Page 2 of Must Love Dragons (Sable Cove #4)

Zayvien Vohn stood behind the counter of his clan’s bookstore, Ember & Ink, and watched the few patrons milling around the shop.

He was uneasy and he couldn’t really figure out why.

Well, he knew part of the reason—his Uncle Rorik had disappeared overnight in his deranged attempt to get revenge for their fallen clan members.

He’d been on the warpath for the last two years since warlocks had come for them, hunting dragons like prized game.

Dragon blood was a coveted resource for magic users, and his family and clan had paid the price for it.

Zay had lost nearly everyone in his family save for Rorik and his younger sister Lyra. Two other clan members had fled to safety with them, and that was all that was left of the Vohn Clan.

The soft murmur of voices and the rustle of paper quietly filled the bookstore, in sharp contrast to the storm that churned in his gut. He hated being on edge, hated the restless energy that clawed at him from the inside. He felt like he was coming apart at the seams.

Lyra was talking to a woman with a young child about a picture book. Her smile should have been infectious, but Zay wasn’t feeling much like smiling.

He needed to know where his uncle was before he got himself killed.

Movement near the back of the store caught his attention, and his sharp gaze zeroed in on a young male who had just stepped inside. At first glance, there wasn’t anything remarkable about him. He was young, maybe fifteen, with dark curly hair and a thin frame. But the second Zay inhaled, he knew.

Magic.

Zay’s entire body tensed and his dragon roared in his head, demanding action. Magic users were not welcome in his bookstore or anywhere near his clan. He was over the counter and across the floor in a heartbeat, moving faster than human eyes could track.

The boy was startled when Zay loomed over him.

“You must be lost,” Zay said, his voice low and filled with menace.

The boy swallowed audibly. “I was just looking.”

He snarled, his fangs elongating. He was about to order the boy to leave before he made him leave when Lyra’s soft voice cut through the roaring in his head.

“Zay, stop.” She pushed the young male behind her and stood toe to toe with Zay.

“He’s a warlock,” Zay murmured, glaring at the boy who stood wide-eyed and shocked behind Lyra.

“I know,” she said. “But this kid didn’t harm anyone we know. And perhaps not all magic users are bad.”

He clenched his teeth so tightly that his jaw creaked. Lyra, soft-hearted and stubborn, always saw the good in people, even when it was clearly not there.

“Why would we take chances?”

“I don’t want any trouble,” the boy said.

Lyra turned to face him. “What’s your name?”

“Ezekiel.”

“Well, you’re welcome to look around Ezekiel. Don’t worry about my brother, he’s all bark.”

Zay snarled, but this time it was aimed at his sister.

The boy hurried off between the rows, and Lyra turned with a smirk. “You’re not supposed to chase away customers, you nut. That’s like the first rule of business. And P. S. your eyes are all dragon-y, and we’re trying to keep a low profile.”

Shit.

He blinked a few times and rubbed his eyes, feeling his dragon recede. They weren’t in any danger, the boy was alone in the shop. But still…Zay didn’t trust magic users as far as he could throw them.

Ronan emerged from the rows carrying an empty box, his jade eyes sharp with curiosity – and a bit of accusation, silently calling out Zay’s overreaction. “Lyra, you’re going to give your brother a heart attack one of these days.” The big male set the box on the floor and smiled at her.

“He should relax,” she said. She tossed her dark brown hair over her shoulder with a smirk, the loose waves catching the light as she shot Zay a look of pure triumph – as if she’d won. And maybe she had.

He hadn’t thrown the boy across town, that was for sure.

Zay scrubbed a hand over his face. He wasn’t in the mood for her shenanigans.

Sierra hopped onto the counter with effortless grace, her long, blonde braid swinging over her shoulder like a punctuation mark to her words. She arched a pale brow in jest. “She’s right you know.”

“Don’t you start.”

“Hey, I hate magic wielders as much as the next person, but that kid wasn’t looking for anything but a book for school.

I asked him what he needed and sent him to the right shelf.

” She crossed her arms, her dragon humming in agreement.

“And maybe we shouldn’t be constantly suspicious about people, you know? ”

“Being suspicious is what’s keeping us all safe.”

Before his clan could gang up on him anymore, he excused himself.

“Where are you going?” Lyra asked.

