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daughter of the dragon

Book 6 of the True Mates Generations Series

 

CHAPTER ONE

Desiree Desmond Creed, Deedee to her friends, placed her hands on her hips. I never thought I’d be in a mess like this, but here I am.

And how did she end up here? Well, as it did with most stories, this one started with a boy.

Er, man, really.

But she had known Cross Alexander Jonasson since he was a boy, and she was a girl. Indeed, their mothers were best friends and they were born months apart. They grew up together. Playmates. Neighbors. Best friends, along with his sister, Astrid. Heck, they even experienced their first shift into their Lycan forms the same summer.

And when she was of that age when girls started to notice boys, she noticed Cross.

How handsome he was.

How tall he was—which was rare especially after her unfortunate six-inch growth spurt at fourteen.

And how nice he was to her. He knew everything about her and she knew everything about him.

At least she thought she did.

So, after years of unrequited pining, she had hoped to make it … well, requited.

But as it turned out, it wasn’t.

In a fit of passion—or perhaps, the thought of the end of the world coming—she confessed her feelings to him. Which turned out to be unequivocally unrequited.

“I’m sorry, Dee. I love you, but only as a friend.”

And so, with her heart trampled, she did the only logical thing: run away halfway across the world.

Which is how she ended up lost in the desert, somewhere in between the border of Afghanistan and Pakistan, in the midst of an impending sandstorm.

Her inner she-wolf huffed. Nope, it definitely did not like sand. It had taken to great exception,  stuck out in the desert for nearly six months. Her wolf hated the dry, hot weather, instead longing for fertile brown earth and lush greenery.

Her inner animal didn’t understand anything about its human counterpart. Didn’t know what it was like to rise up in a field dominated by men. It didn’t care that Deedee was a highly sought after archeologist. And most of all, didn’t comprehend why one male could cause her so much distress that when the offer to lead her own team on a year-long dig across the Middle East came, she grabbed the chance, if only to put some distance between herself and the man who broke her heart.

However, she had to admit Cross wasn’t the reason she ended up in this exact predicament. No, that honor went to Charles Hanford—Dr. Charles Hanford, PhD—professor emeritus from Cambridge University and all-around creep. White-haired, distinguished, and a superstar in the archeology world, one would have thought a man with two doctorates would have a better time than chasing after a woman half his age. Before he retired, she’d met Dr. Hanford at several industry conferences. Female colleagues had warned her about him—Handsy Hanford, he’d been nicknamed.

She thought it couldn’t be true. But a year ago, during the second night of the European Archeological Institute’s yearly conference in Rome, Dr. Hanford had cornered her during the after party at one of the suites, trying to get her alone. When she feigned jet lag and said she wanted to go to bed, he had insisted on walking her back to her room. And when he tried to get, well, handsy, she could barely control her inner she-wolf from coming out and ripping him to ribbons. She somehow managed to break free of his grasp and close the door behind her, locking the deadbolt just in time.

That was the last she’d seen of him. Or so she thought. When the dean of the Archeology department of New York University—where she’d work as a professor and had given her this generous grant to study the migration patterns on the people of Mesopotamia—came to visit, he brought an ‘old friend’ along—Dr. Charles Hanford, PhD.

Her she-wolf growled. It hated Dr. Hanford as much as it hated the desert. Hated the offending, cloying cologne he wore, the way he licked his lips, and how his eyes sometimes never went above Deedee’s chin. And of course, hated that he had dared touch Deedee without invitation. Her inner animal was a protective thing, after all.

Which is why, rather than endure another moment in Hanford’s company tonight, Deedee decided to take a walk just outside where their camp after their evening meal. Her assistant—a young intern named Melanie Ryan—gave her a strange look, but said nothing as she ducked out behind the work tents and headed straight to the desert.

However, she’d only walked for about ten minutes when the she heard that voice that made her cringe.

“Deedee?” came Hanford’s voice. “Where are you?”

Son of a seasbiscuit! She had been pretty sure no one saw her leave the camp. Picking up her steps, she marched ahead into the desert, guided only by moonlight, not caring where she was heading.

All of a sudden, inner wolf alerted her of danger. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and even in the darkness of night she could see it up ahead—a sand storm, swirling around like a living wall.

“Deedee! Oh Deedee.”

