Please read! I haven't really watched every episode of American Dragon: Jake Long because I kept waking up late and missing the show and not bothering to watch the re-runs. Anyway, this story is set in a time where Jake and Rose are 17; she's in another school but got transferred back where Jake attends; awkward moments; dangerous relationship. Things between them get complicated when they both get in a fight at Grandpa's shop. This is not one of those fluffy ones (though it might turn out that way). Warning. In addition, I've invented a few establishments here; just so you know. And if I've mentioned any place real, sorry, I didn't know. Don't sue. My fiscal pocket is non-existent. The mountains here are real but I don't know what they look like so I'm assuming.

This prologue is kinda vague because I just wanted to show what happened before the actual chapters in a few words. Next chapters will be definitely more descriptive, less monotonous. I'm experiencing writer's block so don't blame me if the paragraphs are too short. This is just the prologue. Chill. Put the mallets and rotten tomatoes down.


Redemption In Your Kiss

"Jake, you have to understand. I was in Jersey–" "That's bull, Rose. I looked for you everywhere! I know who you are, Hunts Girl and you know my secret so no more lies. Please."

Prologue


New York, Long Residence

"Jake, Haley...there's something your father and I have to tell you." She was sitting on the couch, her fingers entwined with her husband's, hesitant. The tension in the room was choking him, his sister holding her breath, scooting closer; the two of them hadn't moved an inch, afraid that if they do, they might miss everything. A tear slipped down their father's cheek and his hand came up to his face to remove his glasses. This was too much to handle anymore...

His mother's lips started to move but his mind only registered a few words as he bolted out the door and met the dry, bitter air permeating the streets of New York.

"Tumor...frontal lobe of...brain...one year...live..."


New York, George Ridgemont High School

There was a knock on the door. Everyone turned their heads up to see. Even him.

His trained eyes saw every small movement from the way the hinges creaked, the wind from outside coming in and the sound of someone walking in while the sweet smell of raspberries wafted inside the classroom and caught his attention. New student.

Big deal. He looked down again, his pencil scratching words on his activity sheet.

"Ah, yes," the teacher's voice filling the silent room. "I'm Mrs. Lucy Cartwright and I teach Calculus. Welcome to George Ridgemont High! Class, I'd like all of you to meet..."

She paused, adjusting her chunky eye glasses on her thin face. "Oh my goodness, I can't read a thing. Well, just introduce yourself, dear. I'm sure you..." She said after the girl handed her a piece of paper.

Her voice didn't reach his ears. He kept staring at his sheet, pieces of lead scattered all over one corner. He guessed he was the only one who didn't seem to be paying attention. It was better this way - acting devoid of anything. Good coping tactic. Made his day easier somehow.

Sighing, he decided to look up after he got bored of writing. Her olive green pants coming to view. Bleached on her clothing were yellow Chinese characters. Vertically, he recognized: woman, hunter, crystal, rose.

He was suddenly interested.

He looked at her face, expecting a beauty. When he saw the most stunning azure eyes he had ever seen, his world came crumbling down.

"I just moved back here from Jersey with my family. I used to attend Millard Filmore Junior High, and I'm looking forward to spending my senior year here in New York."

His heart exploded in his chest and he heard one thousand unholy shrieks ringing inside his head. He took the sight of her in. This was the sight that revived him long ago. But now, looking at her...

His senses failed.

"Oh, and before I forget...my name is..."

He closed his eyes and let the darkness soothe him and her voice reverberated louder than he wanted, hitting his chest stronger than any other force he encountered before. This isn't real. You're dreaming, Jake. Wake up, man. She's not...

"Rose."

The pencil snapped in his hand and his pupils dilated.


Mongolia, two miles east of the Hangayn Nuruu Mountains

A small trickle of water descended down from the cave's ceiling, onto the ground, moistening it to the consistency of mud. Not a sound could be heard but the shuffling of what seemed to be robes and the eerie throb of gloved fingers, tapping glass. Slowly, two red, glowing orbs shone through the darkness that enveloped the cave, accompanied by a growl that couldn't be assumed to have come from any ordinary man. The two spheres holding the color of crimson started to move upwards and then forward on a steady pace, gliding on the wet soil beneath with the promise of great strength that hung in the air. The being stopped walking as a shadow-clad figure swiftly took its place in front of him, crouching to show his respect.

"Master," a deep voice echoed through the recesses of the cave, catching the attention of the being with red eyes. "We have heard that she has gone to Russia with nothing but her old clothes and the Pendant of Inis and the scrolls of Tukara the Slayer. We are not certain if she decided to seek refuge there but the search is still on-going and we vow to bring her back to you. Your warriors have been dispatched to China as well and soon, we will be moving onwards to South East Asia."

