Scorched By Flames: Hot Paranormal Dragon Shifter Romance (Hidden Realms of Silver Lake Book 10) Read online

  Scorched By Flames

  Hidden Realms of Silver Lake

  Book 10

  Vella Day

  Scorched By Flames

  Copyright © 2020 by Vella Day

  Kindle Edition

  www.velladay.com

  [email protected]

  Cover Art by Jaycee DeLorenzo

  Edited by Rebecca Cartee and Carol Adcock-Bezzo

  Published in the United States of America

  E-book ISBN: 978-1-951430-19-1

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except in the case of brief questions embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Dedication

  A big thank you to Zulema Barbosa for inviting us to our first Costa Rica party. You always made us feel so welcome!!

  And to Tamarella Higden and her daughter Aislyn for being such gracious hosts in Houston.

  The assignment? Kill or be killed. The problem? This she-dragon’s target is her destined mate.

  Dragon shifter, Zulema Garcia, has been trained as a fierce fighter from an early age. All is well until the day she’s captured by the Zon, a group of powerful warlocks and witches. Their demand? To keep her family safe, Zulema must kill Bevon Forrester—a powerful Fey. Zulema is willing to do it—until she realizes Bevon is her one and only mate. Now what is she supposed to do?

  Bevon is thrilled that his older brother is next in line to become the Feyrion king, since freely roaming both Tarradon and Feyrion suits Bevon just fine. Only a broken heart could dampen his spirits.

  Life is great until an assassin shows up—in the form of a sexy, female dragon shifter. Oh, this should be fun. He can’t be killed by the usual methods, so Bevon decides to have some fun with Zulema Garcia.

  Let the games begin!

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  About the Book

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Other Books by the Author

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Pain stabbed the back of Zulema Garcia’s head, throbbing and pulsating until the agony was enough to rouse her into consciousness. Moaning, she licked her dry lips.

  What the hell just happened? And where was she? Wherever it was, the stench of this place made her stomach revolt. As bile raced up her throat, Zulema managed to open her eyes and spit out what was left of her last meal.

  Like the trained warrior she was though, she assessed her situation to determine any present dangers. When she detected no immediate threats, she worked on a plan to get out of there—wherever that was.

  It was dark. That much was evident. And damp, which implied her captor was probably holding her in some kind of basement or underground bunker. What was worse than the fetid smell was the fact that her hands and feet were shackled and bolted to the floor. Crap. Someone was determined to keep her there.

  Zulema had been in worse situations—trained for stuff like this in fact—but that didn’t mean it would be easy to escape. Thankfully, she wasn’t an ordinary dragon shifter. Her father had been a powerful warlock, and as such, she could teleport, among other things.

  Closing her eyes, Zulema pictured her home at the edge of Avonbelle Province. With a nod, she imagined flying across Tarradon. When she opened her lids, she hadn’t moved. And that made her mad.

  “Hey! Anyone there?” she called, unable to keep her anger in check any longer.

  This had to have been some kind of mistaken identity. Last night, Zulema had gone out with friends to a local bar. Sure, she’d had a few drinks, but as a dragon shifter, it was near to impossible for her to get any kind of buzz. She remembered leaving through the back of the bar to the alley, ready to teleport home. Only she didn’t remember reaching her destination. Or should she say, it was apparent from her current situation that she never made it there. But who would kidnap her? Her family was poor, which meant this wouldn’t be about any ransom.

  The door to her enclosed room opened, letting in scant streams of light. “I see you’re awake. That’s unfortunate.”

  Unfortunate? What did that mean? The man, whose face she couldn’t make out, bent over, and unlocked her chains, and a trickle of hoped surged. “Why did you take me?”

  “To save you and your family, Zulema.”

  Damn it. If he knew her name, she’d specifically been targeted, but it still made no sense. “We don’t need saving.”

  He smiled, or at least some light flashed off his teeth enough to make it look like he had. “You do. From us.”

  Us? Her stomach churned. If she understood her situation better, she would have changed her hands into fire shooting weapons and burnt him to death.

  The man bent over her. She felt a prick on her neck, and then her vision turned white.

  When she awoke, she was in a different room, one that was a lot brighter and possessed a bed. While this was an improvement, the absolute silence disturbed her soul. What kind of game were they playing?

  This room, while cleaner, was too warm. As a dragon shifter, the muggy heat didn’t settle well with her, but she’d deal. Because she wasn’t tied down this time, Zulema sat up and slowly eased to her feet. The ten by ten room had white-washed cement walls and no windows. There was a toilet attached to the wall and a slightly stained sink with a mirror above it on the other side. This was definitely a jail cell of some kind.

