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

  “Is there something else, kouva?” The endearment tripped from his tongue. When she stiffened, he cursed himself and wished he could recall the word.

  “No, I…” She shook her head and then nodded. “Yes.” She faced him once more with a more forceful nod. “Yes.” Jarek turned slightly, carefully. Quick movements pained him—any movements, in truth. “I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong or right or… any of it. I feel lost. Like there are things I should do and things I shouldn’t and,” she huffed, “I just don’t know what to do about us.”

  He did not know either and he did not believe there was weakness in telling her so. His mate was the one person with whom he could share all. He could be vulnerable before her and it would not make him less of a male. He extended his arm palm up. He waited for her to accept his invitation and he released a relieved breath when she laid her hand on his.

  A gentle pull had her easing closer and he ignored the pain that came when he slid his arm across her shoulders. She did not object when he held her close and he released the breath he had not realized he held.

  “Beyond what the Knowing has revealed, I am ignorant as well.” He took advantage of the situation and rested his cheek on the top of her head. She was the perfect height for him. Tall enough to reach his shoulders and small enough to cradle in his bulk. “I did not believe I would ever be gifted a mate. It is not as common as some would believe. There is only one female for every thousand males and I am now over four hundred of your Earth years.”

  He nuzzled her, inhaling her scent and tasting it. She was delicate and sweet with a hidden underlying strength. Hard yet soft. Sweet yet fierce. She proved more than capable of being his mate. A War Mistress to lead at his side. She would be the one to temper his violence, to counter his battle lust with soothing when needed and ferocity when necessary.

  “I believed this to be my last honorable duty to Preor. As a male not seeking a mate, I was the perfect warrior to lead others to happiness, for I would not be stealing a female for myself.”

  She chuckled, jarring him slightly, and he gritted his teeth against the bolt of pain. “That didn’t work out too well.”

  “No, it did not.” He placed a finger beneath her chin and encouraged her to lift her head. “But I would not change it. Even if you do not ever complete our binding, I have never known such happiness in all my years. If this is the closest we ever become, I will take my final flight happily. This is more than many receive.”

  “You don’t want—” Her face reddened and he realized the pink hue meant embarrassment. He also remembered some humans did not speak of mating so plainly. But there could be nothing except plain speaking between mates.

  “I desire you above all else, Melissa. I desire you more than air, food, or wind against my wings, but I would never push for more than what you give.”

  “But you claimed…”

  He shook his head and cursed himself for his behavior on the ship. For pushing when he should have nudged. “I said the words, but you must remember Preor males are warriors first and I am more dominant than most. It is why I am a War Master and not simply a warrior. I take what I want, but you should know I will not take more than you are willing to give. Ever.”

  Melissa seemed to relax with his words and he took comfort in the small easing of tension. He was even more thankful when she leaned into him more, as if trusting him to keep her upright and held tight. He would happily hold her close until the end of time.

  She lowered her head to rest her cheek on his chest and he absorbed her warmth, enjoying the feel of her hotter body on his skin. He knew he would enjoy her entire being aligned with his, but now was not the time. Perhaps there would never be a time when she welcomed full contact. Humans were supposed to volunteer to meet Preor males. They were supposed to be willing to join their lives to an alien.

  He did not believe Melissa made such a choice which meant, despite experiencing the Knowing, he would take slow steps with his mate.

  Melissa placed her palm over his heart, though he was not sure she was aware she did such a thing. Human hearts resided slightly to the left beneath their ribs while a Preor’s was protected beneath the right breast. So her touch cradled that part of him, one of the most vulnerable organs within a Preor. Not because it was easy to destroy but because its destruction was deadly. Their technology could repair much, but not a broken heart.

  Jarek placed his hand over hers, making her touch firmer on his skin. The movement also drew the flesh on his back tight, his healing bones and muscles stretching. His wings fluttered in response, nerves twitching, and each twitch sent more pain into his blood. The ache grew and spread, encompassing his wings from tip to base and he hissed. He fought to control the spasms, lessen them instead of spurring them on.

