Brukr (Scifi Alien Weredragon Romance) (Dragons of Preor Book 8) Read online

  Brukr

  Dragons of Preor

  Celia Kyle

  Erin Tate

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  Contents

  Blurb

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  About the Author

  Blurb

  He’s willing to lose his honor to claim her, but first he must save her.

  The Preor emperor bestowed honors on warrior Brukr sen Zak’lu centuries ago—honors he does not deserve. Since then, he has fought to prove himself worthy of the emperor’s support. He works to protect and care for the females within Preor Tower no matter how difficult they make his task. One female constantly disregards orders and makes his duty nearly impossible. Hannah—with her flowing hair, teasing smiles, and generous curves—torments him with what he cannot have. He aches for her like no other, his dragon rages when he leaves her side, but without the Knowing stretching between them he cannot claim her. Or can he?

  Genetic modifications have changed Hannah’s appearance, but they can’t change her past. To atone, she steps into the spotlight as a spokesperson for Cole-Daven and moves into Preor Tower. Every day she struggles to convince other humans to accept Cole-Daven’s treatment for Pol Mutation. She also fights her attraction to one specific alien Preor. They’re not mates, but everything in her craves the large, muscular, deliciously tempting dragon shifting warrior.

  With her exposure to the public, Hannah now has humans after her. Some want to possess her, others want to torture her, and many want to kill her. That is unacceptable to Brukr and he will tell them so… with his war blades.

  Chapter One

  Brukr did not have the energy to fly. His blue-gray wings sagged, shoulders slumped, and spine curled. Exhaustion—once a distant enemy—now plagued his steps. His joints screamed in protest with his every move, and he gritted his teeth against the urge to whine like a dragonlet.

  He was a fierce Preor warrior. He did not cry like a young one. He was not the small human Lilet or the human-Preor twins Lorrasyh and Shanas. The three were newly born to their kind. The Defense Master had claimed his human mate, and the human bay-bee she carried—Lilet—now resided firmly under her alien da-dee’s wing. Lorrasyh and Shanas were clutchmates and War Master Taulan joi Lana’s dragonlets.

  Even with the differences in their species, they shared a common trait—they cried when they were not happy.

  Brukr was not happy.

  But he was not a dragonlet, and thus he would not cry…

  He sighed and shook his head, banishing his circular thoughts. He no longer knew the point he wished to make and even searching for it tired him. He craved nothing more than a meal and a bed. Perhaps simply a bed. The meal could come once he woke.

  That idea further proved his tiredness. A Preor warrior choosing slumber over food? Never.

  Never before had a flat surface—any flat surface—sounded so appealing. More appealing than the finest meal.

  His dragon’s soul stirred, the feral part of him sliding through his mind. Even the beast—two hundred tons of scale, wings, and fangs—wished to forgo meat in favor of rest.

  When had he become such a weak male? The question did not settle in his mind for long before the answer flooded his thoughts as well. It was from the moment the Defense Master’s mate had her Pol Mutation cured and then decided she would do the same for all others on Earth.

  All.

  And there were many on the planet.

  Soft laughter drifted to him, the tinkling sounds dancing down the hallway within Preor Tower. The source of that heartwarming giggle darted out of a condo, the front entry open, allowing her to escape.

  Blonde curls bounced as the small one raced down the hall, her gaze focused on where she had been and not where she headed. “Catch me, Aunt Kate!” She continued to race heedlessly. “Catch—”

  Brukr grasped her shoulders, halting her dash for freedom before she slammed into his legs and risked harm. The dragonlet squawked in surprise and then screamed in what he could only call terror. He immediately released her and took a step back, his apology already on his lips.

  “Be easy, young of Kate den Archer.” He kept his voice low as he’d observed other warriors doing when speaking to females. He could do nothing for the harshness of his tone and the rasp that clouded his speech. He then tipped his chin closer to his chest. Others in his quintet stated the scarring on his throat could frighten females. He did not wish to fail at his duties because his charges were too afraid to listen to orders. “I only wished to prevent harm.”

  “Violet Raine!” Kate den Archer strode from the condo, a picture of dam fury even though he was told she was not Violet’s dam. She was what the humans called an ant—the sister to a dragonlet’s dam.

  The young one, who only a moment ago stared at him with fear, now leapt forward and hid behind him. Apparently, her Aunt Kate was a greater threat than a Preor warrior.

  Kate stomped his way, eyes narrowed, and focused on a spot just beneath his right wing. He peered down as well, spying Violet peeking from her hiding spot.

  He hated to be the male to ruin her bid for freedom, but he had learned his lesson centuries ago. An unlearned young one must follow commands. Failure could result in the loss of life.

  As Brukr had nearly lost his own.

  He lifted his wing to expose Violet, which earned him a glare from the small human female. Better for her to be alive so she could hate him than dead because he did not act as he should.

