Dragon Fury: Highland Fantasy Romance (Dragon Lore Book 5) Read online

  Dragon Fury

  Highland Fantasy Romance

  Ann Gimpel

  Contents

  Dragon Fury

  Book Description, Dragon Fury

  Books in the Dragon Lore Series

  Author’s Note

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Highland Secrets, Chapter One

  Highland Secrets, Chapter Two

  Dragon Fury

  A Dragon Lore Spin-off

  Dragon Lore Series, Book Five

  Highland Fantasy Romance

  By

  Ann Gimpel

  Tumble off reality’s edge into myth, magic, and Selkies.

  Copyright Page

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright © January 2019, Ann Gimpel

  Cover Art Copyright © January 2019, Barb Hoeter, CoverInked

  Edited by: Kate Richards

  Names, characters, and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or people living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, e-mail, or web posting without written permission from the author.

  Book Description, Dragon Fury

  Aegir, the Selkie king, has a lot on his mind. He and his pod all but raised a young seer, and it damn near kills him to turn the boy over to his father. Especially when the father makes it abundantly clear he plans to erase the lad’s memories of his first two years.

  Fuming, Aegir retreats to an island in the Orkney chain that holds a gateway to Arcadia, a magical land protecting the source of White Magic. One morning, a strange Selkie catches his eye. Alarmed, he swims out to investigate. Unknown Selkies are bad news. Either spies or rejects from their own pods, they’re never welcome.

  Raene spends most of her time running a small bakeshop in the Highlands, but she seeks refuge in the sea once a year. She’s only just taken her seal form when another Selkie accosts her. It’s obvious he wants her to clear out, but she stands her ground. It’s either the bravest thing she’s ever done, or the stupidest. He might be rude and abrasive, but she has a problem, and he’s her best bet to solve it.

  Books in the Dragon Lore Series

  Highland Secrets, Book One

  To Love a Highland Dragon, Book Two

  Dragon Maid, Book Three,

  Dragon’s Dare, Book Four

  Dragon Fury, Book Five (spinoff from earlier books in the series)

  Author’s Note

  Selkies are mythical creatures capable of therianthropy as they shed their seal skins and become human. The best-known myths include forcing a female Selkie to remain in human form by finding and hiding—or worse, destroying—her seal skin. Selkies are a part of Scottish folklore, specifically lore originating from the Orkney and Shetland Islands.

  My Selkie hero in Dragon Fury was born under the sign of the ash tree. He’s a free thinker. Imaginative, intuitive, and innately artistic, he’s inspired by nature. Others may view him as emotionally detached, but he has a rich inner life and little need for interaction with either Selkies or humans.

  Raene, my Selkie heroine, was born in early June under the sign of the Seahorse. She’s a master at adapting to changing circumstances and has a memory like a steep trap. Most born under this sign crave attention, but Raene has an independent streak and is perfectly happy being by herself.

  Hmmm… Two Selkies with fiercely unconventional leanings. Wonder how that’s going to play out?

  Chapter 1

  Aegir’s snout broke the surface of a choppy Irish Sea. The sun was vanishing behind the western horizon. What was left of its rays painted the ocean’s surface a delicate gold. King of the Selkies, he was used to rising to any and all occasions, but this time he wished he could rewrite history—and his agreed-upon obligation.

  A child’s dark head popped up next to him. “I’m here,” he announced with élan only a two-year-old could muster. “Still don’t understand why, though.”

  “We’re meeting someone.” Aegir spoke into the boy’s mind and nuzzled his neck with his whiskers. If Johnathan had been a seal, he’d have clapped him across the shoulders with a flipper, but humans were delicate—by seal standards.

  Not that the boy was precisely human, but he wore a human skin, never mind the magic spilling from him in iridescent waves.

  “Who?” Johnathan cocked his head to one side and regarded Aegir from serious amber eyes. “Mother is returning. She promised me.”

  Instead of answering, Aegir scooped the boy against his chest and held him in place while he covered the distance to a deserted beach on a little-known island in the Hebrides chain. Jonathan snuggled close, and Aegir battled conflicting emotions. He didn’t want to turn Jonathan over to his father, but it was time. That had been the agreement. Two years with the Selkies and thence to Angus’s care.

  There was nothing amiss with Angus Shea. Seer and dreamer, his power complemented that of his son, but in the time the boy had lived among the Selkies, Aegir had fallen in love with him and felt fiercely protective of the youngster. Selkies adored children, and the entire pod had taken turns pampering Jonathan. Everyone pretended today was just like any other to not alarm their young charge, but Aegir wasn’t under any illusions. Back at their palace hidden beneath the waves, his kin were in mourning.

  Aye, and so am I…

  “It is Mother, isn’t it?” the boy pressed. The hope in his young voice smote Aegir. Arianrhod had left for Caer Sidi—her special world where she controlled the moon and tides—a few hours before. She’d spent much of her son’s first two years by his side but remaining longer was too risky. She didn’t want her Celtic kin to know about her fall from grace.

