Bound to the Dragon Read online

  Bound to the Dragon

  Lost Dragons #5

  By Zoe Chant

  Copyright Zoe Chant 2019

  All Rights Reserved

  Table of Contents

  Lost Dragons Series

  Foreword

  Chapter One: Dante

  Chapter Two: Mercy

  Chapter Three: Dante

  Chapter Four: Mercy

  Chapter Five: Dante

  Chapter Six: Mercy

  Chapter Seven: Dante

  Chapter Eight: Mercy

  Chapter Nine: Mercy

  Chapter Ten: Dante

  Chapter Eleven: Mercy

  Chapter Twelve: Dante

  Chapter Thirteen: Dante

  Epilogue: Mercy

  Afterword

  A note from Zoe Chant

  More paranormal romance by Zoe Chant

  Zoe Chant writing as Lia Silver

  Zoe Chant writing as Lauren Esker

  Special sneak preview: Lost Dragons #1: A Mate for the Dragon

  The Lost Dragons Series

  A Mate for the Dragon

  Fated for the Dragon

  Destined for the Dragon

  A Bride for the Dragon

  Bound to the Dragon

  Chosen by the Dragon (forthcoming)

  You can also purchase the first three books in one handy box set!

  The Lost Dragons Box Set Volume One

  All the books in this series are standalone romances. Each focuses on a new couple, with no cliffhangers. They can be read in any order, but characters from previous books reappear in later ones, so reading in order is recommended for maximum enjoyment.

  Foreword

  This is a standalone romance, and you don’t need to have read the previous book to enjoy it; however, the character of Dante first appeared in the book A Bride for the Dragon. Darklis, along with her brother Stefan and his mate Holly, first appeared in A Mate for the Dragon. Likewise, Magnus first appeared in Fated for the Dragon, while his mate Alanna first appeared in Destined for the Dragon. To avoid some small spoilers about the events of those books, please consider reading them first!

  Chapter One

  Dante

  The streets here were dark, which suited Dante just fine.

  He’d come to this little town the day before, following up on a rumor he’d heard that shopkeepers here were being terrorized by a gang demanding money in return for ‘protection’, and that the local cops were refusing to lift a finger about it.

  That was what he did these days – he didn’t have a home, so he traveled from place to place, looking for trouble. But unlike when he’d been young, now, he wasn’t looking to cause more.

  Now, he was trying to fix it.

  Some people probably would have called it a penance, and in some ways, Dante thought they might have been right. He wasn’t sure any of the things he’d been doing went any way toward making up for the bad things he’d done in his youth, but he knew he couldn’t do anything else, either.

  Nothing would undo the crimes he’d committed, or unhurt the people he’d hurt. Telling himself he’d had no choice didn’t work either. Sure, he’d been a child – a baby, really – when the criminal syndicate had found him and taken him in, but after a while, that just sounded like an excuse.

  It had been the only life he’d ever known. Not to mention, the boss of the criminal gang he’d been taken in by had been a manticore. With the head and body of a lion, the tail of a scorpion, and massive, leathery wings, manticores were some of the deadliest mythical shifters out there, and Dante had been told on several occasions that they’d track him down and punish him if he ever dared to escape.

  He hadn’t been under any illusions that the manticores had taken him in because they actually cared for him – it had been purely because they’d known what he was: a dragon.

  Manticores and dragons had been enemies for centuries, but the idea of a dragon of their very own to raise had been too much of a temptation. Dante had never known how he’d come to be abandoned, and he still didn’t know the full story – but what he did know now was that he’d been wanted.

  His parents had abandoned him only because they’d had no other choice. If they hadn’t, he would have been killed, just like they had been.

  Dante closed his eyes, shaking his head. He pushed the painful thoughts from his mind. He was here to do a job, not to dwell on things he couldn’t change, on memories he’d never have – memories of growing up with a mother and father, with a loving clan all around him.

  You could have that now, though. They said they’d take you back. Even after all you’ve done, your clan said you could go back with them, and live your life as a dragon.

  Swallowing, Dante opened his eyes once more. The tiny voice of temptation was always there, whispering that his family, his clan, the Novaks, had told him he would always be welcome with them.

  But he couldn’t do that. He didn’t deserve it. He’d hurt them. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to, but he had. How could he look them – any of them – in the eye, after what he’d done?

  No. He wouldn’t go back there until he’d earned it – until he’d done at least something to help people, to show that he had kindness in his heart, as well as darkness.

  But that just left the question – how much was enough? How many people would he have to help until he felt his soul was washed clean of all the harm he’d caused? And was such a thing even possible in the first place?

  God, I need a cigarette.

  He’d quit smoking, but he still missed it desperately. As a dragon, he shouldn’t even have been able to get addicted, but the manticores had deliberately kept him in his human form for long periods of time, only allowing him to shift when they’d needed him to – often enough that his superhuman strength, fast healing, and telepathic powers hadn’t faded permanently, so he’d still been a useful tool for them to use.