  He stumbled forward, catching himself on the wall, careful not to put his weight on one of the nearby glass panes. He did not need more injuries and he was sure his fist flying through the clear, sharp glass would hurt him.

  His mate immediately ducked out of his embrace and stepped back, giving him—and his wings—space. With the slip in his concentration, his left wing cricked and jerked, the muscles wrenching his control and he growled with the new wave of agony that assaulted him. His wing base was more than just broken, it was shattered, and each twitch sent bone grating against bone. He’d never experienced such breath-stealing pain and he gritted his teeth. A roar threatened to spirit past his lips, but he swallowed it. He was not a child to complain of a cut. He was Jarek joi Melissa, War Master to the Preor Third Fleet.

  And before that moment, he had been prepared to retain his claim of kouva to Melissa Walker. But how could Jarek be a mate when he could not even hold a female? When he could not stand to move his wings? When he could not remain upright despite pain? He could not love her. He could not fly for her defense.

  He could not… mate her.

  10

  Melissa wasn’t sure what she should do. She was torn between staying at his side, waiting for this wave of pain to pass, and then helping him to bed. Her other option was to call Sece for medical assistance. The healer had protested when Jarek demanded release and had only allowed him to come to Melissa’s home if she promised to call at the first sign of trouble.

  Jarek being nearly sent to his knees by pain seemed like a sign of trouble to her.

  “I’ll call Sece and she can—”

  “No,” he rasped, his voice thin and barely audible.

  “You know what she said. If you got worse—”

  “This is not worse,” his speech was still hoarse. “This is the same as any other moment.”

  “She can give you something for the pain,” she countered.

  Jarek shook his head. “A warrior’s life is one of pain. There is honor in pain from battle.”

  Now she glared at him. “There’s also stupidity in suffering when you don’t have to.”

  That earned her a half-smile, agony still etched in his features as the corners of his lips tilted up. “There is the female I met on the ship.”

  “I’ll give you the woman you met on the ship,” she grumbled. “Are you going to let me call Sece?”

  Melissa knew his answer before he spoke but she had to give it a shot. “No. It will,” he gasped and his left wing trembled again, “it will pass.”

  “Uh-huh.” She snorted and shook her head. “In an hour.”

  “I am fine.”

  “You may not be human, but you’re such a man.” She sighed. “There’s no point to this. If you’re gonna be an idiot and let yourself suffer, then be an idiot and let yourself suffer. I’m starting dinner.”

  Unable to watch him deal with the pain another second, she spun on her heel and stomped into the kitchen. She wrenched the freezer door open and stared into the frigid space, gaze traveling over labeled containers. Nessa had gone above and beyond in prepping the house for their arrival.

  Well, Nessa and Erun since she was sure the seaf
ood filling the cold storage was probably caught by Erun during one of his swims in the sea. He’d taken Tabby with him a few times, but she was still so young she hadn’t realized she couldn’t eat shrimp until they were dead.

  Apparently, to a three-year-old, iggles were iggles, even if they still, uh, iggled. It took one snap from a live shrimp to teach her she should wait for her mother to prepare them.

  She snatched a package of steaks and then peeked at Jarek. Okay, she’d grab two packages. The man was huge. And by huge, she meant huge. Easily over six feet of heavily muscled, winged Preor.

  He was also damned easy to look at. His long, dark hair was soft to the touch, like silk flowing through her fingers. His dark chocolate eyes were beautiful even when rimmed with pain or flashing the yellow of his inner dragon. His skin was like cinnamon, a solid wall of tan covering every inch of him. And his wings… She’d seen the deep green extensions of his body spread wide as he fought to corral her and draw her in tightly as Sece attempted to heal him.

  Both times she witnessed his strength. Witnessed it in his ability to restrain himself when she was sure all he’d wanted to do was snatch her to him. And witnessed it further when he remained conscious and silent as Sece sewed his torn flesh together.

