Jarek (Scifi Alien Weredragon Romance) (Dragons of Preor Book 1) Page 2

  The Ujal youngling had a set of lungs on her rivaling any creature from their home world. At least, that’s what she’d been told. When Theresa nearly shattered her eardrums with a yell, Melissa could believe it.

  Don’t touch my Miss Meli!

  Her position as a family member was acknowledged even more firmly at Christmas. Before talks with Preor truly began, a human councilman attempted to destroy any negotiations by stealing Theresa. She supposed the intent was to blame the Preor—or even Melissa due to her family’s history—and she’d ended up with a knife cutting her from belly button to sternum. And still the perpetrators ended up with little Reesa in their clutches. It’d been the Preor who recovered the youngling safely, endearing them even more to the people—Ujal and humans—of Earth.

  A rustling nearby—one of the Preor guards shifting position—reminded her they weren’t on Earth at UST—Ujal Station Tau. She’d boarded the transport that took the royal family from the Tampa, Florida, base up to meet the Preor vessel. She’d been convinced Tave and Rina wouldn’t want Reesa with them, but she’d been surprised by the overprotective prince.

  “They need to see evidence of what they can have. Evidence of what they saved and what can be their future.” He’d looked at Rina with such love, his gaze touching on his previously human mate and then their daughter.

  Which was how she’d ended up the only human on a ship filled with aliens.

  “Miss Meliiii…” Two little legs kicked and then Theresa popped to her feet. The youngling attacked her, fingers fighting to find Melissa’s “tickle spots.”

  Melissa suppressed her wince when Reesa’s fingers got to close to her sensitive wound. Tiny fingers always managed to find the tenderest spots on her abdomen, but she didn’t have the heart to stop their playing. Not when Reesa was happy and distracted from staring at the large dragon-shifting aliens.

  She wiggled and pretended to fight the youngling, acting as if Theresa found the perfect places to make her laugh uncontrollably. She let her giggles grow louder, but not enough to drown out the adults in the room. Her task was to keep the child occupied and happy, not interrupt the talks soon to start.

  At the moment, they were just waiting on the Preor “War Master” to arrive. The title sent a shiver down her spine. War Master. What had the Preors experienced that they needed War Masters? Tave tried to explain the title was no worse than a human general, but it just had a different connotation in her mind. The word general didn’t give her visions of swords and guns. Not the way War Master did.

  The youngling attacked her once more and Melissa released another loud laugh, tilting her head back as she lost herself to the fun for a spare moment.

  And it was in that moment… the world changed. Her world anyway.

  Theresa continued her wiggles and pokes, some jabbing right at the edge of her tender cut as the youngling attempted to lure more chuckles forward, but there was no way the sound would escape. At least, not now. At the moment, Melissa’s every action surrounded trying to breathe.

  Air refused to fill her lungs, her chest compressed by… something. Some weird, unidentifiable sensation. It was hot yet cool, scorching and soothing at once while her skin felt as if she stood in the middle of a rainstorm while burned by the sun. She became a living, breathing contrast of sensations and she couldn’t separate each feeling from the next.

  “Miss Meli?” Reesa quieted and froze.

  Melissa opened her mouth, intent on soothing the youngling, except she couldn’t talk. Her lungs were unmoving in her chest and refused to draw in much needed oxygen. She was a slave to whatever overcame her and fear slammed into her like a hovotruck. Something inside the Preor ship had done this. Or someone. Tave hadn’t hinted the Preor had the ability to control a human’s body in such a way, but who knew how honest Preors were.

  Just when she thought she’d pass out, her ability to breathe returned. She gasped and sucked in air, welcoming the oxygen and unsure what’d caused her to stop. She opened her mouth to soothe Theresa but that’s when something else happened.

  Movement to her right drew her attention and she turned her head toward the room’s entry. A single man stood framed in the doorway, his gaze firmly locked on hers. She took in his appearance in a rapid glance, noting his broad shoulders and heavily carved muscles covering his body.

