Levi Rowtag blasted a glittering, golden-tipped stream of dragon fire into the rocky heart of the mountain face before him. He was careful to watch the granite as it turned ember-red under the torrent coming from his maw, eventually crumbling with the force and the heat.
They wouldn’t be able to use this technique much farther into this part of the mountain where the spaces would become human-sized by design. He just needed to drill this doorway through to the natural cavern on the other side. Essentially, what would become the front entrance to their new headquarters.
A home. Finally.
Every dragon shifter preferred a base. Usually within a mountain, as evidenced by how the six clans—gold, blue, white, red, black, and green—based in Europe and Asia had each claimed multiple mountain strongholds within their territory as homes for their people. Their kind had been this way for millennia.
After over a century in the Americas dragon shifter colonies working as enforcers sent to uphold the kings’ laws in the “new world,” Levi’s team, the Huracáns, had finally received orders to establish a permanent base. They’d eventually settled on a mountain in Northern California that was smaller but broader at the base, which suited them just fine. So did the region they’d selected.
Rule number one among his kind was humans should never learn of dragon shifters’ existence, and what better way to ensure that than blending in? The discovery of gold in nearby Coloma had brought humans in droves, mining and panning for more of the stuff. Crawling the area like ants. Luckily, that also gave the team the perfect cover story for their “mining” efforts in their mountain.
“Levi, how are you progressing?” His alpha’s voice—scratchy and cadenced with the accent of humans from the Hindustan region in Asia—sounded telepathically in his head, communicating the way all shifters did when in animal form. In this case, Deep directed the thought to the entire team scattered over the mountain.
“Almost through,” Levi answered.
Five minutes later, the last of the mountainside crumbled away. The dust settled slowly, revealing a hole leading into a large natural cavern.
“Damn, I have talent,” he announced.
Out of the cloud of dust and debris a man with black hair and fathomless black eyes emerged from the cavern. “Did you take a nap out there?”
If Levi didn’t know Titus better after more than a century together, he might have been thrown at the seriousness of the man’s expression.
“Do you challenge my prowess, sir?” Levi called back in the affected speech of many wealthy humans of the age. “How dare you? What is it to be? Daggers or pistols at dawn?”
“I’m a better shot than you,” Titus said with that slow, almost reluctant smile of his. Like it pained his face to make the expression.
“We have visitors.” Rune, the other black dragon on the team, cut through the chatter.
Titus and Levi both stiffened, turning to scan the skies.
“To the north,” Rune continued. “Two red dragons. Not ours, Finn, before you ask.”
Red? And strangers? To their knowledge, the nearest dragon shifter settlement was a hundred miles away—a relocated family from the Green Clan.
Focused on the sky in that direction, Titus shifted and joined Levi as he took off, joining Deep, and their beta Finn, to hover in midair and wait patiently. Even Rune was relatively still, and he tended to be an impatient fucker.
Sure enough, from the north over the tall pine trees and shorter black oaks that covered the rolling eastern mountain range, two dragons appeared, one larger, one smaller—a female?—and both deep red in color. They flew slowly and low enough that the scales on their bellies, which could reflect the skies, wouldn’t hide them. In other words, in plain sight.
As soon as they caught a glimpse of the line of shifters waiting, they stopped—far enough away they could hardly be seen or scented.
“Calm the fuck down.” The larger of the two sent the thought ahead of them in a voice that was pure growl.
“Give us good reason,” Deep challenged.
“The Alliance sent me.” Nothing else.
“And do you have a name?” Finn asked, his blue scales blending into the skies more than the others’.
“Drake Chandali.”
Chandali? Seven hells.
A warrior from the line of Pytheios, the King of the Red Clan, and the defacto High King of all dragon shifters. To be an enforcer was an honor reserved for the best fighters from each clan, but damn.
The two newcomers held their distance, waiting to be invited closer. Smart.
“Is this your mate?” Deep asked next. Smaller usually meant female.