The Dragon's Stolen Mate: A Paranormal Shapeshifter Romance Read online

  THE DRAGON'S

  STOLEN MATE

  A PARANORMAL SHAPESHIFTER ROMANCE

  JADE WHITE

  Copyright ©2017 by Jade White

  All rights reserved.

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  About This Book

  After her family's castle was attacked by shadowy monsters, Eleri was missing and presumed dead.

  Little did her family know, Eleri was far from dead. She was STOLEN.

  Handsome shapeshifting dragon Carwin found Eleri in the carnage and decided to take her home with him.

  However, Carwin did not intend to ever return her. Instead he wanted to make her his mate and he would stop at nothing to make that happen...

  This is a Paranormal Dragon romance full of flaming hot love scenes and fiery dragon action. Download now and start enjoying this fun full length novel with no cliffhangers and all the good stuff included!

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER ONE

  The handmaiden Tegwen held up the mirror, and Eleri saw herself reflected in the polished bronze. Her hair was braided with green ribbons, and her neck was adorned with silver; she thought she looked more like a dream of her mother than herself. “You look lovely, my lady,” Tegwen intoned, almost teary.

  “You did a wonderful job on my hair,” Eleri agreed. Behind her, the door swung open. Her younger sister, Gwen, squealed with delight as she entered the chamber.

  “Eleri! The dress, and your hair; you look so beautiful! I hope I look as nice on my wedding day,” Gwen said with a theatrical twirl. Eleri couldn’t help but smile at that.

  “I’m sure you will, but I assume you didn’t come up here just to swoon over my outfit.”

  “Oh, right. Father wanted to know if you were ready. Everything else is in place.”

  Eleri drew in a deep breath and sighed it out. “I’m ready.”

  **********

  Her father led her through the courtyard by the elbow. Everyone she had ever met, and many she hadn’t, was staring at her expectantly, and all she could think about was what would come after the ceremony. Her mother’s description had been... disheartening.

  Eleri had never expected to marry for love. She was the first-born daughter, and her father, who ruled over all the Aberderwen valley, had no male heir. Her match with Rhys, the second-born son of the Lord of Gwent, was a fortunate one. As far as she could tell from their few brief meetings, Rhys was honorable and well-spoken, and not terrible to look at. This was her destiny, and it was really the best she could have hoped for. That didn’t mean she wasn’t apprehensive.

  They reached the dais where her husband-to-be stood with the priest. The Lord of Gwent had converted to the Christian faith, and though Eleri's household kept the old gods, her father had never been particularly devout. He had agreed to hold the wedding ceremony according to the new customs. Though she had no particular reason to dislike the followers of Christ, there was something about the priest that made Eleri uneasy.

  Her father, Lord Glaw, gave her a scratchy kiss on the cheek and placed her hands in Rhys’. She thought her fiancé looked nearly as nervous as she felt, and that somewhat eased the knot of worry in her heart. The priest began to speak and then...

  BOOM! The walls of the keep shook. Everyone stopped; it seemed like time itself came to a standstill as the people in the courtyard waited for someone to tell them what was going on. “Lord Glaw! A force approaches!” cried one of the men on the walls.

  “Who dares?” Eleri's father muttered angrily as he turned and jogged up the aisle they had just come down. “How many, and under what banner?” he shouted up to the guard tower.

  “I can hardly count, my Lord,” the guard replied. Eleri thought his face looked pale from fear, and she felt her own heart plummet. “There is no banner.”

  “No banner?” Lord Glaw mouthed. “How far?” he started to ask, heading to the stairs. There was a sound like Eleri had never heard before, a squelching thunk, and the guard fell from the wall and landed in the courtyard with a clank of metal. He was obviously dead, but he had no visible wounds. Instead, over his face, there was a writhing knot of shadow, too incomprehensible to describe further, but looking at it filled Eleri with nauseous unease.

  In the courtyard, there was a heartbeat of silence, and then the screaming began. Eleri did not scream. Rhys had dropped her hands, running to join her father, and she felt an icy calm descend. Lord Glaw looked up from where he crouched over the corpse. “Megan,” he said, finding his wife in the crowd, “You and the girls take the rest of the women and children out the postern gate. Go to my brother’s as quick as you can, and await me there.”

  Eleri descended the dais, gathering up her ladies and their handmaidens from the front rows of the audience. Someone handed her a child, and she took the boy upon her hip, not allowing herself to think of anything but getting to the back gate. She heard her father barking orders to the other men. Around her, many of the women and children wept with fear. Another boom sounded dully through the walls as they entered the keep proper, and a shower of plaster cascaded on Eleri's face. The child in her arms began to cry.