  Zulema checked out the room thoroughly, looking for some kind of camera or listening device. When she was convinced she wasn’t being watched, she pounded on the door. “Why am I here?”

  When no one answered, she returned to the bed. Without a doubt, someone had drugged her. Now that she was feeling a bit better, she concentrated on teleporting the hell out of there. But no matter how hard she tried, she remained in the room, and that fact scared her more than anything. Had her captor somehow stolen her magic? While no one had taken it from her before, she had heard there were people with that ability.

  Teleporting wasn’t her only skill though. Zulema held out her arms to transform them into fire shooting claws. When nothing appeared, her pulse skyrocketed. She rushed up to the door and pounded on it again. “I want answers.”

  Then she waited. And waited some more. She paced, but time didn’t pass any faster.

  Eventually, she de
cided that the only way to regain her abilities was to rest. The drugs, or maybe it was some spell, would eventually wear off—or so she hoped. They’d also have to feed her, and when they did, she’d make her move.

  Zulema returned to the hard bed and lay down and almost instantly succumbed to sleep.

  “Wake up,” a sharp voice said, his stinking breath close to her face.

  He then stabbed her side with some kind of electric poker, forcing Zulema to bolt upright. A man with black eyes and greasy, long hair yanked her to her feet. “The boss wants to talk to you. Try anything and you’ll die.”

  It took some effort not to laugh at his corny line. “Sure. Unhand me, and I’ll be a model prisoner.”

  He jerked her arm at her snarky response. Two other men stepped into the room—dragon shifters to be precise. Darn. With the ceiling only ten feet tall, she wouldn’t be able to shift and fight, though at the moment, she wasn’t sure she could shift. None of her powers seemed to be working.

  Wanting them to believe she had no intention of escaping, she followed the first man. The second and third fell into place next to her. Surrounded. Damn.

  The hallway had the same white-washed cement block walls with the same fluorescent lights rimming the ceiling. “Are we underground?” she asked, not really expecting them to answer.

  “Yes.”

  She appreciated the information, but knowing it wouldn’t make escaping any easier. Zulema was eventually led to a closed door, and the man who’d awoken her, knocked.

  “Come in,” said a voice from the inside.

  Her guard opened it up and shoved her in. What was up with these people? Whatever. At least, she was still on her feet and no longer in chains.

  The office was surprisingly opulent—at least by her standards. Filled bookcases, a lavish gold brocade sofa, and a bar with a vast amount of liquor that took up most of the room. That, and a large man.

  “Have a seat,” the stranger said.

  She blinked a few times, but his face appeared blurred out—which was impossible, unless he was a hologram or some kind of artificial intelligence.

  “Are you in this room?” she asked.

  “No, which means harming me is impossible.”

  Darn. Wanting to hear what this extremely life-like image had to say, she sat on the edge of the sofa. Because she was dirty, Zulema didn’t want to mess up the furniture and chance being punished.

  “Drink?” he asked, as he stepped over to the bar and poured himself a glass of some amber colored liquid. How was that possible if he wasn’t there?

  “No, thank you.”

  “It’s not drugged.”

  She lifted her chin. “Do people often accuse you of drugging them?” Someone had given her something to knock her out the first time.

  He might have smiled, but she couldn’t tell. “Sometimes, but I don’t want you harmed. I have a proposition for you.”

  This ought to be good. “Do I have a choice whether to accept or not?”

  “You always have a choice.”

  That interested her. “Do tell.”

  “Let me apologize for the way we had to meet.”

  “You mean from the way you kidnapped, drugged, and restrained me?” she asked, unable to keep the ire from her tone.

  “Yes. You see, I need your help.”

  “Seriously? My help? Just so you know, asking outright, without the kidnapping part, would have been more effective.”

  “When you hear what I want, you might see why I had to take such drastic measures.”

  She was tired of this run around. “Just tell me.”

  “I need someone killed—someone who murdered my mate—and you are the perfect person to do it.”

  Zulema almost laughed. “For starters, I’m not an assassin.” The man had to be on drugs.

  “I beg to differ. Haven’t you been training to fight your whole life?”

  Zulema’s blood ran cold. “You’ve been watching me?”

  “Let’s say, we keep tabs on those who interest us.”

  Her skin crawled. “Who are you people?”

  “We call ourselves the Zon. We are a cabal of warlocks and witches, here to help restore order to the realm.”

  Not likely. They probably wanted to destroy all things good. “I’m not interested. Nor would I be any good. I’ve only killed to protect myself, my family, or a client.”

  The stranger downed his drink and set it on the bar—a bar that was slightly different from the one in this room. “You don’t understand. I know your ill mother and sister are very important to you since your father was tragically killed when you were young.”