  He was dressed much like the other Preors on the ship, his lower half covered by pants resembling something like leather while he wore a crisscross of straps across his bare chest. Insignia on one three-inch wide strap spoke of his rank while the other held proof of his honors—if any. His wings rustled, a quick twitch that snatched her attention to the upper bend peeking over his shoulder. She allowed her attention to drift to his face and she was caught by the darkness in his gaze, the heat and something more lurking in his eyes. She was captured by his stare, unable to tear her attention from him had she tried.

  She didn’t want to try.

  Her heartbeat picked up a rapid pace, nearly bursting from her chest as she stared at this man, the Preor, the dragon shifter. Fans of paranormal novels called them weredragons. Weredragons, not aliens. Just as the Ujal were mermaids and mermen to some humans.

  The newcomer’s eyes flashed yellow, irises changing to a reptile’s narrow slits before returning to a rounded shape. For some reason a spear of arousal teased her and her nipples pebbled within the layers of her clothing. The cotton bra, which she usually found soft, scraped the hardened nubs and she fought the urge to rip it from her body. Not here. Not now.

  Later though…

  She had so many ideas for later.

  Melissa licked her lips, mouth suddenly dry as she thought of every way she’d touch herself while thinking of this man. Delicious…

  Then he spoke. His eyes gradually turned yellow, the reptilian eye slits firmly settling into place before he opened his mouth. “Kouva…” His voice slid over her, vibrating against her nerves and then sinking into her bones. She pulsed with those two syllables, heartbeat taking on a rhythm matching its cadence. “Kouva.” He said it more firmly and on the heels of that word came…

  Everything.

  Melissa felt a jarring throb in her knees then a sting on her palms and she realized she’d fallen forward to the floor. But those small aches were nothing compared to what assaulted her mind. Flashes, images, burst through her head, her brain attempting to sort the visions into some sort of recognizable order. She saw varying snippets rush past her. Dragons. Preor warriors. Alien words and yet she understood them. She sensed they came from the male, the unknown warrior whose stare weighed on her.

  As more and more of those pieces consumed her, a pulsating ache took up residence in her head. She squeezed her eyes shut tight, fighting the pain and battling it back. Just because she knew what caused the discomfort didn’t mean she had to like it.

  The Knowing was sometimes a painful process and it was worse depending on the couple’s strength.

  The Knowing…

  A time when the full weight of knowledge of the Preor was gifted to a mated couple so they could better serve the people.

  How the hell did she know about the Knowing?

  Her mind sought out the answer and it was presented in an instant, her new knowledge ready to respond to her every question.

  How did she know of the Knowing?

  I’m a Preor mate.

  To whom?

  To the male I last laid eyes on.

  Melissa lifted her head, not realizing she’d been staring at the floor. She sought out the last Preor she’d spied, the largest of any she’d met. He was in much the same state as her, collapsed forward on his hands and knees, his yellowed eyes intent on hers and dark green wings half-spread and curled around himself.

  “Shaa kouvi,” she whispered the words, unable to keep the claim in even if she didn’t truly trust them. The words were foreign yet she understood them. My beloved.

  He breathed deeply and she found herself doing the same, hers matching h
is with ease. As her heart calmed, she slowly became aware of the room, of the sights and sounds surrounding them. Growls and shouts hit her ears first, the voices overlaying each other until they simply became a rolling mass of deep voices. A high-pitched shout mingled in amongst the men, but the cries of one youngling snapped Melissa into action.

  She snatched her attention from the Preor and sought Reesa, easily spying her struggling and attempting to fight free of Rhal. The Ujal warrior did an admirable job of holding the girl, but even the strongest, most diligently trained man had no hope against a squirming, determined child. Melissa slowly rose from her knees, carefully putting her weight on her legs. Then she held out her arms, opening them for Theresa. The girl ripped herself from Rhal with a shout and fell to the padded ground. The toddler quickly regained her feet, arms outstretched, and Melissa reached for her.