  Now he suffered for no reason.

  The idiot Preor—idiot man.

  Melissa chucked both packages into the sink, leaving them to defrost. She idly wondered if the gas tank for the grill was filled, though at worst she’d toss them beneath the broiler. Then again, he might want it raw. Who knew?

  The Knowing flew through her mind and suddenly she knew. It was so friggin’ weird to have the alien knowledge in her mind, but she welcomed it as well. It gave her so much insight into the Preor people—her people.

  As for cooking beef, females preferred cooked meals while males enjoyed nearly raw. Why was there a difference between—

  The Knowing leapt into action. Females liked cooked meals because they didn’t have an inner dragon that reveled in hunting. They didn’t shift.

  Okay then. So, she wouldn’t be any different than the other Preor females she’d met. She wouldn’t be the only mate without wings. That assumed she would mate Jarek.

  Melissa padded to the other end of the kitchen and leaned against the sink as she stared out the small window. The new position allowed her to see Jarek in her peripheral vision. Would she mate Jarek? He was strong—powerful—and from what Evuklar said, he was well respected and highly honored by their home planet. He would provide for her. He would protect her.

  He would also… drag her away from Earth before she could see her task completed. So many missing babies… So much guilt on her shoulders…

  The rustle of wings filled her ears and movement to her right drew her attention. Jarek slowly turned to face her, his steps slow and measured as he approached. Pain filled his body, his muscles stiff and deeply carved lines marred his features.

  Yet he wouldn’t allow her to call Sece.

  Doubly idiot man.

  “Melissa,” he murmured, the word barely above a whisper. “Do not be angry.”

  She took a deep, calming breath and released it slowly before repeating the movement. “I don’t like seeing your hurt. If I was the one hurt you’d—”

  “I would ignore your protests and drag you to UST.”

  “So you can see my frustration.”

  He nodded, face tightening with the move. “Just because I understand does not mean I shall agree with you.”

  Melissa was right, War Master or not, he was an idiot.

  She growled and he chuckled, the sound followed by a muffled groan. “You sound like a true Preor. Bare you fangs and I would think I faced Nalan.”

  She figured that was a good thing. “I bet Nalan wouldn’t let Evuklar suffer like this.”

  “She would. She would not like it, but she would not interfere.” A twinkle filled his eyes. “Though she would probably feed him well-cooked katoth for a month.”

  “Don’t think I’m not tempted.” She sighed and turned to face him fully, leaning her hip against the counter and crossing her arms over her chest. “Here’s the thing, Jarek. I don’t know you and you don’t know me, but we’re here. Together. This Knowing struck us both and I’ve learned enough to accept we’re mates. But we don’t know anything about each other and before we got a chance to learn, you got hurt.” And she hated that the choice was taken from her. Oh, she could walk away, but she wasn’t sure she’d find happiness with anyone other than the great hulking male before her.

  “You ran,” he rumbled and she refused to feel bad about bolting.

  “You can’t blame me for running. I had no idea what happened between a Preor and their mate. I understood the concept of your people—”

  “Our people.”

  “—needing mates and the Ujal delegation was there to help make the transition smooth, but that was it. I’m a babysitter, Jarek. Not a mate hopeful, but an employee.”

  Jarek shook his head and reached for her, arm extending, and she remained in place as he cupped her cheek. His eyes bored into hers and she felt as if she could get lost in his gaze, in the feelings he expressed with a single look. “You are more than an employee. You are beloved to the royal family.”

  “No, I’m just a babysitter.”

  “Shaa kouva.” The soft whisper had her quieting and she took a moment to simply enjoy his touch, the feel of his thumb caressing her cheek. “I do not know your full history with the Ujal, but I do know you nearly died trying to protect Theresa. I also know Tave fa’Vyl-Zeret would not allow anyone near his youngling he did not fully trust. The same can be said of Rhal, Vados, and Erun.”

