately. There aren’t so very many of our kind in this area. I knew a good doctor, who was kind and skilled—but he is long since dead. It’s been many years since I’ve found myself in this position.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “I am truly sorry.”

  Lily bowed her head, beginning to surrender to the thought that hope was lost at last. But it wasn’t in her to surrender, not even to a force as strong as fate. Her flame-coated dragon thrashed inside her, urging her on. There had to be another way.

  No, this won’t do, she thought. I won’t let him die.

  Conor was not going to succumb in this way; not if she had any say in the matter. This was his chance to become something new, a stronger version of himself. This, Lily insisted internally, was his destiny. Surely he hadn’t been led to her by his visions in London only to be ripped from her days later.

  She waited only for a moment before rising and dashing out of the room, her legs carrying her down the hallway towards the only answer she could think of.

  Graeme was drying off after a shower in the large bathroom where the threesome had enjoyed such physical bliss the previous night. When he saw her, a broad smile spread itself over every aspect of his face and he approached, hands prepared to embrace her, to feel that luxurious touch of hers once again.

  But an unseen force seemed to stop him in his tracks, as though an invisible wall had sprung up between them.

  “Lilliana, what is it?” he asked. Whether it was her face or her mind that he read in that moment, she didn’t know. But it didn’t matter.

  “It’s Conor. The change is killing him—because of the Ritual.” Lily found herself rambling, unable to prevent thoughts from emerging. “It’s what you predicted, but I hoped that this wouldn’t happen…Please, Graeme. I need you to go and find Dr. Evans. He lives in this century—he delivered Rohan and me. The trouble is that he’s far off. I would leap to him, but if I don’t find him—I can’t bear to leave Conor—”

  “All right.” Graeme’s voice was calm, settled, as though trying to counterbalance the frantic nature of Lily’s streaming words. “Of course I’ll go. But I’ll need to take a train. If people see a dragon flying…”

  “We don’t have time for trains,” Lily’s voice was pleading, desperate. “You have to fly. And you’ll have to carry him back.”

  “But, Lilliana…” This would mean risking everything; the general public could become aware of their kind. Not to mention the indignity of acting as a mount for a human. He was a dragon lord, for God’s sake. Not a pony.

  It was then that Lily broke down, her mid-section seeming to give way as if her spine had collapsed in on itself once and for all. Ashamed of his own pride, Graeme grabbed her and pulled her close as she wept, her face finding a temporary home in his shoulder.

  “It’s all my fault…” Her voice choked as the words came out. “Graeme, I’ve killed him.”

  “No, you haven’t.” His own tone was resolute and powerful. Risk be damned, and foolish pride along with it. “He’s breathing, isn’t he? He is a strong man—stronger than either of us can imagine, I think. And together we’ll save him.”

  Pulling away, he wiped tears from her cheeks and kissed her forehead. “We are one now. And you must stay strong for him. You keep him with us. Do you understand me?”

  Lily nodded. It was all that she could manage.

  “Now, you need to tell me where to find this doctor. I will leave immediately.”

  “Thank you.” The words seemed insufficient to convey everything raging inside her. So she simply held him again for a moment, this man who was the only source of strength that she had.

  2

  The day was cool and overcast, a low, dark covering of cloud overhanging the house as if to foretell of events to come, or, more optimistically, in an effort on nature’s part to offer the dragon some concealment from observant eyes below.

  Graeme had determined the quickest path to the doctor’s location before hastily making his way to the back garden to transform into the great red beast that dwelt within him. He had assured Lily that he would return promptly and intended to live up to his word, provided that he could find the doctor without difficulty.

  He altered into the impressive déor that his new lover had only seen in happier circumstances and shot toward the clouds above. Anyone who happened to look skyward in that instant would be in for a moment of confusion: why was there a giant bird in the Cotswolds? Perhaps it had emigrated from Africa, they might speculate over a cup of tea from the town far below.

  He might—just might—have been mistaken for an actual dragon by someone who’d had too much scotch. But no sober human would ever believe such a thing, of course. Dragons had never existed, after all.

  The few who knew better would remain quiet about it.

  Lily watched him disappear into the low-lying grey of the clouds. From inside the bedroom where she remained with Conor, she hoped that she’d made the right call in sending Graeme away. Should she have used her own talents to leap to Dr. Evans’s location? It would have been quick, after all.

  Perhaps the answer was yes. But leaving Conor suffering on the bed, away from her voice and her touch was not an option. If she’d estimated the location wrong, or if anything happened to their mate while she was away she would never be able to forgive herself.

  This was the only choice. And she had only to hope that it had been the right one.

  * * *

  A large dragon is capable of extremely fast flying speeds. Graeme’s wingspan easily reached sixty feet, propelling him forward with all the might of a jet engine. He had seldom had to employ this momentum and such long-distance flight in battle; his strategy tended to focus instead on acrobatics, diving, and the precision of the flame-thrower that was his mouth.

  But now he flew in a straight line towards his destination, soaring above clouds as his scales coated themselves in a thin layer of ice which broke and melted away quickly under the heat that seeped out from within him.

  There was a desperation in his mission unlike anything he’d known. For Lilliana, of course. But also for him. He, who had remained silent about his own feelings, who had tried to be strong for her. And of course, on some level he had succeeded.

>   He denied, even to himself, the difficulty of the change that had occurred since the previous night. He felt like a new man, but not everything that had altered within him felt comfortable. It was as though he’d both softened and hardened at once, his attitude changing alongside his powers.

  His heart, over which he’d always held dominion, had opened itself in a way that he’d never thought possible.

  When he’d first seen Lilliana, she’d been an object of interest; a challenge, a prize to claim for his own. And there was lust, of course, as his dragon had beheld her, demanding that the man find his way to her bed. She was desirable in every way.

  And then he had grown to know her a little, to understand her personality. She was headstrong, that woman. And willful. And all of the things that make a woman delightful and infuriating. But they seemed to make a fine team, she with her worldliness and he with his physical strength. And so it was no great surprise to find himself bound to her now, having joined with her in the Ritual.

  What surprised him, though, was his growing attachment to Conor, and as he flew he grew more and more aware of it, and of the importance of his mission. Graeme couldn’t put a finger on what it was that ate at him; he hardly knew the other man, after all. But they’d become friends in their short time together. And he couldn’t imagine sharing a woman like Lilliana with anyone else. Something in Conor opened him up to the idea of trust and of partnership on a purely platonic level.

  Oh yes, they shared a mate. But the sexual attraction was for her only. Towards Conor he felt a kinship, a brotherhood. Yes, that was it: he felt for the first time as though he’d acquired a sibling, and finally he was beginning to understand the bond.

  And his brother was now lying on a damp mattress, combatting some inner demon that was the result of their selfishness in performing the Ritual. Graeme had known the risks and yet he’d allowed Conor to be pulled into it all. He was human, after all, and Graeme had known it since the first moment when he’d laid eyes on him.