Table Of ContentMated to the Water Dragon
High House Draconis Book 2
Riley Storm
Mated to the Water Dragon
Copyright© 2019 Riley Storm
All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic means, without written permission
from the author. The sole exception is for the use of brief quotations in a book review. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of
this copyrighted work is illegal.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as
real.
All sexual activities depicted occur between consenting characters 18 years or older who are not blood related.
Edited by Annie Jenkinson, Just Copyeditors
Cover Designs by Kasmit Covers
Note from the Author
Hi there!
Thank you so much for picking up Mated to the Water Dragon. While this book and series are self-
contained and can be read alone, if you want to get the full experience of the Plymouth Falls world,
you would be best off starting with the High House Ursa series and book one, Bearing Secrets which
is linked below.
Either way, I hope you enjoy!
-Riley Storm
High House Ursa
Bearing Secrets
Furever Loyal
Mated to the Enemy
Shifting Alliances
Blood Bearon
Table of Contents
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
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40
1
“This is a joke, right? You’re joking.”
Aaric sighed. The sound of air expelling through the other dragon’s nose with extra emphasis,
combined with the slight skyward tilt of his gold-tinted eyes was enough to set Victor’s already
clenched jaw even tighter.
“Why would you think I’m joking?” Aaric asked him tightly.
Laughing, Victor tapped his jaw, the motion heavy with excessive movement and sarcasm. “Hmm.
Let me think about that one for a moment, here. Oh wait, I don’t need to. Could it be because you
don’t want me here? You never wanted me here. Now you shuffle me off to this project of yours that
you haven’t worked on in three months as a way to get me out of your sight. Stop me if I’m wrong.”
His eyes caught the flexing of one of Aaric’s arms. “Go on then. Do it. Punch me. Try it,” he
barked, taking an aggressive stance, legs spread, one in front of the other to help balance.
Aaric mimicked him, and the two dragons squared off.
“Why do you always think things are about you?” Aaric asked, his voice still calm, though his eyes
watched Victor like a hawk, waiting for any sign of movement.
“Nice dodge. But don’t lie. You woke me by accident, and you regret it. You hate the sight of me
because it reminds you of your own screw-up. Now that I’m up to speed on this new century, you
want to get rid of me. You’re tired of having me around. I’m just the screw-up nobody wants,” he said
bitterly. “News flash though, Aaric, this time around, it’s you who screwed up. My mistake is in the
past. Yours is right here, right now.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” the other dragon shifter snarled, eyes blazing with golden light. “I fucked up.
There, you happy? We didn’t intend to wake you. We meant to wake an elder, someone who could
oversee this mess. Someone already mated, who could wake another dragon right away. Or, perhaps,
all the elder dragons. Because the motherfucking blood-sucking vampires are back, and we’re in for a
fight. Or did you miss that little memo in your studies?” Aaric shot back at him.
“Oh no, I heard it. Loud and clear. You kept saying it, over, and over. Except I haven’t seen any
sign of them. Nothing at all. You keep telling me that they’re back. Sounds like a scare plot to try and
justify your fuck-up. But trust me, I know from experience, nobody ever lets you justify it.”
Aaric rolled his eyes. “Are you seriously still harping on something that happened a hundred and
twenty years ago? Come on, Victor.”
“It was only a few years ago to me,” Victor growled, the bitter shame of his mistake filling his
mouth as he paced up the hallway, as if putting distance between him and Aaric would help lessen his
own embarrassment.
“Yeah, because you fled to sleep after instead of facing it like an adult.”
Victor saw Aaric’s eyes narrow as he spoke, realizing the mistake, but he didn’t care. His temper
flared and he thrust a fist forward.
Water erupted in a torrent from the tightly wrapped fingers and shot directly at Aaric, the tip of it
opening like a serpent’s mouth.
Aaric brought his right arm up, holding it vertical in front of him. Fire flared as the water hit and
burst around the arm, flashing into steam as the two elements smashed together. The older dragon
grunted at the unexpected impact and staggered back several steps.
Pressing his attack, Victor took a step forward, slapping both arms out in front of him now, fists
pressed together. The spray of water more than doubled in size, now over a foot in diameter. He was
winning the attack.
“That. Is. Enough!” a voice thundered from behind him.
A moment later, something hard clanged off Victor’s skull and he staggered forward, the water
torrent cutting off abruptly as he momentarily saw stars. Then a fireball slammed into his chest and
hurled him twenty feet back down the hallway. He bounced and skidded, somehow avoiding all the
walls.
Before he could get to his feet, Aaric was there, a rapier-thin blade of blue-white fire extending
from his left hand, resting only a few inches from Victor’s neck. He could feel the heat blazing against
his skin, his own dragon scales rising from under the human flesh to protect him.