  But it had only been when he’d been at his weakest, when he’d been trembling and sweating, his dragon roaring within him to be free, that the manticores had allowed him to shift, letting him touch the part of the Novak hoard his parents had left with him: the small golden amulet he’d been found with, wrapped up with him in his soft blue blanket.

  At the touch of the gold against his skin, Dante would always feel the dragon’s power surge through him once more, and he’d be free. Free to spread his wings and soar through the air, to feel fire building in his belly, to be the creature he had been born to be – as long as he always returned to the manticores in the end.

  And the long periods stuck in human form had left him with some permanent reminders of his past. There was a scar on his shoulder that just wouldn’t heal, after he’d been stabbed during a deal gone wrong. There were various other marks on his body, too – a burn on his arm, a scar on his side from where he’d been clipped by a bullet, and his knuckles were a mess. They were all injuries he should have healed easily from. But allowed only limited contact with his hoard item, his powers weak, they’d stayed with him, leaving their mark on his body.

  Maybe that was only right, Dante thought. He couldn’t hide what he’d been, what he’d done. As soon as someone saw his scars, they’d know – even if not the details, they’d know that someone with these kinds of injuries couldn’t have led a decent life on the right side of the law.

  No amount of trying to live his life well would fix up the marks on his body.

  But I have to keep trying.

  There was no doubt in his mind about that. He’d never get rid of his scars – but maybe, one day, he’d get rid of the heavy feeling in his heart, and on that day, he could return to his clan, and feel as if he was worthy to look them in the eye once more.

  The only working street
light flickered as he emerged from the alleyway he’d been surveying the street from. It was the main drag – not that that meant much in a town as small as this one, but still, it was clear that without this small collection of shops, restaurants, and arcades there wouldn’t be much to do here.

  It didn’t make a lot of sense to Dante that a criminal gang would target such a small town – it wasn’t like a lot of money would pass through here. But that was the information he had, and he couldn’t ignore it. Maybe it’d come to nothing, but at least he’d know he’d checked it out.

  Most of the shops were dark, their front windows shuttered. Graffiti had been scrawled across most of them – not the kind of colorful street art that Dante could appreciate, but ugly black tags, crude pictures of dicks, and a bunch of squiggles. Only one shop, a restaurant with a sign reading ‘MERCY’S KITCHEN’ on its front, seemed to have tried to do anything about washing off the spray paint.

  Dante paused, looking up at the sign. Mercy’s Kitchen was a good name, he thought – somehow, it sounded welcoming, like visitors would be treated kindly no matter who they were. The place was obviously closed now – the shutters were down, even though he could see through a side window that the lights inside were still on – but Dante thought he’d definitely have to grab a meal there while he was in town, and see if the place – or its owner – was as openhearted as it seemed.

  That was a nice thought: that even in a place like this, there was at least one person who could be counted on.

  Dante began to turn away, thinking he’d go check out some of the residential streets. It was always a good idea to know your way around a new place – if nothing else, his life of crime had taught him that. It’d taken him a while to realize that some of the skills he’d learned could be put to better use. Even if he couldn’t exactly say he was grateful for them, he could at least recognize where they stood him in good stead in his new occupation.

  And maybe walking would take his mind off how much he wanted a damn cigarette.

  Slipping back into the darkness of the street, Dante was about to move away through the shadows when something – the softest of sounds – made its way to his hearing.

  He paused, cocking his head. It might have been nothing. But then his dragon raised its head, claws extending, eyes flashing.

  Someone’s there. Someone I don’t like.

  Dante was still getting used to trusting his dragon’s instincts on these things. He’d spent so long having only limited contact with it that it seemed weird to think it was a part of him – that the dragon was him. Its instincts were his instincts. And right now, its instincts were telling him to slide into the shadow of the alleyway and watch.

  He did just that. He’d lost track of the amount of hours he’d spent loitering in alleys, watching for cops, rival gangs, or anyone else he didn’t like the look of. Again, he couldn’t exactly say he was happy about having these skills – but he couldn’t deny they were useful.

  A moment later, and his dragon’s instincts flashed another warning. Someone’s coming.

  Dante waited. His suspicions proved to be true.

  A man appeared at the end of the alley, stooping his head slightly as he lit a cigarette, his face lit up from below by the orange flame of the lighter. It would have made anyone look sinister, but Dante could see this guy’s face was made to intimidate – a bulbous nose that had clearly been broken several times, a cruel, twisted mouth, and small, dark eyes beneath two bushy, scowling eyebrows. His build was massive, too – heavyset shoulders and big hands, and a deceptive gut that Dante knew just by the way he moved was covering a layer of powerful muscle.

  Typical heavies. All the same.

  He’d seen a hundred similar guys during his time.

  But just because he looked scary didn’t mean that this particular guy was up to no good, Dante reminded himself. His early life had conditioned him to expect the worst of people – mainly because they’d usually given him a reason to. But average guys on the street... that was a different matter. He might just be out for a late-night stroll.