  “Violet Raine.” Kate’s pace did not slow, and her fury grew with each step. “What did I say?” Violet opened her mouth to reply, but Kate did not allow the young one to speak. “I told you to stay put while I took a shower, and what did you do?” Violet tried once more, but Kate continued. “You bolted the first second you could. What would have happened to you if you’d had a seizure? Who would have taken you to…”?

  Kate’s lower lip trembled, and he realized it was not anger that drove Violet’s ant, but fear.

  A female’s fear was unacceptable, and Brukr’s dragon’s soul agreed. It pushed him to give the female reassurance, even if he did not quite understand what was required. He decided the truth would have to do.

  “Any within the building would have given aid, Kate den Archer.” He hated the scratchiness of his voice, but it could not be helped. The damage was old and well settled. “Every warrior has pledged his wings, scales, and blades to those who now reside within Preor Tower. We have vowed to stand between the residents and any threat. We have vowed to give our lives so that you may live.”

  Kate stuttered to a stop, her gaze snapping to Brukr, and he made sure his chin remained lowered. “You…”

  “It is an honor to care for the females of Cole-Daven.” An exhaus
ting honor, but still an honor to protect those that would help heal so many humans and give the Preors many more chances at finding a mate. It was a great honor.

  “But what if I had a see-zur?” Violet did not touch him but did step away until he could see the young one’s inquisitive eyes.

  What would he have done had she fallen ill? He had no idea.

  “I would have assisted Warrior Brukr sen Zak’lu in providing appropriate medical care while summoning Healers from medical.” Penelope—the fleet’s computer system—interrupted. “I am very good at issuing orders.”

  Yes, the computer—with the help of a human hacker named Liquid Knot—had become adept at issuing orders. He was still not sure how a knot could exist when liquid, but the annoying, confusing nature of the riddle had made the fleet’s system both annoying and confusing.

  Perhaps that had been the point.

  “See, Aunt Kate? I can play and get help if I have a see-zur.” Violet seemed pleased with herself, her smile wide, but Kate’s frown remained.

  He did not believe Penelope’s assurances were very reassuring.

  “Come with me, young lady, and we can talk about you listening to directions.”

  Violet drew in a deep breath and released it with a heavy sigh. “O. Kay.”

  The interaction was over shortly after it began, and Kate led a pouting Violet toward their condo. The two passed Triem—another in Brukr’s quint. Violet held out her hand and smacked it against one of Triem’s.

  His dragon’s soul surged, the dark part of him churning with the sight of Triem striking the female young one. His skin itched and stretched, dragon straining against his mental bindings and physical restraint. It wished to challenge Triem for the offense.

  But not while within Preor Tower. He would have to wait until he lured the male outside.

  That was a sound plan. He would draw Triem to the beach and then—

  “I have located you!” The young warrior smiled.

  “I did not realize I was lost.” He fought to keep his voice even. He could not signal an impending attack. He would lose the element of surprise.

  “I informed you of Brukr sen Zak’lu’s location, Triem,” Penelope interjected, and Brukr resisted the urge to smile with Triem’s annoyance.

  He could not laugh at the male and then immediately injure him. It did not seem honorable. Persuading Triem out of the tower and attacking without warning did not seem honorable either.

  Brukr could not lose another ounce of honor.

  “Thank you, Penelope.” Triem glared at the ceiling much like the human females did when speaking to the computer. Odd.

  He wished to understand the purpose, but his curiosity did not outweigh his desire to throw Triem from the nearest balcony.

  “Explain your actions.” He glared at the male and Triem frowned.

  “Actions?”

  “You struck a female.” He pointed at Kate and Violet’s condo. “Explain your actions before I separate your head from your worthless body. I wish to give the War Master a complete report after I send you on your final flight.”

  “I…” Triem’s attention shifted from Brukr to the condo and then back to him. “I did not strike her.”

  “I saw—”

  “I gave Violet Raine-but-not-water a hi five.” Triem shrugged. “It is a human greeting. She enjoys striking my hand, and Defense Master Zadri gave his approval.”

  Brukr narrowed his eyes and searched the other male’s expression for any hint of subterfuge. “I am not sure you speak the truth.”

  “Penelope, please recount my discussion with Defense Master Zadri concerning the striking of Violet Raine-but-not-water.”

  “Understood.” Penelope’s feminine voice filled the air. “Warrior Triem sen—”

  “Hold.” Brukr put an end to Penelope’s recitation. For the moment. “Explain Raine-but-not-water. Defense reports state her name as Violet Raine. There have been no updates regarding the young one’s name nor about your permission to strike her hand.”

  And Brukr would know. He was notified of every security update the moment it was issued. He would not be found lacking. Not ever again.

  Triem sighed and shook his head. “Brukr, there is no need for a security update for items such as—”

  “There is always a need.” He straightened, shrugging off what little exhaustion remained. “Duties cannot be carried out without full knowledge of current status. You—”

  “Brukr.” Triem stepped closer, his voice low. “Be calm.”

