Stormwalker
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Acknowledgements
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
Teaser chapter
Praise for the Dragon series by Allyson James
The Dragon Master
“Superb . . . A masterful tale.”
—Alternative Worlds
“If you’re looking for a book that’s full of passion, characters who’ll capture your heart, and some truly great story-telling, look no further. The Dragon Master is here. Get your copy today!”
—Romance Reviews Today
“For a fantastic romantic, fantasy suspense with a delightful ethnic twist I recommend The Dragon Master.”
—ParaNormal Romance Reviews
“The dragons are back and ready to rumble in this high-octane series from James . . . Tops yet again!”
—Romantic Times
“Allyson James does an amazing job blending paranormal elements and enough heat to keep the reader turning the pages. I had a hard time putting this story down as the fiery passion that Seth and Carol have will leave you wanting more and more of these dragons! The Dragon Master will make you want your very own dragon to curl up with and keep you warm.”
—TwoLips Reviews
“There are two stories going on simultaneously in this book. One is about a dragon master no one knows about and a demon god. The other is the love story between Seth and Carol. Both are good stories but together and intertwined they are fantastic. Readers can enjoy the mysteries of one and the tender love scenes of the other. The action concerning each never slows down.”
—Night Owl Romance
“I have loved every one of Allyson James’s stories so far and have to say this one was no different. You are brought into a world just this side of reality, and you really don’t want to leave. My favorite part of these books (aside from the dragons of course) is their entwining story lines and characters . . . I look forward to seeing what else is in store for us from Ms. James.”
—Fallen Angel Reviews
“[The Dragon Master] provided a quick break from reality that carried me away just for a little while . . . I found it an enjoyable story and a series that I’d like to continue.”
—All About Romance
“A very entertaining, readable, and superhot story . . . I enjoyed the twists and turns of this one and, as always, appreciate the light humorous touches . . . The story and the relationship proceed at a measured pace with gradually increasing tension. And the tension and sexual interactions between our hero and heroine are red-hot from the first.”
—Queue My Review
The Black Dragon
“One of my favorite authors. A unique and magical urban paranormal with dragons, witches, and demons. Will keep you enthralled until the very last word!”
—Cheyenne McCray, New York Times bestselling author of The First Sin
“Tasty and tempting reading! HOT.”
—Romantic Times
“A fabulously delicious read.”
—Darque Reviews
“Begins with a bang and the action never lets up, not for one single, solitary, wonderful moment. I devoured this book in just a few hours . . . So overwhelming that I couldn’t even consider putting this book down. The story is unusual, wonderfully original and filled with intriguing characters . . . Dragons, magic, and a fight to save the world—Allyson James has a winning combination that makes The Black Dragon a story to remember!”
—Romance Reader at Heart
“A book destined to leave a smile on your face and dragons in your dreams. Get your copy today.”
—Romance Reviews Today
“[Allyson James] keeps the sexual tension up to the point of boiling . . . Such an incredible talent.”
—TwoLips Reviews
Dragon Heat
“A new series filled with magic, humor, and excitement. Exciting and passionate, this story is gripping from beginning to end.”
—Romantic Times
“[A] delightful romantic fantasy . . . A fun tale of life between a mortal and her dragon.”
—The Best Reviews
“Ms. James’s imaginative story is exceptionally intriguing . . . Highly sensual.”
—The Eternal Night
“This story has a wonderful fairy-tale feel about it. Allyson James does an outstanding job of creating and bringing these mystical creatures to life with characteristics and emotions that you can’t help but fall deeply in love with; even the so-called evil Black Dragon with his cocky, bad-boy qualities will make the reader hum in pleasure and clamor for his story.”
—TwoLips Reviews
“A sizzling paranormal romance. Ms. James pens a riveting story that’s brimming with action, sinfully sexy characters, and the beautiful gift of love. A magical and thoroughly enchanting read.”
—Darque Reviews
“A sexy, funny romantic romp . . . A truly mesmerizing read. The chemistry between Caleb and Lisa is searing and the love scenes are wonderfully entertaining.”
—Romance Reader at Heart
Mortal Temptations
“The balance of intrigue, romance, and unbridled sexual fantasies makes James’s story of gods, demigods, and mortals a sizzling page-turner. This book is the start of a series featuring these delicious partners.”
