Cheyenne Magic Read online

  Contents

  Summary

  Aaron Crash's Mailing List

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  TWENTY-THREE

  TWENTY-FOUR

  TWENTY-FIVE

  TWENTY-SIX

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  TWENTY-NINE

  THIRTY

  Books, Mailing List, and Reviews

  Other Works by Aaron Crash

  Books from Shadow Alley Press

  About the Author

  LitRPG on Facebook

  GameLit on Facebook

  Copyright

  Summary

  Gather an escort. Acquire a dragon hoard. Build an empire …

  Steven Drokharis knew that embracing his destiny as one of the most powerful Dragonsouls to ever live would be difficult, but he had no idea that he’d be pushed to his very limits.

  Ten days after rescuing Aria and ending the life of an insane Dragonskin, Steven and his escort find themselves going toe-to-toe with Rhaegen Mulk—the deadly Dragonsoul responsible for the death of Steven’s parents. And Rhaegen Mulk doesn’t fight fair. He will pull out all the stops to end Steven before he can grow his escort and establish a primacy of his own. If Steven is going to win, he’ll need to level up his skills as a Dragonsoul, discover the next volume of forbidden Drokharis magic, and make friends with an ancient, half-mad Dragonsoul, who may be even more dangerous than Mulk.

  Now it’s time to hit back. Hard. Mulk and his lackeys are about to learn an important lesson: Steven doesn’t fight fair either …

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  ONE

  Rhaegen Mulk liked coffee and sex before battle.

  He stood outside of the Perk coffee shop in downtown Colorado Springs with a silver cup of coffee in his hand and evil thoughts brewing in his head. It was a warm spring day without a cloud in the azure sky. The Rocky Mountains were splendid to the west; Pike’s Peak led the charge, poking up like an accusatory finger aimed squarely at God above. Not that Rhaegen Mulk believed in any god other than himself.

  Mulk sipped slowly from the silver cup taken from an antique Qing Dynasty tea set. Priceless. It was his favorite cup, and throughout his long life, he’d never lost or damaged it. It was with him always.

  He glanced up at the Antlers Hotel, eyes squinted, brow furrowed. He was blocks away from the secret Aerie, but he could still see it on top of the skyscraper. He wasn’t sure who had owned it previously, but he knew it was the home of a new Dragonsoul—some punk kid who had power, off-the-charts power. Enough power that Mulk had no choice but to put him down. It was kill or be killed. Though in truth, Mulk didn’t so much mind the killing.

  Mulk had sent his top hit man, Edgar Vale, after the kid, but Vale was gone. The Denver Fire Department had to scrape him off the pavement in front of the Wells Fargo building. Luckily, Mulk’s Magician, Gideon Scaramanga, had cast magic to keep such battles hidden from the humans.

  Humans. Such worthless things. His mercenaries had failed to bring down this Steven Whipp, but now the gloves were off. Mulk had underestimated Whipp’s powers. He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. He took another long sip from the cup, savoring the bold flavor of the coffee.

  His Escort, Judith, approached him on the street, hips swaying seductively as she walked. She had striking silver hair, which made men glance at her twice. Even though she was a hundred years old, she seemed ageless, tall and strong. She was nearly as tall he was, well over six feet. The crow’s feet around her eyes only added to her beauty—matured like good wine. She’d been the first one to believe in him. At the time, Mulk had been fifty and looking for a Prime of his own.

  Now he ruled the Great Plains Primacy and had the respect of Dragonsouls all over the globe. Because of the Drokharis incident. That and the way he’d kept his Prime despite any number of power plays and outright battles.

  Judith spoke. “Rebecca, Denise, Hatsumi, Ashanta, Mary, and Sabina are in place. We will strike when you give the signal.” Her voice had a light Australian accent which had mellowed over time. She kissed him, and he enjoyed her warm, wet mouth. His Animus was full. Rebecca, Denise, Hatsumi, Ashanta, Mary, and Sabina had made sure of that.

