The Dragon's Rogue: Book 2 of the Amber Aerie Lords Series

By Lacey St. Sin

A romantic adventure!

Lisrith of the Onyx Aerie pack only wants one thing. To save her sister. A sister she knows is still alive, despite the fact no one else believes her. And she is determined to meet her goal, even if she has to wake a sleeping pack secret to do it. The trouble is, can she handle the dragon her pack has kept for nearly a month? Or will he handle her? Just how much is she willing to give in order to find the sister that means everything to her?

Cillumn Bloodbriar was left for dead, and were it not for the compassion of some passing exiled Shifters he would have been. But when he is awakened by a hot-tempered red-headed Shifter with her own purpose in mind he cannot help but be drawn by her troubles, and her fire. Could he ever win such a woman to his affections? And with such dark tidings intertwining the races, would he be strong enough to keep her?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lacey St. Sin
• Release date: Nov 22, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005085292

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Othin, Alpha of the Onyx Aerie pack...or, at least, what had once been the Onyx Aerie pack… looked from the four scouts he had sent out a week ago to the broken man they held between them. Blessedly, night had fallen and he preferred the softer lights of the old lanterns to the newer oils the pack burned these days. The result was that his tent was filled with shadow. Even where light prevailed, the effect was a softer caress than the brilliance that made the others feel secure. But even the shadows could not hide the Dragon Lord's condition.

And you found him far from the Aerie? He knew the answer, but he found himself asking once more. When he had commissioned the scouts to gain information on the Onyx Aerie, on Celcath, and the snake-tongued Grim, the last thing he expected was that they would return to him dragging a Lord on his death bed. One that was distinctly not from the Onyx Aerie.

Miles from it. In the center of a clearing, Xainir, his lead scout nodded. Actually, we thought he was carrion until we neared. There isn't much left of him that has been spared.

That much was true. Whomever had bested this Lord had done a thorough job of ensuring he suffered for it. What, though, would a strange Lord be doing so far from his own Aerie?

Othin strode forward until he was in front of the slumped figure. Gently, but with a wariness that being around such an enemy called for, he prodded the man.

Satisfied he wasn't about to wake, Othin pulled open an eyelid.

Amber.

As we said, Alpha. The words were carefully toned. No admonition for the Alpha from an underling, but they neared the insolence that would denote a challenge. Xainir was testing the waters.

The Amber Aerie is nearly an entire day from the Onyx by foot. There is no way he wouldn't know that he reached and crossed the boundary. He paced the small space he had allotted between a sturdy wooden table and the tent's door. The scouts looked at him without answer. It was foolishness, coupled with the late hour that had him speak aloud in the first place.

An Amber Aerie Lord in Onyx Aerie territory. This put him in a position he would much rather have avoided. Ruefully, he admitted to himself it would have been better if his scouts had not found the man at all. But they had, and now he was faced with a decision. One that would affect the entire pack.

He looked up again at the broken man that just complicated his life. Enemy or friend? With Dragon Lords, it could be either. But dare he risk finding out?

CHAPTER 1 – three weeks later

Lisrith of the Onyx pack, or Lis as she preferred, shuffled hurriedly along the rutted dirt trail, a well-worn path that circled the outskirts of the Onyx pack's encampment.

Her nerves jangled like the loud gongs of a temple. It was difficult not to feel like each step announced her presence, her intent, if anyone were to look hard enough. How was it that guilt for ones actions could appear before the actions were taken?

To her left lay smooth stretches of flattened grass, spotted with the odd tangle of shrubbery. In several places, the stumps of the forest trees jutted upward from the landscape like the sharp teeth of a giant. It was sad to see them as remnants of what they once were, but they had been cut for the good of the pack. To her right, canvas structures fluttered in the evening breeze, a veritable city of them. Simple constructs, they were nearly perfectly square, with four walls and slanted canvas roofs. Nothing short of practical, and identical with one another. Cords of twisted material kept the canvas from flying off in the wind, but that was their only decoration.

Someone among the tents called a greeting, startling a twitch out of her. Which is not suspicious at all. She rolled her eyes and kept going, her head down, ignoring the words, as she usually would, in the hope that they would assume she simply had not heard.

She wobbled a little with an unexpected undulation in the dirt, the growing darkness hiding her footing from her. The pitted clay jug she carried sloshed, and she worried, for a moment, it might spill its contents. She readjusted herself, propping the jug on one hip and securing her satchel to a better position on her other side.