Inside the damp, dark cavern, the messenger cringed as he heard his lord howl, his deadly shrill voice bouncing off the rock walls and embedding the sounds in his minions. The bawling was undeniably rimmed with murder. Another orb appeared in the obscurity that engulfed both master and servant, a spine-chilling shade of green. The light that it emitted showed that the orb was part of what seemed like a staff and the robust, cloth-clad fingers of the Huntsman dangerously tightened its hold on his weapon.

Huntsgirl had gone too far.

"You!"

The minion that had relayed the message to the Huntsman summed up all his willpower and resisted the urge to flinch. "Yes, Huntsmaster?"

"Bring back the Pendant and the scrolls. As for her..." He paused as he slowly crept out of the cave where his clan of loyal warriors had assembled. They all tilted their heads in attention and like a wave, they simultaneously genuflected. Not another moment passed when the Huntsman raised his staff and addressed his army of followers in a loud voice. "If any one of you can bring back the Pendant of Inis and the sacred scrolls of Tukara the Slayer from the corrupt and banished Huntsgirl, he shall be rewarded with riches beyond his wildest dreams! Furthermore, bring Huntsgirl's HEAD and birth mark on a platter...you will personally receive...the honor of becoming my apprentice and right-hand man, heir to the Huntsclan."

Murmurs of disbelief swam through the mouths of the clan as they looked at each other for reassurance. They couldn't believe that their leader was risking glory and power over the girl that had abandoned her lineage for reasons they didn't know. Since they had been notified that Huntsgirl left on the night of a full moon, their group had been restless and utterly exhausted from searching for the Huntsman's prodigal niece in places farther than they had ever traveled before. Their orders then were to simply find her and bring her back but now, they were all pawns on a different field.

At hearing his men discuss their bounties; he frowned inside his head armor and stomped back into the cave where one of his messengers was still bowing. He marched right past him and sat on his makeshift throne adorned with the fur of different beasts they had been feasting on for nourishment. Placing his magical staff on one side of the cave, he propped his head on his clenched knuckle and barked at the messenger to come forth in front of him, his red eyes narrowing to slits.

"We have been in hiding for too long." Huntsman said; his voice deep and grave. "It is now time to reclaim the esteem and glory that rightly belongs to the Huntsclan." He stood up and walked over to his staff. As soon as he laid hand on it, the object glowed. The messenger couldn't help but gaze at his master's mystical staff, and as he did, he met the sharp tip of it pressing into his jaw.

"Contact Damion. Relay him my message and find out where that blasted Huntsgirl is."

The messenger's eyes grew wide as saucers at the mention of his name. "Y-yes, master. It will take a while for it to arrive to him…he's in America; in New York."


New York, Queens

Panting.

Pushing. Shoving. Inside Her.

The sound of the headboard banging into the wall. A bed groaning.

The smell of sweat. Flesh against flesh.

Screaming. A woman's voice.

Sheets ruffling.

Grunts. Moans. Whispers.

One final ram. Screaming. A woman's voice.

Heavy breathing.

Silence.

He pushed himself off of her, hearing her shrill voice echoing and went to his open drawer to light a cigarette after he dressed. The smoke entered his lungs and burned his chest, calming him down. Looking outside the window, he saw familiar faces roaming around the dirty street, rummaging through the trash bins, holding a plastic cup that barely held loose change. A street lamp flickered, its life dying. His sapphire eyes inwardly blazed with fury, made clear by the moonlight that streamed through the glass.

Focusing on his previous situation, he bit on the cigarette and took his wallet from the wooden drawer. "How much?"

"Jesus…holy fuckin' God…honey…you were…fuck…" He heard her take a deep breath. "Don't you wanna…what the hell is that word? Ya know, after sex,"

"Cuddle?"

"Yeah, yeah…no charge, baby…"

One side of his lips twitched upwards. He still knew he had it. "How much?" he repeated. Looking at his rumpled bed, she was sprawled over the sheets, her legs spread wide open exactly where he had left them. Her breathing was still erratic with her head thrown back and a sheet of sweat gleaming off her chest and arms. The sight had been a little appealing when he picked her up on the street but now he just wanted her to leave.

Finally moving, she looked at him with her eyes edged with lust, grinned goofily, swung her legs off the bed and stood up, not bothering to gather her clothes. She sauntered over to him, licking her painted lips. "Three hours, love. One hundred per,"

One of his eyebrows arched as he looked at her, his cigarette jutting out of his thin lips. "That's rich."

He handed her a couple of bills and she turned around, bending down to reclaim her lingerie. "That's quality service for ya."

