Gregor Read online

  Gregor

  Dena Christy

  Copyright © 2019 by Dena Christy

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover Art by Melody Simmons

  For Jason, may you finally be at peace.

  Contents

  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

  Epilogue

  Also by Dena Christy

  1

  Why had fate chosen to wake him now, in this time?

  That thought circled Gregor Domokos’ head as the sound of his booted feet hitting the pavement of a deserted Waldron Valley street echoed around him. It was the middle of the night, and he prowled in the dark as he had every night since he’d woken two weeks ago. The world around him was so different from the one he’d fallen asleep in that he couldn’t help wondering if fate was playing a cruel joke on him.

  Perhaps the curse he’d triggered so long ago was not finished tormenting him. Perhaps he would be punished more than he already had been. He’d already lost the one woman he was certain destiny had chosen for him, he’d thought there couldn’t be anything more the old woman and her curse could do to him.

  He was wrong. Instead of sleeping in stone, with his heart impervious to further damage, he’d woken. Was he destined to repeat the past in endless cycles of sleeping and waking until he went mad from his torment?

  With a growl under his breath, he passed a deserted storefront and shook his head. The past would not repeat itself because he would not meet her again in his lifetime. The woman who’d stolen his heart had died long ago.

  The hair stirred on the back of his neck and he paused mid-stride. Even in the dead of night, the world was not silent around him as it had been in his previous life. The city he found himself in never slept, even when the witching hour was upon it. He strained to hear and turned his head to glance behind him. There was nothing but emptiness in the deserted street, but something had disturbed him.

  A feeling he couldn’t identify nagged at the back of his mind as he moved forward again. The itching at the back of his skull grew stronger, and he resisted the urge to turn again. Perhaps the madness his brothers watched for every time they looked at him had claimed him. What else but useless paranoia could produce the feeling that someone was watching him?

  A chill skated across his skin and he resisted the urge to shiver. If someone was watching, he could not risk showing any weakness.

  “This is madness, there is no one there.” His growled words, spoken under his breath, shattered the surrounding stillness. Perhaps the madness he was cursed with if he did not find a mate was already invading his senses. What else could explain the feeling that tonight differed from all the other nights he’d had since he’d emerged from his stone cocoon?

  With a shake of his head, he continued on his forward path. Anyone looking at him would think him mad, what with all the head shaking and talking to himself. He’d gotten out of his bed this morning with the thought that something would happen that would change the course of his life. It was utter nonsense since as a dragon he was not blessed with the gift of premonition. He should call his minion, Rickman and tell him to come to town and take him home.

  Despite how much being out tonight made him feel anxious, he was not ready to go home. Being there, seeing his brothers so happy with their mates brought back the pain of losing Eleanor. He should have what his brothers had, but one miscalculation had cost him his woman.

  A sound came from behind him, so subtle that if his hearing wasn’t more acute than that of a human’s he would have missed it. It caused a brief stutter in his footsteps. There was someone behind him, and for a brief second relief poured through him. He was not mad. The mouth of an alley was at his left and he turned down it. It led him to a warren of dark, deserted streets and he walked forward, waiting for whoever was behind him to make a mistake. After a few moments of patient listening as he walked, he was rewarded with the sound of a scuffle that could only be that of a boot sliding on pavement.

  His mouth pulled up at the corner.

  You’re mine now.

  His mind raced at a much faster pace than that of his feet as he planned to trap whoever dared follow him.

  A hissing sound cut through the air behind him, something stirred the air as it sliced past him in the darkened alley.

  His smile dropped away when he realized what it was. It was an arrow, and it meant that the hunters behind him had lethal intent. There was more to their following him than stalking his movements.

  He fought his instinct to turn and fight. He could not take his dragon form in such close quarters, and until he knew if the hunter who’d fired the arrow was alone, he could not risk a confrontation.

  There was no point in pretending he was unaware of their presence, and he broke into a run. The sound of running boots and another hiss behind him signaled that there was more than one hunter and that they were prepared to give chase. The arrow they fired pierced him in the back of his right shoulder, and the fiery pain that spread through his blood told him they’d come prepared to kill a dragon.

  He stumbled for a second as the force of the poison from the dragon forged iron the arrow was made of entered his bloodstream. He couldn’t fall, if he did he was vulnerable. The walls of the alley closed in on him as he ran forward and reached around to grasp the shaft of the arrow. It had to come out, otherwise the steel of it would act like a heavy dose of sedative. He gritted his teeth and pulled as hard as he could to get the arrow out.

  The arrow came free, but not without consequences. The barbs on it ripped through his muscle, and although he couldn’t see the wound, it felt like he was missing a chunk of flesh. He would heal if he lived long enough to get away.

