About Dragon Treasure
Author: Minerva Howe
Word Count: 51000
Page Count (pdf): 220
Series: Dragon Hoard
Genre: Paranormal, Mpreg
Date Published: 04/06/2021
Publisher: Turtlehat Creatives
Heat Rating: 3 rainbows
File Types available: pdf, epub, mobi
This title has been moved to KU
Dragon shifter Tyson has been hearing a distant call for months now, a lonely cry that he hopes is his mate. All he has to do is find out where it’s coming from. When the mournful voice screams for help, Tyson leaves his home and his brothers in the mountains of Colorado to rescue Myc, another dragon who’s in a terrible and dangerous situation. Nursing Myc and his niece and twin nephews back to health, Tyson knows he’s found what he’s looking for, but he doesn’t want to push. He’s waited this long. He can wait until Myc is ready to mate with him.
Myc knows Tyson is the one for him, but he’s lost his home and his family, and he’s not sure he knows how to convince Tyson he’s not shy or fragile. He also knows he’s added three more kids to Tyson’s rapidly growing family, and he’s afraid to ask Tyson to mate with him and have more.
Tyson and Myc have to fight the past, their own fears, and their deep, stubborn notions of what’s right to come together with the kind of love they both know they can make.
Tyson woke in the middle of the night, heart racing, a desperate cry ringing in his ears. Help me.
That wasn’t the call he’d heard before. The lonely, mournful nighttime voice had been in his dreams since… Well, since his baby brother Brand had mated, starting a cycle that seemed to have been prophesied for eons. It had called to him with no words to begin with. Then it had begun to morph into the cry of a mate. Find me. Love me.
Now, though, Ty’s skin prickled with a sense of danger, and he felt a tiny crystalline crust appear on his nostrils as his power tried to escape his body.
“Control yourself, asshole,” Tyson muttered. Unlike his younger brothers, who breathed fire and steam, respectively, Tyson’s inner dragon tapped directly into the earth, and he could breathe shards of crystal that could cut a man to ribbons. Or ruin a perfectly good Persian carpet, and his middle brother Eagan wouldn’t thank him for that. Eagan was the antique hoarder, after all, not Tyson.
He rolled out of bed, feeling the need to secure the house. He shrugged into his robe, a violently pink affair printed with flamingos. A gift from youngest brother Brand’s mate Devon. Their daughter Arielle had picked it out.
Tyson wished he could be content with the amazing family he had, who had come to live at his compound high in the mountains of Colorado, farther away from the humans they pretended to be like while their young grew. They had safety in numbers, a fine home, and all the cookies Ty could eat, provided by his brothers’ mates and his housekeeper Helena.
But that voice. Help me. Tyson prowled the house, finding nothing so much as a chair out of place. His jewels were secure, even the emerald he had found to put in the amazing golden setting he’d made months ago. He’d been so sure when he found the right stone, he would find the voice…
But things happened in their own time. Or so his brothers assured him. Tyson was not the patient one. That was Eagan. Or the polite one. That was Brand.
He was the big one who growled a lot.
He looked out the window, gauging the time. It would still be dark for hours. He shucked the robe, heading to the kitchen door, which would lock itself after him.
It couldn’t hurt, right? He would do a few sweeps around the compound, maybe take an hour or two to soar over the mountains. Just to see what he could see.
That voice wasn’t just in his dreams anymore. Tyson had to find its owner. He had to. It was more than a need now. It was a biological imperative. Whatever was wrong, he had to help.
It was time to fly.
Help me. Please.
Mykel Ladon dangled from the massive chains that held him, magic drained from him until he was unable to shift, unable to move.
So he called out to that force, to that impossible promise that kept calling to him, kept reaching for him in his dreams, and he begged. Help me. Please.
The house was so much bigger inside than it appeared from the outside, like a Tardis from that show his eldest brother Jon loved so—had loved. Jon and Luuk were gone, beheaded along with their mates, and all the babies had been taken with him…
He let his head fall forward, his back scraping along the rough-hewn stones that made up the vast underground dwelling of these fucking bloodsuckers that had stolen the little ones.
Nevada was three, and old enough to know what was happening, but the boys—Sydney and Leonard—they were tiny, and they only knew pain and fear.
Help me! His roar wasn’t even a whisper, but one of the bloodsuckers turned to look at him, a vicious expression on her face.
“You know, as nice as you taste, you have nothing on the younglings.”
“No.” The word burst out of him. Goddess, help him and his niece and nephews. These vampires were never going to let them go, so he had to find a way out. Had to. If he could just get out of the chains.
He could sense the roots of pines all around them, and he knew one was pushing, steady and slow as the energy would allow, toward the place where he was bound to the stone. Roots would beat stone, every time. They dug in, pushed in with tiny hairs and found every crack.
He closed his eyes, listening, not just to the trees, but for the deep voice that called back to him, and he heard it. Faint but there. Where? Where are you? I’m looking.
Goddess yes. Please. Please be real. Help me. There’s a cabin outside Aurora. It doesn’t look like anything, but we’re underneath. Help me.
I’m coming. Aurora. I know it. I’ll find it.