  Only to have a Preor step between them, dark eyes boring into hers.

  The rest… the rest happened in a blur.

  She must have done something, moved in some way that allowed her to…

  No matter how she managed to do whatever it was she did, it ended with a sobbing Theresa in her arms while Melissa stared down at a wide-eyed fallen Preor warrior, a low hiss on her lips. The voice that filled the air sent a tendril of need down her spine. “And that is why you never step between a dam and her dragonlet.”

  3

  Jarek vibrated with need, his warrior’s training deserting him and his Master’s control fleeing in the face of his mate.

  His mate.

  His mate.

  The Knowing still bombarded him, his race’s history flowing in a continuous river of knowledge while his body battled riotous emotions. His staff stiffened the moment he laid eyes on her, his wings fluttering and moving of their own volition as the truth washed through him. From there, came the Knowing. Then the overwhelming drive to be at her side, protecting and caring for her.

  But at her first shout, the Ujal surrounded her. At the cry of the youngling and the interference of the warrior, she’d become feral. No, she’d become a Preor dam intent on protecting her dragonlet and those were the exact words he’d put to voice.

  Chaos still surrounded them, Ujal facing off against Preor while his mate and the Ujal youngling cowered in the middle. Shouts battled with snarls, his warriors adopting defensive positions, which allowed them to protect Jarek as well as the defensive female. No one seemed sure of what’d occurred, but a frightened female and dragonlet were enough to put their kind on the killing edge.

  Above all, females must be protected.

  “Jarek, what is the meaning of this? Have your men stand down.” The prince’s voice was tinged with barely suppressed violence and Jarek understood Tave’s response. If his eyes did not deceive him, it was the male’s youngling Jarek’s mate clutched. Tave had endured enough stress about Theresa’s safety to last a lifetime, but Jarek could only do so much so quickly.

  The warrior she’d downed slowly regained his feet, the deep furrows cutting across his cheek bleeding freely, and the liquid coated both his flesh and uniform. “Radoo, report to medical for treatment.”

  “War Master…” The male objected and Jarek recognized his reluctance. Any hint of censure or punishment could result in a warrior’s delay in traveling to the surface. It was a rule he’d put into place himself, a motivation to keep his warriors in line.

  “Nothing will be recorded. You did not violate directive. But a youngling should never witness the results of violence. Report to medical.” He fought to keep his tone even while the fire of need still burned his blood. Other feelings assaulted him, the topmost being the determination to get unattached males away from his mate.

  “Yes, War Master,” Radoo saluted and darted behind the wall of Preors faced off against the Ujal warriors.

  He was left with the remaining males still at attention and prepared for battle as well as the Ujal royalty who would gladly separate his head from his body.

  “Prince Tave, if you will order your males to stand down, I will do the same. There is an explanation, but it will require cool heads.” He attempted to keep his voice even while the urge to kill every male in the room raged inside him. Each unattached Ujal and Preor was a threat against his mating to the human.

  “I put my faith in you and your crew at the urging of Zurer joi Sobol, but this is an act of war against my people. I want my daughter in my arms and her nanny at my side. Now.” The prince growled low and Jarek’s men tensed further, prepared to move at his order.

  Jarek fought for calm and battled back his instinctual need to go to his mate. He sensed her unease and the fury surrounding her heart. Her protective instincts battered at the air surrounding her and the scent of those emotions in turn pummeled him. He knew they also fueled his men’s continued readiness. A fearful and furious female brought out a Preor’s need to protect and defend.

  Knowing a kernel of trust had to be planted, he turned to his warriors. “Stand down.” When they did not immediately comply, he hissed which drew the attention of his mate. “Now.”

  His men reluctantly complied, their weapons slowly returning to the sheaths on their backs and wings folding against their bodies once more. His mate met his gaze and the worry slowly drained from her as well. His dragon sounds did not frighten her further and the growing calm also soothed the youngling in her grasp.

