Dragons Don't Forgive

Dragons Don’t
Forgive

D’Elen McClain

Fire Chronicles: Book
III

Dragons Don’t
Forgive

D’Elen McClain

Fire Chronicles: Book
III

Copyright 2015 D’Elen
McClain

Edited by Michelle
Kowalski

All rights reserved
including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in
any form.

This is a work of fiction.
ALL characters are derived from the author’s
imagination.

No person, brand, or
corporation mentioned in this Book should be taken to have endorsed
this Book nor should the events surrounding them be considered in
any way factual.

Dragons Don’t Forgive…

After nearly killing his friend’s
bride, Sarn runs from the dragon realm and finds solace in endless
bottles of whisky. The only thing growing higher than the pile of
discarded bottles is Sarn’s temper. So what’s to be done with a man
capable of breathing fire and turning into a ten ton dragon with
anger management issues?

When you’re a female wolf shifter
tending bar for a bunch of bad-ass immortals you need a little
extra attitude to get your point across. When Sierra takes interest
in the angry dragon shifter hearts are on the line and fire burns
deep as two worlds collide.

Will the dragon’s curse keep these two
apart or will Sierra’s love do the impossible and change destiny?
Things might go easier for them both if they could get past the
greatest issue… Dragons Don’t Forgive.

Dedication

To Bobbi Jean Servis

For teaching me about inner strength
and making me believe.

Chapter One

Sarn

In the corner of my mind, I hear them
shouting. My rage has taken over and I have no control left to stop
the destruction even when someone yells directly in my ear, “Sarn,
dammit that’s enough!”

I don’t care. I will destroy
everything around me. That’s what I’m good at. Everyone in my path
goes up in flames. Smoke escapes from my nostrils as I think about
burning this building down around me. It would feel so damn good to
let go.

Two shifters grab my arms, their hands
like steel. It doesn’t matter because I’m stronger and the alcohol
makes me invincible. Dmitri is the one who finally puts a stop to
my insane theatrics. Well, he stops me from burning his precious
nightclub, but the rage will never go away.

“
Are you done?” Dmitri
demands in a deadly voice that only a vampire can back up. He is
peering down at me with lethal amber eyes as I lie flat on my back
with his iron grip tight on my throat. The pressure on my windpipe
makes my head swim even more than the alcohol. I. Can’t. Breathe.
My face must be red tinged with blue. I feebly try to dislodge his
hand, but it’s like a fly battling a military tank. Then I realize
maybe he can end it all so I stop fighting him.

Dmitri’s smile is anything but
friendly and in my oxygen deprived brain the evil Count Dracula
comes to mind. I would laugh if I could breathe. Sadly, this is
what it’s like every day in my insanely drunk brain—self-hatred,
drink enough to escape the memories, and crazy analogies that have
absolutely nothing to do with anything. I guess it’s called
avoidance, though there isn’t enough alcohol in the world to avoid
my demons.

Dmitri must realize I’m about to pass
out and even through the fuzzy haze I hear his low growling words,
“I will eventually release you, but first, dragon, we shall have a
short discussion.” He eases up the pressure just a bit, which
allows me to breathe. I suck in air when what I really want is for
him to tighten those deadly fingers and take all the oxygen from my
worthless life. But no, he is so fucking noble.

His amber eyes assess me
and I can see the contempt written clearly in their depths. Before
he begins the
discussion
, I know my welcome at the
club is at an end.

“
You’re done here,” he
whispers, which is actually more threatening than yelling. I can
hear his frustration in each word. It’s the pity in his glowing
eyes that keeps me silent. And he’s not finished, “I’m having you
delivered to the bear clan where you will dry out and get your shit
together. You will not return to the nightclub or any other club
until you’re sober.” His eyes burn a tad brighter. “We will have
another conversation again when you can remember things
clearly.”

My fury combined with alcohol makes me
object to his dictate. “I won’t go and you can’t make me.” And if
that isn’t the biggest, whiny, pussy voice alive, I don’t know what
is. The disgusted look on Dmitri’s face shows he thinks the same
thing.

He grabs my wrist and lifts it toward
his mouth where long canines extend. “I’m not giving you a choice,”
he says right before twin pin pricks enter the vein at my
wrist.

It’s my first vampire bite and I swear
it will be my last because I will kill the bastard for this. A
heavy weight settles in my chest and darkness replaces the alcohol
haze no matter how hard I fight to stay awake. My limbs turn to
jelly and I can no longer move. The only fight still taking place
is in my head.

“
Transport him and have two
guards stationed on the cabin door,” is Dmitri’s fuzzy command
before the world turns pitch black and for a short time, I find
peace.

***

My stomach rebels again and I spew
into a bucket beside the bed. Nothing has stayed down for two days.
I’m retching every few hours and I still crave alcohol. Liquor is
the only escape from the memories and the only thing that’s kept me
semi-functioning for a year. I’m such a pathetic excuse for a
dragon. My ancestors must be rolling in their graves and that
thought bothers me not at all. I need a drink.

The cabin door clicks as it opens. I
barely lift my head from the bucket to see who it is. When I do, I
wish I hadn’t bothered. It’s the person I want to see least.
Without a care in the world, she walks inside like she owns the
place. And shit, she’s in another damned leather getup like she
wears at the nightclub. Goddess, I pray silently in my head, please
end my miserable life because anything is better than being in this
room right now.

