Page 1 of Dragon Kissed

CHAPTER 1

Demetri

Fog rolledacross the Pacific in thick, wet sheets. It wasn't soft. Tiny ice pellets hammered Demetri Vasiliev’s body as he raced across the sky, spearing his leathery wings until they grew stiff beneath a thousand sparkling ice daggers. He beat his wings harder, refusing to let the growing weight steal his altitude.

The fog should not have bothered him. He was Draquonir, an ancient dragon shifter. Controlling the elements was as natural as breathing. This was his territory to protect. His sacred duty to guard this area and all the creatures in it—dragon, human, fae, it didn’t matter. He was flying this far out in the open sea despite the impending storm, miles from traditional shipping lanes, because even through the dense fog he smelled smoke.

His dragon vision should have allowed him to see his target miles away, even through the mist. Instead, he was flying blind, forced to rely on his sense of smell to guide him to whatever was burning.

Faster, his dragon urged through their shared mental channel.

Demetri poured every ounce of strength he had into flying faster. He sent a stream of magic curling into the icy mist.This fog is unnatural, old one — it is resisting my efforts to push it out of our way.00

Unease crawled up his spine. The haze should have parted, not clawed and raked at him with icy fingers, as if alive, wrapping around him and squeezing like a vice.

I, too, sense this is not a natural storm. All the more reason to hurry, Demetri.

Ash scraped across his tongue. Burning fiberglass. Oil. The bitter taste grew stronger with every beat of his wings until a dull orange glow bled through the fog below.

Fire.

Nothing should have been burning out here.

He dropped lower.

The fog thinned just enough for a yacht to emerge beneath him, a small fire burning near the bow. The yacht could only be described as a luxury vessel. At least fifty miles from traditional shipping lanes, where no human eyes were likely to find it. That was why he'd relented––why he'd risked letting his dragon, who was on the brink of madness after centuries without a mate, have control.

The smoke.

High above the blaze, Demetri spread his ruby wings and circled.

Heat rose from the wreckage, warming the scales along his belly and melting the ice. Flames clawed through shattered windows, throwing sparks into the wind before the sea swallowed them. Four bodies lay sprawled across the deck and two more drifted in the water, and Demetri scented all six ofthem—death, and the sour adrenaline of men who had died knowing exactly what was killing them.

Demetri fully immersed himself in the dragon's senses. He strained to see through the black smoke. Even dragon sight couldn't explain what he was seeing.There’s something wrong here. What are we missing?

The dragon drew in another slow breath, sifting more carefully, cataloging every nuance, every layer of scent. The last stopped him cold.Dragon.

Everything inside Demetri stilled.

Dragon.

Fresh.

Less than half an hour old.

The warning hit Demetri with the certainty of an ancient dragon who had seen thousands of battles. The dragon's rage followed a heartbeat later.

Trap.

You're right, old one. The fire is too fresh. He watched us come over the headlands, then lit the fire to be certain we'd smell it burning. He wanted us here. He has a death wish if he’s come looking for a fight.

He is dangerous.

Demetri grunted in agreement, a low rasp deep in his great throat. The sound gathered in his chest, growing heavier with each slow breath. Whoever had done this hadn't simply murdered six humans—they had crossed into his skies, left their dead in his waters, and expected him to come looking. The arrogance of it scraped at something ancient inside him, something that had guarded this stretch of coastline long before the first yacht had ever cut across it.Dragons don’t kill innocent humans. It is forbidden. He must be a rogue.

The smell of cold blue dragon-fire hit him half a second before the pain.

The dragon came at him so fast, it was a blur of motion. He had a single instant to register the color of his attacker—glacier blue along the crest, ocean blue at the throat, talons extended, winter-gray eyes gleaming with determination.