  Breathing suddenly became difficult. At the mention of her mom and sister, every protective gene flared. “They are important but leave them out of this.”

  Her mother was afflicted with a disease no one seemed able to identify, and she was very near the end of her life.

  “On the contrary. We plan to use them to make you do our bidding.”

  More bile rose up her throat. This was her worse nightmare. “What exactly do you want from me?”

  “Just what I said. To kill a man.”

  “Who?”

  “His name is Bevon Forrester, and he murdered my mate. For that, he needs to die.”

  “If this is about retribution, why not kill him yourself? I bet you’d feel better if you did.”

  He faced her—or rather his image turned toward her. “That’s where you come in. I don’t have the ability to do so. You see, the man is a Fey.”

  Against her will, Zulema laughed. “You do realize Feys can’t die?”

  “That’s what they want you to believe. For one thing, treniam, a special plant, can seriously harm them. I believe that is what killed my mate—that and her fatal wounds.”

  “I’ve never heard of that plant.”

  “It grows only on Feyrion, which is the realm where most of the Feys reside. A number of the plants were harvested here by some demons a while back, but the Feys destroyed the stash. We failed to gather some for ourselves, and that was an oversight on our part.”

  Now Zulema leaned back against the sofa, not caring if she dirtied it. “Feyrion, you say. No problem. I’ll just pop on over there, grab a handful, and ask this Bevon dude to eat some.”

  The man’s expression remained blurred, but from his fisted hands, he didn’t appreciate her sarcasm. “One merely needs to touch Forrester’s skin with it to weaken him dramatically. Once he is ill, I believe an arrow to the heart would end his life.”

  So that was why she’d been selected. She was an expert marksman, and the crossbow was her specialty. “Sure. Easy.” Or not. “As soon as he notices the arrow heading toward him, he’ll teleport. He is a Fey after all.” Not that she knew much about his kind other than a few tidbits the witch world had regaled her with.

  “He can, but so can you.”

  Zulema laughed. “Really? Trust me, I can’t. I’ve tried.”

  “We have blocked all of your powers for the time being. Once you agree to help us, your powers will be restored.”

  The whole idea that someone could block her powers scared her almost as much as their threat to harm her family—and most likely her. “Even with my powers at full force, I can’t create a portal.”

  “I’ve solved that problem. Inside the folder in front of you is a small medallion. This will allow you access to Feyrion. I’ve written down the instructions on how to use the device.”

  He was something else. “Once I arrive, I imagine there will be sentries to challenge why I am there. It’s not like I can tell them that I want to collect some treniam so I can kill Bevon Forrester.”

  “No. Tell them you are a friend of my late mate’s.”

  He had thought this through. “If I’m a friend of hers, people would expect me to know your name.”

  The silence that followed spoke volumes—as did the blurred out face. “Fine. My name is Derrick Valoric.”

  “Thank you. Should I ne
ed to contact you about anything, how can I reach you?”

  “The same medallion can communicate with me.”

  She was impressed with his thoroughness, albeit disgusted with the concept of killing anyone in cold blood, whether he deserved it or not. “What can you tell me about this murderer?”

  Zulema would do anything to keep her family from harm. Considering her mother was helpless in a nursing home, this man and his kind could reach her rather easily—and that thought sickened her.

  “There’s a dossier in the folder. Study it.”

  Zulema picked it up. When she opened it, her heart rate skyrocketed. While she’d never seen this Fey before, Bevon Forrester’s eyes were kind. And that smile. Oh, my. That smile made her heart flutter—something that never happened. Though that might have been how he was able to get close to the woman he supposedly killed.

  Zulema read further. “Tamarella Warnom was his cousin? Why would he kill her?”

  “Why, indeed?” the man asked.

  This didn’t make sense. “Are you sure he killed her?”

  “According to the man my mate was arranged to marry, it was Bevon who killed her.”

  She held up her hand. “Whoa. I thought you said that this Tamarella woman was your fated mate.”

  “She was, only her father decided that if she, a Fey princess, married this warlock, that the resulting empires would grow immensely strong.”

  Arranged marriages didn’t happen on Tarradon, though Zulema had heard they occurred a long, long time ago on Earth. “I see. My only job then is to kill Bevon?”

  “Yes.”

  “How do I prove to you that he is really dead?”

  “I’ll know. The Zon is everywhere.” With that the man disappeared.

  Zulema expected the doors to burst open and the guards to drag her back to her cell, but no one came. Since she could use that offered drink right about now, Zulema stepped over to the bar and poured herself one. With some hesitation, she sipped the liquid. The warm, smooth liquor was perfect. Not that she had a built-in poison detector in her body, but this was the good stuff.