  He broke the kiss. “And the Terror Trio?”

  “In place as well,” Judith assured him. She caressed his long, full beard. “Lana agreed to accompany the Trio and another batch of mercenaries. They are growing more expensive because—”

  Mulk gripped Judith’s arm, hard, fingers digging in deep. “I know why we have to pay the humans so much,” he growled, low and threatening. “They are more scared of this Steven Whipp than they are of me. Once we murder him, we can renegotiate their prices.”

  Judith paled. “You’re hurting me, Rhaegen.”

  Mulk laughed lightly. “Hardly. You like our love play violent. This is nothing.” He gave her arm one more last brutal squeeze. There wouldn’t be a bruise. Judith was made of stern stuff.

  Mulk drained the last of his coffee. He opened his suit coat, handcrafted in Italy, and slid his tea bowl into a secret pocket. Then he tied his long black hair into a ponytail.

  Judith stepped away, out of his reach. She rubbed her arm where he’d grabbed her. “What is going on with you? You rarely hurt me unless I ask you to.”

  Mulk grinned at the memories. Judith was insatiable. And she was smart. She knew something was bothering him, yet he didn’t want to talk about it.

  Yes, Whipp’s power was troubling. Mulk had faced other young, energetic Dragonlings before and had come out victorious. This felt different. It reeked faintly of destiny. Of magic. Of old curses come home to roost.

  Twenty years earlier, Mulk had smashed the Drokharis clan, killing them all. Such power threatened him and his Primacy, though Stefan Drokharis had insisted that he had no ambitions of a Primacy of his own. Mulk hadn’t believed him. For two decades, he’d slept well knowing Drokharis was safe and sound, out of the way, rotting away in his grave.

  And once Whipp was dead, Mulk would return to nights of peaceful slumber surrounded by his Escort.

  “Talk to me,” Judith pleaded.

  Mulk shook his head. “It is nothing.”

  She sighed. Shrugged. “Fine. Have it your way. I’ve placed calls to all of our vassals across the world. If today doesn’t go like we planned, we will need to reevaluate, regroup, and then plan a counterattack.”

  “This will be over today,” Mulk insisted, curling one hand into a tight fist.

  He walked down the street, crossed at a light, and didn’t look back to check on Judith. He knew she would be there, following him, like she always did. A hundred years of war and sex had removed all of their doubts about each other.

  Unlike that bitch who had left him. Mouse. That pissed him off. It was bad enough that Whipp had attacked his Aerie and killed any number of his vassals. But to also run off with one of Mulk’s wives? That had been the final insult. That was unacceptable. Completely unacceptable. To add more salt to his wounds, Whipp had also stolen Aria Khat right before Mulk was to marry her. He’d been looking forward to breaking in a new, young, fresh wife. Aria was ripe for a good fucking from a true Dragonsoul. Most likely, she was regretting her decision while Whipp fumbled at her body.

  Mulk walked to a skyscraper across from the Antlers Hotel and strutted up to the security desk. Judith walked up next to him.

  Only one security guard was on duty—some fat middle-aged man with a receding hairline and pale skin. His uniform was the cheapest polyester. Mulk, on the other hand, was wearing a suit which would’ve been half a year’s salary for this poor bastard. Judith’s dress could take care of the other half. Both were clearly rich and powerful.

  And the security guard knew it. He stuttered, “Uh, hey. I’m going to need you to sign in.”

  Mulk waved a hand and whispered, “Magica Defensio.” Mind Wipe abilities fell under the Magica Defensio spell set. The Dragonsoul Prime of the Great Plains Primacy felt a small bit of Animus leave him. He hated magic. It unnerved him. Mulk had been created for battle and flight, not to murmur words or write silly inscriptions.

  The guard’s eyes went blank and his mouth fell slack.

  On the elevator ride up, he turned to Judith. “After we slaughter Whipp and his Escort, I plan on finding the Yellow Ronin and removing him from this world.”