The tents in this part of the encampment dwindled, long shadows finding space between them. Here, on the very edge of the camp, lay the tent that was her goal. She eyed it as she approached, her anticipation rising. Light poured from the places where the seams of material didn't quite match up. The growing wind battered and flapped the canvas, covering the light every so often, making it appear like the tent was winking at her…as if it knew her secret intent.

Absently, she stroked the vessel hooked beneath her arm. The clay was cold from the moisture within, seeping into her side, even through the simple layer of brown cloth that hugged her waist.

Her lip twisted downward. Why mother always bemoaned the rough brown clothing, she didn't know. It was hardly the pique of fashion, but it was readily available. It was also hardy, rarely did it show any stains from the grease or lantern oil Lis worked with, and she had heard the hunters of the pack comment that it was much easier to camouflage in. And, given her pack's tenuous position, that was a good thing.

Only four months had passed since her people were chased from the Onyx Aerie, the home of the Dragon Lords, and nothing good had come from the arrangement. For either race. Plus, she had left all her equipment as they fled, and she missed it.

Blasted arrogant dragons, always and only thinking of themselves. Her people had been reduced to a much lower state than they deserved—the Lords feeling that they were above such lesser races—long before the disaster at the Aerie. And now she needed one.

The thoughts were pressing forward emotions that Lis would rather leave tamped down, especially when dealing with the enemy.

The canvas door moved easily beneath the pressure of her hand, a shock of white against the deep brown of the material. So much for camouflage. She stood out in the forest like the moon against the black sky. One couldn't get much paler, but who was she to complain about what nature had given her?

Lisrith, no one is allowed in the captive's tent, Thornic protested when she stepped inside. He was a younger Shifter, though older than herself. He wore his hair shorn close to his head, the pale blond of it creating shocking little stumps against his dark skin. Serious brown eyes studied her, looking at her directly, challenging. She noticed the pull of his thin lips as they stretched downward, an expression she seemed to cause a lot. But she ignored both his glower and his words.

Despite the falling dusk in the camp, the tent's interior was well lit, and she noted, with pride, several of her specially designed lanterns hung along the tent's supports, burning brightly. The mixture of distilled Ephac sap and oil from the fleshy Yester vines was one of her greatest discoveries. Fuel that not only lasted longer, but burned brighter than the other oils commonly in use. And the ingredients were readily available in the forest, though distilling was difficult without her equipment.

She scowled at the second memory of the past that had invaded in such a short time.

I am sorry, Lis, Alpha's rules, Thornic explained, obviously thinking that her expression was for him.

No matter, it was time to act anyway. And if no one else would, then the responsibility fell to Lis. I am coming for you, Adda.

I am here by order of the Alpha, she lied. I have made an adjustment to the formula that keeps him at rest; this one is stronger, it should stop the instances that he tries to wake.

Even without looking directly at him, Lis could see the relief cross his face. Keeping the Dragon Lord unconscious had been necessary, at first. His condition dictated that he would die should he move and thrash as he had when her people found him bound and bleeding in the forest.

She did not understand how he came to be in such a position. And she didn't particularly care. Alpha had asked for a sedative and it was easy enough to provide one. What she didn't expect was the frequency with which the Lord fought the tincture. Certainly, those set to watch him didn't appreciate it, either. Keeping the Lord unconscious long after he had healed was likely going to cause some problems when he awoke, and no one wanted to be the first creature that he saw.

Her people debated constantly the risk of keeping him asleep yet another day versus the possibility of his release. The pack was comfortable here in this tiny camp in the forest. Should he betray their position, they would be in danger. And then they would have to move. Again.

So he was kept in deep slumber while the Alpha deliberated with those he trusted, circling the same issue like a wolf on a wounded stag, nothing ever coming from the impasse.

Until now. She patted the clay vials that filled the satchel at her side. She could wait no longer for the debate, she needed this Dragon Lord.

And while I was on my way to deliver the serum, Shaylise asked me to bring you a fresh drink, Lis pinched her lips together, pretending irritation at such a request. And it would have irritated her, had Shaylise asked. She hated to be pulled from her work, especially when such important events occurred. When my sister is missing.

Oh, well, in that case, I thank you, Lis, Thornic breathed. He took the ladle eagerly, unsuspectingly, and drank deeply.

Then she waited. He had finished swallowing, at least, when the moonblossom kicked in. His eyes crossed a little, the muscles that controlled them fighting against the effects.

