Daughter of the Dragon Princess
Nina Croft
Genre: Paranormal
romance
Date of
Publication: 7th October 2013
Number of pages:
approx.. 240
Word Count: 60k
Cover Artist: Keith
Draws
Book Description:
Found abandoned as
a baby and brought up in a children’s home, Lily Palmer has no clue that she is
the last of the Dragon Princesses and destined to be mated to a king. But when
she wakes up one night to find her apartment invaded by a stunningly gorgeous,
but totally deluded madman, she can no longer ignore the dreams which have
haunted her life.
Exiled on Earth,
and trapped in human form, the dragons have waited two thousand years for the
only person who can open the portal between their world and this one. Now they
have found her and Malachite Smith has one job—to deliver Lily to his King.
According to dragon law, only the King and the Dragon Princess together can
open the portal and take them home.
But neither Mal nor
Lily are prepared for the overwhelming attraction which flares between them. Or
for his reluctance to hand her over to a king he despises. Can they stand as
one and challenge the old ways, even if it means destroying his people forever?
Excerpt 1
Chapter 1
“You know, all I ever wanted was to be normal.” Lily swiped the rain from
her eyes and glared at the scene in front of her.
They stood on the crest of a hill. All around them, the land fell away
steeply, and straight ahead, the stone circle loomed out of the mist.
“Doesn’t seem very ambitious,” Joe said, coming to stand beside her,
his tall figure hunched against the downpour.
“Maybe not, but they didn’t exactly encourage us to dream big in the
children’s home, and I thought—be realistic—keep my life goals small. How the
hell hard can normal be?”
Too fucking hard, obviously.
She kicked a rock at her feet, and then winced. Trudging up here, cold,
wet, her heels rubbed raw from her new hiking boots, she’d somehow convinced
herself this whole thing was a figment of her imagination.
No such luck.
The scene before her was familiar. She’d seen it so many times… in her
dreams.
It was official—she was a crazy lady who had visions.
She turned to Joe. “Sorry,” she muttered. After all, this wasn’t his
fault. He’d been a real sweetie. Nor was it his fault that beneath her shirt,
the mark on her arm tingled, reminding her of its existence. She rubbed it
absently and caught Joe’s speculative gaze before he glanced away.
“What’s the matter, Lily?” His voice was gentle, his gray eyes worried.
“Nothing.” She gave him a bright smile. “So, this is where you found
me?”
“Yes. Hard to believe it was over twenty years ago.”
A lifetime—her lifetime anyway.
Coming to this place had been a whim, when the dreams had become too
much, invading even her waking moments until they were impossible to ignore.
Something had told her that the answers were back here where it had all
started. Illogical—but then nothing about her life made sense recently.
She’d never met Joe before—well, except for the one time, but she had
no memory of that—though he had sent her a “birthday card” each year on the
anniversary of the day he’d found her. He’d sounded genuinely pleased when
she’d called and asked if they could meet.
“Will you tell me what happened?” That’s why she was here after all. At
the children’s home, they had told her she’d been found abandoned as a baby and
handed in. Nothing else. And by the time she was old enough to ask questions,
she’d seen enough of life to accept that she probably wouldn’t like the
answers.
Joe nodded. “I was checking the sheep down in the lower pasture when I
heard some sort of explosion. I ran up here and there you were.” He waved a
hand in the direction of the circle. “All alone, so tiny. You were naked but
with this mark, like a tattoo, wrapped around your arm. I kept thinking—why
would anyone do that to a baby?”
Why indeed?
But a faint quiver of excitement tingled in her gut. Was this the
answer to the dreams and visions? That she’d been here before. Was it that
simple? Okay, she’d been a baby. Even so, those memories would be locked in her
brain somewhere. Now they were trying to get out. That was all. There was
nothing weird or unexplainable about what had been happening to her.
She took the last few steps, which brought her into the lee of one of
the great stones. It was slick with rain, but warm to the touch, and she traced
the swirling patterns cut into the rock, too regular to be carved by nature.
Resting her forehead against the warmth of the stone, she allowed her fears to
drain away.
Maybe she wasn’t crazy after all. She could go home. Forget all this
and get on with her nice, normal life.
As she raised her head, she caught a glimpse through the gap in the
stones to the amphitheater beyond—also familiar. The space was empty except for
a flat table-like slab in the center and behind that, a stone arch, as tall as
the uprights. She stepped into the circle, prickles shivering across her skin
as she passed between two of the huge pillars.
“You were lying there, on the altar stone,” Joe said from behind her.
A faint hum filled her ears. The sound arose from within the arch, and
she walked slowly toward it.
