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“I bestow upon you the gift of a sorceress. Like a snake to its prey, you will latch onto any man you choose and pour malice into their hearts. You will be able to force your enemies to feel despair, pain, and loss. You will control them with the magic you hold.”
“I bestow upon you the gift of the siren. Any man whose blood you taste will fall at your feet and do your will. Even if you command him to die, he will do so.”
“I bestow upon you the power of Charon’s kiss. Your lips will breathe death into the mouths of corrupt men. Their spirits will suffer for all their transgressions.”
“Neptune has done you wrong, my child. For his crime, men will suffer. But none who do not deserve it. You and your sisters will go forth and serve me well. You will punish evil men and damn them.”
Some say that Minerva’s mystical gifts have been seeking the right sisters, the ones to right all of mankind’s wrongs once and for all.
Only noble-born Romans with the blood of the dragon coursing through their veins could be centurions.
“Not only is Fortuna a special goddess to me,” he went on, “but this aureus was given to me by my mother, the gold minted by my own father when they married. A wedding gift. I’ve carried this aureus on me for many years.”
Don’t look a dragon in the eyes. Ever. Do you understand?
“The honorable Legatus Julianus Ignis Dakkia has defeated the Celtic hordes and has returned their king’s head for our Wall of Victory. We now await to discover where Caesar will send his brave and strategic nephew next. All hail Legatus Julianus, the Conqueror!”
Of all the people to enter my life at this moment in time, when my focus must be razor-sharp, when any distraction might stray me from my cause and would definitely endanger my life, the firebird appeared. I’d thought to never see her again, even knowing what she was to me then, all those years ago, as we stood in the woods beneath the moon and the shadow of the Carpathian Mountains. I’d walked away, knowing it was the only safe path to take. For the both of us.
She shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t want her to be, and yet, I homed in on her light footfalls two paces behind me, on her every breath, on her scent of lavender oil mingled with sweat. It didn’t matter what I wanted. The gods have their own designs, and Lady Fortuna will not be ignored.
“Your defiant spirit,” he whispered, almost like he was sharing a secret, his timbre rough, “coupled with your beauty.” He shook his head. “It is dangerous. So very dangerous.” “For me?” I asked, wondering why I could never keep my mouth shut, because then I kept going and asked, “Or is it dangerous for you?” His wide mouth ticked up into a smile so devilish it stole my breath. Rather than frighten me, I wanted to capture that smile in my palms and hide it away for only me to ever see. “Both, sweet firebird.” His voice was a velvety, dark caress. “We might both burn for what’s to come.”
Roman generals didn’t shift on the battlefield, not into half-skin or their dragon. It was considered a sign of weakness if they were forced to leave their human form during battle. They weren’t even supposed to get their blade bloody since that was the job of their soldiers.
I could no more part with her than I could shove my blade through my own heart. Not when the gods had given her to me, not when she was designed to be mine. A distant whisper floated to the surface, reminding me why I could never part with her: Treasure.
My loyalties had shifted the second I saw her on the Celtic battlefield—bloody and terrified, defending herself against that filth in half-skin. My cold heart was engulfed in flame, and there was nothing I could do to stop the wheels Lady Fortuna spun for me. For us.
That night in Dacia four years ago, I was newly appointed centurion by my uncle, who I’d known was not a good man. I’d left our camp with three of my trusted men that night only to get away from this oppressive feeling that I was on a path of my uncle’s choosing and there was nothing I could do to escape from him or his appalling plans for Rome. There was a constant pall of gloom pressing down on me. Then, unexpectedly, I’d watched this young, beautiful woman dance with fire in her heart and defiance in her eyes as she looked upon me, an enemy. For our brief encounter, she’d given me hope. As
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“Why do you worship Proserpina and not Pluto?” The priestess moved in her fluid way to stand and face the statue with me. “Because she rules the underworld.” Her voice was soft and pleasant.
“How does she do this?” The priestess faced me. I could barely see pale pink eyes behind the veil. “Because she rules her king’s heart. He will do anything for her. Therefore, supreme power is always in her hands. Not his.”
The tether between us didn’t unravel when he shifted into the beast. Rather, it wound tighter, not a constricting kind of bond, but a firm, unbreakable one. That was the moment I knew the gods meant for me to be bound to Julianus Dakkia.
“By Jupiter,” he rumbled, cupping my chin to make me look at him, “I’d have bled to death just to see that look of sweet ecstasy on your face. Knowing I’d put it there.”
A dragon can’t taste blood and not transform. He will shift into half-skin.
A dragon fated and mated to a common-born citizen was considered a curse by the gods. To be mated to a foreign enemy would be considered worse. My uncle wouldn’t stand for that shame. I’d be publicly executed alongside Malina.
When a dragon, man or woman, is born in half-skin, it is believed by some that the dragon will be forever twisted.” “How so? A dragon in half-skin is simply another form of their animal.” “No,” he said, staring at me while twirling a lock of my hair. “It is not. When in half-skin, we are neither man nor beast. We are an unnatural creature, both fighting for dominance. We’re taught at an early age how to control our bloodlust while in half-skin. It’s like the beast is fighting for domination when we are in between. It is never good to remain in half-skin for too long.”