—Romantic Times
“Hot! Hot! Hot! It doesn’t get much hotter than this one . . . If you enjoy stories full of action, both in the bedroom and out, this is one story you will want to read.”
—The Romance Studio
Titles by Allyson James
DRAGON HEAT
THE BLACK DRAGON
THE DRAGON MASTER
MORTAL TEMPTATIONS
MORTAL SEDUCTIONS
STORMWALKER
THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
Published by the Penguin Group
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Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiousl
y, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
STORMWALKER
A Berkley Sensation Book / published by arrangement with the author
PRINTING HISTORY
Berkley Sensation mass-market edition / May 2010
Copyright © 2010 by Jennifer Ashley.
Excerpt from Firewalker by Allyson James copyright © by Jennifer Ashley.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
eISBN : 978-1-101-40445-4
BERKLEY® SENSATION Berkley Sensation Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014. BERKLEY® SENSATION and the “B” design are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
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Acknowledgments
Thanks go to my editor, Kate Seaver, for her encouragement and guidance throughout this project. I also thank author Glenda Garland for her spot-on critiques and her clearheaded brainstorming. Thanks also go to my husband for his tireless support—for reading early drafts, brainstorming, and proofreading, and for making sure we have food, clean dishes, and, most important, cat food whenever I’m lost in storyland.
For more information on the world of Stormwalker and forthcoming books, see the Stormwalker website: www.allysonjames.com/stormwalker.html.
One
It was already dark by the time I zoomed out of the mountains, heading east toward the deserts and the town of Magellan. The elevation dropped, the cool green of pine country fell behind, and the heat returned. Lightning forked far to the south, the approaching storm tingling through my body like a lover’s touch.
By the time I reached Winslow and glided through its traffic lights, clouds had blotted out the stars, but still there was no rain. I took the road under the railroad bridge at the same time a freight train rumbled over it, then I headed south to open desert, my Harley throbbing in the quiet.
Fingers of lightning lit the clouds with intense white, and I lapped up the residue like a greedy cat. I’m a Stormwalker, which is my father’s people’s way of saying I can harness the power of storms for my own use. On a calm day, I can’t work much more than simple spells, but put a storm near me, and I can make the wind, lightning, and rain dance to my bidding. I’m good at it. Deadly.
Storm magic drove me crazy and left me more hungover than a three-day bender, but too long between storms had the same result. I hadn’t tasted a storm in the two weeks since I’d moved to Magellan to investigate the disappearance of Amy McGuire, the police chief’s daughter. I needed a fix.
I took the turnoff that led to Magellan. The smudge of the small town’s lights beckoned to me from twenty miles away. The larger glitter of Flat Mesa, the county seat, lay a little north. The red taillights of a pickup bobbed ahead of me as it dipped and rose through the washes. Half of the left light was broken, giving the truck an uneven look. No one else was on the road with us.
A sudden gust of wind threatened to knock me off my bike, and a voice floated on it across the dark desert.
Janet.
I skidded to a halt, heart hammering, and dragged off my helmet. Wind buffeted me, clouds flowing toward me thick and fast.
Daughter. The whisper was feminine, soft, almost loving.
Oh, holy crap.
The other reason I’d come to Magellan was to face my mother and stop her, like I should have stopped her years ago. But I’d been too young then, too scared. The invitation to investigate Amy’s disappearance gave me the opportunity to return, and this time, I would fight her. As soon as I figured out how to.
Six years had passed since I’d met my mother in, of all places, a diner in Holbrook, where she’d scared the shit out of me. It was easy to convince myself that I was ready to confront her while safe behind the heavily warded walls of my new hotel, not so easy out here in open desert with the vortexes beckoning to me. Here in the darkness, alone under this vast sky, I had to admit that she still scared the shit out of me.
Come to me.
“Like hell.” When I’d met my mother, she’d done her best to make me her willing slave, but I had this problem with free will. I liked it.
Janet.
“Not this time!” I shouted.
The whisper died on the wind as lightning flared. The electricity of it sparkled through my fingers and pinged across my helmet.
