"When it comes to urban fantasy Dianna Love is the master."
The Treoir dragon holds the fate of the Beladors in one hand … and his own in the other.
The Beladors finally have a true leader in Daegan, their new dragon king, but life is far from secure now that they’ve inherited his enemies. As their Maistir, Vladimir Quinn played a risky role in freeing the dragon from the lair of their enemy, the Medb. Quinn now faces a heavy price for his part. The Medb queen is out for blood. Vigilante killings erupt among Atlanta’s secret preternatural community and all fingers point to the Beladors. The dragon king has his first real test as a ruler when he has to choose between protecting his people and entering a hostile realm full of deities capable of killing a dragon. But as a two-thousand-year-old warrior, Daegan has never shied away from any battle. Quinn, Evalle, Storm and friends race to discover who is trying to turn the entire VIPER coalition against the Beladors before war breaks out. With the clock also ticking down for Quinn, who has been ordered to hand over Kizira’s body to the Medb queen, Daegan reveals an even greater reason the Beladors have to prevent the queen from any chance to use necromancy on that body than secrets Quinn protects.
Freedom is never free. Not when the powerful gods and goddesses poised to decide Quinn’s fate see an opportunity to also destroy a threat to their existence – the last dragon shifter.
“When it comes to urban fantasy stories, Dianna Love is a master.” ~~A. Richards, Always Reviewing
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The underworld realm of Anwynn
Two thousand years of paying for one mistake.
Two thousand years of pain, every minute of every day.
Lorwerth cursed his thirty-one-year-old body that would not age and could be healed so easily. He begged for death with each breath. Today would be different.
I should be leading a powerful army against my enemies, but instead ...
“The Koovl!” Stomp.
“The Koovl!” Stomp.
All at once, his world spun back into focus. He lost his grip on that place in his mind where he traveled to escape reality.
A loud crack from the forty-foot whip rent the air above his head. Fire danced along the strands, throwing shards of sparkling light across this cavernous den of misery.
None of it touched him.
Prisoners cheered on Y Cwfl, The Koovl.
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