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Savage Dragon
Anna Hackett
They call him the Savage Dragon: Rordan Sarkany, knight of the Order of the Dragon, charged with tracking and destroying those who let their dragon blood turn them into beasts.In the wilds of Hungary, Rordan hunts one such creature—along with fellow warrior Kira Bethlen. Both Rordan and his inner dragon desire Kira. . . and she can't resist Rordan's dangerous allure. But even if she succumbs to their attraction, can she ever forgive him for slaying her beloved brother?
Savage Dragon
Anna Hackett
The Cycles of Balance
Wood feeds Fire
Fire creates Earth
Earth bears Metal
Metal carries Water
Water nourishes Wood
Wood parts Earth
Earth absorbs Water
Water quenches Fire
Fire melts Metal
Metal chops Wood
Chapter One
He was close.
Rordan Sarkany paused in a small clearing and scanned the trees. He smelled the lush, rich scent of the forest, but under it was the ripe stench of wild dragon.
“You know I’m coming for you, don’t you?” He flexed one hand, eyes alert. “You feel my breath on the back of your neck.”
He studied the thick forest of dark trees surrounding him. He’d tracked the wild relentlessly for the past three days. Three days following the trail through the fir-covered mountains of western Hungary. Three days of persistent pursuit. This wild was very aware of Rordan’s reputation. He’d know his death wasn’t far behind him.
Regret flashed before Rordan clamped down on it. He crouched, scooped up a handful of the rich soil and worked it through his fingers. He’d been killing wild dragons longer than he cared to remember. He’d become so ruthless, so efficient at it, and this would be another kill to add to a long list.
His fingers clenched into a fist. Another friend he’d be forced to destroy. Another kill to push him closer to the edge.
God, he was weary of this. He pushed to his feet, dusted off his hand. But weariness didn’t change the fact he had nothing else in his life but duty.
He pulled his cell phone off his belt. A brief glance showed he had no reception. Not that he’d expected to have it up here. It didn’t matter, anyway; he always worked alone and never required backup.
Straightening his broad shoulders, he slipped the phone back into place and turned in a slow circle. As a knight of the Order of the Dragon, it was his job to track and kill those who turned. Those who let the lure of immortality and their dragon magic twist them into the beast living inside them.
But he wasn’t just a knight, he was a prince of the Dragon Court. His family and the other pure blood dragon lords had a duty to ensure the security of their people. The Orders was their greatest weapon in achieving that.
There. He caught a glimpse of movement in the shadows under the trees. His muscles tensed, his senses sharpened.
He called on his magic and summoned his weapon. A dragon’s magic was based on an element—not the modern elements, but the five ancient ones: Earth, Metal, Water, Wood and Fire.
In an instant, his wooden quarterstaff appeared. It was big, heavy, and fit into his hands like an old lover. He ran his fingers over the ornate image of a dragon carved into it, then over one of the ends sharpened to a wicked point.
The hum of power filled him. His wood magic was entwined with nature. The trees whispered their secrets to him. He heard the wind flow through the leaves and sensed the small animals sheltering nearby.
He reached out with his senses. He was gifted with acute vision, had eyes as sharp as any hawk. His gaze never left the trees as he waited for the attack. He held the staff like an extension of his body. Time extended, the steady beat of his heart thudded in his ears, and the cool forest breeze washed over his skin like a caress.
Then he smelled another scent, one he recognized all too well, an intoxicating blend of leather and pure ocean air. His gut clenched, distracted him for a second.
A weight crashed into his back and sent him stumbling. The staff flew out of his hand as his assailant wrapped arms and legs around him like tight vines.
Together they hit the ground hard. With his attacker’s weight on top of him, the air rushed out of Rordan’s lungs with a grunt.
“Don’t move,” a voice hissed in his ear.
He ignored the advice. In a lightning-fast move, he rolled. There was a brief, violent struggle before he succeeded in pinning his opponent beneath him.
She was beautiful with a classic oval face, angry color riding her high cheekbones and her full lips twisted into a scowl.
