Aisaak: Delti Utopia 6 (A Sci-Fi Alien Weredragon Romance)

by Celeste Raye

  "Where's my drink, girlie? Get it quick, or I'll be after your sugar instead," he laughed cruelly at her nervousness. "Maybe you want me to take a bite out of you. Right there on that throbbing vein," he taunted, running a finger down her jugular.

  Krane had crushed her between his massive frame and the bar. She gagged on the stench of his sweat and the mixture of at least a dozen women's perfumes. She wasn't the first woman he'd pawed, or done worse to, today. He was hard and ready, shoving against her painfully. "Is today the day you give it to me?" he prodded.

  "Get off her, Krane," Jimbo growled. "She's not one of the boss's whores, and she doesn't like to be touched."

  "How are you planning to stop me, Jimbo? I do whatever I please, whenever I choose."

  "I can fight just as good as you. You remember how I beat every challenger in the ring. I still can, and I'll do it without those weapons you call rings. The problem is, this bar is owned by the big boss and ripping it apart by fighting will get us both killed. The money it brings in is more important than either of us. Me, I don't really care, but I bet you do. So, let her go."

  Krane rubbed against her back one more time, leaving it damp and dirty from his own stench. He whispered, "You may not be one of the whores yet, but you will be sooner or later. You'll fall, and I'll be waiting: first in line."

  He moved away, grabbed his drink, and chugged it. Half of it spilled down his thick neck onto his bare chest, adding stickiness to the sweat and dirt. "Set me up with another one for all the aggravation you give me, Jimbo. I guarantee that someday we'll get our fight. Might be in a dark alley without witnesses, so you better watch your back. I give you slack for now, cause we're from the same world, but my good graces won't last long, especially if you keep challenging my authority. Today's challenge will cost you two gold coins out of your own pocket. Pay me, or the boss will be told you shorted him."

  Jimbo didn't answer the taunt. He simply slid over another drink with two gold coins inside and slammed a bag of coins on the bar for the big boss. The payment was worth handing over in order to protect Irene. She was a sweet girl and the best waitress he'd ever hired. Her mental abilities gave her insight into the customers needs, and that brought them back to spend more. They tipped often and well, though the big boss didn't need to know it.

  The customers had either left when Krane arrived or migrated to the far corners out of his sight. Normally, he would have gone as soon as he received the gold. However, today he lingered which was a bad omen. Sure enough, some of his buddies joined him. Jimbo touched a silent alarm beneath the countertop, summoning his guards from around the building. If trouble started, he didn't want to be unprepared. Each one signaled their arrival, and they stood in the shadows along the wall.

  Irene was doing her best to hold it together. She let the other waitresses serve Krane and his party. More than anything, she wanted to flee and take a long shower. She hated his smell on her skin and clothes. If she could afford a new uniform, she'd burn this one. The blue, sparkling shorts and midriff-baring, silver tank were not her choice of work wear. The big boss chose them and provided two per waitress each year. If they tore or damaged them and needed a new one before the next year, they had to buy it themselves. The cost was extravagant: the boss's way of indebting them to him. He preferred they pay on their backs. Irene was very careful with her uniforms for that very reason. She'd mend them until her fingers bled if necessary.

  Krane and his men were speaking loudly. Irene listened in hopes of learning some news. "The docks will be backed up forever. The boss doesn't like it. Sure, the tourists are staying, but they're running out of money, so gambling profits are down. They're staying in their rooms instead of drinking in the bars," one of the men confided in Krane.

  "I know. He can't bring in any cargo either. They're looking too close for his comfort. Two of his ships had to go sit on Alpha Beta, and that costs him. Another one's stuck on Earth. One of them has his replacements on it. He lost two of his current supply to childbirth last week, and another's burning with fever. We don't know what the illness is, but if it spreads, it'll be a huge problem. He needs those girls now," Krane replied.

  His words made Irene sick to her stomach. He was talking about the poor prostitutes the big boss kept on his payroll. They apparently didn't receive the medical care they deserved. Two innocent lives were gone, along with their poor, tormented mothers. How sad and shameful. The ill woman must be suffering terribly. She was certain no one cared, as they considered the woman to be easily replaceable. How many young women had no other choice except to sell their bodies? How bad were their lives and their self-esteem to send them into such a downward spiral? Then again, only Jimbo's generosity, her hard work, and care of her uniforms kept her from being in the same position.

  She worried about Savanah. If she didn't cheat enough of the card players, her pay would be docked. Enough debt and she'd land as one of those girls too. Did Krane bother her as well? Was he upping the pressure because of the stranded spaceships? Irene's uneasy feeling grew. She needed to see Savanah and know she was okay.