You are in so....much....troub..., he said, as he sank to the ground.

Trouble? Definitely. Who would ever suspect Lis? Her lack of interest in the trivialities that most of the pack liked to focus on did not make her deaf. She knew what the other Shifters thought of her. It was just that, for the most part, she didn't care. Adda had always been the social one, the lovable one. And without her, it felt as though a piece of Lis was missing. She missed Adda and the pleasant wall she created between her and the rest of the pack, protecting her from them while accepting Lis completely, just as she was.

Lis wanted her back. And if the Alpha would not take action, even if his reasons were fear of drawing attention and losing more lives, then she would.

When she was certain that Thornic slept deeply, she approached the cot where the covered figure lay.

So far, she had only heard stories about the injured Dragon Lord. How he was found and speculation that he had something to do with the disturbance at the Onyx Aerie a month ago. Things she cared little about. In fact, at first, she had scoffed at the scouts for not leaving him where they found him. But, instead, they had felt pity for the man and carried him away before the Quatori could find him. She supposed it was the common enemy that spurred their compassion. Dragons could not see or sense the Quatori and Shifters didn't have the strength to do them any real damage. Apart, they were all at an impasse. Still, to bring the Lord here was foolishness. And now the pack struggled with the dilemma of what to do with the Dragon Lord now that he was healed. Not all enemies were obvious enemies.

But, enemy or not, she would need him if she were to rescue Adda.

A soft worn blanket had been tossed over his figure. She frowned at it, unsure as to why it had been placed so. The way it lay, with his slow, shallow breathing, made it look more like a death shroud than a resting placement. Surely that was not more comforting than a view of the man himself?

Tentatively, she reached out her fingers and moved the blanket from his face.

Thankfully, no one was around to hear the foolish gasp that escaped her lips. Surprise had her drop the material and stare stupidly. Generally, she was more excited about new discoveries and the intricate workings of different devices than men in general. And she had no love for the Dragon Lords; their kind had caused hers more than enough trouble as far as she was concerned. But there was no denying this man's beauty. The lantern light flickered against his defined cheekbones, visible even while covered with a few weeks growth. Heavy lashes fluttered actively and, even in sleep, he scowled, dark brows pulled together.

She spared a glance at the chocolate locks spread against the cot and, for an insane moment, wondered if they were as soft as they looked. Stupid woman. His shoulders drew her gaze next. Not their shape, though he was as broad and muscled as any of the pack warriors, but the designs that marked his skin. Injured as he had been, the healing of a Dragon Lord was complete, not even scars remained to show the tatters of flesh he had been when found. But strange black swirls and symbols covered his deep tan. She squinted at them, trying to decipher their meaning, but they were either purely decoration or a language she did not know...which would be any language besides her own. She rolled her eyes at herself. She really was an idiot.

Morbidly fascinated, she extended a finger, poking one of the markings. The skin indented where she touched, the marking cratering. He was much hotter than she expected and she pondered that for a moment. If his body was that much warmer than that of a Shifter, it might explain why the serum seemed to be less effective. Perhaps it was a good thing she had decided to take action and wake him. What other effects might differ for him? The serum had several that could be harmful if used inappropriately, and he required a higher dose than she was comfortable with anyway. She wouldn't want to be responsible for any unfortunate side effects.

She pulled open the tie of her satchel and reached inside, grabbing the long smooth vial with three bands along the top. Her own little code so she could easily identify the contents. That one should have been fresh, brewed only a few days before. She shook it vigorously and opened the seal.

The aroma was obvious immediately, a stench hard to miss and strong enough that it left a bitter taste at the back of her throat. She did not envy the Lord his taste buds for the next few days.

She eyed him, still deep in slumber. His upper lip curled in distaste, an expression that clearly showed he was at least partially aware of his surroundings.

Fascinating.

Was he aware enough to detect her presence, as well? The idea, she admitted, was a little nerve wracking. She turned to Thornic, the warrior who, ideally, would have been there to protect her should something untoward happen. He lay in a crumpled heap, one leg sprawled out behind him, as though he'd had the thought to crawl from the tent before succumbing to the moonblossom. Well, there was no time to restructure the plan, she would have to take the risk of approaching—or perhaps coercing was a more accurate term—this Lord alone.

She reached back inside her satchel, removing a second phial, this one much larger with a wide mouth. She pulled the topper off with her teeth, which wasn't the smartest thing she had ever done. She must be more nervous than she thought. It wouldn't take much of the sedative to knock her out, as well.

