Jarek (Scifi Alien Weredragon Romance) (Dragons of Preor Book 1)

  Dragons of Preor: Jarek

  Celia Kyle

  Erin Tate

  Contents

  Dragons of Preor: Jarek

  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

  About the Author

  Copyright Page

  Dragons of Preor: Jarek

  What’s hotter than an alien with scales? An alien with wings and scales, not to mention a hot body.

  At 457 Preor years old, Jarek sen Claron is a dragon ready for his final flight into the skies. This voyage to Earth as the War Master of the third fleet will be his final assignment. Once he has helped his fellow Preors secure human mates, he will return to Preor before the madness of loneliness overtakes his mind.

  That all changes when he meets Melissa. Human Melissa with her sparkling eyes, bright smile, and body that would make any hot-blooded male drool. Unfortunately, she never registered as a Preor mate hopeful. No matter, the Knowing stretches between them and there is no way she can resist him. Until she does.

  Jarek wishes to give her the choice to mate him, while everything inside him screams to take Melissa beneath his wing, now. No choosing necessary.

  But should he draw her to his side when his enemies are circling? Many males do not believe the son of a Preor mass murderer deserves to have a mate. Can he survive the coming battles? Or will he die without tasting sweet Melissa’s lips?

  1

  They called it Knowing. When young, Jarek had always scoffed at such a thing. A Knowing. The idea was absurd. The masters and teachers heard his words and clucked their tongues, shaking heads and ruffling wings—clear signs they pitied him for his ignorance.

  Then he’d lived year to year, watching his friends and peers experience their own Knowing.

  Such as when Evuklar stopped in mid-flight, half way between Atue and Derilia above the Skoria forests. He’d pulled his wings tightly to his body, released a bellowing fire-tainted roar, and performed an aerial maneuver their masters never taught, diving into the trees. Later, after Evuklar saved his new mate from a group of Skors chasing her, he explained the dragon in his heart had stolen all control.

  That was part of the Knowing—the recognition of their mates and subsequent tie of their minds. The rest… the rest was the gift of unerring knowledge of all that came before their lives. The collective history of their race, blood history, was opened to them.

  It was large, vast, and heavy, Evuklar said. Something that could only be endured with a mate at his side to help shoulder the burden.

  Jarek stopped doubting then. No, there were no doubts, but envy was now his constant companion.

  Even four hundred twenty-two years later, the burn of envy filled his veins. He pushed the emotion down, unwilling to let it overpower him. If he allowed his emotions to rule his body… Well, they might as well send him on his final flight now and not wait until the madness of loneliness stole his mind.

  An out of control Preor was a dead Preor. Not because he’d kill himself, but because others would carry out the task for the good of all. Emotional instability was never good for a two-hundred-ton dragon.

  Jarek was pleased with himself. He’d remembered the human words for his kind. Tons instead of loor though the conversion was slightly altered and not one-to-one. Dragon instead of Preor.

  In his heart—in reality—he was the same no matter the language.

  Jarek sen Claron, War Master and aging Preor. Four hundred fifty-seven turnings and he still had no mate. He still had not experienced the Knowing. He still… rested alone each night and woke alone each day. There were plenty of females to warm his bed, but none who would spend the darkness unless he paid another dozen dukos for the privilege.

  He long ago decided he would rest with his mate and no others and not because he wished to save his coin, as Evuklar often teased. He made that clear each time his friend felt the need to taunt him. His mate would be the first—

  “War Master Jarek?” a warrior murmured. “We approach the planet.”

  Jarek nodded and drew his thoughts from the past, from himself, and into the present. He had a higher purpose today and it was not to lament his lack of Knowing. No, it was to begin the introduction of Preor hopefuls to the Earth people.

  Humans. They use the term humans just as we are aliens. No matter the label, nothing could change the truth. Genetic testing showed Preors and humans could mate and the Negotiate Master Zurer joi Sobol—a mated male—secured a treaty with Earth. Details of the treaty were restrictive, but Jarek was sure Zurer negotiated the best terms possible.

  The word that most troubled Jarek was voluntary. The human females had to agree to the possibility of mating a Preor. It meant his people could not simply fly the clouds until their mate called them from the skies. They had to wait to be approached and then presented to the willing female.

  He took a moment to stare down at the large planet filling the view screen, thankful for the privacy his office near the ship’s control bridge provided. He was close at hand yet afforded a small measure of solitude while he lost himself in his thoughts.

  He kept the space free of decoration, allowing only what was necessary for his duties. Evuklar’s mate informed him the office was ugly and lacked comforts. She did not understand there was no comfort in warring. He would not allow himself to become spoiled by female frippery.

  The drifting clouds that hovered over the planet’s surface drew his eye once more and returned his thoughts to what was to come. The Knowledge Masters reported the planet was seventy percent water and thirty percent land. So little land for so many beings, but they somehow managed. Flourished, really.