  Walking to the casino in the dark was out of the question, especially with Krane so near. She only left the bar during daylight hours. Jimbo allowed her to live upstairs in a tiny room as part of her pay. He lived one floor below her, and for that reason, she felt safe. She'd wait until tomorrow to check on Savanah. What was one more day going to hurt?

  Chapter Three

  ***Aisaak***

  The flashing lights, crowded streets, and loud noises made it easy to become distracted and careless. When a young boy careened into Aisaak, he almost dismissed it as an accident. He lifted the boy off the ground and asked, "Are you alright? Can I help you find your family?"

  Then, he realized his mistake. Another quick, slippery hand tried to take the bag of gold coins from his belt, but Aisaak had tied it too tightly, and he felt the tug. He whipped around and grabbed the second boy by his ragged shirt. "Picking pockets can get you killed, boys. Most of this crowd would simply draw a knife and slice you in half if they caught you the way I did."

  "They don't catch us. You're the only one who ever has. We were hungry, that's all," the smaller of the two replied, shakily.

  "If you were truly hungry, you could have asked, and I would have bought you a meal. However, thievery usually means you have another use for the coins. I won't be party to children gambling, buying drugs, or drinking whiskey. How did you think I would manage once you took all my money? Is it okay to force starvation and homelessness on others by taking all that they have?"

  "Everyone here has plenty more. They won't be homeless. Dagin says so," the boy he still held proclaimed in defiance.

  "I take it that Dagin is the one you steal for? He uses little boys for his dirty deeds, so why would you think he told you the truth? Believe me when I say a lot of those you steal from are just as desperate for gold as you. They're here to gamble with their last coin in hopes of winning a year's worth. Others came with a fortune and lost it. The coins they have left are all they have to get them home. Looks are deceiving. You should find honest work instead of thievery."

  The boys sneered at Aisaak and answered, "Nobody wants to hire kids, except to clean out the muck or scrub messes until their hands bleed. Picking pockets is easy, and Dagin gives us food and a mat to sleep on. We don't need speeches from the likes of you. Turn us over to the cops or let us go. You ain't going to hurt us, or you would have already."

  Aisaak sighed and turned loose of the boy's shirt. They were right; he wouldn't harm them. He also knew turning them over to the cops was a useless endeavor. They'd be released immediately. The trouble he'd learned of at the docks meant no one cared about petty theft by little boys. He was willing to bet no one ever cared. Someday, these boys would try to rob the wrong man and die for a few coins. Dagin, their supposed caretaker, would just recruit more.

  The lights didn't seem as enticing after his encounter with the boys. Maybe he was just tired and need
ed the whiskey he had set out for an hour or two ago. He picked the nearest bar and went inside.

  The bar was clean and well maintained. It didn't smell of sweaty bodies or spilled drinks. Video screens showed singers and dancers. Waitresses scampered between tables, taking orders and dodging roaming hands, or tentacles, depending on the species. The bar itself was made from expensive, rare mahogany with a brass railing. The bartender was huge, even larger than Aisaak, which was remarkable. He was nimble, though. He made drinks with both hands, slid them down the bar, then wiped the wood dry: all within seconds. He kept his eyes wandering the premises, watching out for his waitresses. Aisaak admired his work ethic. After what he saw outside, it surprised him.

  It appeared the bartender was paying special attention to a group of men at the far end of the bar. Aisaak could understand his reasoning. The group was by far the worst-looking bunch in the establishment. The one doing most of the talking was of the same species as the bartender, but he appeared to be a stone-cold killer. His piercings and tattoos were meant to intimidate and promote fear.

  Since Aisaak didn't feel inclined to get into any arguments tonight, he made his way to the opposite side of the room. If trouble came his way or the bartender needed backup, he was willing to join in, but he certainly wasn't going to go asking for it.

  "You look like a whiskey man to me," the bartender said as he placed one in front of Aisaak. "It's the Naga drink of choice around here."

  The bartender obviously knew the subtle differences between a Naga's appearance and a human's. He was really observant and good at his job. "You're right on both counts. A whiskey is exactly what I wanted, and I'm a Naga. You've got a good eye."

  "Saves me a lot of trouble," the bartender replied as he handed over a tray of drinks to a Centurion waitress.

  Aisaak sat back to enjoy his drink and watch the events taking place in the busy bar. There was an impromptu card game at one table, a kissing couple at another, and a drinking contest at a third. He was beginning to relax, believing he had left his memories behind, then his heart stopped beating.

  Near the front door, her back to him, was a waitress taking someone's order. She was laughing and joking with the customers. Her red hair hung in spiraled curls past her waist. Her curves were barely encased in the sparkling blue shorts and silver top.

  "Vega," the name slipped from his numb lips. His brain told him it was impossible because Vega was dead. But, his heart refused to obey what his head was trying to tell him. If he could have moved, he'd have run across the room, knocking over tables, to reach the woman. One more kiss, that's all he desired. Then, she could disappear once more.