Indigo-blue eyes glared at him. “Damn you, Sarkany. What the hell are you doing here?”
“Hello, Kira. Nice to see you, too.” He knew he should get off her, but he liked the feel of her too much. Where their bodies touched, he felt the burn. He’d wanted her all his life, it seemed, even though she hated his guts.
She wriggled and he closed his eyes against the sensation. Flames flashed along his skin, his body hardened. Something she couldn’t fail to feel.
“Get. Off. Me.” Her tone was stiletto sharp.
He pushed himself up, but didn’t get off her. Instead, he stayed straddling her hips, watching her beautiful face.
Kira Bethlen always roused his beast. He’d watched her grow from a gangly, young girl into a strong, stunning woman. The man in him wanted to explore every inch of her enticing body. The dragon in him yearned for a taste of her.
But he was well aware that after what he’d done to her, she’d never forgive him. And he’d never taste those sweet lips.
Something hot flashed in her eyes. “Off, Sarkany. Now.”
He tightened his knees. He let her feel the weight of him, let her know he was stronger, before he got to his feet.
She leaped to hers, shoved her hands under her fur-lined, corduroy jacket and onto her hips. “What are you doing here?”
God, she made a picture. Black leather pants slicked over long legs. The shirt under her coat had enough buttons undone to show a hint of cleavage. A thick, gold chain with a medallion hung in the deep V of the shirt. Her tawny-brown hair was currently tucked away in a long braid that fell over one shoulder. He ached to see it hanging loose and wild around her.
“Answer me!” she snapped.
He arched a brow. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m tracking a wild.”
Her blue eyes narrowed. “I’m tracking this wild. He’s mine.”
Rordan sauntered over to his staff and scooped it up. He planted one end in the ground and leaned on it. “You know the Order rules. The most experienced knight has precedence.”
The breath whistled though her teeth. “Damn you.”
Yeah, she didn’t like being reminded of that. At thirty-six, Rordan had been a knight for almost twenty years. Kira had been a knight for less than half that time.
“Haven’t you killed enough of them already?”
Her words were like a spray of acid on his skin. Jaw set, he stared hard at his staff. Using his magic, he made it disappear. “I’m just doing my job.”
“The great Rordan Sarkany. You know what they call you, don’t you?”
He balled his hands into fists. He didn’t care what the dragons called him. Nor did he listen to their hushed whispers and dark tales. He forced his hands to unclench—big hands that had taken the lives of countless dragons gone bad.
“They call you the Savage Dragon. They say you kill with no remorse, no mercy.”
He turned away from her. He didn’t care what they—what she—said. It was for their benefit that he protected them from the wilds, stopped the beasts from bringing his people to the attention of the human world. Just as the Order had done from ancient times to the modern age. Stopped them from raping and killing humans and dragons alike.
Why do you kill for them? An insidious voice whispered in his head. Why not accept your power, become the savage beast they already think you are?
With sheer force of will, he silenced the voice. “I’m tracking this wild, Kira. You can either team up with me, or find another wild to hunt.”
“What makes you think I’d team up with the man who slaughtered my brother?”
Kira watched Sarkany’s back stiffen. Her words hung between them in the cool afternoon air like black smoke.
“Your brother went wild, Kira,” he said softly, without turning to face her.
Anger coiled in her—just like a deadly snake waiting to strike. Her beloved Marek was dead and this was the man who’d taken him from her. The venom in her boiled, and she wanted to spew it all out on him—the hurt, the anger, the sadness. She hated him, hated him with every drop of her dragon blood.
“No.” She refused to believe that Marek had turned into one of the dark creatures she hunted.
“You know once they cross the line, it’s too late.” Sarkany’s voice was as blank as stone.
“You don’t know that.” She hurled the words at him and clutched her hands together to stop them from trembling. “Marek wasn’t evil. I could have saved him.”