  “Shhh, shhh,” she said automatically. Eleri had young cousins, and once upon a time, there had been younger brothers as well, but they had been taken by fever before they could toddle. She was well acquainted with the care of infants, and she settled the youngster without even thinking about it. Her mother and her ladies were leading them through the great hall and the kitchens. When they passed a window, they could hear the screams of men dying on the walls, and Eleri shuddered, a thrill of fear briefly penetrating the numbness.

  Down they went, into the dark cellars, past the barrels of ale and bags of roots and apples, and then a door opened ahead of them, sending rosy fingers of afternoon sunlight slanting over the dirt floors and frightened faces.

  “All seems quiet here,” Eleri's mother said from the head of the group. “Let us go, quickly. Do not stop until you reach the shelter of the trees.”

  It was difficult, in their heavy skirts, to run through the tall grass, but at first, it appeared that their escape had been unmarked. Eleri was halfway across the field when she felt something zip past her head, like an arrow but much more malevolent. A lady in front of her fell with a scream. It was chaos. The child was crying; Eleri held him close to her chest and ducked her head, determined to keep running. She dodged a fallen form in front of her, evading the evil shadows rising from the body and unable t
o think of anything but her own survival. Eleri looked back, once, which was a mistake.

  The castle behind her was shrouded and consumed by roiling darkness. It dripped over the walls and through them, and bits of the greater shadow were breaking off, flowing toward them like malicious clouds. The sight stunned her into stillness, and then she felt a hot flash of pain at her side. Eleri swallowed her scream and pressed a hand to the spot, redoubling her efforts to make it into the forest.

  The attack didn’t stop at once, but after some period of time running under the shadow of the trees, the feeling of oppression and fear lessened. The survivors slowed, starting to gather together, and Eleri sat the little boy on the ground. He continued to hug her leg, silent tears streaming down his face. “I think we are safe, for the time being.” Eleri was relieved to hear her mother’s voice. “We should rest here and tend the wounded.”

  Heart still pounding, Eleri looked down at where her hand still pressed to her side. Her fingers were red. That couldn’t be good. She looked around, wanting a place to sit so she could tear a binding from her dress. They were in a circle of moss-covered stones, a place of the old gods, long neglected. Perhaps that was why the shadows hadn’t followed them. There were several upright pillars, a few leaning alarmingly, and surrounding them all was a low bench of rock half-buried in the earth and covered with creeping plants. It had been carved to give the impression of scales.

  “Come,” she said to the child still hanging on her leg, her voice gone a bit breathless through her grimace of pain. “We’ll sit on this old dragon. He’ll protect us.”

  The boy look up at her, wide-eyed. “Will he breathe fire at the monsters?” he asked, following her as she settled with her back against the cool stone.

  “Perhaps, if we ask him nicely,” she replied. She knew she would have to move her hand now if she wanted to tend the wound, but she was afraid of what would happen. The boy climbed on top of the stone beast, kicking away some of the ivy and exclaiming as he started to uncover more carvings. After a few moments, he had forgotten Eleri entirely. She took a deep breath. Her head was feeling light, and she knew she needed to stop the bleeding.

  “Eleri!” Gwen shouted from somewhere nearby. “I was afraid that you... But you’re here.” Gwen darted over, her eyes widening as she took in her sister’s expression. “You’re hurt! I’ll get Mother.”

  “No, just help me bind it. I’m sure there are many worse off than me,” she hissed through clenched teeth.

  Gwen seemed to know that argument was useless. She knelt, pulling her eating knife from her skirts and starting to rip strips from Eleri's underdress. “You’ll have to take off your bodice,” Gwen said, raising her eyebrows.

  “Right.” Eleri reached behind her for the strings, and she heard Gwen draw in a breath. Eleri looked down at the blood spreading across her midriff. Her head spun, and she grabbed onto the stone for support. Gwen was calling for their mother. Was it her imagination that the carved rock shivered beneath her fingers? Her heart thudded against her eardrums, her vision tunneling to a point of light.

  “Too much blood,” someone said, and the darkness overcame her.

  ***********

  Silence had reigned for so long that when he finally heard the sound of voices, it took a moment before they meant anything to him. “This old dragon will protect us,” said a voice, feminine and youthful, but muddled with an emotion he couldn’t quite place. Another voice, a child, replied, too muffled to make out the words. “Perhaps, if we ask him nicely,” said the woman again.

  Carwin wondered what exactly they were thinking of asking him. As if he could do anything, trapped as he was. He supposed he really was an old dragon now. It rankled that he had been here so long that even the forest was trying to erase his existence.

  It happened, a sensation after so long without, like a white-hot brand against his flesh. He would have screamed, but he still couldn’t move; the world shook underneath him. There was a crack like a whip next to his ear and then a flash of light. He could see! Sort of. Blurry shadows moved across his vision, but they were growing sharper even as more and more cracking sounds told him the improbable and wonderful truth. The stone was breaking. He was free!

