Prologue

Craignamore Castle,

Dundaire, Scotland

Five years ago…

Balancing on the stacked stone fence surrounding the back gardens of Craignamore Castle, Rylie had the perfect view of Balon's balls. Not that she needed to be so high above the ground to take aim at the statue's private parts, as the dragon sculpture was massive, but the fate of her leisure was at stake this morning. And missing her mark would be devastating to her summer plans.

"Hit him square between the eyes and I'll make your bed for a month," Adyson said from below. "I love it when the stone hits that exact spot as it makes Balon look like he's a cyclops."

Her sister obviously hadn't learned much from her mythology lessons in school. "A cyclops has only one eye."

"Whatever. I still like it when your marble strikes him in the center of his forehead."

She held her position and waited for the baby of the family to chime in next as Taryn always tried to outdo them all.

"I'll top that," Tar said. "Shoot him directly in either nostril and I'll do your laundry for two months. Miss the shot and you'll do mine."

She scoffed. Younger siblings were so easy to deceive.

"Are you up to it?" Taryn asked.

"Of course, I am." She never backed down from a challenge. That, and she was certain she'd win. "I can't believe you even asked."

According to family tradition, as the oldest of the St. George trio, she should be idolized by her younger sisters. At least that's what it said in the stories her late mother used to read to her. And her mother had read those stories to her even before they'd moved from New York City back to their ancestral homeland of Dundaire, Scotland.

But in those wild tales, the world was quite different from the normal one she'd grown up in. For starters, the stories spoke of Highland skies being ruled by dragons. Dragons that were fierce and huge and who took virgins as sacrifices in exchange for not scorching the towns. And it was the brave warriors of the St. George family who'd slayed those dragons. Rylie had read numerous stories of the men and women who'd come before her. And according to those tales, the St. George Dragon Slayers were once revered around the world, their accounts of wielding magical weapons and taking on the biggest beasts known to man were legendary.

Of course she knew better than to believe in tall tales. The dragon myths of Dundaire were just that—myths. Supernatural beasts simply didn't exist.

But nothing said she couldn't pretend dragons lived. She liked mastering the slingshot and Balon made the perfect target upon which to hone her skill. Plus, she was good at the sport, not missing her mark once in over a year now.

Raising the slingshot and positioning it just so, she glanced at her sisters. "Are you both certain about your bets?"

"Aye," Addy answered.

Taryn nodded a mere second later. "Definitely. Now hit him, will you?"

"You're supposed to be against me, Tar. Not with me."

"I'm not really in your corner. I just like seeing the spark that bounces off the stone when it hits the statue."

At least her sister was honest. "Then get ready, but know this, you'll both be doing my chores for the next three months because after I hit Balon in the nostril and then between the eyes, I'll also hit him in the balls."

Addy gasped. "You wouldn't dare!"

She shrugged. "Why not? He's just a hunk of stone." A beautiful hunk of stone, one she'd been drawn to since the day they'd moved into Craignamore. But despite her affection for Balon, he was still nothing more than an inanimate object. She would never shoot at a living being. "Stand back."

Her sisters ran to the far ends of the stone fence, taking cover well outside the path of the slingshot's aim.

With tension drawn, Rylie released the pouch.

She held her breath.

Raising her hand to her forehead to block out the sun, she tracked the shot. It spun like mad as it hurled through the air, a slight whirling sound trailing its path.

Rylie smiled.

Just a bit more.

The stone landed precisely in Balon's right nostril, a spark emitting from his nose.

Taryn clapped. "You did it yet again!"

"And you lost, yet again," Addy stated. "You're now officially responsible for cleaning Rylie's knickers for the next twelve weeks."

"Better than cleaning yours." Taryn stuck out her tongue.

Rylie smirked. "Don't think you're off the hook, Addy. I have no intention of missing the next two marks." She reloaded the slingshot.

Adyson wandered back toward the stone fence and glanced up at Rylie. "Even if you do hit Balon between the eyes, making a bed is far more pleasant than doing the washing."

"Remember Kitty sleeps with me." The twenty-year old calico was probably the only sloppy cat in existence. She had a thing for occasionally hoarding sardines in her personal space, which just happened to be the bottom of Rylie's bed. "The sheets must get changed every time her senility kicks in."

Addy's shoulders slumped. "I wish Da would stop feeding Kitty those smelly fish. They stink worse than a dragon's breath."

Taryn arched one brown eyebrow. "How do you know what a dragon's breath smells like?"

