Page 16 of Dragon Enchanted (Secret Kingdoms: The Draquonir #1)
CHAPTER 15
T he night was alive with war.
The windscreamedpast Vector’s wings, howling through the battlefield below as the sky burned. His massive body cut through the night like acrimson dagger, his scales gleaming under the moonlight, slick with theblood of men who never stood a chance.
Fire and furyrained downupon the estate, staining the once-pristine mansion in destruction.
The dragons were winning.
Guild menscreamed; their voicesdrowned beneath the furious roarsof dragons. Their weapons—pathetic, mortal things—wereuselessagainst the relentless force of creatures born offire and sky. Themassive, roof-mounted ballistaehad been torn apart, their operators left asscorched remnants in the rubble.
The battlefield was chaos—flashes silver nets whipping through the air, their gossamer threads gleaming in the moonlight, so fine they looked likespiderwebs coated in morning dew.
Nets of Floating Silver ; ancient weapons of elven creation, crafted for war, designed tobring even the mightiest of creatures to their knees—a restraint so light it should not exist, and yet...
No blade could cut it. No fire could burn it.
To be caught in it was to behelpless, to have the very essence of powerripped from your veins. Dragons hadwhispered of it in fear, long before men even understoodwhat hunted them from the skies.
He’d rarely seen one before today. Stolen centuries ago, and now, humanGuild members had possession of them.
Vector snarled with rage.
The humanshurled the nets blindly, but the dragons weretoo fast.
Talons shredded one mid-flight, tearing through the delicate threads before it could ensnare anyone. Still,Vector knew their danger.
If evenoneof those nets caught him before he reachedher, it couldend everything.
And he would not let that happen.
And then?—
The mansion itself began to collapse.
Acolossalbronze male and asleek, battle-scarred cobalt female—two of Erik’s fiercest Guardians—ripped into the stone wallsof the estate.
Massive clawstore through centuries-old rock, fangscrunched through marble pillars, sending entire sections of the structurecrumbling in on itself.
A group of Guild operatives tried toflee through a side door?—
The bronze dragon swung his tail.
The impact was earth-shaking.
The entireleft wing of the mansion caved inward, stone and glassexploding outwardas the Guild members werecrushed beneath the rubble, their criesmuffled by their own graves.
Vector barely spared them a glance.
Their lives meant nothing.
The only thing that mattered was her.
Find mate. Find her. Find her.
A deep voice—one that crackled with ancient power—echoed through his mind.
“Vector. We are here.”
Vector turned sharply in the air, his emerald eyes locking onto the sleek black vehicle that had just rolled through the estate’s outer gate, untouched by the carnage.
The doors opened.
Atall, deadly figure stepped out, dressed in black Elven armor, the color so dark it caused vertigo to the unwary. At his back was a black sword and scabbard, etched with ancient Elven symbols.
Thedark elf, Prince Alrik.
The elven prince of nightmares.
The Executioner.
Creator of the chains that had imprisoned Dragon for so many years.
Vector’s chest rumbled with alow, lethal growl.
Alrik moved witheerie precision, hisblack cloak whipping around him, hisblack hair untouched by the chaos. His piercing black eyes swept the battlefield withcold disinterest.
Then—he lifted a hand.
And the world changed.
Magicrippled outward, spreading like a shockwave. The airtwisted,thickened?—
And suddenly, the entire estate wasdrowning in fog.
Suffocating. Blinding.
A living, breathing thing.
Another wail rang out—high, unnatural, agonized—a Guild operativescreaming in the fogbeforesomething unseen finished him.
Ahorned shadow loomed within the mist. The thick, shifting air swallowed sound, muffling voices, making the battlefield feelendless, stretched, unreal.
One of the Guild men turned in atight circle, his breath coming inragged, uneven gasps. His fingers trembled around the trigger of his rifle, his eyes wide, pupils blown with terror.
"Where are they?!"
His panicked whispercurled into nothingness, swallowed whole by the dense magic pressing down on his chest. The fogslithered, creeping into his lungs, making himgasp for air.
Then—movement.
The manspun, fired blindly into the fog.
The bullet struck flesh.
A scream.
Human.
A mancrumpled to the ground, his hands clutched to his stomach.
He was shooting at ghosts.
Vector felt no pity.
TheGuild had nowhere to hide.
Vector growled low, instinct snarling at the sensation of elven magic slithering over his scales.
His dragon hated it.
The last time he had felt elven power against his skin, it had been in the form of enchanted chains, forged with magic designed to keep him docile—to keep him trapped in human skin, caged, helpless, broken.
Never again.
A growl rumbled deep in his chest, his scales bristling as the energy wrapped around him.
But this time…
This time, it was not a prison.
It was a weapon.
And it was theirs.
The Guild was blind.
But dragons saw everything.
Vector’s eyes flared molten red, his vision shifting?—
And suddenly, the fog was no longer fog.
He saw heat.
Life-force energy.
The shining, pulsing cores of living beings flickered all around him, every human below outlined in luminous, golden-red light—every heartbeat visible, every breath a bright ember in the darkness.
Where is she?! Vector’s demand thundered through the group’s telepathic link, raw and desperate.
Alrik’s reply was calm, absolute, whispered to the wind. The words might as well have been shouted to his dragon’s perfect ears. “Find her yourself. Your magic is still inside her. Use it.”
Of course. Fuck. He was out of control. Not thinking clearly. She was his. His dragonfire had marked her. Vector dove, his dragon’s senses stretching?—
And there?—
A scent. A whisper of feminine power. Heat. Obsession and need clawed through dragon’s body followed immediately by fury that these idiot humans had dared take what belonged to him. His mate. Dragon sent his magic out into the night. The response was faint, buried beneath gunpowder and human sweat and blood—but there. Raven.
His dragon locked onto it.
Mine.
The moment he crashed through the garden-level window, the world shattered.
Stone exploded outward.
The buildingshook, glass and steelraining downas hismassive body tore through the barrierlike it was paper.
He was inside.
And he wasnot alone.
Two men.
Guild operatives.
Their faces flashed with terror as a twenty-foot scarlet and ruby dragon emerged from the dust and wreckage, green eyes blazing with internal flames.
With death.
One of them reached for his gun.
Vector exhaled.
Fire.
Amassive, scorching torrent of red flameerupted from his maw,swallowing both men whole.
The air turned to smoke and screams until nothing remained.
Silence.
Only thecrackling of embers.
Vector turned.
And there?—
Raven.
Her wide, stunned eyes locked onto him, her breath hitched, her body frozen.
Smoke curled around his massive, scaled frame, blood and battle still clinging to his hide, his eyes burning with the feral possessiveness of a dragon whose mate had been taken.
The moment stretched.
Dragonlowered his massive head.
She would come to him now.
She must.
The deep, guttural voice of his dragonrumbled through the room—ancient, commanding, absolute.
“ GET. ON. MY. BACK.”
Her wide, stunned eyes locked onto him, her breath hitched, her body frozen.
She stared.
Not moving.
Not breathing.
Herknees gave out, hitting the stone floorhard. Her fingers clawed at the cold ground, searching forsomething solid, something real.
He took a step forward. And for the first time since the battle began,uncertainty pierced his chest.
Would she refuse the dragon? This elemental part of him?
Would she fear him now that she had seen the truth?
The possibility sent a dark, primal terror through him.
Because if she rejected him?—
There would beno saving him.
No hope.
Nothing left but darkness and death and the executioner’s blade.