He watched her dress and leave through the door noisily, never knowing her name or her age and not caring. They were all the same – the way they looked, how they talked and the way they smelled like damaged goods, exactly like his life. And he hated it.

Deciding to drown himself in alcohol, he got a shirt from his closet with a sly, evil glint in his eye. "Look at him. He comes crawling to me when the problem gets too big. What kind of master is he? Can't even handle his own shit. Pathetic. So he needs my help and I suppose that's why you're here. What is it this time? Rogue lackey? Centaur? Fairies? Fruitcakes? Piss in his pants?" He checked his jaw on a small mirror and traced the black stubble that had formed under his cheekbones. Then, he smirked. "Like what you saw a few hours ago? She's a screamer. Couldn't pry her off my back. But, of course, you'd know that already."

A clothed figure in hunter green and onyx robes emerged from a dark corner beside his bed stealthily. "Yes, so to speak. The rogue lackey as you bluntly put it."

"What about it?" He asked, putting out his cigarette in an ashtray.

"Huntsgirl has been banished as a traitor to the Huntsclan. Huntsmaster asks for you. She has disobeyed the master, attacked him and disowned herself by distorting her birth mark."

He smirked as he faced the mysterious being. "So he wants me to act as babysitter for her? Gotta be kidding me. That's why I don't rally with the Huntsclan and him. I mean, come on man; look at you. You're just a gofer; that's all you've got to show for it. And Huntsgirl…she's a big girl now. 17, right? He probably thinks she's still suckin' on-"

"Watch your tongue. Huntsmaster offers you his place in the clan if and only if you agree to pursue Huntsgirl. He has placed a bounty on her head and birthmark. I will repeat again: he asks for you. It is your avowed duty to obey and respect."

He shrugged as he reached for his jacket and placed his hand on the doorknob. Just when he was about to walk out, he felt a stinging force entrench itself in his shoulder. The sound of leather stretching in his ears made him turn and look behind. "You might wanna take your hand off my shoulder before you find it somewhere else that isn't listed on the anatomy chart. Kinda hurts." He said; his face devoid of expression.

"Good. Now, Huntsmaster asks for your attendance. Your mission is to retrieve Huntsgirl, bring back the Pendant of Inis and the scrolls of Tukara to your lord. Foolish are you if you deny. Your loyalty should be with your clan and your clan alone."

He gripped the man's forearm, his own nails digging into the clothed skin and forcefully tore it away from his shoulder. "What's in it for me?"

The figure staggered to the wall yet immediately reverted to his rigid stance with clenched fists. "Ascendancy,"

He thought about if for a few seconds and brushed off his shoulder. "Anything else?"

"Confront Huntsmaster. I do not wish to make assumptions."

"Fine, fine. Where the hell is he this time? Let me guess…Tibet…China…Uzbekistan…or did he head for Hell? Home sweet home, right?"

"Mongolia."

"Geez. You'd think he got better travel guides…" He walked out the door and into the hallway. He was about to enter the dank elevator when he heard his name being called.

"She's still your betrothed. That's why Huntsmaster wanted you to get to her before anyone else could. The clan needs an heir, even if its mother is considered a deserter by our code. This is your birthright with the Huntsclan. Use whatever tactic to get the job done. Don't screw this up, Damion or else she'll die. And I'm not talking about Huntsgirl. She's pretty – ebony hair, dark eyes, purple sweater…trusting smile. No wonder she caught your eye that day. Do you want her to hear of your…promiscuous escapades? I don't doubt that it'll…break her heart. Don't glare at me, Damion. Did you really think your activities have not been monitored since you decided to rendezvous outside your clan? You're our prince and-"

Damion's eyes narrowed to slits and he punched one of the doors of the elevator as it was closing, causing a deep dent. "Who the fuck commanded that she be associated with this arrangement?" He growled, murder written in his mad eyes. "Lay a hand on her and I will personally see to it that death pays a visit to whoever comes close to her, understand? I don't care if it's you, the Huntsman or any fucking creature he sends out. Hurt her and I'll kill."

"Nice to see your vocabulary has still retained some of its honing." The figure stepped in broad light, in view of Damion and his steady glare. "Just remember: if…no heir and no Huntsgirl, then no more girlfriend of yours. That comes directly from the Huntsmaster."

The being reached into a pocket on his vest and hastily threw red dust at the floor, covering him in a swirling cyclone of crimson mist. "Mongolia, near the Hangayn Nuruu Mountains." And he disappeared.

It took a while for Damion to calm himself down and enter the elevator, punching the button that will lead him to the ground floor. He saw his blurry image reflected off the metal of the iron door and his anger only grew to new heights. Memories of the past weeks flooded into his mind and he clenched his fists as familiar feelings stirred in the pit of stomach. Sorry Haley. Gotta do this first.