  “Erun is my sister-in-law’s mate. We’re family. Of course he’s going to let me be around Tabby.”

  “There is no ‘of course.’ Not even with family. Dragonlet safety and happiness is paramount to Preors and I do not doubt the Ujal are similar. No one considered a danger to a young one’s safety or health is allowed access to the child. Blood tie or not, they are banished from the young one’s life.” His tone made her feel like he’d been pushed out of a dragonlet’s life at some point and the thought hurt her heart. At that very moment he proved he could be gentle, could touch her with soft hands while anger raged inside him.

  “Rhal and Vados only let me watch over their children because I’ve always got guards with me and Theresa.”

  “Excuses.” He cupped her face with both hands, encouraging her to tip her head back, and she couldn’t help but meet his eyes. “They are excuses. You were with the youngling and on the ship because you are a trusted member of the royal family. You are loved by the parents of every youngling you touch.”

  “No,” she whispered, the denial leaping from her lips. There was no way. Not after her brother had…

  “Yes. You are important to those people just as you’ve become important to me and all Preors on my ship.” His gaze softened. “You are hope, shaa kouva.”

  “Jarek, I’m—” Melissa started, but fell silent when one of Jarek’s wings twitched and jerked, signifying a muscle spasm. Stupid male. She grasped his wrists and pulled his hands from her face. “You’re knotting up again. If you won’t let me call Sece, at least lay down and I can check your bandages. She gave me salve to rub on the wounds, too.”

  “Melissa, I will be fine. One of Sece’s helpers will arrive this evening to tend to me.”

  She shook her head. “No, I’m your mate, right? I’ll patch you up. It’s what mates do.” Jarek froze, but it wasn’t due to his muscles growing taut. No, some sort of unease or distress pulsed in his veins. “Jarek? What’s wrong?”

  “Melissa… It is true we are mates. The Knowing would not have manifested if we were not.” He paused as if searching for courage. “We are mates, but I will not mate you.”

  11

  Jarek’s resolve lasted for a mere handful of Earth hours. He managed to ignore the hurt on her face when he announced his intentions. He was then
able to avoid her gaze while they dined, his attention on his plate or the sea stretched out before them. The water did not appeal to him, but the clouds drifting past… His heart stirred, his dragon’s blood pumping and anxious to take flight through those thin masses of white. The wind was strong on the coast, the breeze brisk and it would make a formidable opponent. It was the perfect place to train his males, to teach them how to fight the strange planet’s forces.

  It was an even better place to teach his dragonlets how to first glide and then soar through the skies. The air could do nothing but help them become used to their wings. He would take little Arkaa and Chazal and…

  He swallowed his gasp of surprise as those memories rushed forward. When he’d been young—a fourth ranked warrior with no more than fifty years to his name—and filled with hope, he’d allowed himself to dream of having a family. He’d dreamt of his dragonlets he’d name Arkaa and Chazal—bright skies for his daughter and strong wind for his son. He’d have a mate who would gaze at him with looks of pure love. It’d taken him another hundred years to realize a solitary life was his only future.

  Until this assignment. Until Earth. Until… Melissa.

  She sat mere feet from him on the back porch, their bodies separated by a thick pane of glass that kept him out of the elements. Once their meal concluded and she loaded the dishes into the dishwasher, she’d retreated to a deck chair. The technology was crude compared to Preor, but still effective.

  He allowed his attention to drift from Melissa to explore the small cottage. If he remained, he would have to obtain a few key pieces of machinery for the home. He did not like how she was forced to physically prepare food—her hands covered with the blood of a cow and those smoking things she called po-tay-toes. He did not see toes on the object and told her as much. It was the first time she’d smiled at him—a true smile.

  He vowed to bring it to her lips often. But for that to happen, he had to remain with her. He had to be her mate when she deserved so much better than an old, dry scale who couldn’t even soar through the skies. Perhaps now was the time to take his final flight. He snorted. He could not even do that. He was a poor excuse for a Preor.