Fudge nuggets, the man was persistent. But seeing as she had a choice of facing the sand storm or Hanford, she decided he was the lesser evil.

“Dr. Hanford.” She spun around. “What are you doing out here?”

With her enhanced vision, she could the look of glee on his face. “Deedee. There you are.”

Oh, how she hated the sound of her nickname on his lips. Despite the many times she’d subtly insisted he call her Professor Creed, he ignore her.

“Yes, here I am.”

His tongue darted out and as usual, his eyes went straight to her generous bustline. Her immediate instinct was to cover them with her arms, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Unfortunately, along with her growth spurt came a growth of another kind, and needless to say, the cruel nickname of “Double Dees” followed her all throughout middle school.

Hanford took two long strides to come up to her, and they were nearly nose to nose. “Deedee, my dear, I wanted to have a private word with you.”

“Is it about my research?” she feigned. “Dean Thayers has all my notes if you’d like—”

“No, no my dear.” Ugh, his breath still smelled like the baked beans they had for dinner. “It’s about … Madrid.”

“Oh?” Her heartbeat quickened, and her wolf was chomping at the bit at the reminder of that night. She reigned it in, since despite her personal feelings on the matter, there was just so much to lose. Her job, her grant, her standing in the Archeological community. After all, who would everyone believe—a distinguished professor with decades of experience, or a nobody and a woman to boot. It just wasn’t worth it. Besides, she didn’t report him or say anything to anyone, so hopefully he wasn’t going to press his luck. “What about Madrid?”

Something in his expression changed, and his mouth drew up into a grin. “I’m guessing you must have been really tired that night.” His fingers traced up her arm. “But if you’re not too tired tonight.”

She really was tired. Tired of his stares, and innuendos and of him. Maybe she’d let her she-wolf out tonight. “Yes, I was. And it’s been a long day.” She wrapped her hand around his wrist and pulled it away. “So, Dr. Hanford, I’d really appreciate it if you would leave me so I can unwind.”

There was a brief moment of shock on his face, but was quickly replaced by a smile. “Unwind? Why didn’t you say so? We can unwind together.”

Pure shock that made her freeze as his arms came around her, pulling her body against his. “Oh Deedee, you don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this,” he breathed against her mouth.

Before he could mash his lips to hers, she turned away, his slimy lips and tongue landing on her cheek. “Dr. Hanford! No!” Her she-wolf growled, fangs bared, but she kept a tight reign on it. Pushing him away with all her might, sending him to the ground. However, the force made her  stagger back. Her heel tripped over something on the ground and she found herself landing on her back.

“Deedee,” Hanford growled angrily. “No one says no to me,” he snarled. “Not if they still want a career in the academe.”

He leapt on top of her, his arm raised. In a split second, she saw something large in his hand—a rock maybe—and then a pain shot through her head.

There was a loud sound in her ear—like howling, but with the pain rocketing in her brain, she wasn’t sure if that was real or not.

She looked up and saw a faint, winged shadow in the distance, up in the sky.

Was that da—?

A shadow blocked her vision. It was Hanford leaning over her, a manic grin on his face. “See what happens when sluts like you say no to me?”

He must have hit her hard because she could still feel the wound on her head bleeding. Though her Lycan healing abilities helped her recover quicker than humans, it wasn’t lightning fast. And while she didn’t feel like passing out, those beans she had for dinner were threatening to make a second appearance. With a deep breath, she attempted to get to her feet.

Two hands pushed her down. “How are you still moving?” Hanford’s legs locked around her knees, his body pinning her under the soft sand. “Now let’s see you say no now.”

She struggled against him and the second blow to the side of her head came much faster this time, and another round of pain made her vision spin and stomach violently churn.

“You—what the hell?”

It was hard to keep her eyes open, but maybe that was a good thing. Wind whipped around them, a clouds of sand swirled around.

“Where did this …? Who the hell are you—ow!”

She saw his body lifting away from her and heard the roar of the sandstorm as it engulfed her. But somehow, she felt her body lift off the ground. A pair of arms were under her knees and back and her legs flailed. Fatigue and the pain from injury pressed down on her like a heavy rock, and she allowed the darkness she’d been fighting to claim her.

DAUGHTER OF THE DRAGON 

Releases Dec 4th, 2019

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