  “Liam Strider did provide us with valuable information,” Judith pointed out, one eyebrow cocked. “He told us where Whipp’s Aeries were and provided us with intel on his abilities.”

  Mulk shrugged. “He failed us. And you know I don’t trust Ronins. Years ago, I offered that yellow bastard a chance to become my vassal. He laughed at me. Laughed. I thrashed him within an inch of his life. I should’ve taken his life instead. Strider can’t be trusted.”

  “The Ronins sho
uld all be killed,” Judith agreed.

  “There have been purges in the past,” Mulk said easily. “But now, supposedly, we live in more civilized times. Civilized.” He smirked. “It means we should embrace our weakness. When I grow my power more, darling Judith, when I own all of the American Primacies, there will be changes.”

  “I want that as much as you do,” Judith said. “But first, the business of the day.”

  The elevator dinged open and they walked through an empty office space on the top floor of the skyscraper. Some cubicle walls were partially set up, but most were stacked in the corners. Bare wire covered the walls. The penthouse suites of the Antlers Hotel lay across from them.

  Mulk shrugged off his coat and loosened his tie with practiced ease. Judith let her dress fall from her to pool around her feet. In seconds, they were naked, standing on the industrial-gray carpet. They had to strip lest their clothes be ripped to shreds when they transformed into dragons.

  He leered at his wife and noted her finer characteristics: her beautiful face framed by her silver hair. The muscles of her shoulders. Her pink-nippled breasts rising from a flat belly that ended in a dark patch of hair between her legs. Her hips. Her thighs. Down to her feet.

  He’d used a bit of Animus getting past the security guard. No one was around. He could take her, right there, and top off his supply of the mystical energy.

  Judith’s eyes locked with his. “I know that look in your eye. It’s 10 a.m., and your Escort is in position and waiting for your signal.”

  He walked around her, admiring the curve of her ass and the dimples on her back above her butt. She was perfection. Any man would kill to be with her, and Mulk could have her as much as he wanted, as often as he wanted.

  Mulk moved closer, one hand on her muscular stomach and the other cupping a supple breast. He bit her ear, hard.

  She gasped.

  “Let them wait,” Mulk growled and pushed her forward. She gripped a cubicle wall and spread her legs.

  With how good she was looking, it might take a while. He wanted to enjoy her before he killed the Whipp boy. He’d had his coffee. And now he’d get his sex before battle.

  TWO

  Steven Whipp, now Steven Drokharis, looked over at the clock next to his bed. It was 10 a.m. and he was the first one up. Tessa lay on one side of him and Aria was sprawled on the other. For ten straight mornings, he’d woken up with them in his bed, keeping him warm. That wasn’t the best part, though. The best part was turning over in the middle of the night to find Aria or Tessa awake. They’d share a kiss, a caress, before going back to sleep. There was so much warmth and love in their big bed.

  It had been the best ten days of his life without a doubt. He’d quit his three jobs and dropped out of school. Tessa had also resigned from her job at the Coffee Clutch.

  Despite not working, they had money to spare and enough food to last months. Their days were filled with sex, training, and studying the Drokharis Grimoire. Steven loved how much money they had. He had grown up worrying over every little penny. Now? He had no idea what anything cost. Aria’s credit card had been cut off, since she hadn’t married Rhaegen Mulk, but they had sold the mint-condition Corvette Stingray for fifty thousand dollars. And Aria had contacts that could move some of the priceless artwork he now owned. He’d been right back when he first saw the paintings in the Colorado Springs Aerie: he did own several Rembrandts and a few Van Goghs.

  Being the last scion of the Drokharis family certainly had its benefits!

  Steven and his Escort—now including Mouse—went back and forth between the Lookout Mountain Aerie with its view of the city lights and the Colorado Springs Aerie, where the penthouse suite offered them an unfettered view of the Rocky Mountains, including Pike’s Peak.

