Wolf Princess Sold to the Dragon King

The roar that came out of him was not planned. It ripped from his chest in a draconic register he hadn’t used since his first territorial challenge, low and massive and vibrating through the scales of the dragon he was standing on.

A challenge roar and mating roar in the same. For a woman that he wanted and didn’t know why. Broadcast on the open frequency for every dragon in the sky to hear.

He would kill every single one before he let one of them take her.

Maddox heard it. His climbing faltered for exactly one second. Then his wingbeats doubled and the gold light pouring off his scales went from bright to blinding.

Ryker: Sterling. Did Kael just—

Sterling: Yes.

Ryker: Did he just challenge Maddox Drakencrest for a mating claim?

Sterling: Yes.

Ryker: In this day and age? You’re joking.

Sterling: Apparently not.

Kael didn’t have time to regret it. The fae moved.

The nearest one hit Guinevere from the side like a bolt of dark lightning, tackling her to the dragon’s scales with a speed that didn’t belong to anything with a physical body. Its weight pinned her flat, its fingers locked around her shoulders. Its mouth opened wide enough that Kael could see the fangs extending, elongating past the jawline, dripping with something black and luminous that sizzled where it hit the scales.

It wasn’t attacking her.

It was trying to bite her. To mark her. To claim her in the old fae way, the blood rite that predated every treaty and every alliance and operated on a biological imperative Kael had read about in texts he’d assumed were exaggerated.

They were not exaggerated.

He moved on instinct. His blade cleared the sheath in one motion, and he brought it down through the fae’s neck with the clean, committed stroke of a man who did not have time to deliberate. The head separated. The body went slack on top of Guinevere, black blood spraying across the dragon’s scales in an arc that caught the wind and scattered.

He grabbed the fae’s body by the collar and kicked. It rolled off the dragon’s back and dropped into open air. The head followed, tumbling end over end into the cloud cover below.

He pulled Guinevere up by the arm. Her gold eyes blinked once. Twice. Still empty. Lights were on. No one was home.

Two more fae were already diving towards them, fangs out, wings spread, the humming rising to a pitch that made Kael’s teeth vibrate in his skull.

”Sweetheart.” He positioned her back against his chest, blade out. ”If you could make that gold shield again, now would be the time.”

Nothing. Her hands stayed dark. Whatever had been fueling the orb was recharging, and the woman in front of him was an unconscious passenger on a dragon in the middle of a sky full of creatures who wanted to eat her, claim her, or both.

He had started this morning with one war, one hostage, and one functioning alliance. He now had three wars, one unconscious gold-eyed woman, zero allies, and challenged the most powerful dragon shifter on the continent for a woman that was supposed to be a hostage. Leverage. Nothing more.

His strategist brain filed a formal objection. His dragon overruled it.

The day was trending downward at a rate that defied strategic modeling.

The challenge was out. On the open frequency. Permanent. Irrevocable. Every dragon in the sky now knew that Kael wanted her, and every dragon in the sky now knew that Maddox was going to kill him for it.

Maddox broke through the cloud line below them. Gold scales. Gold eyes. No formation. No hesitation. Just a man who had heard another male challenge for his mate and was ascending with the singular, world-narrowing focus of someone who intended to end the conversation permanently.

Kael looked up at Maddox. Looked down at Guinevere. Looked at the two fae closing in with their fangs out.

”Right,” he said to no one. ”New plan.”

The dark fae’s humming turned into chants.

The clouds above them darkened from grey to black in the span of three words.

Below, the battle fractured.

Compelled dragons with black eyes lurched in the air, their puppeted flight paths disrupted as the mages controlling them split their attention between the original battle and the fae mutiny above. Choreographed formations dissolved into chaos. Two compelled dragons collided, spiraling downward in a tangle of wings and limbs.

Maddox’s formation punched through the gap.

Ryker: What the hell is happening to Kael’s line?

Sterling: The fae have turned on him, and are acting independently.

Ryker: Acting independently toward what?

Sterling: Her.

Maddox broke through.

Gold scales blazing, he cleared the last line of defense between him and Kael’s dragon in a single wingbeat that sent two smaller dragons spiraling. He shifted mid-air, human form landing on the opposite side of Kael’s dragon with enough force to crack scales beneath his boots.

