The Guardians of Drakkan Book 1
A dragon on borrowed time.
Crispin, king of a shape-shifting race known as Drakkan’s children has little hope left for his dying race. Without females for his males to mate with, their extinction is assured. When the mating fever grips him, he knows his time can be counted in days before he goes mad and must be destroyed.
A woman who holds the key to a race’s survival.
During the Beltane Ceremony, Aslynn Durry is one of the chosen by the god Drakkan and the Tuatha de Danann to save the shape-shifting race. Within a secluded glen Aslynn and Crispin, unite for what they think is one night of celebration, only to find both of their destinies’ are woven together.
An old enemy rises from the pits of hell to have his revenge.
The Fomorians have bided their time to strike. The alliance between the Tuatha de Danann and the great dragon god Drakkan has given them the chance they need to satisfy their thirst for revenge.
Crispin and Aslynn find themselves pawns in an ancient war. Can they survive long enough to defeat the Fomorians? Or will the hope for Drakkan’s dying children be destroyed?
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Forcing her gaze from those penetrating eyes, she became aware of his overpowering presence. The air around him crackled with power, an expectant hum filled the silence in the air. Dimly she realized he was more than human, something…other. Enticing and terrible, a heady mixture coalescing into an acute awareness. An arrow of lust pierced her belly, traveling down to her core, a liquid fire making her ach to the point of pain.
She couldn’t help but be drawn to him. His massive body hummed with male aggression and dominance, a perfect counterpoint to her femininity. Long, thick hair caught on a small breeze, lifting away from a face of sharp angles and shadows. Moonlight touched upon him like a lover’s hand, casting him in silver, a god come to earth to claim her.
A fanciful thought to be sure, yet by his intense regard of her, mayhap she had the truth of it.
He strode toward her with an unnatural grace, her pulse raced with every step toward her. He reminded her of a predator, more animal than man. Her heart slammed hard against her ribs, her breathing labored as she watched him approach, forced to tilt her head up as he stopped before her. The glen suddenly seemed too small to contain such a powerful being. He slowly held out one hand to her, her eyes riveted to the long fingers. High born, not one of calloused palms from laboring in fields, but smooth, soft.
Her hand reached for his of its own accord, watching as his swallowed her much smaller one. Warmth spread from her fingers up her arm as he pulled her up to her feet with a gentle tug. His nostrils flared as she stood mere breath betwixt them.
A rumble rose deep within his chest and she trembled. Not from fear, nay it ’twas desire which throbbed in exquisite anticipation, her body pitched upon a precipice from which there would be no return. The hunger from moments ago flowed hotter; his male scent of windswept seas and cedar mixed with an undertone of musk caressed her.
A moan escaped her as she took him into her lungs, her body softening, her core turning into molten liquid. Her ears roared as blood surged through and scalded her veins. Her body prepared for his, even as her normally logical mind struggled to reason through such a reaction with little luck.
The only clarity she could summon held sway of her emotions, for in the very marrow of her bones she knew this male was hers. If only for Beltane. The gods saw fit to give her a gift. Drakkan spoke of being the hope of his children. She would grasp this with both hands, hold it tight for this one moment, and have the memories to warm her on lonely nights. For once, she would take something for herself and face the consequences on the morrow.
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