The storm magic was earth magic, which I’d inherited from my grandmother, a small Navajo woman who was stronger than she looked. My mother came from Beneath, the same realm that created the skinwalkers, and I’d inherited magic from her too. My mother didn’t much like earth magic, because although earth magic had enabled me to be born at all, it also made me strong enough to withstand her.
I put on my helmet, my fingers shaking, and glided onward. A curtain of rain washed over me, its sudden chill welcome. I caught up to the pickup, whoever it was traveling slowly, and I realized that the encounter had taken only a few short moments.
I pulled into the oncoming lane of the two-lane road to pass the truck. Another sheet of lightning ran through the sky, reaching from the mesas to the south and spreading in all directions. It lit the clouds in cold, white radiance, and in that light I saw a giant figure burst from the side of the road, heading directly for me.
I hit my brakes, cranking my bike sideways, trying desperately to avoid the impact. A horrible stench filled the air as the figure missed my front wheel and struck the pickup with a resounding boom.
My back tire skidded out from under me on the rain-soaked pavement. At the same time, the pickup rose into the air, almost in slow motion. It rotated once, twice, before it crashed to the pavement, landing on its cab. The pickup screeched forward upside down a few yards, sparks flying into the night, before it lay still like a dead thing.
My bike kept skidding. I missed the truck by inches, was thrown free of the Harley, and landed facedown in a rapidly filling ditch.
I lay unmoving in the wet dirt, the face shield of my helmet cracked. My bike sprawled on its side next to me, front wheel bent, my legs just as bent under me.
No one moved inside the pickup. It was black dark out here; I couldn’t even discern the color of the truck. I could still smell the skinwalker, though, lurking in the darkness beyond us. My mother could control the things, who thrived on the energy of the vortexes, and she’d sent this one to discipline me. Not kill me—I knew she didn’t want me dead, just obedient. I wouldn’t be useful to her if I were dead.
I struggled out of my helmet. My gloves had ripped, and blood slicked my grip. I unfolded myself painfully and climbed to my feet, dragging in aching breaths.
I heard the skinwalker coming back. The legends of my people said that skinwalkers were human sorcerers who dabbled in dark magic, wrapping themselves in skins of dead animals to take on that animal’s characteristics. True about the dead animals part, usually after they’d tortured them, but skinwalkers weren’t human. They were throw-backs to the previous shell world, the one Beneath, where my mother was a goddess. Skinwalkers were evils, like demons, that should never have made it through to this world with the rest of humanity. But they had, clawing their way out and breeding down the generations.
It charged me. The thing was huge, about eight feet tall, wrapped, as far as I could tell, in the skin of a dead bear. Faster than fast, stinking like the worst charnel house, it picked me up and slammed me down on the road again. I hit and ki
cked, making no more of a dent than if I’d hit a wall. It put its filthy face close to mine, lips pulling back from yellow teeth.
I screamed. Not that it would help. No one lived out here, and whoever had been in the pickup wasn’t getting out.
The storm answered me. Thunder cracked in the distance, and I reached desperately for the lightning. I couldn’t create storms or move them; I could only use what nature decided to give me, but if the storm was close enough . . .
Lightning flowed from the black cloud and into my outstretched hands. I exhaled in relief. It wasn’t very strong, the storm still too far away, but it would help. I gathered what lightning I could and threw it at the skinwalker. The skinwalker grunted with the impact and danced back a yard or so, but that was about all I could manage. I scrambled to my feet.
Skinwalkers are damn hard to kill. This one was shambling toward me again. I reached for the wind and raised my hands to direct it at the disgusting thing. The skinwalker stumbled. I hit it again and again with wind power, throwing sparks of lightning into the mix.
The skinwalker ran at me again, bent on destruction. I didn’t think my mother wanted it to kill me, but did it know that?
The creature made it back to the road. Instead of pummeling me, it turned and kicked my bike.
“No!” I shouted. That bike was my baby. This old girl and me had racked up a lot of miles. She symbolized my freedom, my independence, me. I grabbed a handful of lightning and blasted the skinwalker. Electricity arced around him, but he still didn’t die.
At times like these, I regretted riding away from Mick, my man of wild fire magic. I’d seen Mick burn up a skinwalker without breaking a sweat. Mick had made me crazy with his mixture of bad-boy charm, protectiveness, and elusiveness, but my time with him had also been the best of my life.