  That her absence had gone mostly unnoticed for as long as it had was a small miracle. One requiring stealth and heaping doses of judiciously applied diversion spells.

  Virgin huntresses weren’t supposed to produce young. Not by normal channels, anyway. Her magical children, Dylan and Lieu, hadn’t been in her life for many a long year. Rumors of her dalliance with a coal-black dragon were finally dying down, but if Arianrhod’s Celtic kinsfolk got wind she’d birthed a flesh-and-blood child, she’d be laughed out of the Pantheon.

  Aegir’s belly scraped the shoreline. He let go of Jonathan, who ran nimbly up the rocky beach. The boy was buck naked, but he was used to the chill of the Irish Sea, and the cold didn’t touch him. Aegir shifted in a blaze of blue-and-white light. Power crackled around him, adding to the fading rays of the sunset. When he was done, he gathered his pelt into his arms and ran lightly to the standing stones where he usually left his skin.

  Jonathan hurried to his side. “I want to go back to the palace.”

  “I know ye do.” Aegir regarded the boy. Dark hair dripping water fell to shoulder level. Power flashed and flared around him, but the boy was unaware of it. Beneath the sea where he’d been raised, everyone was magical in one way or another.


  He extended a hand, and Jonathan clasped it. Walking side by side, they headed for another circle of standing stones. Aegir was relieved both beach and stones were deserted. He could have called beastly weather or wiped minds or done whatever was needed, but it was better this way. No human settlements marred the small island. Caves with colorful limestone formations and standing stones were the primary attraction. The occasional tourist hired a boat to visit, but it didn’t happen often.

  A quick peek into the boy’s mind revealed curiosity mixed with apprehension. He wasn’t one to whine or complain, though, and he’d already stated his preference, which was to return to the Selkies’ palace beneath the waves.

  Aegir settled with his back against a stone column and held Jonathan in his lap. Of the four stone circles on the island, this was the largest, consisting of sixteen gray obelisks. Half of them had cross stones resting along their tops. All standing stones were sacred because their energy matched itself to whoever stood among them.

  Primitive magic pummeled his mind. At first Aegir resisted Jonathan’s attempt to troll for information, but maybe it would be easier to let the lad in. He’d pluck what he needed and ask questions. Not sure if it made him more coward or more fool, Aegir dropped his warding. He hadn’t yet found a way to bid the lad farewell.

  Jonathan’s eyes widened. “Da is coming?” His high, thin child’s voice rose in a question.

  Aegir nodded. “Aye, lad. ’Twas the agreement.”

  A shadow crossed Jonathan’s face. “What agreement? I love him, but I want to stay with you—and Mother. She promised she’d return.”

  Aegir shuttered his mind and managed not to make a disapproving face. He’d heard Arianrhod’s farewell. Craven bitch; she’d taken the coward’s way out and lied. He looked away, chiding himself. How did anyone—let alone a mother—tell a young child they wouldn’t see him again? Maybe not never, but certainly not until he’d grown to manhood.

  Ashamed of his rush to judgment, Aegir searched for a way to bid farewell to Johnathan but didn’t fare much better than Arianrhod had. “Come here.” He beckoned to the boy who’d left his lap and stood a short distance away.

  Jonathan shook his head, crossed his arms over his chest, and announced, “I’m going back into the sea.”

  “Ye can certainly come and visit,” Aegir began, still soft-pedaling the truth.

  “But I live there.” Jonathan’s voice rose in protest, and his lower lip trembled.

  Aegir blew out a frustrated breath. Left to his own devices, he’d have come up with a version of the truth, titrated so the boy would understand. Maybe. Did words exist to smooth over the harshness of being ripped from the only home the child knew?

  A staunch blast of magic turned the air liquid with shades of crystalline light. Aegir was almost certain it had to be Angus, but almost was less than a hundred percent.

  He flowed to his feet and thrust his body between Jonathan and the source of the power. A shimmery gateway, glowing against the fading day, split the damp, marine air. Angus Shea bounded through. Long mahogany hair, many shades lighter than his son’s, was bound low at the back of his neck with a bit of leather. Jonathan had Angus’s eyes, though. Amber with golden flecks glowing around the pupils. Tall, rangy, and well-muscled, Angus wore leather breeks, a cream-colored linen shirt, and a deep-blue tartan draped over everything.

  Dipping around Aegir, he knelt next to Johnathan and his weathered face split into a warm smile. “I’m here to take you home, son.”

  “But I am home,” the boy insisted.

  Angus shifted his gaze upward and stared at Aegir. “Did no one tell him aught?”

  “Mother did. She’s coming back,” Jonathan said firmly. “It’s why I must stay here.”

  Angus gathered the squirming child into his arms, wrapping him in lengths of tartan. Aegir sensed a spell, infused with love and hope, as Angus wove it around his boy. Once he slept, Angus rose to face Aegir.

  “Talk to me but be quick about it.”

  The Selkie nodded. “Arianrhod did tell him she was coming back.”