"I've inhaled a whiff or two when Balon grunts." Addy wiggled her toes, her bare feet strewn with blades of grass.

Rylie glared down at her sisters. "A statue does not breathe."

"What makes you think it can't?" Addy asked. "Craignamore grumbles. In fact, the castle does a lot worse than merely grunt and complain."

The morning's bright sun was clearly impacting her sister's mind. "That's different. Craignamore is built on a fault line and occasionally shakes because of it. Weren't you listening when Da explained it all when we first moved in?"

Pulling out the elastic from her long, brown hair, Addy shrugged. "I'd rather think it was alive. It's much more romantic imagining your house having a heart rather than a foundation subject to earthquakes."

"I agree," Taryn said. "I feel the same about all the strange things that happen here in Dundaire. It's like we live in one of those magical worlds we read about in books."

Rylie rolled her eyes. "Dundaire is not magical. It's just a top-secret location where covert government operations are carried out. It's why Da says we can never talk about anything we see, hear or feel in Dundaire when we travel outside the area. If instincts tell us to remain silent, then we don't talk about it. He says it's our responsibility as the daughters of a man who works for Dundaire's underground projects." Her father had always been secretive about the work he did. But it was normal for them as that was how their world had been from day one. Some kids were Army brats. She and her sisters were the brats of a Scottish research scientist who did covert work for the government.

Taryn frowned. "Government is boring. Pretending in magic is much more fun."

Her sisters were such dreamers.

But the bet she was about to win was firmly planted in reality.

Rylie shifted her focus back to Balon's stone form.

"Now, for my final victory." She re-aimed her slingshot and fired off the next volley.

It landed square between Balon's eyes, then bounced off and hit him a second time in his lower extremities.

On impact, a huge fiery flame erupted into the air.

As did a rather loud ping.

Followed by an even noisier snap.

The stone Rylie shot had hit Balon precisely in the balls.

And she couldn't have been happier. "I'm free! Three whole months to enjoy summer and not deal with chores." She jumped off the fence.

"That was quite the show, Rye," Taryn said.

"I agree," Addy added, a slight smile consuming her lips despite now having to make an extra bed for the next twelve weeks. "But that flame was not normal. You really hit him hard."

Rylie dashed toward the statue. "I hope I didn't damage my stone. It took me days to find one that large."

"Maybe you should have used a smaller one." Addy inched up behind her.

"A smaller one wouldn't have done the job. Balon's huge."

"We really shouldn't be discussing such a lewd topic," Taryn said. "Da would die if he heard us." She giggled.

Rylie plucked her stone from the grass and inspected the object before shoving it into the leather pouch slung across her chest. Tilting her head, she settled her gaze on Balon's private parts. "If Mum were still alive, she'd probably be out here, laughing along with us."

Neither of her sisters commented.

She imagined they missed their mother's bright presence as much as she did. For the last five years their father had been so lost to grief that he'd not only refused to date or be happy in any way but had also kept his home free of all celebrations. Presents, parties, and family gatherings were scarce at Craignamore.

A grumble reached her right ear.

Rylie stepped back, her bare heels sinking into the wet grass. "Did you hear that?"

Taryn shook her head. "Hear what?"

"I thought…" Maybe she was just imagining things thanks to Addy's lofty storytelling. Statues were not living creatures. In the least they did not grumble.

"You shot off his stuff," Taryn said, holding up a rather large chunk of stone resembling two testicles she'd picked up from the lawn in front of the dragon sculpture. "Da is going to kill you."

"Give me that." Riley reached forward and snatched the loot from Tar's palm. "I'll fix it."

Adyson cocked her head. "How? You're not a sculptor. You can't even draw a stick figure straight, let alone work in this medium." She jutted her thumb at Balon's stone body.

"I'll glue it back."

Tar leaned closer to the statue's lower half. "You took the whole thing off." She pointed to the ground. "Look here, you shot off all three parts. Including his extremely long and thick…"

"I can see what I did, thank you. No explanations necessary."

"Girls!" Her father's booming voice bellowed from the castle's back balcony.

Adyson jumped. "I refuse to die at fifteen for something I did not do." She turned to Taryn. "Da will go easier on you. You're the baby."

"Thirteen is not a baby. But still, I am not taking the blame for what Rye did. No way am I going down for this."

"No one is going to take the blame for what I did." She was off to university at the end of summer, so enduring her father's wrath for a few months was not going to kill her. "I'll tell him after dinner."