  By the skies, Brukr was calm. His palms stung, a pinching ache that drew his attention, and he realized he’d clenched his hands so tightly, his nails dug into flesh. Not the normally blunted nails, either. They were the sharp claws of his dragon.

  He forced his hands to uncurl. “I am calm.”

  Triem—young, idiotic, soon-to-be-dead Triem—snorted. “You forget that I know you.” He shook his head. “I did not search for you so we could argue. Our shift is at an end, and Argan and Radoo have assumed responsibility for our females.”

  Theirs but not theirs. Their responsibility to protect, but not their mates.

  Mates… The single word brought images to mind—a single female’s face consuming his thoughts. Heart-shaped with a delicate nose slightly raised at the tip, brown eyes that darkened when she became frustrated with him. Which was often. Teachings told him that purposefully angering a female was dishonorable, and yet… Yet parts of him enjoyed the flush of anger.

  “Though Argan has requested use of a shuttle.” Triem’s words drew Brukr from his thoughts, and he met the male’s gaze. “I wonder why he would need transport,” Triem drawled and lifted a single eyebrow. “Can you guess?”

  Brukr knew the answer before the younger warrior had a chance to reveal the truth. He sighed and closed his eyes. “Hannah den Kelly has not returned for the evening.”

  Hannah. Beautiful, desirable, troublesome Hannah den Kelly.

  He did not need Triem’s confirmation, but the male provided it anyway. “No, she has not.”

  Brukr straightened, and a new resolve filled his body. “Notify Argan that I shall locate her and bring her back to Preor Tower.”

  Triem shook his head. “You are just ending your shift and you have worked over twenty-four Earth hours without a break.”

  Brukr shrugged. “I did not wish for Ivoth to separate from his mate, and additional warriors have not yet been assigned. It was no great difficulty to remain on duty.”

  “Brukr, I have spoken with Ivoth, and he has agreed that you should be assigned as her primary—”

  He held up a hand, knowing what the males discussed. They wished him to become her primary guard. They did not realize what that would do to his heart.

  Brukr shook his head. “We can speak of this at another time. The sun has fallen from the skies, and I must retrieve Hannah. She remains out until the late hours even though she hates darkness.” He shrugged. “She is illogical.”

  She also constantly remained in his mind.

  “Brukr—”

  Brukr was done with his discussion with Triem. “Penelope, cancel Argan’s request and notify Argan and Radoo that I shall search out Hannah and return with her.”

  “Confirmed.” The computer’s response was immediate.

  He turned to retrace his steps, seeking the elevator that would take him to the ground floor. Before he turned the corner, Triem’s voice reached out to him.

  “You call her Hannah, Brukr. Not Hannah den Kelly. You call her Hannah. Have you asked yourself why?”

  No. No, he had not. He did not know why he did not use the honorable and proper form of address with her. Or perhaps he did and it was not a truth he wished to acknowledge. Brukr was not sure.

  Instead of revealing the truth, he glanced at Triem over his shoulder. “I shall return with Hannah.”

  Chapter Two

  Hannah had lost count. Again. How hard was it to tally credits for a little nothing of a diner? Very, appar
ently. It was the fourth time she’d tossed the credits back into the register so she could start all over again. Again.

  She rolled her shoulders and tilted her head from side to side, stretching the muscles in her neck. She dropped her chin to her chest and arched her back as well, fighting to loosen up a little before she began her trudge home. Her feet practically screamed in protest, not wanting to take another step, let alone the hundreds—thousands?—she’d travel to make it to Preor Tower.

  A little voice in the back of her mind reminded her of the credits burning a hole in her bank account, credits that could cover the cost of a transport to take her from the Dirty by the Dozen Diner to Preor Tower. The fee wouldn’t even put a dent in her balance, it wheedled and whined. Or rather, the pain in her feet made her mind wheedle and whine at herself.

  It was tempting. Tempting to tap into the credits she’d earned while working for Cole-Daven.

  “Working,” she mumbled, snorted, and shook her head. Nothing about being employed by Cole-Daven could be called work. Elle Davenport chose her because she was a working woman who had Pol Mutation—someone relatable. As for the “work,” it was nothing more than—

  A sharp tap, rapid and hard, snared Hannah’s attention. She swung her gaze to the front, her stare colliding with the man standing just on the other side of the glass. Dark eyes, darker hair, and skin so pale it matched the glow from the soft light of the diner. Purple bags lingered beneath his eyes, and his nose held more than a hint of red. He’d been drinking.

  Hannah sighed. She didn’t know how Eric managed to keep his job while drinking all the time, but he did. Apparently, the government didn’t care if their agents were alcoholics if they were functioning alcoholics.

  Another series of taps, Eric’s expression transitioning from annoyed into a heated glare, and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Barely. The man treated her like she was a teenager, not near thirty—or just north of thirty, but if anyone asked, she was still twenty-nine.