  The sensation of air on his scales was a delicious shock, almost sensual after such a long absence. He stood and stretched, shaking the flakes of stone away and opening his wings for the first time in who knew how many years. It was only then that he registered the sounds of screaming, fading into the distance now. The stone circle was empty but for one woman. He could smell the blood on the air; she would not live much longer without help. There were other things on the air too, hints of fear and dark magic that were unfortunately familiar.

  Later, Carwin would never be able to say exactly why he did it. Maybe it was only that she looked lovely and sad in the fading light, or maybe it was the fact that he was unwilling to watch another person made a victim to the same monster that had killed his own family. He picked up the unconscious woman carefully in his claws and set her in the center of the circle. Coiling his body around her and covering her with his wings as a precaution, he took a deep breath and spat green fire at the stones.

  The moss and ivy burned away, and the stones glowed with swirls and magical symbols. Mist boiled up from the ground, filling the circle until he could barely see past the tip of his snout. An eerie green glow permeated the fog, and then she came, rising out of the mists like a phantom, her hand on the rim of her great back cauldron. Her eyes were the same vibrant green as the glowing liquid inside the giant pot, an unnatural color that swirled with mystery.

  “Carwin ap Emrys. I did not expect to see you again after failing the task I gave to you. How did you escape from your life of stone?”

  “My Lady Ceridwen,” he said, bowing his head. She would bring that up, as if he wasn’t ashamed enough. “You would know better than I. There was a voice, a woman, and some others, and then I felt as if I’d been burned. The stone cracked and fell away, and when I could once again see, I found that this woman had been abandoned by her companions when they fled. She is near death, wounded by dark magic.”

  The goddess quirked an eyebrow and peered down at the maiden held in his wings. “Blood. How interesting.” Carwin had by now become used to half of her comments making no sense. She looked back up him, her gaze calculating. “You hoped I might save her life? Why? Should you not call upon Arianrhod or Rhiannon for healing? You know I do not aid mortals without recompense, and she is in no shape to bargain with me.”

  “Do you see any altars to Rhiannon around here?” Carwin replied acidly. “Besides, you know as well as I how she came by her injuries. She may know something, and she will certainly have an interest in aiding us. Defeating Dywell is almost as important to you as it is to me.” He didn’t know why that would be, but that didn’t change the facts.

  “True. But I stand by my words. A price must be paid. Will you offer something in her place?”

  There was a whiff of smoke and brimstone in the air at Carwin’s exasperated snort. “What else can I give, my Lady? My family is long dead, my lands overrun, and even my body is no longer my own. If aiding this woman will give me another chance to avenge my family, I will give whatever you ask.” A dangerous oath. Ceridwen would not forget, and she did not forgive, but what did he have left to lose?

  The goddess’ smile of satisfaction was the opposite of comforting. “Very well. I will do as you ask.” Verdant liquid overflowed from the cauldron. Everything it touched was changed—a stone became an apple, a tree became an acorn, plants bloomed out of season, and when it touched him, Carwin felt himself changing too. He wanted to cry out in protest, but he was transfixed as he saw his scales disappear, flying away in a shower of flower petals.

  It only took a moment, and for the first time in a century or more, he stood in the circle of stones as a man. The woman lay asleep at his feet, healed and dressed for traveling, much as he was. A horse stood tied to a nearby willow.
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  “After all this time, I forgot how handsome you were,” Ceridwen said with a click of her tongue. “No wonder I agreed to help you before.” Carwin scowled and folded his arms over his chest. The last thing he wanted was to be a plaything of one of the Tylwyth Teg, but he had foolishly vowed to give her anything she asked.

  Luckily, she didn’t press the matter further. “You will go with the maiden, and together, perhaps you will finally be able to accomplish your task. I have returned you to your human body since I doubt you will get much in the way of cooperation from her as a dragon, but the pendant around your neck grants you access to that form. As long as you wear it, you will be able to transform at will. Be aware that the transformation does not include your clothing, so if you don’t want to destroy your nice new outfit, you’ll have to remove it,” she added. Her laughter was like music, the song of bells and bird whistles.

  It was surprisingly generous for Ceridwen, as well as helpful. In his previous encounters with her, she had been the sort to throw you directly into the fire without a water bucket. Carwin was suspicious. “And what about the price?”

  “When the task is finished, your life is mine. Nothing more, nothing less,” she said. “As you said, you have little you can give, but even in one life, there is power to be gained. One last piece of advice, if you will hear it.” He nodded. No matter what he might think of her rather fickle and vindictive nature, Ceridwen was the goddess of wisdom. Any clue she could give would be valuable. “Go to the Temple of Arianrhod. The druids there will be able to aid you on your quest.”