“Drop it, Aaric. Or I’ll turn this around and hammer the dent out from the other side on your head.”
Victor turned an eye to the steward of Drakon Keep, home of House Draconis. “What did you hit
me with, Francis?” he asked casually, as if he wasn’t one wrong word away from being skewered.
“My favorite frying pan,” the smaller human said, holding up the dented metal cooking implement.
“I can’t believe I wasted it on you.”
“A lot of people waste things on me,” Victor mumbled, looking away.
Aaric still hovered above him, flame-sword in hand.
“Oh, knock it off,” Victor snarled, batting it away with a hand covered in frigid water as
protection. Water and sword flared into more uncomfortably humid steam.
Aaric stepped off him, and the flames disappeared, seeming to retract into the fire dragon’s hand.
“So, are you going to do this or not?” he asked, staring down at Victor.
Victor was about to tell him to piss off. That he wasn’t going to do his bidding, that Aaric could
find another lackey. But an idea came to him just before. A wicked idea that would screw over Aaric,
and benefit Victor.
“Yeah, yeah,” he said, trying to still act grumpy. “Fine. I’ll build your stupid outreach center while
you worry about the non-existent vampire threat.”
Francis leveled the frying pan at him. “The vampires are real. I saw the effects of it on Miss
Olivia myself. You would be wise to heed Aaric’s advice and warning on that front.”
Getting to his feet, admiring the scorch marks on his chest where the fireball had landed, Victor
rolled his eyes. “The last time I heeded someone’s advice, I lost everything I had to that witch. Don’t
tell me what to do, steward.”
Aaric bristled at the derogative sneer, but Victor didn’t care. He wasn’t about to let anyone tell
him what to do. That was how he’d gotten himself into trouble in the first place.
“What do you want me to do?” he said, looking at Aaric.
“I’ll show you the plans. Learn them. Tomorrow, you will meet with the Consultant and Project
Manager from Plymouth Falls. She’s the one overseeing everything on their end. It’s a joint project
between the Drakon family and the county.”
“Fine, fine. Let’s get it over with,” he muttered, trying to sound reluctant.
Aaric gestured, and they headed off down the hall. Neither of them spoke.
But in his mind, Victor was already crowing with victory.
***
“Hi, I’m here to meet with a Cheryl Anders,” he said before the woman behind the desk could
even speak. “She’s expecting me. I’m Victor Drakon.”
The secretary looked suitably impressed at the name drop and scrambled for her phone. Victor
looked around the office. It was thoroughly…boring. Drab. Soft gray tones on the walls, muted dark
woods for the fixtures. Lots of glass though, he noted, remembering how the cost of glass had come
down remarkably and was no longer a fancy additive.
How the times have changed, he thought, tapping one finger on the top of the desk, ignoring the
constant glances he was getting from the secretary. He could almost smell her arousal. He thought
about seeing how flustered he could get the woman before he was called in, but something beeped on
her desk.
“Miss Anders will see you now,” the secretary said with undisguised sadness at his departure.
“Through there.”
He followed the pointed finger to a set of double doors. Both they and the walls were all frosted
glass. Victor could make out shapes beyond, but little other detail.
“Thank you,” he said with a wink that set the secretary’s cheeks ablaze as he headed into
Conference Room A, as told to him by the little placard on the wall next to the door.
Victor stopped several feet shy of the door, however, as it opened from the inside first, a slim,
pale-as-porcelain hand sliding out to wrap around the edge of the door.
“Mr. Drakon,” the owner of the hand said as they emerged.
The giant dragon shifter came to a skidding halt, his own face paling as he stared, first in shock,
but quickly shifting to anger.
“You,” he hissed, eyes taking in the platinum blonde hair, pointed chin and small nose. Eyes of light
playful brown stared at him, pupils dilating as she processed his reaction.
“Pardon?” she asked, those same eyes staring back at him with nothing but confusion.
“It can’t be,” he growled mostly to himself. “Impossible.”
It couldn’t be her. Sheer physics said so. Not even a witch could live into her fourteenth decade,
which is how old she would have to be by now. If not more. No, this couldn’t be the woman she
looked like, the bitch who had deprived him of everything, despite being the spitting image of her.
But she could be a descendant.
Victor grinned outwardly and inwardly. His plan had just taken on another level. A complete and
unexpected, and frankly impossible turn of events had given him the opportunity to screw over Aaric
and right a wrong against him that was a century overdue.
His smile froze in place as he realized one more thing.
Aaric must have known. The twice-cursed fire dragon had known who she was, and he’d sent
Victor to deal with her anyway.
Oh yes, they were both going to pay. They were both going to pay dearly.
And Victor would profit off them both.
