The dragons on Draig Island are not your run-of-the-mill kind. They’re something else entirely…

I cannot believe my bad luck when an embossed envelope arrives at my door just one week before my twenty-fifth birthday. Which just happens to be the cut-off date for being called up for the testing of the blood. I thought I was in the clear, turns out that I was wrong.

I don’t know all the ins and outs of the whole dragon tribute selection process, only that it has something to do with a person’s DNA. If the scientists find what they are looking for in my sample, I might be sent as a tribute to the dragons. Yes, actual dragons.

Not that I’ve ever seen one of the creatures. Apparently, they do exist; they just don’t mingle with us on account of being dangerous. I mean, they’re huge, breathe fire, and have sharp teeth and claws. Bottom line, dragons and humans do not mix.

With that in mind, I’m not sure why they need human tributes. Every year for the last fifty-nine years, our government has sent them thirty people. Of those handed over, some return later with no memory of their stay on the island. As for the rest, who knows? It’s baffling and terrifying in equal measure.

Quite frankly, I hope I never find out what goes on at Draig Island. I keep telling myself that only thirty end up going. Not that many, considering that tens of thousands of blood samples are taken. My odds are good. I’m not going to get called up. I'm not!

Then I receive another letter telling me that I have been selected. I need to pack and get my affairs in order. I leave for Draig Island in one month with no guarantee I’ll ever return and no idea what is to become of me.

This story contains mature themes/language. Also, be prepared for a ton of growls, dirty talk, and a hard-won HEA. Hulking, skulking, foul-mouthed, brooding dragons ahead. You were warned! Each book follows a different couple.

© 2023 Charlene Hartnady (Hljóðbók): 9798868611735

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Hljóðbók: 3 december 2023