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

  Melissa struggled against his hold, jerking and twisting while kicking and stomping on his feet. She wouldn’t be a liability to Jarek. She wouldn’t. “Let me go, asshole motherfucker.”

  The male’s other hand snaked around her waist and squeezed her hip. “Mmm… No.”

  A hardness against her ass told her exactly why the Preor didn’t want to release her and it had nothing to do with keeping her out of the fight and everything with keeping her near a bed.

  Hell. No.

  A loud, resounding crack of bone rose above the snarls and growls and Melissa tore her attention from her captor. Jarek dropped a mangled body to the sand, Welvix’s lifeless eyes meeting hers. The circling men froze, gazes on the dead Preor. One heartbeat passed, and then two. On the third, the attacking males sprang into action once more. They piled atop her mate, nine males crowding over Jarek’s injured form.

  “No!” Melissa strained against her captor, kicking and scratching every bit of him she could reach. She couldn’t watch Jarek die. She had to do something, anything. She wouldn’t find her mate only to lose him. Her heart couldn’t take it. “Jarek!”

  The sound began as a low vibration, the ground trembling quickly to shake the very air around them. Then the eardrum-shattering roar filled her ears. Nine male bodies exploded up, tossed into the air to land ten feet away, forming a large circle around… Jarek?

  The sand spun, slipping and sliding over his scales and he grew before her eyes. The transition they thought impossible was entirely possible. His human appendages changed to dragon legs and his wingspan lengthened even further. His body increased in mass, two hundred pounds of human becoming two hundred tons of deadly Preor. Jarek opened his mouth wide, smoke trailing from his nostrils, and shot fire from his gaping maw. It burned through the air, singeing the surrounding males where they stood. Many of them shook, a cloud of colored dust encircling them as their own dragons took over.

  Jarek swung his gaze to her, deep green eyes boring into her own, and then he opened his mouth once more. Was he going to kill her, then? In truth, death would probably be better than being violated by the Preor male.

  The man at her back screamed and stumbled forward, dropping her to the ground with the action. He spun away as if to flee. He was quick, but not quick enough. Warmth bathed her back, her vision filled with sparkling oranges and reds as Jarek’s fire slid over her. The male who’d held her burst into bright flames, his two-legged form followed by the colors of Jarek’s rage.

  But it did not touch her, did nothing but slightly heat her skin. Why? The Knowing was quick to reply, quick to tell her that a Preor’s mate could never feel the touch of another’s fire. Huh. Convenient.

  The stench of burning flesh filled her senses and she opened her mouth, no longer wanting to breathe through her nose. Her attacker writhed on the ground, painful moans coming from his charred lips, and Melissa crawled away from the dying male.

  She rolled down the steps, collapsing onto the sand and leaning against the wooden steps while she watched the continued battle. The shimmer of sand—a signal of the others’ transitions—lessened to reveal nine colorful dragons circling Jarek.

  Green eyes met hers and a million different emotions flitted through them. Love. Hope. Anger. Sadness. Agony.

  Determination.

  It was the last that gave her pause—that had confusion slinking through her mind. Her mate crouched, bending his legs until his belly nearly touched the sand, and then launched himself skyward with a single beat of his wings. A trumpeting roar and blast of fire so hot it turned blue accompanied the movement. Jarek’s attackers were quick to follow her mate into the sky, their bellows joining his.

  Now Melissa had only one thing to do… pray.

  19

  Jarek believed he knew pain, yet there was nothing compared to the agony that accompanied each beat of his wings. His bones ached, body straining against his increased weight.

  Yet he persevered. There was no other option available to him. He’d already destroyed the male who’d dared touch Melissa and he would not give the others the chance to put their hands—or claws—on her skin.

  Even now, as he soared above the seas, their words assaulted him. They tormented his mind and spurred his rage.

  We will have fun with the pretty.

  One Preor is as good as another. How does she taste?

  She will know the touch of a worthy male once you take your last breath, traitor.