“Do you hear that?” she asked. The hum grew louder, more a buzzing now
like a swarm of hungry bluebottles.
“Hear what?” he asked. “There’s nothing here.”
“But there is. It’s coming from the arch. You must be able to
hear it.” It seemed impossible that he couldn’t.
She came to a halt in front of the flat stone and peered into the
archway, to the gray sky and the standing stones behind it. As she stared, the
image wavered, a ripple running through the view.
Her heart pounded in her chest, her whole body rigid. Even as her feet
itched to run as fast as possible in the opposite direction, longing washed
through her, an impulse to step through the arch and find whatever was on the
other side. Taking a deep breath, she forced her feet to remain still while her
hand reached forward, fingers outstretched. Joe called out from behind her but
she ignored him. Flames flickered within the frame of the arch. The crackle of
fire filled her ears as the scent of smoke teased her nostrils. On her right
arm, the mark burned through her skin like a brand.
The noise grew and grew until a shrill scream crowded her head,
drowning out her conscious thoughts. A jolt of electricity slammed through her.
Then blackness.
Excerpt 2
The hallway was dark, and she reached out her cuffed hands for guidance
and encountered his hard body, her palms resting against him.
“Shit,” he muttered, then turned and backed her against the wall. She
could just make out his form towering over her, as his head lowered and his
lips slanted across hers. Her mind went numb, her body took over, and she
didn’t resist as he plunged his tongue into her mouth. The kiss was hard and
held an edge of anger barely contained. It didn’t matter. He tasted like her
dreams, of heat and spice. Her tongue thrust back against his as a pulse
started its incessant throb between her thighs. She stood unmoving as he
deepened the kiss, pressing his long, hard body into hers so she was plastered
against the length of him. Hunger ignited low in her belly, and she groaned
against his lips while her hips shifted restlessly against him trying to get
some relief from the craving building inside her.
One hand slid beneath her top to cup her breast, his palm rubbing over
the peak, and pleasure shot from her nipple to her groin. Her head fell back,
and she raised one leg, wrapping it around his hip so she could press her core
against the hard length of his erection. Desire was building like a heaviness
inside her, swelling…
A bolt of lightning lit up the room, briefly illuminating the savage
intensity of his expression. His mouth stilled, his fingers tightened on her
breast, then the light flashed again and he jerked free of her and swore
viciously.
A second later, his fist slammed into the wall at her side.
Her hands came up to drag him back to her. She was clumsy in the cuffs
and her senses returned—what sort of woman kissed a man who’d cuffed her? A
crazy one, that’s what sort.
She pressed her wrists against him, so the metal dug into her skin and
the fog of desire cleared enough for her brain to function. She shoved him
hard. He didn’t budge.
“Get off me, pervert!”
His brows drew together. “Pervert?”
“You know, the sort of man who likes to tie women up?”
He didn’t answer, just took a step back, and shoved his hands in his
pockets. He breathed out deeply and the tension drained from his body.
“Why?” she asked.
He didn’t pretend not to understand. “It occurred to me that we may not
get another chance. And I was…curious.”
She gritted her teeth. “Curious?” Her tone was filled with outrage.
“Just leave it.” Lightning flashed again and he frowned, then took her
arm. “Come on, I don’t like this.”
“Like what?”
He didn’t answer, just led her along the hallway and through a door. In
the dim light, she could make out a comfortable sitting room. Everything
appeared so normal and she blinked in confusion.
Mal pushed her toward an armchair. “Sit.”
“Yes, sir,” she muttered and sat. She didn’t understand him. Why would
he kiss her like that, as though he cared?
He seemed about to say something but instead moved away to peer out of
the window. She followed him with her eyes as he came back and stood over her
again, rubbing a hand across his face.
“Lily…” he said.
She searched his expression, and he shifted under her gaze, not meeting
her eyes. “What?”
“This man you are to meet tonight...”
“The one you’re handing me over to like an unwanted parcel?”
“Jesus,” he almost snarled the word. “Just don’t get him angry. Do as
you’re told, and you’ll be all right.”
Was he actually afraid for her? “You’re frightening me,” she said
slowly. “Mal”—for the first time she used his name—“am I going to die tonight?”
She held her breath waiting for the answer.
“No, he won’t kill you.” He paused. “But there are worse things than
death.”
Icy cold washed through her. “Now, you’re really scaring me.”
About the Author:
Nina Croft grew up
in the north of England. After training as an accountant, she spent four years
working as a volunteer in Zambia which left her with a love of the sun and a
dislike of 9-5 work. She then spent a number of years mixing travel (whenever
possible) with work (whenever necessary) but has now settled down to a life of
writing and picking almonds on a remote farm in the mountains of southern
Spain.
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