Page 1 of Dark Dragon’s Mate

Chapter 1

Trish didn’t know which was going to hit her first—the thunderstorm or the uncontrolled Change.

She glanced up at the night sky, heavy with dark, threatening clouds. Thunder rumbled overhead. Inside, her wolf growled.

Out, she was saying over and over. Out out out. Run. Hunt. Kill. Free.

Not now, Trish told her desperately. We’re so close. This is our last chance. Please don’t ruin it now.

But there was no answer. She-Wolf never listened to her. It didn’t matter if she asked or ordered, cajoled or yelled.

Or even if she begged.

Thunder rumbled again, and there was a flash of lightning in the distance. Trish quickened her pace on the dirt path, climbing uphill now.

To her left was a dark forest, tree branches swaying, the noise of the leaves like a sinister whisper.

To her right were open fields. The smell of prey seemed to engulf her from all directions. Deer. Rabbits. Sheep. Lots of sheep.

Silly, slow, bite-able sheep. Kill. Drink blood.

She could feel the nightmare rising up inside her—the churning, murderous, bloodthirsty darkness that was She-Wolf.

Where the hell was Tristan? The white wolf of the Silverlake pack, her best friend and protector. The only person she’d ever trusted with her shameful secret.

She needed him now. He’d have her medicine, to keep She-Wolf from going out of control.

NO! OUT NOW! She-Wolf snarled.

Trish fought her, wishing like hell that She-Wolf would listen to her just once. All they had to do was hang on a little longer, until they got their medicine. Until she got a chance to talk to Emon, the Draken Prince of Al-Maddeiri, the master of this territory.

The only one who might have the power to save them—if she just had enough time to win him over.

The path curved around a bend, and suddenly Al-Maddeiri’s castle was looming over her in the darkness. A huge hulking shadow, looking as if it were crouching, waiting to attack. Even the yellow lights in a few of the windows didn’t make it look homey or welcoming. They looked lonely and isolated, reminding her of primitive people huddled in caves, trying desperately to keep the darkness at bay with the tiny lights of their fires.

A sheet of lightning lit up the sky, so bright she saw purple afterimages. The thunder rumbled again—louder, closer.

Out! Run! Kill!

Darkness and churning rage swept through her.

Trish took a deep breath, gritting her teeth. She fought the darkness away.

“This is what I get for reading so many damn fucking gothic romances,”she muttered. “I’m sentenced to live in one.”

Mysterious, lonely castle in the middle of nowhere: Check.

In fact, this was about as nowhere as it was possible to be—an interdimensional bubble between Earth and the Dragonlands. It was maybe the size of one of those tiny countries in Europe—Luxembourg or Lichtenstein. And outside its borders—literally nothing. An interdimensional void. The only way to get here was by a magical portal.

Dark and stormy night: Check.

Idiot heroine approaching the castle all alone, on the aforementioned dark and stormy night: Check.

No luggage, even—that had been sent over a week ago with the other healers and the research team. Who had probably all mysteriously disappeared by now, walled up in a dungeon or flamed into oblivion by…

The dark, dangerous, brooding master of the castle: Check.

Who lived here all alone with his mentally ill sister—and a few staff, presumably to cook entire oxen in a giant fireplace and throw Flintstone-sized pieces of it onto golden platters for him to devour.