  He slowly padded toward the huddled females. Ignoring the tense Ujal warriors, he knelt at their side. His wing extended to curve around her back in both comfort and protection as his dragon forced a calming trill past his lips. It would be easy to fully envelop her with his wings to protect her should one of the Ujal even attempt to touch her.

  “Kouva,” he murmured and resisted the urge to reach for her. The word rolled off his tongue with ease, as if he’d been destined to speak it to a female—this female.

  “Shaa kouvi,” she returned the greeting and it warmed his heart—a place in him he’d let grow cold long ago.

  “Release the youngling to her parents.” His dragon-self asserted itself, forcing his voice to a deep tone. His mate did not react but the youngling whimpered.

  The small one lifted her head slightly, bright eyes meeting his, and sniffled. “Miss Meli.”

  The soft words were immediately followed by the familiar scrape of a blade leaving its sheath. He knew the sound of a Preor weapon being exposed and that whisper-like slide was not metal on aged katoth skin. An Ujal then. A male who wished to tempt fate.

  Jarek slowly turned his head from the females and met the midnight gaze of a nearby Ujal. His black hair matched his fathomless eyes and the scales that slithered over his skin. The Ujal Rhal. Many—even on Preor before they became known to the race—whispered of this male’s fierceness in battle. They spoke of the deaths at his blade and the echoing screams of his victims.

  Yet Rhal was no match for a Preor defending his mate claim—for Jarek defending his mate claim.

  “You will stand down.” Jarek would not be defied.

  “You will release Melissa Walker and the princess.” Rhal’s blade glinted in the ship’s light.

  A blade was nothing against a Preor’s claws. His fingers burned, dragon’s fire setting his blood aflame as claws formed. His body reacted to the threat without conscious thought and he did not attempt to suppress his reactions though he probably should have.

  A War Master thought of the battle and the safety of his people before he thought of himself.

  Jarek sen Claron, War Master of the Third Fleet, gladly thought of only himself.

  He ignored Rhal’s order, choosing only to consider part of his words. “Youngling, you must go to your dam, now.”

  “Miss Meli.” The young one clung to his mate until she spoke softly to the child.

  “Go ahead. Can’t you see how worried your mommy is?” Melissa—her name came easily to his dragon tongue—whispered and the princess turned her head and then nodded. “Then go see her. You know it’s not good to
make her upset.” She pressed a kiss to the youngling’s head before helping her stand. He fought the urge to steady the princess, and instead remained motionless as his mate urged her to toddle to Principessa Rina.

  Jarek held his breath as the princess moved past him, arms outstretched for her dam. The moment she cleared his shoulder, an Ujal guard was there, snatching the youngling from the ground. The rapid movement wrenched a cry from the child and metal was revealed once more.

  Preor metal. Bared but not buried in flesh. Thank the stars for small favors.

  “Jarek…” Prince Tave’s voice held both a threat and a plea, one that resonated inside Jarek.

  The male would not let this stand and he probably prayed Jarek would feel the same. Tensions were too high to be diplomatic, raging nearly out of control, and there was only one way to deflate the situation.

  He had to abandon the talks. For now, at least. The burned diplomatic bridges could be rebuilt via comms.

  Though, perhaps the situation would be destroyed forever once they witnessed his next actions. He rose to his feet using the agility of his kind. In the same move, he scooped his mate into the cradle of his arms. His men parted for him, their bodies and wings separating the Ujal from encroaching on his path or barring him from leaving the room.

  He clutched her close, his grip firm yet gentle. Wary of the Ujal weapons and unaware of their orders, he curled his wings, blocking her from their view. No one would harm Melissa just as no one would take her from him. Melissa was the first evidence of a mating between a Preor and human. A vision of hope; salvation to Jarek. He would not have to take the final flight into the stars. Not as long as he had Melissa.