  Humans had an equal number of males and females. If only Preor was so gifted. But they were not… at this time. Who knew what the future would hold if more matches were established. The planet held hope for his people. Hope Preor’s ratio of males and females would reduce from one female for every thousand males. Hope…

  “Very well. Put us in orbit above the United States—specifically Ujal Station Tau near Fl-O-Ree-Duh. Prepare and open the landing deck to receive the Ujal delegation. Have them escorted to the main conference hall.” The Ujal—a sea species—were advocates for the Preor after Zurer and Preor technology helped locate the royal family’s kidnapped dragonlet. No, Ujal dragonlets are called younglings. It was yet another fact he had to remember.

  The young soldier gave a small bow in acknowledgment, but didn’t say another word before retreating, leaving him alone to review the data stream flashing across his screens. It was privacy Jarek appreciated. He needed to review the plans to—

  “Jarek? Are you prepared to celebrate?” Evuklar’s joyous voice told him there would be no reviewing of plans. His closest friend strode around the corner and came deeper into the office with his mate on his heels. The male stopped just before Jarek’s desk and waited for his mate to approach. His friend lifted his arm and pulled back a wing so his smaller mate could slide into his embrace at Evuklar’s side.

 
Jarek pretended not to notice the way their bodies easily molded together. He also pretended not to see the way the warrior smiled at her touch.

  “Evuklar, Nalan,” he tilted his head in welcome. “What brings you?”

  Evuklar smiled wider. “Can’t a male seek out his closest friend?”

  Jarek raised a single brow. “No.”

  He grasped his chest and gasped. “I am mortally wounded.”

  Nalan elbowed her mate. “You are mortally difficult. “ She turned back to Jarek. “Ignore him, War Master.”

  Jarek kept his grin in place even as he internally winced. He should be proud of his title. He’d earned it through blood, sweat, and scales. But when he was with his friends—the closest he had to true family—he wished he was seen as… other.

  “In truth now. What—” A low tone emitted from his desk, announcing they’d reached their destined position. It also signaled a need for his presence in the ship’s conference room. He mentally sighed and prepared himself for the coming hours. An unfamiliar bout of nerves struck him nearly forcing his wings to tremble, but he suppressed the need.

  Was he nervous about what was to come? No, he didn’t believe so. Then why… Another tone. A quiet reminder. Jarek stepped toward the door, already making his excuses. “Unfortunately we will have to delay this—”

  “War Master?” Nalan stepped into his path, her hand reaching for him and stopping just short of contacting his skin. No one touched a War Master. No one wanted to draw his attention at the wrong moment and lose their lives to his fury.

  Those were nothing but old tales still persisting after all these years. He could not recall a War Master losing himself so far as to harm an innocent. But I have not experienced the Knowing, have I? Perhaps there is something in the history…

  He pushed those thoughts away, ignored the soft tremble of her voice, and gave her a small smile. “Yes, Nalan?”

  “I…” she licked her lips, gaze straying to her mate and then returning to him. “We wished to know if we should search the databases for you. Evuklar said you have not yet explored them and there are so many females who—”

  She became more flustered by the passing seconds and everything inside him urged him to comfort and calm a distressed female. Jarek carefully captured her trembling hand with both of his and gave a small squeeze. “I thank you for your concern, but I am happy with my life.” When she opened her mouth as if to object, he spoke again. “Let the young males match before an old dry scale like me takes the prize from beneath their wings.”

  “But, War Master…”

  He shook his head. “I am well, Nalan. I have caring friends. More than most and less than some, but I am still content.” He released her, gave his friend a small nod, and then strode toward the doorway. He also ignored the guilt from his lie. “I must meet with Prince Tave and his principessa now. We can discuss this,” —never again— “once preparations are underway.”

  “Yes, War Master,” Nalan tipped her head in acknowledgment, but he was not so lucky with Evuklar.

  “I know you’ll avoid us for the next Earth week in hopes we’ll forget, but we won’t.” His friend stepped forward, his expression earnest. “There are billions of females on the surface, Jarek. You would not be taking from one of your own warriors. Besides, you know if you have a mate and get close enough to her, it won’t be a matter of choosing. The Knowing will strike you whether you will it or not.”

  A secret that’d been kept from the humans and Ujal both. The hope was that if a human female who had not agreed to be approached experienced a Knowing, the desires of the connection would drive her to agree to the match.

  Jarek nodded his understanding. But kept his other thoughts to himself. He never planned to put himself in a position to be in close proximity to an Earth female. He’d lived a long life and did not want to allow hope to kindle in his heart. It was better not to feel the pain when he failed to find a mate.

  “I will meet you for a meal once I speak with the Ujal delegation.” They would facilitate the first meetings between the Preor and human females at Preor Choosing Station Tau. It’d been determined that keeping the Ujal and Preor close would be the least invasive and most acceptable arrangement at this time. Those around UST and Tau were familiar with aliens. Welcoming another would not be quite as difficult as settling an area unfamiliar with other races.