  That’d been Welvix and it was the reason the male died first. They would all die. He knew males—knew when their intentions were good and when they transformed to evil. Every one of them had lust circling their minds.

  Lust for his mate.

  Another beat of his wings and yet another took him high into the clouds. The moisture stroked his heated scales, soothing some of the rage and pain sliding over him. The wisps of water took the sharp edge of his anger away, giving his mind a moment to formulate a plan. Dragon’s fire did nothing against another dragon, but claws… claws could slice through vulnerable parts of another’s body with ease.

  That became his focus.

  When a black attempted to rise above him, Jarek spun and dug his claws into the male’s vulnerable underbelly. It was a single strike meant to disembowel with one blow. His fore claws scraped the male’s chest from collarbone to just beneath the ribcage while his back legs took care of the rest until his attacker was split down the middle. Jarek shoved his opponent away and he went spinning toward the black waters beneath him.

  But he did not have the chance to rejoice. There were others intent on eliminating him.

  Two beats of his wings had him gaining height once more, rising farther so he could dive at yet another Preor. A red tried next, this male attempting to tear at Jarek’s throat with his massive jaws.

  Did they not realize Jarek knew how to counter every attack? Honorable or not, he could defend himself. Being the son of the most hated male on Preor and his position as War Master prepared him for every conflict.

  The red’s jaws snapped near Jarek’s neck while the male attempted to slice him with his tail. A single closing of his wings sent him into a dive and he dug his claws into his opponent’s flesh. The Preor tried to jerk free, of course, but Jarek was older—stronger. He continued their dive, flinging them toward the blackness of the ocean. Fire surrounded them, his opponent attempting any method to gain freedom. When they were no more than thirty feet from the sea, Jarek spread his wings and shoved the red away and into the deep waters.

  Dragons may have scales but they weren’t meant for the sea. They sank to the bottom no matter how hard they might fight their descent while their wings—once wet—became useless.

  Two were gone, which left him with seven. A high number, but beatable.

  He skimmed the water, body no more than ten feet from the rolling seas. The others tried to match his path, the beat of their wings reaching his ears and then another sound joined—a splash followed by yet another roar.

  Down to six, then. He was not sure who perished, but their absence was enough.

  Land came into view, the distant lights telling him of the presence of humans and he refused to bring the battle over their homes. This was a Preor matter and no others’.

  A bolt of fire flew over his shoulder, the heat driving away the relief from the cool waters. Cool waters released steam when the mass of red and blue struck the surface.

  Perfect.

  He beat his wings. Once, twice, and then let himself glide for the last few moments—conserving his energy for the burst to come. He breathed deeply, gathering the air while calling on his dragon’s fire. He lowered his head and in one giant gust, released the ball of flame onto the sea.

  Steam rose in a massive cloud of white, blinding the male attempting to destroy him. Jarek lowered his wings in a long flutter and then arched his back, flipping in mid-air until he came down atop the dragon—a yellow. One shove sent his opponent crashing into the deadly waters.
>
  Down to five.

  He banked right, and traced the line of Florida’s coast. He remained over a mile out, but kept it in sight. He needed one more look, just one more glance at his mate before… before he lost this battle. His strength waned with each confrontation and he was unsure how much longer he could continue the fight before succumbing to his injuries and exhaustion. The others were still chasing after him, growls, snarls, and bursts of fire announcing their presence.

  Stupid young ones. He’d call them warriors, but they no longer deserved the title. They were nothing but large dragonlets.

  He soon recognized the changes in the coast. The landmarks told him he neared his mate’s home. Another moment, and then two, and then the bright fire of her burning cottage came into view. Oops, he’d done that.

  But that was not all there. Others lined the beach as well. He squinted into the night, noting who’d joined his mate. He spied Tave, his blue scales shimmering in the red fire’s light. Rina was at his side. Surrounding them were Rhal, Erun, Bikk, and Shon. The males stood ready to defend their rulers… and Melissa. Fury was etched into every line of the males while fear coated the principessa’s features.