Sarkany swiveled to face her. God, she hated that even now she noticed how striking he was. He was big, six foot five, with broad, muscled shoulders that broadcasted his power. He had a strong face, brilliant green eyes and shaggy brown hair that curled at his collar. Black trousers accentuated lean hips and strong legs, and his white shirt looked stark against his bronze skin. He looked elegant, as if he’d just stepped out of some damned cocktail party.
But his elegance didn’t hide what he was—a warrior, a predator, the most skilled knight of the Order of the Dragon.
Marek, remember Marek. Her brother had been her best friend. There’d been only a year between them. He’d loved computer games, going to parties and teasing her. He’d been so fun-loving, so giving. It was inconceivable he’d let his magic twist him. She would never accept he’d gone wild or that he’d had to die.
She’d never forget that day, four months before, when she’d returned home from a hunt to learn he’d been executed. To learn Marek had lost his life in a dirty back street in Budapest at the hands of the Savage Dragon.
“You murdered him.”
Sarkany stalked over to her, all strength and grace, until only inches separated them. “Don’t be a fool. You’re a knight of the Order. You know it was too late.”
“Don’t call me a fool!” Her gaze clashed with his. Why did he have to be so handsome? So overpowering?
He was no pretty boy. He was one-hundred-percent raw, commanding male. There was nothing pretty about those untamed green eyes that seemed to look right into her. Where she didn’t want anyone to see.
When he took another step closer, their bodies brushed. “Then stop acting like one.”
She wanted to escape the heat of him, but her pride wouldn’t let her. He intimidated her. She hated admitting that, even to herself. She was a knight and she never let anyone intimidate her. Except this man.
Every cell in her body was savagely aware of him. Every nerve ending came to vibrant life. Her dragon stirred and wanted. Lusted.
Kira sucked in a breath. It was just her dragon blood—dragons ran hotter than humans, their beasts intensifying their desires. She refused to be attracted to this man. Shame blazed through her as hot as the lust. She brought to mind the image of her parents, devastated at the loss of their son.
It was only anger she felt for this man. “I could have brought him back.”
Strong hands clamped around her upper arms and dug into her skin. His dark head bent until his lips were but a whisper away from hers.
“If you really believe that, you have no right to be in the Order. If you think you can save them, it’ll make you slow, give them the advantage.” He released her and she stumbled back. “Then you’ll die.”
Her heart thudded with painful clarity. She shook her head. He wasn’t right. She could have saved Marek because they’d shared a strong bond, but she knew the others were dangerous. She had the scars to prove it.
She forced her temper into submission. She had a job to do and she would get it done. “I have what it takes, Sarkany. I’m going after this wild.”
His green eyes flashed. “Then I guess we’re a team, after all.”
She didn’t like the sound of that. She tossed her braid back over her shoulder. “You stay out of my way, I’ll stay out of yours.”
“Just don’t slow me down, Bethlen.”
Chapter Two
Kira did her best to ignore Sarkany as they made their way through the trees. He moved without making a sound and yet her gaze was drawn to his fluid stride.
She huffed out a breath. Focus on the hunt, Kira.
The path they were following was rough and overgrown. She looked at the forbidding peaks above them and the thick forest of trees. “It’s going to get a lot rougher.”
Sarkany shrugged. “That’s why he chose this location—better protection. His lair’s up there and he’ll protect it. Fiercely.”
She nodded and trudged on. It was strange sharing a hunt. She was used to working alone and making her own decisions. What was Sarkany doing here, so far from his assigned hunting grounds? He’d guarded Spain for years, one of the toughest areas—home to the Order of Calatrava.
Her prediction was right. The path got rougher, the trees and vegetation crowding in. The day was dying away and the forest shadows grew darker. She tugged up the collar of her jacket to block the cool air. “The path’s too narrow. We’ll have to go single file.”
“I’ll take the lead.” He started to shoulder past her.
She slapped a hand against his chest. “I’ll take the lead.”
His lips firmed into a hard line. Then he gestured in front of him. “Be my guest.”
They trekked along in silence, but she felt his gaze boring into her back. The tension between them grew, stretched taut, like a band waiting to snap.