  He put on a burst of speed despite the feeling like molasses surrounding his feet as another arrow whizzed by his head. Good thing they appeared to be shitty marksmen. While he was certain that when they’d practiced their aim in front of paper targets they were stellar, but this was their first encounter with a running dragon.

  Gregor cursed himself as he ran. It was stupid to have chosen such an enclosed space as the maze of alleys he was running down. His dragon form was too big for him to change into it here. He needed to find another way to get away from his pursuers. Already he could feel the blood pouring from his wound weakening him. While the confines of the alley forced him to stay human, it gave him one advantage over the men hunting him. His surroundings grew darker the farther away from the main street he retreated, and his night vision kicked in.

  He could hear a slight distance develop between him and the hunters and he used it to his advantage to pivot to the right. This chase needed to end soon. His body was slowing, his strength fading as the blood loss from his wound and the small amount of residue from the dragon forged iron did its work. He skidded to a halt when he reached the end of the alley and stood facing a door.

  God damn it.

  He’d turned down a dead end and had trapped himself. There was no way he could turn around and run back out of here without the hunters seeing him. Perhaps fate would smile upon him and the door in front of him would be unlocked. He reached out to test it, and the sound of the locked
door rattling with his efforts to open it sounded loud enough to wake the dead.

  Fuck.

  A metal dumpster loomed to the side, and he felt like a coward for ducking behind it. He'd have loved to face the hunters, to show them what he could mete out, but as long as blood continued to seep from his flesh he would prove nothing.

  The sound of pursuing feet came to him as he crouched low at the side of the dumpster. He winced as he pressed his wounded back against the wall and waited.

  “Where the hell did the fucker go? I swear he was right in front of us.”

  A thread of frustrated anger ran through the growling voice, and it gave Gregor hope that his hiding spot would remain unnoticed. His brothers needed to be warned that there were dragon hunters in town, and he couldn’t deliver that warning if he was dead. The swimming feeling in his head told him the adrenaline fueling his flight from them was running out fast, and it would be foolish to engage the hunters in a fight. He would recover from the wound in his shoulder, but not quickly enough to survive any further damage to his body. And he was certain they had more than arrows in their arsenal of weapons, and all it would take was for him to take a dragon forged blade to the heart and it wouldn’t live long enough to curse them for killing him.

  “Jesus, Nash, who cares where he went. We have to get out of here before the cops come along and want to know why we are skulking back alleys armed to the gills. I can’t get caught violating my parole.”

  There was a slightly whiny tone coming from the man speaking and it was evident that Nash was the leader of this merry band of hunters.

  “Who gives a fuck about your parole? He’s got to be close by. I know I hit him and he can’t have gone far if he’s wounded.” This Nash character was like a dog with a bone, and Gregor tensed as he waited to see what their next move would be.

  “Nash, be reasonable. Pete’s right, if the cops find us we’re in deep shit. I got an outstanding warrant and I’m sure you do too. We’ve wounded him, and we can come back during the day, unarmed and look for him. We can’t do nothing in the dark like this, not if we don’t want to get caught. I’m sure we’re pushing our luck already.”

  “I thought you were dragon hunters, not a bunch of pussies afraid of jail time.” Nash’s frustration with his companions was palpable, but Gregor could also hear the edge of resignation in his voice. He sagged a little against the wall. “Fine, we’ll search for him tomorrow, but if we’ve lost him, you can explain it to Gerard.”

  The scuffle of boots on the pavement signaled their retreat away from the alley. It was a good thing too since Gregor did not know how much longer he would remain lucid. There was an itchy feeling in his wounded shoulder which signaled his wound was already healing. His blood would replenish but it would take time. He was safe, at least for the moment. He needed a few minutes to rest and gather the strength to go home.

  Elle Moreland wiped her hands down the long wool dress she was wearing and took a moment to get her bearings. The dress was made with a brown, rough spun material, and was not in keeping with the vibrant colors she usually wore. She was also in the woods, surrounded by looming trees and not in her apartment which was where she last remembered being.

  It must be a dream.

  The wool of her dress, the feeling of the breeze caressing her cheeks felt so real it was almost like a memory. Even the basket tucked under her arm felt solid. She relaxed her mind and decided to see where this dream would take her.

  She bent closer to the ground and plucked a strange plant out of the ground on the forest floor and tucked it into her basket. The plant was medicinal and like many other plants nestled in the basket. She reached for another one and drew her hand back with a gasp when she noticed something red and shiny on the leaves surrounding her.

  It can’t be blood, can it? With a shaking hand she reached out and touched the red liquid on the leaves of one plant. Upon close examination it proved to be blood, but where had it come from? It hadn’t been there for long.