  Angus’s expression could have curdled new milk. “Aught else?”

  Aegir nodded. “None of us could bring ourselves to bid him farewell. He’s so young, and he is well loved by my people.” He should have stopped there, but a few more words spilled out. “Where will ye take him?”

  Angus’s mouth curled into a sneer. “Why? Do ye not trust me to care for my own flesh and blood?” Before Aegir could stumble through an answer, Angus went on. “I’d have cared for his mum as well if she weren’t so caught up with maintaining her false image.”

  He squared his shoulders. Jonathan curled against him, still caught up in his father’s spell. “We shall be in Ireland. Some Witches there will help me raise him.”

  “He’s always welcome to return to the Selkie pod.” Aegir tried for a positive note.

  Angus seemed to consider the suggestion but shook his head. “Nay, not for a verra long time. He will mourn for your people, Aegir, and for his mum. I will keep him safe, but I will also do what I can to erase his memories and ease his passage into a different life.”

  Aegir bristled. “And how is that different from what the Celts did to you? Ye’ve hated them for cutting off your knowledge of who ye are and whence ye sprang.”

  “They used me, and they still are.” Angus’s tone was harsh, grating. “I’m shielding my son from pain. The two have naught in common.”

  Aegir knew when to back down. He’d led his people long enough to recognize when a battle was lost. Inclining his head, he murmured, “As ye will, Angus. Know that the sea people were ever friends to you. Naught about that has changed.”

  Angus bowed back. His next words held a formal note. “Thank you and your kin for providing a place for Arianrhod to birth and nurse our child.”

  “Be sure Johnathan knows.” Aegir looked away. “If not now, then when ye deem the time is right. He is not done with his days in the sea.”

  Angus shifted Jonathan so he held him with one hand and placed the other on Aegir’s shoulder. “I canna do that. He’ll be better off believing he was always with me.” He narrowed his amber eyes. “I’m a seer, and I have seen naught beyond his tenth year. If ye have knowledge, ye must tell me.”

  “Nothing to impart beyond my intuition and wishful thinking,” Aegir replied. “I’m far from a seer. We utilize the Druids to look into the future on our behalf.”

  Angus sharpened his gaze. Aegir held it, willing Angus not to dig deeper. To divert the seer, he asked, “What about Jonathan’s magic? It has already manifested and will only grow stronger.”

  “I will teach him my talents as best I can, taking care to hide my efforts from the Celts. Goddess knows I doona wish them to conscript him as they did me. Time alone will tell what he inherited from his mother. I bid you farewell.”

  Aegir returned the farewell and bit back further words. What was the point? The boy had Arianrhod’s magic. It shone around him in shades of violet and gold. Either Angus was blind, or he was still so disappointed by Arianrhod’s refusal to reveal their love, he discounted evidence of her power in their child.

  Aegir clasped his hands behind his back and watched Angus step through the gash in the ether he’d used as a gateway. He should have told the seer his boy was ocean-marked, but he hadn’t had the heart.

  Even now, he could summon Angus back. Telepathy would still reach him.

  Aegir swallowed a bitter taste, trudged back to his skin, and retrieved it. The real reason he hadn’t disclosed Jonathan was ocean-marked was he hadn’t wanted Angus to obliterate that bit of knowledge as well. When Selkies valued someone, they put their mark on them. It ensured they’d return to the sea someday.

  It also ensured they’d be able to breathe underwater. Not that such a thing was needed in Jonathan’s case. Most magical creatures had no trouble dredging oxygen from seawater. Because the boy had been born in the sea, he’d learned to switch back and forth between air
and water from birth. Arianrhod had ventured to the surface with him often during his early months. Air was more her métier than water, but her comfort level beneath the waves had increased over time.

  Aegir walked slowly toward the incoming tide. Before he got to the waterline, he spread his pelt on the beach and summoned shift magic. The warmth and prickliness he associated with his seal form closed around him. Usually, he welcomed the transition, but today was a sad day.

  For everyone except perhaps Angus.

  Jonathan had been ripped away from everything and everyone he’d ever known. Arianrhod’s grief had been so palpable, her young son had patted her hand and told her not to worry. Aegir ground his blunt seal teeth together. He should have tried harder to ease the boy’s passage. Problem was he didn’t see what more he could have done.

  How did anyone prepare a two-year-old for such a major change in his circumstances? Though wise beyond his years, and as articulate as a much older child, Jonathan was still very concrete in his thinking. He lacked the ability to grasp that his mum had defied convention and that her rebellion would have a lasting effect on him.

  Her too.

  Aegir would have had to be an insensitive boor not to sense Arianrhod’s distress. He slithered forward until his sleek form was fully immersed in the chill waters of the Irish Sea. It was time to journey to the eastern side of Scotland. Past time. In truth, he should have been there a fortnight ago, but he couldn’t bear to leave Jonathan’s side. He’d known the boy’s tenure was growing short, and he hadn’t wanted to miss even an hour of what remained of it.