Blood Magic (Dragon Born Alexandria Book 2)

BLOOD MAGIC

Dragon Born Alexandria: Book 2

Ella Summers

BLOOD MAGIC

Dragon Born Alexandria: Book 2

Copyright © 2016

Version: 2016.02.15

Cover art by
Rebecca Frank

To be notified when Ella Summers’s next book is released, sign up for her mailing list at:

http://www.ellasummers.com/newsletter

Story Summary

Branded as an abomination, Dragon Born mage Alex Dering has spent her whole life hiding what she is—a secret her father died to protect. Eight years after his death, Alex finally gets the chance to track down the mage responsible.

But her vengeance is put on hold when she gets a lead in London on the Blood Orb, a magical artifact with the power to control vampires. Retrieving the orb from the hate group that holds it won’t be easy; thwarting their plan to exterminate every supernatural in the world will be even harder.

To make matters worse, a mysterious killer is stalking Alex’s every move, determined to end her life. To survive this, it will take all her magic, a lot of help from a dangerous ally, and a really big sword.

Blood Magic
is the second book in the
Dragon Born Alexandria
urban fantasy series.

Chapters

ONE
 
Purge

TWO
 
Magic Conduit

THREE
 
The Black Castle

FOUR
 
Underground Lair

FIVE
 
Common Link

SIX
 
The Pirates’ Plunder

SEVEN
 
Assassins

EIGHT
 
Magic Trails

NINE
 
Off the Grid

TEN
 
Breakfast at Noon

ELEVEN
 
Infiltration

TWELVE
 
Wicked Ways

THIRTEEN
 
Wild Magic

FOURTEEN
 
Monster

FIFTEEN
 
Magic Corrodes

SIXTEEN
 
The Silver Castle

SEVENTEEN
 
Magic Binds

EIGHTEEN
 
The Blood Orb

NINETEEN
 
Bottled Mage

TWENTY
 
Bloodbath

TWENTY-ONE
 
Nightshade

TWENTY-TWO
 
The Crystal Palace

TWENTY-THREE
 
Blood is Magic

CHAPTER ONE

Purge

ALEX SET HER hands down on the bar, resisting the urge to adjust the wig on her head. It was strawberry-blonde and much bouncier than her own straight dark hair, but it itched like the saliva from a winged cat. It also made her look more like Paranormal Barbie than the Paranormal Vigilante.
 

Which was exactly the point.

Purge was a Convictionite club. The enemy’s club. She was
supposed
to be blending in, not waving her sword around. She hadn’t even brought her sword—or any of her knives. Logan had told her the bouncer at the door would frisk her up to look for weapons. He hadn’t been wrong. Unfortunately. Alex felt naked without her weapons.

No, that’s the skanky outfit you’re wearing.
Her dragon side grinned into her mind.

You said you liked it.

Of course I like it. I have no taste. And neither does your boyfriend.

Alex turned her head to glance across the club. Logan stood on the other side of the dance floor, his arms braced against a metal rail, accentuating his muscular form beneath his fitted black clothes. Like a panther ready to pounce.

He must have noticed her appreciative stare. His green eyes locked on her, and his lips lifted up into a smirk. Pulsing points of red light poured down from the overhead lamps, popping against his face in time to the music.

“Aren’t you supposed to be scanning the area for threats?” she asked him, lifting her glass in front of her mouth to hide her moving lips.

“I am,” he spoke through her earpiece.

“While ogling at me?” she teased.

“I can scan for threats and watch you at the same time.” He paused, then added, “Also, assassins
don’t
ogle.”

“So what do you call what you were just doing?”

“Glaring with purpose.”

Smiling, Alex shifted in her seat, the skin-tight fabric of her scarlet skirt sliding up her thigh as she crossed her legs. Even from across the room, she could feel his aura flare up.

“Alex.” The low, warning hiss of her name lingered in her ear. “Your job is to lure Adan McKnight over to you, not to distract me.”

“But he’s not here yet.” She brushed down a wrinkle in her skirt. “
You
are. And besides, you started it.”

“By standing here?”

“Yes,” she said. “Standing there. Wearing that.”

Her gaze slid over his chest, etched to delicious perfection beneath the black shirt that hugged his torso—then down the carved, muscular lines of his arms. Like his aura, his body pulsed with power and screamed speed.

Alex cleared her throat. “I’m not the only one who’s appreciating the view. Trio of bimbos, ten o’clock.”

Logan glanced at the three women weaving through the crowd, their gaits wobbly either from the stiletto heels on their feet or from indulging in too many of those pink cocktails the bar was serving tonight. Unlike their steps, their eyes did not waver. They were locked onto Logan, gleaming with predatory delight. Their dresses fitted their bodies like a second skin, so tight that you could see everything—for instance, that not one of them was wearing a bra. Or underwear. Sluts.

Your outfit is much sluttier,
her dragon told her.

Alex snorted.
Thanks.

“Your date has arrived,” Logan announced.

Alex glanced toward the front door. A man in his late thirties had just entered the club. He wore a leather jacket over a shiny silver shirt, dark jeans, and cowboy boots. Adan McKnight. The spurs on his boots were spikier than his platinum hair, and they clunked loudly as he walked, even audible over the pounding beat of the music. As he passed the bar, Alex spun her stool around, stretching out her leg to block his path.

“Hello, handsome.” She shook her glass at him, the ice rolling and clinking inside. She bit her lip with a coy smile and winked at him. “Care to buy me a drink?”

He stared at her bouncy, blonde hair. Logan’s research indicated that McKnight preferred blondes. Especially strawberry blondes. Hence the wig. Alex twisted a lock of her borrowed hair around her finger and pushed her chest out. Predictably, his gaze dipped to her breasts, where it remained for a few moments before sliding down to her thighs. She shifted her weight, and her skirt rose nearly to her hips. That did the job.