“To search Rorik’s room. Maybe he left a clue that I missed.

” He needed to figure out where his uncle was headed so he could intercept him.

He’d already been missing for fifteen hours.

His uncle was reckless and obsessed, but Zay wouldn’t abandon him.

He’d get a bead on his location somehow and bring him home safely.

He’d lost too many people already, he wasn’t about to lose another.

* * *

Behind the bookstore in the quaint mountain town of Ashwood Hollow was a two-story colonial with a stunning view of the mountains. He’d brought his clan to hide here after the attack by warlocks had taken their forty-member clan down to five in a matter of hours.

The home and town were a refuge for them. Touristy and mostly human, no one knew they were dragons. The small-town gossip said they were supernatural creatures of some kind, but no one knew for sure what.

And that’s how it was going to stay.

They never shifted during the day, choosing to only shift at night or when it was very cloudy so they were hidden from public view.

On the second floor of the house, he walked into Rorik’s room which was just as messy as they’d found it that morning when they realized he was gone.

There were stacks of books, loose papers everywhere, and maps pinned to the walls.

Zay had looked through the room twice already but hadn’t figured out where Rorik had gone.

He turned in a slow circle and his gaze landed on the old wooden desk shoved against the wall. He walked over to it and ran his hands over the surface. He crouched down and used his phone’s flashlight to check underneath.

Nothing.

He put his hand on the edge of the desk to push himself up when his thumb brushed against a small, uneven edge beneath the drawer.

He turned the flashlight toward the drawer and realized it was a hidden compartment. He pressed on the spot and there was a soft click. A thin panel popped loose and inside was a journal.

Zay pulled it out and opened it, finding Rorik’s messy handwriting covering the pages. The only thing he could make of it was that his uncle was headed south toward the coast.

He took the journal, grabbed a shirt from his uncle’s hamper, and hurried from the house to the bookstore.

“I’m going to look for him,” Zay said, handing the journal to Lyra. “See if you can figure anything out from this.”

“This is dangerous,” Ronan said. “Let me come with you.”

“No, I need you here to keep an eye on the others. I’ll use his shirt to try to pick up his scent.”

“But it’s still daylight,” Lyra said.

“It’s cloudy. I’ll go up the mountain a bit until I’m hidden and leave. I’ll keep my phone in my satchel, and I’ll reach out when I land somewhere. If I find him, I’ll bring him home. If you figure anything out, send me a text.” He hugged his sister and she whispered, “Be safe.”

“You, too.”

He strode from the bookstore and walked past the house, heading to the trees that separated their home from the mountains.

Determination filled him. He’d find Rorik and bring him home. There was no other choice.

* * *

The wind howled against Zay’s wings as he soared through the dense clouds, staying just above the treetops.

He wheeled silently in the sky and headed south.

After shifting, he’d inhaled his uncle’s scent from his shirt and then tucked it into a satchel with his own clothes and phone, then put it over his shoulder.

After shifting, he’d taken to the sky and used his senses to recall the smell of his uncle.

He couldn’t pick up anything but the mountains and trees, but his uncle could have traveled a far distance at this point.

The farther he flew, the more the landscape shifted from dense forests and mountains to the flatter terrain of the coast. The salt tang in the air signaled the ocean as he closed in on the coast. Through the clouds, he picked up a lighthouse, the beacon shining.

His stomach clenched suddenly.

What the hell?

Then he caught Rorik’s scent on the air and banked sharply, dropping lower toward the sparse trees. That’s when he saw males loading someone into a boat. He saw the red flannel of his uncle’s favorite shirt and knew it was him.

He let out a low growl and tucked his wings, diving toward the boat that was tied up to a dock. He was ready to burn the males who’d taken his uncle.

But he never got the chance.

The air crackled with magic a moment before something hit him.

Pain exploded across his left side like poison and lava mixed up together.

His body spasmed, and his wings locked up.

The sky spun around him as he lost control, desperately trying to right himself and break his fall.

His wings moved awkwardly like they were frozen, and he could get a little lift from them, but he couldn’t get control.

He managed to get some distance from the males, but he couldn’t stop the freefall.

His vision blurred as the pain threatened to engulf him, and the ground rushed up to meet him.

The last thing he saw was trees and grass.

And then…darkness.