  Preor diplomats signed agreements, but those males were not the ones responsible for establishing their people on the surface. The Ujal, water-living aliens, were familiar with the process and offered to assist the Preor in those tasks. They did not offer out of the kindness of their hearts, however.

  They both had what the other desired. Preor wanted to find mates on earth. Ujal needed technology to help locate their missing people. Ujal younglings had been stolen and sold. The concept disgusted Jarek. It was almost enough for him to fight the agreement. Did the Preor males wish to tie themselves to a race that sold their young?

  Then he’d been reminded that not all Preor were good of heart, either.

  So now he strode through the passageways of his ship, intent on his meeting with Earth-based Ujal rulers—Prince Tave and Principessa Rina fa’Vyl-Zeret. His men stepped aside as he approached, moving into doorways and saluting him as he passed. Some went so far as to whisper prayers of strength and blessings of triumph. They all knew what the coming days would bring. Hope was within the grasp of his people—the future living and breathing on the surface of the blue and green planet.

  His wings twitched against his back, an involuntary reaction, and he halted in the corridor. Unease slithered along flight lines, the primary muscles jerking in response to a change in the air. He recognized the feeling—preparation for battle. A warrior intent on violence lingered near, and his senses hunted the source of the danger. He did not imagine every male onboard his ship was overjoyed with adding alien genetic material to their race, but it was either mating with compatible species, or dying out.

  The race as a whole did not want to become extinct.

  Jarek glanced down the corridor once more, not seeing anything amiss despite the combat readiness of his body. He focused on the warrior nearest to him and glanced at the markings on his leather harness. “Third Warrior.”

  “War Master,” the male acknowledged his address.

  “Contact Defense Master Evuklar immediately. Double the warriors surrounding the Ujal in the conference room.”

  The young warrior gasped and broke formation. “They are a threat, War Master?”

  To be so young. He couldn’t have more than a hundred years and no discipline to question a War Master in such a way. “No, I believe there may be threats against them. No more questions, Third Warrior,” he snarled, baring a single fang. The male would learn. If Jarek didn’t have others waiting on him, he would show the warrior exactly how to behave. “I expect the warriors to be present when I arrive. Go.”

  Jarek continued on his path, striding down the winding corridors while thinking over the meeting to come. Minutes later, he rounded the last corner and was gratified to see his orders had been followed. He would not have to censure the Third Warrior too harshly, then. At least he’d done as demanded even if he questioned Jarek’s authority.

  More than one male’s expression showed distaste or disgruntlement, the emotions flashing across their features and vanishing as quickly as they’d appeared. Yet they would do as ordered despite their disgust. He could not guarantee every male was happy with the rulings of the council, but he could guarantee the safety of their visitors. Behind the secured doors was an integral part of Preor’s future and he would do everything within his power to ensure the males surrounding him found mates among the females of Earth if they desired.

  First they would convince the people of the sea of their pure intentions and then they would find solace in their futures with the humans of the land.

  Jarek stopped in front of the door and waited for the ship to verify his identity before gran
ting him access to the room. Safety of the Ujal rulers was paramount.

  Perhaps someday, through their assistance, there would be many Preor ruling the skies of the planet, but not today.

  The doors parted, giving him entrance to the large meeting room. He scanned the space, searching out the prince and principessa among the gathered beings. His attention flicked from one person to the next as he recalled everyone’s names and positions. It was necessary for the War Master—as humans say—to know the players in the game.

  He recognized all, save one. He kept his eyes trained on her as he turned his head slightly, prepared to question the nearest Preor warrior. “Who is—”

  Her laugh sliced through the space, tinkling and light as it rose above the gathered Ujal. She knelt before the prince’s youngling, teasing her small toes and drawing a high-pitched giggle from the child. He noted the delicate line of her neck, the way the strands of her hair glistened in the ship’s lighting and…

  The Knowing struck.

  2

  Melissa tickled little Theresa’s feet, enjoying the laugh that left the child’s lips. No, she was a youngling. Meli hadn’t gotten in the habit of calling Ujal children younglings just yet. In her mind, a baby was a baby, but in the Ujal world, there was a difference.

  Mainly scales and tails. She remembered the first time she’d seen Theresa shift, when she first caught sight of the rainbow of colors replacing skin. It was beautiful. Strange since it wasn’t something humans could do, but it wasn’t any less awe-inspiring.

  “Miss Meli,” she kicked her legs, fighting to get away, but not too hard. She knew when Theresa was truly done playing. It was part of her job to know. As the land-based nanny to the Ujal royal family, it was necessary for her to gauge the child’s every mood, almost every thought.

  “I’m going to get you.” Meli growled and tickled her stomach. She was proud of the warriors surrounding her. The first time she’d made the sound and gone after Theresa, she’d been quickly pinned with a blade to her throat. The event had two effects: 1) she realized she needed to learn self-defense so Rhal didn’t pin her so easily and 2) she’d truly become part of the royal family. She’d never seen little Theresa so fierce as when her Uncle Rhal knocked Miss Meli over and held a knife to her throat.