"Oh, good," Tar said. "Last time you angered him, he held back dessert for a month. And I do not want to lose out on Mrs. Graves' apple cobbler tonight. Wait until after we each get a slice before confessing." Taryn spun around and ran back to the castle without waiting for Rylie's confirmation.

Adyson abandoned her as well, following Tar a mere step behind.

Traitors.

Though she really couldn't blame them. Their father was going to be beyond angry once he learned what she'd done. Balon was her mother's pride and joy. The centerpiece of her personal garden.

And now she'd broken the beast.

Not that the creature didn't deserve her anger. Her mother died in this garden. She'd spent that day digging in the dirt at the base of Balon's huge form, but the beast did nothing to fulfill the woman's deepest wish. All her mother ever wanted was to discover the quartz eagle that had gone missing from the indent in Balon's chest. The ancient artifact dated back to when the Romans inhabited Scotland. It had originally been embedded in the famed Draco Slab; a stone marker rumored to have once stood in the Atonine Wall. The piece of quartz had been removed from the slab centuries later and placed in Balon's chest shortly before Culloden. Then it went missing once the Germans began bombing Scotland during World War Two. One day she planned to pick up where her mum had left off. It's what her mother had requested of her in the letter she'd left for her. She said her future depended on restoring the slab. Not that Rylie knew what that message meant as her mum did not go into details.

If only they'd had more time together. She missed her mother something fierce.

And her father with his cold ways didn't make the situation any easier. He hadn't once talked to Rylie or her sisters about their mother's death. Or about her life. It was as if the dear woman hadn't existed at all.

And that was painful.

Thank goodness she had the trusty slingshot her mother had given to her. It might not be the ideal way to vent, but it was something.

With a sigh, she stared at the very large length of stone lying on the ground. She hadn't meant to shoot off Balon's cock but now that she had, she couldn't help but stare at thing. With her mother dead, there was no one to discuss such matters with. Though she highly doubted any real male would be as huge as was the dragon. Even her horse wasn't that large. And thanks to Da's strict ways, dating was not an option. She was probably the only nearly eighteen-year-old in all of Dundaire who hadn't yet been kissed.

She bent and reached for the last of Balon's broken off parts.

The earth shook.

She gasped and fell forward, her open palms smacking against Balon's thick scale-covered chest.

Her fingers tingled as heat sparked through her flesh and up her arm.

The tantalizing odor of bergamot mixed with worn leather and a hint of dragon fire accosted her nose. She consumed the smell, inhaled every last note of it.

Inching back, she wiped her palms over her white sundress and then simply stared at the statue.

She hadn't realized how large Balon's eyes truly were. Being that they'd been chiseled from stone, they didn't have color like a human's eyes, but for some reason she imagined they would be blue if Balon were real. A magnificent blue, much like the sky on a cloudless day.

She lowered her gaze to the beast's claws. He had huge palms. And even bulkier arms, arms she suddenly imagined reaching out and pulling her toward him, locking her waist within their grasp.

Heat sizzled through Rylie's veins.

"Stop it," she whispered. "I'll never believe in you. And you shouldn't try to make me believe in you either, because if you were real, then I'd be the slayer charged with killing you. A slayer is neither a dragon's friend, nor its plaything. So stop it, now."

The heat plaguing her veins suddenly died out.

Rylie spun around; her right hand balled into a tight fist.

A pair of very human blue eyes bore into her from the opening between the nearby row of privet hedges.

Zerek. Her unnerving, though extremely cute, neighbor always appeared at the most inopportune times.

"You're a menace with that thing," Zerek said.

"Am not."

"Are to. You said you'd never shoot a living being and yet you shot Balon."

She placed her hands on her hips and faced Zerek head on. "What are you getting at, MacKenzie? Balon is not a person nor an animal. He's not even a beast, such as yourself."

Zerek laughed. "Ye really don't have a clue, do ye, my beautiful lass."

"I am not your lass. In fact, I'm not your anything." The guy was infuriating despite having those captivating eyes, luminous blond hair, and even that faint brogue that seemed to come and go at whim as he spoke. She really did hate that she found the prat attractive.

Averting her gaze away from the arrogant Zerek, Rylie slipped Balon's cock into her satchel to rest with the other pieces of his privates.

Zerek moaned. "You're verra good with those lovely hands of yours."

She really was losing her patience now. "You should scat, MacKenzie. I never said I wouldn't shoot a beast."

She glanced back toward the hedges.

The gap in the middle of the row now stood empty, Zerek MacKenzie nowhere in sight.

Bloody Dundaire.

She marched back toward the castle and vowed to never aim her slingshot at Balon again.