Anjou, Angelique - Tears of the Dragon

Title: Tears of the Dragon
Author: Angelique Anjou
Series:
Pub: New Concepts Publishing
Pub Date: September, 2005
ISBN: 1586087053
Genre: Futuristic erotic romance
Time Period:
Setting: Earth, Atar
Hero: General Damien Bloodragon
Heroine: Khalia Peterson

Summary:

Trapped in a world where females come ‘in season’ and male dragons battle to claim their mates, Khalia Peterson realizes very quickly that this can be a very dangerous world for a human, or at least half-human, female who knows no season. General Damien Bloodragon, sent to protect the hereditary queen of Atar, discovers it can be a very dangerous situation for him, as well, particularly since he’s no more immune to Khalia’s charms than the bulls he’s trying to fight off of her.

Excerpt:

Khalia Peterson couldn’t decide whether the discussion, which was perfectly audible to her in the trunk, was intended to scare her or if they didn’t realize, or didn’t care, that she could hear them.

She was irritated, regardless. She was a lady. They had no business manhandling her in such a way. They’d ruined her coiffure! Her suit was probably ruined, as well, and she’d just bought it the week before. The trunk stank of chemicals and the lord only knew what else.

What really ticked her off, though, was that they’d put her in the position of having to complete the destruction of her lovely suit. She’d been thinking it over ever since they’d tossed her into the trunk. The big ox that had grabbed her had said they were headed for the docks, which meant she might have twenty minutes to come up with an alternative.

Unfortunately, she couldn’t think of one.

Sighing, trying to tamp her justifiable anger, she concentrated on shifting.

She must have concentrated for a full ten minutes. All the while, she was jounced unmercifully in the trunk as her kidnappers seemed to go out of their way to find every stinking pothole between 110th and the docks, until she began to think she must know what it felt like to be a basketball.

Nothing happened and her confidence began to seep insidiously away as the sound of heavy traffic faded and they drew nearer their destination. Resolutely, she ignored the gradual siphoning of her assurance. She’d always prided herself on her clear-head in the face of disaster, her ability to calmly assess any situation and pursue the most logical course.

She had first learned that she could shift when she’d reached puberty. It wasn’t a ‘gift’ that she’d found a great deal of use for, however, and, if she were honest with herself, she wasn’t particularly thrilled at the ability to become a female of Amazonian proportions merely by willing it. There were certainly drawbacks to being a small person, but weren’t there always drawbacks with everything? And she rather liked being referred to as petite. In her mind, it made up for some of her other shortcomings—her garish, blindingly red hair, for instance.

She supposed now, though, that she might ought to have practiced her gift in case of need. She needed it now, if she ever had, and she couldn’t seem to recall how she’d summoned it before.

Taking a deep breath, she closed her mind to the tell tale thump of the tires over wooden planks that told her they’d reached the docks and concentrated once more, her mind focused on the discomfort of having her hands tied behind her back.

Even as the car slowed and abruptly rocked to a halt, she felt a tingle in her hands and arms, then the burning sensation as bones and muscle lengthened and stretched, bursting the sleeves of her jacket and then the rope around her wrists.

It was heartening, but hardly enough. Two huge arms weren’t going to be enough to fight off two men with guns.

As she heard the doors slam and the footfalls of the men coming around to the back of the car, she thought of the amulet she always wore next to her heart, the dragon’s tear.

They were after it. That had to be the reason behind this and ‘the boss’ they’d referred to none other than Clyde Hawkins. He’d approached her only the week before regarding the legend of the tear, hinting that he suspected she had it in her possession.

Digging it from her bodice, she clutched the tear possessively. It was all that she had from the mother she’d never known. She wouldn’t part from it for any price. She wasn’t about to allow these hooligans to steal it from her.

To her relief, as if merely holding the amulet tightly in her fist were enough to focus her gift, she felt her body growing, transforming, heard the tear of fabric and bursting seams. The moment the catch of the trunk clicked, she rolled onto her knees and thrust upward, exploding out of the trunk and bowling both men over.

© copyright April 2004 by Angelique Anjou

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