I lift my head completely out of the
bucket and wipe away a stream of spit from my lips. I bring my full
attention her way and I’m surprised she doesn’t incinerate on the
spot from my glare. I don’t want her here. Hell, I don’t want her
within a hundred miles of me.

“
Don’t stop puking your
guts up on my account,” she says in a chipper sing-song voice as
she steps closer and places a tray with a bowl and glass of water
on the side table. “I’ve brought you some broth to help you
along.”

Heat builds inside me. It’s a slow
burn that starts in the pit of my stomach and moves up until I can
barely contain it in my throat. I’m miserable and dangerous—not a
good combination. I don’t need anything from her or anyone else.
“Get the fuck out.” I barely move my lips because if I open my
mouth, she will be a pile of ash.

Her assessing glance travels my body
from head to toe. Her eyes move slowly like she’s deciding if I’m
edible or just a pile of shit lying in bed and taking up space. Her
lips tip up at the corners and a wild spark enters her eyes. I
groan when she purses those lips and says, “Make me.”

She’s certifiable. And she
needs to leave. I push my hair back from my face with shaking
fingers. My arms and legs tremble in the same way. I’m lying down,
so at least I don’t suffer the indignity of falling on my ass. From
the smug look on her face, she knows I’m incapable of making
her
do
anything.
Exhaustion rears its ugly head and I’m too pathetically strung out
to fight her any longer. “Why are you here, Sierra?” I ask in a
bored, who-gives-a-fuck voice.

Like she doesn’t have a care in the
entire world, she sits on the side of the bed with absolutely no
fear of me. I know I look like hell and she looks the exact
opposite. Her curly reddish-brown hair swirls around her delicate
face, and thick lashes accent her dark eyes. They literally brush
her cheeks when she blinks. She has a small, elegant pixie nose
with high cheekbones. She’s nothing like the other female bear
shifters I’ve seen. They’re pretty enough, but larger like their
men. I’ve admired Sierra’s beauty on each occasion I’ve been close
enough to sneak a glance or two, which isn’t often. To top
everything off about her delectable body, the outfits she wears are
outrageous.

The nightclub has a strict dress code
for employees—the perfect combination of sexy and elegant. Unless
you work behind the bar as Sierra and her brother do. They rock the
leather in tight, suggestive clothes that have men and women ogling
them every minute of their shift. Today, Sierra is dressed in a
tight, black, midriff bustier, black short-shorts that show off her
legs, and thigh highs with stiletto heels. The damn shoes must be
six inches high. Who the hell wears this shit in a rustic cabin in
the middle of nowhere? Then there’s all that wild hair. A man could
get lost in it while fucking her.

Until now, she’s avoided being near me
even though I always felt her eyes. When she works behind the bar,
she always watches me. Though, in the past few months it hasn’t
been as blatant. Not since she peeked into my room at the nightclub
after I’d spent a night carousing. I had the pleasure of two naked
ladies asleep in bed with me, which Sierra witnessed after she
opened the door. Her steely gaze held disappointment and
sadness.

I don’t give a damn, though. She can
join the club. Bastian, a dragon shifter from the dragon realm,
came to see me and his gaze held disappointment too. It also
contained the added touch of anger, which I deserved. In my grief
over the death of my beloved bride, I tried to kidnap Bastian’s
son, Ashrac. The human bride of Laryn, another of my dragon
brothers, tried to stop me. I practically burned her to a crisp,
incinerating most of her body. The horror of what I did haunts me,
and forgiveness is not what I seek.

I don’t care that Laryn’s bride
transcended to dragon and survived. Our brides are sacred. What I
did is unforgivable. I’d like to think I’d have given Ashrac back
to his parents after he assuaged some of my loneliness, but who
knows. What it comes down to is that I all but killed another
dragon’s bride. Calista, my last bride, would never forgive me any
more than I can forgive myself.

When Bastian came to the nightclub, he
demanded I return to the dragon realm. I told him to go to hell.
Not that I wanted him to join me because really I just wanted to be
alone in hell and drink myself to death. Damn Bastian and damn this
pint-sized female for not leaving me to my nightmare of constant
self-loathing.

“
Are you done glaring at me
or should I just sit here and give you a little more time?” Sierra
asks, cutting off my pity party.

I try again and add biting venom to my
voice, “Why are you here?”

She watches me with such intense
appraisal I’m actually surprised when she answers. Her head cocks
just a bit to the side, a spring of hair falls over her cheek, and
again I see no features that resemble the bear clan females, though
I sense her shifter blood. “I’ve decided to nurse you until you’re
able to help yourself. I needed a break from working the club and
this position is open. You’ve chased away everyone else.” She puts
her hands up and tips her palms toward me a little. “So here I am
and you’re stuck with me.”

Until now, male bear shifters
delivered my food and water and emptied my bucket if I couldn’t
make it to the bathroom. No words were spoken between me and the
bears, so I know Sierra lies. And none of them sat on the side of
my bed and judged me like she’s doing. I can see it in her eyes.
She finds me lacking in every way and worst of all… she pities
me.

The uncontrollable fury that turns
into a blazing circle of pain begins taking over again. “I don’t
want you here,” I groan on a warm breath of air. Too warm. My body
heats with the need to expel fire. I watch Sierra wipe moisture
from her brow.