Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

DRAGONKIND

The cave was warm and sheltered, like a womb, like a birthing place, which was why he had chosen it…

The first time Torran shifted into his dragon was when he held his dying father in his arms. Overwhelmed by grief and anger, he watched as the King of Dragons changed from a majestic creature into human skin and bone, and finally to dust that blew away on the wind.

Death was always a risk when an enemy stuck a space-iron spear into the belly of a dragon, Torran reflected grimly as he prepared to transform. He'd always known his father was a shifter. His mother, an earthling and a laird's daughter, had bequeathed Kildear Castle in the Highlands of Scotland to Torran upon her death. Brokenhearted, his mother had lived barely a month after his father was killed, and that was ten years ago now, by human reckoning.

In a lasting tribute to his parents, Torran had restored the ancient Castle of Kildear to its former splendor. This took only a minute portion of the massive wealth he had accumulated thanks to his earthbound company, Dragonclaw Global Security.

Threats from the White Hordes that killed his father had continued, forcing Torran to split his time between Earth and Thorgar, the alternate dimension that existed alongside Earth.

His mother had begged Torran to remain human and forget his dragon side. Who wants to live forever? she'd whispered before passing into the velvet night. That option was taken from Torran when his father warned that the battle to save Earth must go on and that Torran was destined to lead the forces of Thorgar. "You must accept your dragon to keep our worlds safe."

When he questioned the druids about his father's death, they told him there was only one way to kill a dragon, and that was to deal it a mortal blow with a sword forged out of space iron. This suggested his father had been killed by a member of the White Hordes army, as vampires were renowned for their skill in the manufacture of space-iron weapons.

"But how could they get to him?" he had asked one of the white-cloaked mystics. "Unless there's a traitor in our midst?"

"That is for you to find out," he'd been told.

Avenging his father's death was Torran's pledge, and many had perished in the fire of his anger. Hailed as a dragon overlord in his father's place, he had never ceased hunting for the traitor. He never would. A shifter's life was long, and Torran's hunger for revenge was boundless. Old magic coursed through his veins, fueling his anger. As a guardian of both Earth and Thorgar, Torran was bound by humanity to some small degree, but his dragon's thirst for vengeance was stronger.

It was time.

He brought about The Change by sheer force of will. It was a beautiful pain, both agony and ecstasy, and one he endured with grim satisfaction. Welcoming the searing heat surging through his veins, he exulted in the torture of rippling muscle tightening and tightening again as his bones elongated. Gleaming scales replaced human skin, coating him in impenetrable armor.

This all-encompassing shield wore an alien tint of rainbow black unknown on Earth, and, like a chameleon, he could change color at will. The final act saw wings rise from his back. Folded for the moment, they would soon be revealed in all their gold-tipped splendor.

With a primal scream of intent, he left the cave. Birds fell silent and all other animals scurried for cover until they realized who it was. All creatures of both Earth and Thorgar knew that Torran lived to protect them.

With a great exhalation that caused smoke to billow from his nostrils and mouth, he embraced his sharper dragon brain and sharper dragon senses. Blessed with second sight in human form, when he was in his dragon body, Torran's powers were infinite.

Easing his neck, he bit down with gleaming white fangs on the fire of revenge that often threatened to consume him. On his last visit to Thorgar, he had discovered the White Hordes were attempting to rise again. They must be stopped. Torran would lead that battle. Hence the Gathering. He'd called a meeting of the entire dragon clan. Opening the portal between Earth and Thorgar to allow this to happen was always a risk, but it signaled danger and was a call to arms. The next span of time, whether that be a matter of hours or millennia, would determine all dragons' fate, as well as that of Earth.

Swinging his formidable fire-breathing head from side to side, Torran assessed his surroundings. Scents and sounds were amplified to the point where owls soaring on silent wings passed by like swooping thunder. Prey scurrying for cover sounded like a bison stampede, while insects clicked and rustled in the undergrowth, creating a ceaseless drumroll of activity. Storm clouds gathered overhead, billowing and breathing like living things.

He was ready.

He shook out his wings. Their majestic span shaded the moonlit glen. He was hungry for knowledge, for flight, and for sex. A dragon's appetite was boundless.

But first…

Soaring upward, he broke through the cloud cover and exulted in the power of flight.