  Then out of the shadows came Evuklar and Nalan. At their sides stood… Zurer joi Sobol and his mate, Sobol joi Zurer Haclu. Sobol may have renounced her claim to the throne, but she still remained a daughter of the Haclu line—a princess.

  Would they attempt to stop him from destroying the remaining males? Or perhaps join his attackers in subduing him and keeping peace between the species?

  He would find out when he banked right and back over the deeper waters of the gulf. Just as he turned, he noticed the swirling colors of a Preor transition, both Evuklar and Zurer adopting their dragon forms. The males raced after their small group, trumpeting their displeasure.

  He glanced over his shoulder, watching his trackers split and grant both males space. So his friend and the Negotiate Master were after him. He was soon disabused of that notion when Evuklar beat on a blue and Zurer whipped his tail toward an orange. Both males took care of the enemy with ease, age giving them more knowledge and strength than the younger males had amassed.

  Down to three.

  Three who chose to flee instead of continuing the flight. A white, a teal, and a pink shot across the wide expanse of the ocean. Their wings beat heavily, making waves as they raced away in an attempt to save themselves. He knew if Evuklar had his way, they would perish.

  Just as Jarek soon would. For he could not go on. Not any longer. The exhaustion burned through his muscles, sapping what remained of his energy and strength.

  But he needed to see her, needed to feel her hands on his scales as he perished. He banked and turned himself until he pointed toward Melissa’s once more. He couldn’t beat his wings, any hint of that ability stolen from him by the battle. So he glided, thankful he’d begun this journey from higher in the skies. With luck, he could make it to the beach before he lost consciousness to feel Melissa’s hands on his scales one last time.

  With a lot of luck.

  He was motivated, though. Drawn forward by his need to see Melissa, to touch her skin and then assure her his thoughts were true. That, despite their recent meeting, she’d stolen his heart. He might not be worthy, there might be many who objected to him having a mate, but she belonged to him just the same. He would do anything, give up anything, to see her happy and safe and beneath his wing. He just had to live first.

  Jarek slowly lost height, the wind deserting him when he needed it most. He fought gravity, battling to flex his wings and try for additional height. Tried and failed. The dark waters drew nearer, death beckoning him like a siren and he did not have the strength to resist. Not now. Not anymore. His previous injuries and the fight with the males took everything from him.

  And as his back feet dragged into the waves, he took one final look at Melissa. He knew she could not see him, but he saw her—her tears, her heartache, and her pain. The last sound to fill his ears was hers, as well…

  “Jarek, no!”

  20

  Melissa had spent way too much time in medical for her liking. First there was the attack on Jarek on the battleship and now he’d endured a fight of nine against one. Well, ten if she counted the guy he’d turned into a crispy critter on her porch. And he’d lived through it all. He was still unconscious, still pale, but also still breathing.

  Thank God for the Ujal. Tave’s people called the seas home and they’d gone into action when the second dragon struck the water. The first had been a lost cause—Jarek did his job well and sharks finished the task for him.

  In the end, they’d saved Jarek as well. The moment her mate hit the water, his body returned to his mostly-human form. From there, two Ujal brought him to shore, right into Sece’s waiting medical bay. She wasn’t sure what’d happened to the others, and she didn’t care, either. As long as they didn’t share space with Jarek and her, she was happy.

  Melissa stared at her mate’s broad back, the flesh and scales now healed, though still just as twisted. The shift had repaired his body but could do nothing about the scarring. Did she care? No. She only cared that he lived and breathed and was there for her. Selfish, she knew, but so what?

  She ran her fingers over the uneven skin, tips tracing the green scales and then along the edges of his wings—paper thin but strong and sturdy. The softness tickled her fingertips but she continued, sliding along the bend, the knuckle and on to the very pointed tip. She retraced her path, moving back toward his head. She could hardly imagine something that appeared so delicate could endure so much.