She took a deep shaking breath, setting the foul smelling tincture gently where it would not spill, and carefully lined the blade of her dagger with the sedative. The fluid was generally for digestion, but a small hit to the blood stream should make the effect nearly immediate. She hoped. It was her only recourse should things go horribly wrong.

She re-corked the sedative and replaced it in her bag, then, with all the care of approaching a sleeping leopard, she leaned over the Dragon Lord and waved the recovery herbs beneath his nose.

Nothing happened.

Disappointed, she waved them faster; it was incomprehensible that he was not reviving. She created the mixture to be incredibly strong; such a mixture should have practically woken the dead...

He moved faster than she anticipated and suddenly both of her wrists were ensnared in his big hands and she was crushed against his chest, nearly on top of him.

Heat blasted through her breasts, the sensitive nipples purling immediately, leaving a trailing reaction that shot down to other areas she tried to ignore. Against everything she had ever learned, and every instinct of self-preservation her mother insisted she did not have, she looked at his face and met his gaze.

A flaring set of amber eyes stared back at her.

You had better have a good explanation as to why I am laying here with my head splitting from the inside woman, or I will let my dragon devour you.

CHAPTER 2

Lis swallowed. The dagger dangled uselessly in her right hand, the revival herbs in her left.

An irrational lick of fear ran up her spine. He wouldn't actually eat her, would he? That was...barbaric...but then, there were those stories...

It would be a shame, too. Red heads are my favorite, he murmured. The last words slurred a little and his eyelid lowered to half-mast. He kept her wrists bound firmly in his left hand. His other snaked upward and brushed along the curve of her waist and up the small of her back until they clasped her nape through the brown hood. Pressure urged her downward and forward. His intent clear. He would kiss her.

The realization made her jerk back, angling her face away before studying him like one of her wayward specimens. Red heads were his favorite? Her hair was pulled back as tightly as she could manage, and hidden beneath the hood of her cowl, but some strands at her hairline were probably revealed when he snatched her. Was he...seducing her? He wasn't even fully cognizant.

She waited for his grip to loosen. When it became apparent that it wasn't going to happen, she peered at his face again. He hadn't tried for another kiss, and she needed to assess her chances of extricating herself. She was forced to look at him directly, it made every logical sense, but she cursed the shame that years of scolding for such actions brought her.

He watched her back, the amber of his irises glowing beneath hooded lids. Confusion and desire warred for possession of his expression. For a moment, his eyes faltered and rolled upward. The sedative pulled at him, but he fought valiantly.

He gave his head a small shake. The gesture, tiny, but the effort to complete it in his state must have been momentous. What have you done to me? he demanded.

I am attempting to wake you, she gritted, a variety of insults flowing through her mind.

Normally, she would let her thoughts flow freely—biting her tongue never saved her from the scathing opinions of others anyway. But right at that moment, she considered that insulting the enemy was likely unwise.

She tugged, but it was like being entrapped by living metal. Really warm, and far too attractive living metal.

You wish for my services. It wasn't a question and he grinned slowly, revealing straight white teeth and an unnervingly attractive dimple on his right cheek.

The rest of her admonition drifted off and she became distracted by the quick tapping of her heart. Suddenly, her mouth lost all moisture and her lips felt dry. She found her tongue darting out to wet them. The Dragon Lord did not miss the action, his gaze focused on the movement.

He pulled again at her nape, and, as he still held her wrists, she toppled down on top of him without much resistance. He dragged her forward until her chest was pressed against his and then ran warm fingers down her spine until they cupped her bottom. He lifted his hips, pressing himself against her side.

She tried desperately not to think about what she was feeling. His arousal, and how it was so near to...

Just the effects of waking, she reminded herself. Men woke in such a state, and of course Dragon Lords took everything to the extreme. He was simply reacting to the situation, putting the pieces of his knowledge together. Not that it excused him...barbarian.

Let go, she demanded.

Kiss me, he countered.

For one insane moment, she actually considered it. Which not only surprised her, but drug her awareness back to where it should have been all along. Adda. This was not some game, this was an enemy. A Dragon Lord. And though her plans had gone awry, she still needed him. Just not in the way he assumed. But a woman could not think so pressed against all this warm muscle, inches away from soft lips, and with her heart trying to burst from her chest.

...Dragon Lord, she growled. If you do not release me, I swear I will see to it that you sleep for another month.