Guinevere’s body jerked toward him. Still gold-eyed. Still not home. But whatever was inside her recognized him, because she wrenched against Kael’s grip with a strength that shouldn’t have been possible from a woman who wasn’t conscious.

Kael held on. ”She’s not stable. If you take her now, she’ll—”

A fae dove for her throat. Kael’s blade came up one-handed, severing the creature’s arm at the elbow while his other arm kept Guinevere pinned against his chest.

Maddox didn’t wait for him to finish the sentence. Gold fire erupted from his palm, catching two more fae mid-dive. They ignited, spiraling downward in streaks of amber and violet. Three more rose from below to replace them.

Maddox’s dragon wanted to kill Kael, but Guinevere was not safe and that overwrote everything else.

He shifted, landing on the dragon they were standing on.

”Let go of her, Kael.”

”I’m the only reason she’s alive, you idiot.”

”You had a blade to her throat ten minutes ago.”

”And now I don’t. Priorities change. Keep up.”

A fae landed on the dragon’s spine between them. It crouched low, its augmented eyes locked on Guinevere, and its hand shot toward her stomach. The moment it made contact, gold light detonated from her core. The fae launched backwards and didn’t stop tumbling until it hit the cloud line and disappeared.

Neither Maddox nor Kael had done that. They looked at her. Then at each other.

Two more fae descended. Both reached for her at the same time, dark wings spreading wide, each trying to wrap around her body in the cocoon formation Kael had seen in the old texts but never witnessed.

Their wings collided. Membrane met membrane in a violent, shredding tangle of dark tissue and luminous thread. Sparks flew where the threads tore. One snarled, fangs fully extended, shoving the other sideways.

”She is mine to ripen!”

The second fae bit through the first one’s wing at the joint. The first one screamed, clawing at the other’s face, and the two of them shredded each other inches from Guinevere’s body in a frenzy so violent that black blood misted the air around them.

Kael watched the wing fight happening close enough to splatter on them.

”Now would be a great time to do your gold explosion again.”

She didn’t respond.

Maddox was already moving. His blade took the head off the nearest fae in one clean stroke. Then the next. Black blood coated his arms to the elbow. A third dove from above and he caught it by the throat, snapped it sideways, and threw the body off the dragon without breaking stride.

She moved to him. His hand closed around air. The fae was faster. One of them had pulled her sideways in the half-second between his kill and his reach, and she was three feet further away with dark fingers wrapped around her wrist.

”Get your hands off her.” Both Maddox and Kael said it at the same time. The exact same words. The exact same register. Neither acknowledged it.

Two fae lunged, pulling her off the dragon’s back, one gripping each arm, wings beating in unison as they pulled her into open air. A third intercepted Maddox mid-lunge, slamming into his chest and driving him backward across the scales.

Below, the fae were chanting louder, their words carrying a weight of intent not missed by anyone.

”She is the Incarnation! Her golden light belongs inside my bloodline!”

Guinevere’s possessed body twisted, gold eyes flaring brighter, her limbs fighting against the grip with jerking, mechanical resistance that looked wrong in a body operating without a pilot.

Ryker saw it. Forty feet below and climbing, red scales cutting through the smoke. He tucked his wings, dove at an angle that would have killed a less experienced flier, and his jaws closed around the wings of the fae holding her right arm.

He bit through both at the base. The fae screamed. Guinevere dropped.

Maddox launched off the dragon Kael was on, shifting mid-air, gold wings spreading to close the distance.

Another fae hit her first. It came from below, rising at a speed that defied its size, and knocked her sideways onto the back of a riderless dragon. It landed on top of her, pinning her flat against the scales. Its mouth opened. Fangs extended fully, dripping black, aimed at the junction of her neck and shoulder. The marking point.

Ryker landed on the dragon’s spine behind them, shifting back to human form, blade already drawn. One stroke. The fae’s head left its body and rolled off the dragon’s flank into the open air below.

He pulled Guinevere up by the arms, and felt her forehead with the back of his hand.

”Shit. You are burning up, Gwen.”

She didn’t answer. Her gold eyes stared through him. The heat pouring off her skin made his grip difficult to maintain. His palms were blistering where he held her.