  When she reached his back, she laid her palm flat on the space between his wing bases. His breathing remained even and deep, his heart still beating, sending blood through his veins. She never imagined she’d see him again—alive and whole. Not when he’d rocketed into the sky with nine dragons on his tail.

  But he had and now he was back, albeit unconscious.

  Melissa moved to repeat the caress to his other wing, intent on exploring him and confirming he was whole and healthy. But Jarek’s voice stopped her when she reached the first joint.

  “If you do not wish me to embarrass myself, you will cease.” His voice was rough and rusty, but such a welcome sound.

  “Jarek?” she whispered and snatched her hand back. “Jarek?”

  With a groan, he pushed up from the mattress and rested his weight on his elbows. Bloodshot eyes met hers and her vision blurred from tears. “I am here, shaa kouva. Apparently I am difficult to kill.”

  She choked on a sob and reached for him, fingers gliding over his carved cheek and on to his lips. “You’re awake.”

  He turned his head and pressed a soft kiss to the center of her palm. “Yes.” He nuzzled her. “Cease your touches, shaa kouva. I am difficult to kill, but as the humans say, third time may be the charm.”

  Melissa snatched her hands from his face and wing. “Huh?”

  “Your touch on my wing is… arousing. The males on my ship did not end my life nor did the group intent on taking me from you, but I cannot guarantee I won’t die from the pleasure of your touch.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  A low cough drew her gaze to medical’s doors and a blush heated her cheeks. Evuklar clued her in. “The feel of a mate’s hands on our wings is very pleasurable. Nalan has brought me to—”

  The male grunted and then Nalan darted around her mate and hiss at him. “Evuklar joi Nalan Kharissann. You were not about to discuss…”

  The look Evuklar—massive Defense Master and formidable warrior—gave his mate could be nothing but touching and sweet. “Of course not, shaa kouva. I would never.”

  Talk about trying to save his ass.

  Jarek snorted. “The goddess does not like liars, Evuklar.”

  “Traitor,” Evuklar mumbled and stepped around Nalan.

  When the Preor approached, Melissa eased away from her mate, giving him space. Or at least she would have if he
hadn’t captured her hand once more. “Stay.”

  She would have reminded him she wasn’t a dog, but kept her mouth shut. She could grumble at him later. For now, she merely cradled his hand in her own and settled onto a nearby chair.

  Jarek turned his attention to the Defense Master. “Tell me what has happened while I recovered.”

  “The males who attacked were from the opposition, ordered to act by their council elders.” Evuklar ran his fingers through his hair. “Yet their council elders have forsaken them and deny involvement and made a vow of loyalty to Ruler Haclu.”

  “What does that mean for his attackers?” The Knowing answered before Evuklar.

  The males would automatically face one hundred years of imprisonment or death for the attempted assassination of the War Master.

  But that wasn’t the message Evuklar revealed. “Ruler Haclu is showing leniency and sentencing them to fifty years on the prison planet Yaybos.”

  Melissa shook her head, shock shooting through her at his words. “But the law states…”

  “His excuse is that it is a time of unrest due to this new treaty with Earth. That welcoming another species to join with us has put all males on edge. He believes punishment should be weighed against extenuating circumstances.” Evuklar frowned, his eyebrows drawn down and lips turning nearly white pressed together so hard. “I disagree and told the Ruling Speaker as much, but Ruler Haclu has spoken.

  “Even Sobol fought on our behalf, pointing out the males were also responsible for the damage to the ship and nearly slicing your wings from your body.” Fury sparked in the Preor’s eyes. “But the monitoring systems mysteriously did not record their activities. Though weapons were forbade in the conference room, they were armed prior to the attack.”

  Jarek grunted but didn’t say a word. Well, Melissa had plenty to say.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” She jerked away from her mate and pushed to her feet, staring down—er, up—at the Preor male. She pointed at Jarek’s pale face, his muscular body spread on the large bed. “He nearly died. They tried to kill him. They nearly blew up your ship and killed thousands more. Preor law is clear in the punishment for such acts. It is non-negotiable.”