His cellphone rang inside his pocket and he quickly fished it out. He saw the name flash on the screen and he frowned. Crap.


New York, Long Residence

"Sorry. My bad. Didn't look where I was going,"

"I'm all right. It's okay."

"Still; it was careless of me."

"No biggie."

She finally caught a glance at the eyes of the man who bumped into her and sent her books tumbling to the pavement from her bent position, trying to retrieve her things. The most enthralling blue eyes gazed back at her and she felt her limbs freeze when he smiled, offering his hand. She hesitated at first; afraid she was blushing in the presence of this handsome creature she didn't know the name of, too shy to ask. But when she realized that his slender fingers were holding her own, she felt her resolves break and her heart flutter like what the wind was doing to his dark, unruly hair which she found really attractive.

"I'm Damion." He told her. "I'm sorry for bumping into you, again…uh…sorry. I didn't catch your name."

"I'm not surprised. I usually don't throw away my vital statistics to strangers who collide into me in the park." She grinned as she adjusted her grip on her books in her arm while she was still getting over the fact that his hand was still clutching hers. "Haley. Haley Long."

"Nice name, Haley."

"Nice first impression, Damion. Got a last name to go with that?" He smirked and she inwardly cursed at how gorgeous it made him look.

"Not really. But I do have a number and knowledge of a café down the street."

"We have to stop meeting like this."

"Meeting at all?"

"No. Just like this. It's not really getting warmer, Haley. I don't want you to get sick."

"You're like my brother. Always whining about…everything I do. I'm not that young and it's not like I can't take care of myself. I am efficiently capable of handling matters on my-"

He pressed a gentle thumb on her cold, rosy lips as the rest of his fingers cupped her cheek and warmed her ear. She looked at him with searching eyes as his blue ones bore into hers, embedding themselves in her memory.

"I know." He told her, moving closer until their jackets touched and she could feel his warm breath on her nose. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel that way. It's just, sometimes I'm not really sure if you know how much you mean to me ever since I bumped into you a month ago."

"I mean something to you?" Her voice was shaky. He could hear it.

He led her to a bench and gestured for her to sit down. "Yes."

The sleeves of their coats brushed together and no one pulled away from the nearness of the other. "You mean something to me too." She said, her eyes looking forward, amazed at how the moonlight reflected off the pond. "Because I wouldn't be sneaking out of the house at 1 in the morning everyday since I met you if you didn't mean something to me." She grinned and that grin disturbed him.

"Haley."

"Yeah?"

"You don't really think I'm like your brother, do you?"

She was puzzled. "Why do you ask?"

"Because…just…I…"

He rarely ever stuttered. "Damion," she whispered.

"Because it's wrong; brothers can't love their sisters the way lovers do."

"You mean…"

"It's our secret…right, Kiddo?"

"Yeah…what?"

"What?" Damion repeated, apparently confused.

"You just called me 'kiddo'."

At her flushed expression, he grinned and boldly placed his arms around her shoulders, drawing her closer to him. "So? Suits you,"

"Whatever. Kiddo pertains to being cute. I don't want to be cute. I'm mature!"

"Fine. You're mature. Happy, kiddo?"

"You just said that because you knew I didn't like it, did you?"

"No, I didn't," Smirk.

"Well, for whatever reason, you better start treating me like a lady."

"Why?"

"Because I am like all the other girls you must've dated."

He shrugged. "Takes one to know one, gorgeous,"

She smacked his arm as her grin grew to meet her brown eyes. And her joy only spread as his lips warmed hers more than any flame could.

Our little secret…

Haley's eyes slowly opened with hints of surprise from her dream. She groggily sat up and placed her back against the headboard, touching her warm cheeks. Another dream…It took her several minutes to calm down, trying to interpret the images that were still fresh in her mind. Glancing at the clock on her desk, the neon green lights glowed. 12:24. Time for her to get up, out the window, into the park.

She gingerly washed the sleep off her face and dressed in a shirt and tight jeans after much contemplation on wardrobe. It wasn't that she had a problem showing skin. It was just the question if he'd like what she had.

Sighing, she grabbed a black jacket and a burgundy scarf and climbed out her window after expertly stuffing her pillows under the sheets. Using her dragon wings, she glided down a back alley and fixed herself properly. Damion didn't know anything of her dragon lineage and she intended to keep it that way. He didn't need to get caught in her family's risky affairs with magical creatures.

She whipped out her cellphone and dialed the number her thumb knew too well.


Chapter 1 already in progress…just a few more paragraphs and I'm done. Stay with me on this one.