“Another drink for the lady,” McKnight called to the bartender, then, smiling at Alex, he sat down on the stool beside her. “What is your name, darling?”

“Mindy,” she replied, smiling over her cocktail.

It was the name on the fake ID Logan had made for her. Not only did the bouncer of Purge check for concealed weapons, he also checked identities at the door. The Convictionite-owned bar wanted to keep out undesirables. Undesirables like her, Alexandria Dering, the Paranormal Vigilante, the woman who had thwarted the Convictionites’ plan to exterminate supernaturals with the Orbs of Essence they’d stolen. She was definitely not welcome here.

That was the other reason for her disguise. The Convictionites knew what she looked like. They probably had a picture of her stuck to the wall inside every office of their worldwide hate organization. Maybe they even used it as a dart board. Or as a target on their shooting ranges. Whatever the case, there was a decent chance McKnight had seen her picture. She only hoped that the wig and dress combination was sufficient to distract him from making the connection. So far, it seemed to be working. His eyes were locked decidedly southward of her face.

“Mindy,” he repeated, his gaze lifting to her eyes. “A lovely name.”

“And what’s your name?” Alex asked McKnight as the bartender set her new drink down in front of her.

“Adan.”

His real name. Hmm. So he really didn’t suspect her.

“What brings you to London, Mindy?”

“Research.”

“Oh? What kind of research?”

“The hands-on kind,” she said, winking.

His eyes widened as she traced her finger down the lip of his leather jacket.

“Maybe I can help you with that,” he said.

“Oh, yes. I think you can.”

She peeled back his jacket and snatched the knife that had been concealed there. His lips parted to protest, but she spoke faster.

“Nice.” Shooting him a flirtatious smile, Alex caressed the blade. “Steel is so sleek. So sexy.” She looked up from the knife, meeting his gaping eyes. “Don’t you think?”

“I…”

“I once dated this guy who hunted monsters,” Alex said. “He had one of these. A Demon Slayer, he called it. He said it could kill a vampire.”

Technically, Demon Slayer knives were enchanted only to kill demon-powered vampires, one of the three types of vampires, but it could do a hell of a lot of damage to other supernaturals as well. And humans, for that matter.

“Yes, it can kill vampires,” he replied cautiously.

“How does it do that? Those vampires have so much magic.”

“There’s poison in the blade.”

Smooth as silk, the lie slid off his tongue like he’d told it a thousand times before. His face didn’t give him away. His aura, on the other hand, had changed pitch. It stank like a sack of rotten eggs. Liar. That meant he was high up enough in his organization of magic-condemning hypocrites to know they used magic to fight supernaturals.

“Poison.” Alex struggled to keep the smile on her face. As though any old poison could kill a vampire. There were a few poisons that could slow them down, but those were all fatal to humans. A human who wielded a weapon coated in that poison—or touched the blade like Alex was doing—would die before having the chance to hurt a vampire.

“It’s perfectly safe for normal people,” McKnight assured her.

If only he knew how abnormal she really was. Even other supernaturals considered her an anomaly. An abomination.

She handed the knife back to him. “Oh, good.” Her jaw was screaming for relief from the fake smile. “Are you a supernatural hunter?”

“Of a sort.”

“How brave!”

She slipped her hand beneath his jacket, stroking his chest gently with the tips of her fingernails. Truth be told, he didn’t have a bad body, likely thanks to the Supernatural-killing Bootcamp the Convictionites put all their recruits through. He probably didn’t have trouble finding a date. Keeping those women, though, was another matter. The man had the personality of a pretzel. A soggy pretzel.

“Mindy…” Something between a purr and a sneeze escaped his mouth. He cleared his throat. “Would you like to see my sword collection in the back?”

Sword collection. Right. His words were dripping with enough innuendo to drown a centaur.

“You have access to the back?” Alex batted her fake eyelashes at him. “Here?”

“Yes.”

“I’d very much like to see your sword,” she told him, forcing her gaze downward.

He jumped off his seat, grinning like he was going to get lucky.

He’ll be lucky to survive the night,
her dragon snorted as Alex followed behind McKnight.

As long as he keeps his hands to himself, I’ll try not to kill him.

You’ll just leave that to your assassin?

Well, I wouldn’t want to make Logan feel extraneous.

What about me? I don’t want to feel extraneous either. You could let me ice the magic-hating fiend,
her dragon suggested.

That would blow our cover,
Alex told her.

Come on. You know you want me to do it.

Not yet. He has to lead us into the back first.

Look at you, Miss Responsible. I blame the assassin. He’s a bad influence.

A bad influence? And what do you think you are?
Alex asked her.

Your sense of fun.

Alex snorted. Luckily, the sound was swallowed up by the deep bass beat thumping from the speakers around the dance floor. McKnight weaved through the crowd, heading for the red door at the back of the club. A behemoth of a man stood framed before the door, his bulging, tree-trunk arms folded across his chest. He looked strong enough to snap Alex in half—and the sly smirk on his mouth told her he’d enjoy all two seconds it took to do it. Once again, she found herself longing for the comfort of her sword.

“Adan,” Mr. Muscles said, scratching one of his woolly-mammoth arms with his middle finger. His voice was as beastly as his body.

Alex could sense Logan nearby, kissing the shadows to stay out of sight. He was alone. It appeared he’d ditched the bimbo triplets.

“Hello, Hark,” McKnight said to the guard. “Is everything in order?”

Muscles grunted, which must have been an affirmative because McKnight nodded.