Read Online Shifters, Beasts, and Monsters by J.E. Francis Ashe Audrey Grace Natalie Deschain Jessi Bond Giselle Renarde Skye Eagleday Savannah Reardon Virginia Wade Elixa Everett Linda Barlow Aya Fukunishi, Christie Sims M. Keep, Alara Branwen - Free Book Online
Authors: J.E. Francis Ashe Audrey Grace Natalie Deschain Jessi Bond Giselle Renarde Skye Eagleday Savannah Reardon Virginia Wade Elixa Everett Linda Barlow Aya Fukunishi, Christie Sims M. Keep, Alara Branwen
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her hair, which was blowing in
the brisk wind. The thunderstorm must have moved off, though, since the sky was
brighter. It looked as if the sun might even break through. Kate Beaton
attempted to knot her thick hair atop her head, but long silky strands kept
escaping. Laughing at her futile efforts, she abandoned the attempt, and loosed
her glorious hair. Ross imagined it flowing over his bare chest and tangling in
his fingers while he fucked her.
Lust rose with a clamoring din. Looking into her eyes
he felt his consciousness slide and his awareness deepen. Something that was
sleeping stirred. It perked up its head
and took a good hard look. He flashed back to the high tower at Mallochbirn
where he’d stood on the ancient battlements looking out to sea. Had it been she
whom he’d been summoning? Was that why she was here?
For centuries, the Mallochs had been known as the
dragons of Mallochbirn, and dragon lore pervaded the region. The original Mallochbirn
Dragon had been the traditional flying, fire-breathing variety, but somewhere
down the centuries, the creature had been banished from the skies to the seas.
By tradition, the sea dragon was bound to the lord. In some versions of the tale,
the lord of Mallochbirn actually was the creature—half man, half beast,
shifting back and forth at unpredictable intervals.
Particularly on Midsummer’s Eve.
Family legend held that in every generation, the Laird
of the Isle must take a mate, produce an heir, and bind the dragon to its
future master. And so it had happened, for too many centuries to count. The
direct line of descent had never been broken. If an heir was not lawfully
begotten in the marriage bed, the lords of Mallochbirn had never hesitated to
legitimize their bastards. Supposedly, the dragon’s drive to beget an heir on
whichever woman could produce one was far too powerful to resist.
Ross could not deny that for the past few weeks he had
been feeling a strong compulsion to find himself a woman for something more
than the occasional fuck. And as he looked down at the lovely female standing
opposite him, something deep in the heart of him hissed: This one. I want
this one.
He was oddly transfixed by her mouth. And her scent—it
was light, heathery, and incredibly alluring. Once again he felt the beast
inside him stir, more insistently now. His muscles hardened to stone and his
jaw clenched as he resisted. What he felt was very focused. She is for me.
Take her. I want her.
She was young—not more than early twenties, he
guessed. A bit young for a thirty-year-old reprobate like him.
They tend to come that way. Brides. Young.
Brides?! What the hell was he thinking?
She was continuing to speak: “You’ll
have to admit, the dragon legends are great stories. My Gramma Molly used to
tell them to me when I was little. It was she who urged me to investigate my
roots in Scotland.”
Shit. The last thing he
needed was some American girl prying into the island’s strange history. For her
own sake, he had to get rid of her. If the beast inside him got just a little
more aroused and interested in this girl, she would be in considerable danger.
She needed to leave. Quickly.
Before tonight.
Thinking fast, he said, “You
know, silly though this is, there’s another island about 50 miles up the coast
with an old fortress. I don’t remember its name, but I believe the locals
associate some sort of dragon nonsense with the place.”
“Really? I wonder why I haven’t
heard about that. You’re sure you don’t remember what the place is called?”
It was better to deny than to
lie, he decided, particularly since you could hardly hide an island and a fortress
from Google Maps. “Sorry, I’m no expert on folklore. If you want sea monsters,
you should try your luck with Nessie. This is a great time of year for Nessie
sightings.”
Which was total bullshit. The
way she shot him a quick glance from under her thick lashes made him suspect
that she knew it. The orange
the brisk wind. The thunderstorm must have moved off, though, since the sky was
brighter. It looked as if the sun might even break through. Kate Beaton
attempted to knot her thick hair atop her head, but long silky strands kept
escaping. Laughing at her futile efforts, she abandoned the attempt, and loosed
her glorious hair. Ross imagined it flowing over his bare chest and tangling in
his fingers while he fucked her.
Lust rose with a clamoring din. Looking into her eyes
he felt his consciousness slide and his awareness deepen. Something that was
sleeping stirred. It perked up its head
and took a good hard look. He flashed back to the high tower at Mallochbirn
where he’d stood on the ancient battlements looking out to sea. Had it been she
whom he’d been summoning? Was that why she was here?
For centuries, the Mallochs had been known as the
dragons of Mallochbirn, and dragon lore pervaded the region. The original Mallochbirn
Dragon had been the traditional flying, fire-breathing variety, but somewhere
down the centuries, the creature had been banished from the skies to the seas.
By tradition, the sea dragon was bound to the lord. In some versions of the tale,
the lord of Mallochbirn actually was the creature—half man, half beast,
shifting back and forth at unpredictable intervals.
Particularly on Midsummer’s Eve.
Family legend held that in every generation, the Laird
of the Isle must take a mate, produce an heir, and bind the dragon to its
future master. And so it had happened, for too many centuries to count. The
direct line of descent had never been broken. If an heir was not lawfully
begotten in the marriage bed, the lords of Mallochbirn had never hesitated to
legitimize their bastards. Supposedly, the dragon’s drive to beget an heir on
whichever woman could produce one was far too powerful to resist.
Ross could not deny that for the past few weeks he had
been feeling a strong compulsion to find himself a woman for something more
than the occasional fuck. And as he looked down at the lovely female standing
opposite him, something deep in the heart of him hissed: This one. I want
this one.
He was oddly transfixed by her mouth. And her scent—it
was light, heathery, and incredibly alluring. Once again he felt the beast
inside him stir, more insistently now. His muscles hardened to stone and his
jaw clenched as he resisted. What he felt was very focused. She is for me.
Take her. I want her.
She was young—not more than early twenties, he
guessed. A bit young for a thirty-year-old reprobate like him.
They tend to come that way. Brides. Young.
Brides?! What the hell was he thinking?
She was continuing to speak: “You’ll
have to admit, the dragon legends are great stories. My Gramma Molly used to
tell them to me when I was little. It was she who urged me to investigate my
roots in Scotland.”
Shit. The last thing he
needed was some American girl prying into the island’s strange history. For her
own sake, he had to get rid of her. If the beast inside him got just a little
more aroused and interested in this girl, she would be in considerable danger.
She needed to leave. Quickly.
Before tonight.
Thinking fast, he said, “You
know, silly though this is, there’s another island about 50 miles up the coast
with an old fortress. I don’t remember its name, but I believe the locals
associate some sort of dragon nonsense with the place.”
“Really? I wonder why I haven’t
heard about that. You’re sure you don’t remember what the place is called?”
It was better to deny than to
lie, he decided, particularly since you could hardly hide an island and a fortress
from Google Maps. “Sorry, I’m no expert on folklore. If you want sea monsters,
you should try your luck with Nessie. This is a great time of year for Nessie
sightings.”
Which was total bullshit. The
way she shot him a quick glance from under her thick lashes made him suspect
that she knew it. The orange
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