  The Lookout Mountain apartment was a modern apartment built into the rock of the mountain, complete with a hidden garage full of expensive cars and sacred caves filled with pools from underground hot springs. The Colorado Springs Aerie—nestled on a secret penthouse floor in the plush Antlers Hotel—on the other hand, was classic luxury with polished wood paneling, luxurious couches, and miles of bookcases.

  Even though both places were gorgeous and comfortable, Mouse never stopped pacing, fretting, and drinking. Her real name was Melissa Craygore, and she was one of the daughters of the former Rocky Mountain Primacy’s Prime. She’d married Mulk to cement ties between the two Primes before her parents were killed. Brutally.

  Mouse would sometimes look at Steven for a long time, but when he caught her, she would immediately run to another room. He wasn’t about to pressure her to do anything; even though she’d said she wanted to be a part of his Escort, she hadn’t made any kind of move to be romantic with him.

  Worse yet, Aria had no idea why Mouse was acting like she was. She’d severed her ties to Mulk, that much was clear—there was no going back. Not for her. So Mouse would drink and spend most of the time alone, and when she was around, she had a sarcastic mouth that could cut diamonds.

  Steven didn’t know what to do about Mouse, but he didn’t want to worry about her on such a fine morning. He relaxed back into his pillow. They could sleep until noon if they wanted. They had no plans, and it was pretty clear that Rhaegen Mulk didn’t know where they were. The Aeries were secret. Edgar Vale had attacked them at the St. Vrain Aerie, but then that made sense: it was where Mulk had ambushed and killed Steven’s real father.

  Like most mornings, Steven had a bad case of morning wood. He glanced over at Tessa. The covers had fallen down to reveal the pale skin of her glorious, full chest.

  She was a goth kind of girl: creamy skin, dyed black hair, partially shaved, hazel eyes, tattoos, and piercings. While she was a little short and thick, Aria was the opposite. Aria was sleeping on her side, so Steven could study her face, model perfect. She was from Mumbai, India, but now that she’d disobeyed her father, she was with Steven for good. Her long black hair tumbled in waves over the white of the pillow. Her scent was cinnamon spice, and he liked her human smell just as much as her dragon smell. Aria was tall with a smaller chest and hips than Tessa.

  Steven loved how different they were, and he showed them his appreciation as often as he could. Which was at least five times a day. Every time they had sex, it gave Animus to them all. Steven wondered what it would be like to be with Mouse, who was tiny and blonde, with striking green eyes. The thought of Mouse in bed with them made his morning problem get even more problematic.

  Lying on his back, he pulled the covers up to his chin. No, he was going to go back to sleep. That was the end of it. He’d made up his mind. His johnson, however, had other ideas.

  He felt a hand drifted through covers to caress his stiff member. He wasn’t sure who it was, since both women seemed asleep. For a minute, he thought it might be Mouse. But no, she was in her own room and he would’ve heard her come in.

  The mysterious hand stroked him up and down, and he felt his hips rise off the bed.

  Tessa then kissed his shoulder. So she was the culprit. Aria was still sleeping. Or was she?

  Another hand joined in the fun. Aria lifted herself onto an arm to kiss his lips. Then she pushed the bedding down to leave a trail of kisses from his chin down his chest until she took him into her mouth.

  Tessa shoved the comforter completely out of the way.

  None of them said a word. Tessa took over French-kissing his mouth, and Steven felt himself teetering on the brink. It didn’t get any easier maintaining control when Tessa offered him one of her large breasts.

  He sucked on her while Aria sucked on him. Then she got excited. The former barista rose and lowered herself onto his face.

  It was oral sex heaven until Tessa shuddered in pleasure. She glowed as she orgasmed. Her bliss triggered his own. While the pleasure was intense, he also felt Animus fill him like a drug. It was a hot feeling in his chest, and he remembered those first days after Aria had awakened his power. It had felt like he’d been walking around with lungs full of hot lava. That had been the Animus. Now, he’d grown accustomed to it, and even looked forward to the heat he felt when he either killed an enemy or had sex. Like Tessa, he also lit up when the Animus charged up his cells.