  The man stood alone, smoking quietly, until Dante had almost made up his mind to simply slip away. But there was some kind of intuition holding him in place, something that told him that things weren’t right here.

  And then, sure enough...

  “Where the fuck have you two been? I’ve been here for ages!”

  The man’s voice was as rough as his appearance. As he flicked his cigarette butt to the ground, crushing it with the heel of his boot, two other men joined him at the mouth of the alleyway.

  “Quit bitching and keep your voice down,” one of the newcomers said. “We got held up. She still there?”

  The first man nodded. “Yeah – lights’re still on, and I’ve been watching the place. She hasn’t come out. And she’s there alone, as far as I can tell.”

  Dante felt his shoulders tense.

  She’s there alone.

  The words seemed to echo within him as his dragon reared up, eyes blazing.

  There were only a few reasons why men like them wanted to catch people while they were alone.

  Dante could feel his lips curling into a snarl as the dragon rose to the forefront of his mind.

  They wish harm upon an innocent person! We cannot stand by and allow this to happen!

  Dante supposed that he should be grateful that when his dragon showed its more bloodthirsty side, it was usually in the defense of those who needed defending, and not out of rage or simple animal instinct. Which wasn’t to say he never had to rein it in and remind it that dragons had to conform to law and order these days... but thankfully, those times were few and far between.

  Narrowing his eyes as his dragon growled within him, Dante watched as the three men left the mouth of the alley, making their way across the darkened street toward the strip mall. Their shoulders were hunched, tense – one of them was balling his fist and smacking it into his palm. Clearly, they were out to intimidate.

  Dante counted to three, and then slipped out of the alley, following them silently. Despite the men’s burly appearances, he could tell they were all human – and even three strong human men would be no match for a dragon when it was roused. He had nothing to fear from them.

  Whoever they’re going after, however...

  They were not only an innocent, but a woman. What kind of men would use their strength to hurt a woman?

  Men who don’t deserve to be called men, his dragon answered immediately. Men who need to be taught a lesson about real strength.

  Dante swallowed. Can I really say I’m the right person to teach them, with my past?

  He shook his head to clear the thought from his mind. He couldn’t worry about that right now. The only thing he could do was prevent these men from doing whatever they had planned.

  Moving silently through the shadows, Dante followed them, his sharp dragon senses picking up everything. He could hear their breath, the pound of their heavy boots on the sidewalk. But he was pretty sure he knew where they were going anyway.

  Mercy’s Kitchen.

  Somehow, he’d known it was where they were headed. He wasn’t sure how – he’d just have to chalk it up to the dragon’s instincts.

  That, and good people in bad towns tend to attract the wrong kind of attention.

  Not that he knew that the owner of Mercy’s Kitchen was a good person. Again, it was only a feeling – a weird hunch that he really couldn’t justify.

  “You think she’ll open up?” one of the men asked as they stood outside the restaurant.

  “Yeah – I’ve been watching this place. We knock on the side door and she’ll think it’s one of those brats she’s always feeding. She’ll open up, no fuss.”

  “And even if she doesn’t, that’s easily fixed,” the first man said. “A good kicking and it’ll come down. Remember – fuck this up and it’ll be our necks on the line.”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll give her a good scare,” the second man sniggered.


  “Not too much rough stuff –we might need to save that for later if she doesn’t get the hint this time. Trash the place a little if you need to, break some shit. Get up in her face a little. But save the real stuff for if she still won’t pay up. Boss wants to make sure we still seem friendly at this stage.”

  Dante felt his chest tightening in rage, but he tried to keep his feelings in check. Too much anger and he’d miss important information.

  They said boss. So they’re working for someone else.

  Dante tucked the information away at the back of his mind. Naturally, low-level thugs like these ones – the same kind of low-level thug he’d once been – were always working for someone else, but it was good to have confirmation. He liked to at least have some idea of what he was dealing with.

  And what he was dealing with at this moment was a pack of would-be standover men. They’d said it’d be their necks on the line if they fucked up this job – but they’d just have to go back to their bosses and explain themselves, because if luck was on his side, the owner of Mercy’s Kitchen would never even know they’d been here.

  Moving silently, Dante followed the men as they turned down the narrow strip between the shops. His dragon’s superior sense of smell could pick up the scent of trash and other filth, but he ignored it. His focus was entirely on the men in the alley – one of whom was now raising his massive fist to knock on the side door of Mercy’s Kitchen.

  He never got the chance. Dante was on him before he even knew he was there, knocked sideways from the stunning blow Dante landed on the side of his neck. It wouldn’t cause any permanent damage, but it’d certainly have the heavy seeing stars – and he’d be out of action for at least a few minutes.

  “What the fuck –”

  Dante swung around at the sound of the second man’s voice, as the first heavy dropped like a sack of potatoes to the filthy ground at his feet. He ducked the fist that swung at him – this second man was surprisingly quick, and had overcome his surprise faster than Dante had expected him to.