He stilled, both his eyes and his grip narrowing menacingly. The drugs dulled his wits, but they still existed.

And what witchcraft is this that dulls my senses and renders me unconscious? His tone matched the expression on his face, one that said he was far too dangerous to her, even in this state.

It is not witchcraft, she huffed, pulling back, insisting he give her space to think. To her surprise, he conceded...slightly. She was by no means released, but she was able to sit up and away from him. She looked to the floor and worked on her barrier to his senses. It wouldn't do for the Lord to see through the relief, to know that he had affected her so. She would not gift him such an advantage.

It is medicine. You nearly died. I created a sedative that would help to keep you alive.

Dark eyebrows shot up.

How does a sedative keep one alive? he asked suspiciously.

It didn't keep you alive, it kept you still. Your body was torn viciously, and it could not begin its healing while you tossed and turned about muttering nonsense. I know dragon healing is nearly as quick as Shifter, but not if you kept opening the wounds.

His eyes lost focus and he released her right arm to rub at his face viciously. She took the opportunity to move farther from him.

Why can't I remember any of this?

She studied her dagger, now free from restraint, debating. Should she use it? He had rendered her helpless far quicker than she had expected and it made her very uncomfortable. He made her uncomfortable. She had not experienced this level of arousal...well...ever. That was disturbing for a myriad of reasons. Yet, to return him to slumber now was to give up, not just on him, but on any action. She could not venture from the camp on her own. Not where she was headed. Not if she wanted to live.

You have been asleep for a few weeks. Three and two days, to be exact. It will take your memory time to recover.

Three weeks? he snarled, attempting to sit. I have lost three weeks?

She nodded.

But..., his eyes flared and he shot up to standing. It lasted a moment before he was forced to sit once more. Pourtus, a traitor, I didn't see him coming. What happened at the Onyx Aerie? He grabbed her arm again, shaking it a little, sending rough vibrations through her entire body. Where is Dynarys, or the rest of the Dragon Lords?

She shrugged, a little angry at being tossed around like some child's toy. I do not know, nor do I care.

That seemed to bring back his focus a little. He released her other arm and she stepped back, out of reach.

I am sorry, Shifter, if you provided me care as you have said, and I sense no lie on you, then I owe you a great debt.

Finally, this is where she had imagined the conversation going, at least after she had considered the possibility of his hatred and an outright attack.

I must go now. I need to know the outcome, though I suppose I will be too late to do any good, he tried to stand once more.

Wait, he was leaving?

No! she growled. I did not wake you to go flying off. You owe me your aid, Dragon Lord.

She sensed his surprise and the return of suspicion. He stilled, half way to standing, hunched a little and holding the cot for support.

Just what do I owe you? he spoke softly, the quality of his words reminding her of a panther ready to pounce. Dangerous.

No, she frowned at herself. There would be no pouncing.

You owe me your life, as you have said already.

Alright, that was a stretch. He probably owed his life to the scouts that found him more than he did her, for a sedative she already had and only strengthened. But she wasn't about to tell him the details.

And you owe me for your freedom, which I am giving to you. The pack thinks you are safer unconscious.

Anger became palpable in the air. You said that I was sedated to heal.

You were, she considered her dagger once more. What chance would she have at landing a strike upon him? None, she decided. That part of her plan hadn't been well calculated. It was once you healed that the pack realized what a threat you would be. They have been debating what to do with you.

All the while keeping me asleep and away from my own people. People who need me. A hand brushed over his hair and tangled in the knots there.

People who think you are dead, Dragon Lord. Not so much as a single scout has been spotted in this part of the forest for two weeks.

He stood upright, stepping toward her. He should not have been able to do so, but she was quickly learning that the Dragon Lord defied the things that he should be able to do. It was intimidating. She could run from him still, given his current strength he would not catch her. But the alert would be sounded and the pack warriors would have little mercy. Already some debated simply ending his life in a humane way; the only fact saving such a method from serious consideration was that the Lord had yet to do harm. And destroying life that was peaceful toward the pack, minus those lives took for food, was against the law.

The blanket had fallen away; it was something she easily ignored. Years of practice diverting her thoughts elsewhere and the constant near nudity of cousins and relatives had given her plenty of practice doing so. But as he stalked forward, her thoughts were arrested by the way his muscles rippled as he moved, the shifting of the patterns on his skin nearly mesmerizing, like prey before a cobra.

It took most of her strength to avert her eyes and keep them that