  She was tempted to stand and pretend that she hadn’t seen it. It’s the blood of an animal, that’s all.

  Even if it was an animal, if it was still alive and badly wounded, it would be cruel to allow it to continue to suffer until it finally expired from its wounds.

  “What if it’s not?” Her voice cut through the stillness surrounding her. If it wasn’t an animal, she was a healer and would go against everything she’d been taught if she didn’t find whoever was injured and help them.

  She stood up, with her eyes cast down at the ground and followed the trail. Caution weighed her down with every step. If there was any danger awaiting her, she wanted to be ready to run.

  For the first time she noticed how silent the forest was around her, as if all the creatures living here were holding their breath in anticipation of what would come next. A twig snapped under her foot as she moved forward, and the sound of her heart pounded in her ears.

  The trail of blood grew easier to follow as the splotches got bigger. Whatever the source was, it had to be big to still be alive after losing this much blood. A small animal would have expired, and she stopped for a moment. What if it was a much bigger animal, like a wolf or a bear? A wounded animal like that would be doubly dangerous and she had no weapons with her. The basket tucked against her side would do nothing against an angry animal.

  Her steps slowed, and she inched forward. She had to take the chance it might be a big animal because if it wasn’t it meant that there was a person injured here in the forest. She was close enough to her village that it could be someone she knew and she couldn’t leave them here to bleed to death.

  Elle looked up and froze where she stood. The source of the blood was not an animal, it was a large man, and he slumped against a tree. The urge to rush toward him battled with the need to be careful. He was a man she did not know, and life had taught her to be wary of strangers.

  She shifted onto her back foot as she thought about how to proceed. The leaves made a rustling sound, so soft that there should have been no way he could have heard but he had. His head snapped around toward her, and intense gray eyes met hers. He opened his mouth, as if to speak, but all that came out of it was a faint rattling noise.

  Elle bolted upright in bed, with her heart pounding fast and her hands fisted in the sheets. She blinked several times and gave her head a shake, clearing away the last of the dream. She was in her bedroom, and as she flopped back onto her pillow, she wondered what the hell had taken her out of sleep. Whatever it was, the timing of it sucked since she’d been thrown out of it when things were about to get interesting. She closed her eyes for a second, hoping that she could quickly recapture the dream, but reality had intruded and she would not be going back to sleep anytime soon. Damn. She wanted to know who that sexy man was.

  She sat up again and turned so she was sitting on the edge of the bed. Her toes curled a little as her feet came down on the cold floor of her bedroom. She stood and pulled on her robe without turning on the light. She’d lived in this apartment for the past four years, since the death of her husband, Ian. She could navigate the place in the dark, and right now what she needed was the camomile tea she knew was in the backroom of her shop, which was on the main floor.

  With one hand running against the wall, she walked down the hall, toward the stairs that would take her down to where she ran her business. The small occult shop was quiet and dark, and she didn't bother putting on the light in the storefront. There was enough light coming in from the street lamp outside that she could see where she was going. The tea wasn’t kept in the store front, it was in the small lounge behind a beaded curtain where she did private readings.

  The curtain swished and clicked behind her, and she reached to her side to flick on the light. Shards of pain went through her eyes as she squeezed them shut. The light was too bright, and she cautiously opened them into slits, waiting for them to adjust.

  The tea was in the cupboard on the other side of the room, and as sh
e took a step forward, her body froze for a moment. The distinct rumble of voices, coming from the direction of the storeroom at the back of her shop. What the hell time was it?

  She looked down at her wrist, but she wasn't wearing her watch. It had to be late, since she didn’t go to bed until well after eleven, and she was certain she’d been asleep for a while before the dream happened.

  Could that have been what had thrown her out of the dream? Was there someone in the back alley behind the shop and had they made a noise that had penetrated the fog of sleep she’d been in? She closed her eyes for a second as she tried to remember the last remnants of the dream, to see if anything had happened that might have done it. She remembered the man had tried to talk, but his voice had not come out. A rattling noise had.

  She moved to stand in the archway that separated her reading room from the storeroom. Her eyes darted to the door at the back. It led to the alley behind the shop. Had that been the source of the rattling noise in her dream? Had someone done anything to it, and were they outside discussing how to proceed?

  The deadbolt on the door was still securely engaged, and there were no signs that anyone had tried to break in. Holding still, she strained her ears to hear something, anything. She didn’t know what she would do if she heard something. She didn’t have her cell phone on her, and the phone for the shop was in the storefront. If someone burst through that back door, could she get to the phone in time to call for help?

  “For God’s sake.” Her voice cut through the silence in the backroom and jolted her back to reality. No one would burst through the door, and just because she may have heard voices meant nothing.