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      The Cycles of Balance

      Wood feeds Fire

      Fire creates Earth

      Earth bears Metal

      Metal carries Water

      Water nourishes Wood

      Wood parts Earth

      Earth absorbs Water

      Water quenches Fire

      Fire melts Metal

      Metal chops Wood

      Chapter One

      He was close.

      Rordan Sarkany paused in a small clearing and scanned the trees. He smelled the lush, rich scent of the forest, but under it was the ripe stench of wild dragon.

      “You know I’m coming for you, don’t you?” He flexed one hand, eyes alert. “You feel my breath on the back of your neck.”

      He studied the thick forest of dark trees surrounding him. He’d tracked the wild relentlessly for the past three days. Three days following the trail through the fir-covered mountains of western Hungary. Three days of persistent pursuit. This wild was very aware of Rordan’s reputation. He’d know his death wasn’t far behind him.

      Regret flashed before Rordan clamped down on it. He crouched, scooped up a handful of the rich soil and worked it through his fingers. He’d been killing wild dragons longer than he cared to remember. He’d become so ruthless, so efficient at it, and this would be another kill to add to a long list.

      His fingers clenched into a fist. Another friend he’d be forced to destroy. Another kill to push him closer to the edge.

      God, he was weary of this. He pushed to his feet, dusted off his hand. But weariness didn’t change the fact he had nothing else in his life but duty.

      He pulled his cell phone off his belt. A brief glance showed he had no reception. Not that he’d expected to have it up here. It didn’t matter, anyway; he always worked alone and never required backup.

      Straightening his broad shoulders, he slipped the phone back into place and turned in a slow circle. As a knight of the Order of the Dragon, it was his job to track and kill those who turned. Those who let the lure of immortality and their dragon magic twist them into the beast living inside them.

      But he wasn’t just a knight, he was a prince of the Dragon Court. His family and the other pure blood dragon lords had a duty to ensure the security of their people. The Orders was their greatest weapon in achieving that.

      There. He caught a glimpse of movement in the shadows under the trees. His muscles tensed, his senses sharpened.

      He called on his magic and summoned his weapon. A dragon’s magic was based on an element—not the modern elements, but the five ancient ones: Earth, Metal, Water, Wood and Fire.

      In an instant, his wooden quarterstaff appeared. It was big, heavy, and fit into his hands like an old lover. He ran his fingers over the ornate image of a dragon carved into it, then over one of the ends sharpened to a wicked point.

      The hum of power filled him. His wood magic was entwined with nature. The trees whispered their secrets to him. He heard the wind flow through the leaves and sensed the small animals sheltering nearby.

      He reached out with his senses. He was gifted with acute vision, had eyes as sharp as any hawk. His gaze never left the trees as he waited for the attack. He held the staff like an extension of his body. Time extended, the steady beat of his heart thudded in his ears, and the cool forest breeze washed over his skin like a caress.

      Then he smelled another scent, one he recognized all too well, an intoxicating blend of leather and pure ocean air. His gut clenched, distracted him for a second.

      A weight crashed into his back and sent him stumbling. The staff flew out of his hand as his assailant wrapped arms and legs around him like tight vines.

      Together they hit the ground hard. With his attacker’s weight on top of him, the air rushed out of Rordan’s lungs with a grunt.

      “Don’t move,” a voice hissed in his ear.

      He ignored the advice. In a lightning-fast move, he rolled. There was a brief, violent struggle before he succeeded in pinning his opponent beneath him.

      She was beautiful with a classic oval face, angry color riding her high cheekbones and her full lips twisted into a scowl.

      Indigo-blue eyes glared at him. “Damn you, Sarkany. What the hell are you doing here?”

      “Hello, Kira. Nice to see you, too.” He knew he should get off her, but he liked the feel of her too much. Where their bodies touched, he felt the burn. He’d wanted her all his life, it seemed, even though she hated his guts.

      She wriggled and he closed his eyes against the sensation. Flames flashed along his skin, his body hardened. Something she couldn’t fail to feel.

      “Get. Off. Me.” Her tone was stiletto sharp.

      He pushed himself up, but didn’t get off her. Instead, he stayed straddling her hips, watching her beautiful face.

      Kira Bethlen always roused his beast. He’d watched her grow from a gangly, young girl into a strong, stunning woman. The man in him wanted to explore every inch of her enticing body. The dragon in him yearned for a taste of her.

      But he was well aware that after what he’d done to her, she’d never forgive him. And he’d never taste those sweet lips.

      Something hot flashed in her eyes. “Off, Sarkany. Now.”

      He tightened his knees. He let her feel the weight of him, let her know he was stronger, before he got to his feet.

      She leaped to hers, shoved her hands under her fur-lined, corduroy jacket and onto her hips. “What are you doing here?”

      God, she made a picture. Black leather pants slicked over long legs. The shirt under her coat had enough buttons undone to show a hint of cleavage. A thick, gold chain with a medallion hung in the deep V of the shirt. Her tawny-brown hair was currently tucked away in a long braid that fell over one shoulder. He ached to see it hanging loose and wild around her.

      “Answer me!” she snapped.

      He arched a brow. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m tracking a wild.”

      Her blue eyes narrowed. “I’m tracking this wild. He’s mine.”

      Rordan sauntered over to his staff and scooped it up. He planted one end in the ground and leaned on it. “You know the Order rules. The most experienced knight has precedence.”

      The breath whistled though her teeth. “Damn you.”

      Yeah, she didn’t like being reminded of that. At thirty-six, Rordan had been a knight

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