  He imagined the woman turning toward him and seeing her star-filled, green eyes light up with love and delight the way they always did when Vega looked at him. He would trade his own life for a day with Vega, if by some miracle she was really here.

  She was eighteen when he flew with her back to the pond where they'd first kissed. This time they were alone, no parents to spy or stop what they planned on doing. Their dragons had nuzzled each other and traded caresses before they had transformed back into human bodies.

  There had been no shyness in Vega that day. She'd stood before him, completely unclothed and confident in the effect she had on Aisaak. The wind had softly blown her long hair over the plump breasts he so badly wanted to touch. It was long enough to block his view of the apex of her silken thighs, but her curvaceous hips and rounded backside were plain to see. He'd stood transfixed by her beauty until she'd ordered with a smile, "Touch me, Aisaak. I can see you want me, so don't leave me standing here. I'm getting cold."

  She, as usual, was correct. He wanted her more than life itself. Her eyes were scanning his body as well. His muscles, six pack included, tensed with his need. His staff was so hard, it ached. It pointed straight at her as though he needed guidance. "I'm almost afraid to touch you," he'd replied. "I want you so much I might hurt you."

  "No, my love. I know you better than you know yourself. You would never harm me or any other female. Come to me. Place your warm hands on my breasts. They are begging for it."

  Aisaak had done as she asked. He'd found heaven with that first touch, and her hands on him were electrifying. They'd groped every inch of each other, discovering what they liked and what they didn't. Eventually, Aisaak had laid her on a bed of the softest, thick grass and suckled at her breast. That was when he saw the stars in her eyes.

  Vega had taken his throbbing member and guided it to her center. He'd pierced her innocence and then taken them both to unimaginable heights. Tears of happiness spilled down her pink cheeks as she screamed out her ecstatic climax. Aisaak had joined her with his own shouts of pleasure.

  Afterward, they'd spent long hours simply laying there, wrapped in each other's arms, discussing the future. They were to be wed as quickly as they could. If their parents disagreed about the timing, proclaiming them too young, they would run away together. It was the most joyful time of Aisaak's life.

  The wedding had never come to be. There had been no objections from their parents. They had all seen the romance as it grew and knew both Aisaak and Vega were ready for the responsibility. It was others that had intervened.

  Aisaak and Vega had gone flying, just for the feeling of freedom. They were soaring over a valley, one often frequented by the Naga. The wind was warm and held them aloft without the constant need to move their wings. The valley was in full bloom. The grass was as green as Vega's eyes with colorful flowers mixed in to brighten it. A blue river wound its way through, sometimes spraying water into the air when it struck a boulder. The day couldn't have been more perfect.

  Aisaak was the first to see the men. It was no surprise. Many humans fished in the river or hunted among the trees. Deer and rabbits were plentiful. The men and Naga normally ignored one another; their co-existence was quite peaceful.

  Today, though, the men seemed very interested in Aisaak and Vega. They watched them fly instead of fishing or going back to the woods. It gave Aisaak an eerie feeling. He stayed high in the air and at a distance from the men. Vega didn't have the same trepidation. She seemed secure in her ability to evade the men if necessary.

  Aisaak tried to get her to leave, but she just swooped nearer the river. Maybe she'd thought it would intimidate the men or perhaps she was putting on a show for them. Aisaak never learned what was on her mind.

  He saw the gun being raised and roared a warning to Vega. The men desired a weredragon trophy. They were too stupid to realize that if a weredragon was killed, it would return to human form. That's why no one had such a trophy, and few had ever tried for one.

  Aisaak shot flames near the men to scare them off, but it was too late. The gun had already been fired. The bullet hit Vega in the one spot it could do damage. Only the soft underbelly of a weredragon was thin enough for a bullet to penetrate. If Vega could have remained in weredragon form, the bullet wouldn't have hit a vital organ. However, the pain and shock had her changing quickly, and the bullet moved straight to her heart. She fell to the ground at the men's feet.

  They were shocked to see a woman lying there, rather than the dragon they'd expected. The shooter had fallen to his knees and started vomiting. The other had gone to see if Vega was still breathing.

  Aisaak was too incensed to feel the pain of Vega's loss. He only wanted to destroy the hunters. He landed, knocked them unconscious with his tail, then transformed into a man once more. His anger gave him great strength. He ripped two small trees from the forest and jammed them into the ground close to the river. He tied one man to each and then woke them with a roar.

  They begged for their lives. They swore they hadn't known the weredragon would become human or that she was a woman. Their pleas went unheeded. Aisaak never even heard the words or the regret in them. It wouldn't have mattered if he had. They had murdered his love, taking her in the prime of her life, uncaring that she would never wed or have children.

  Aisaak executed the hunters, bur
ning them at the stake. He left the decimated bodies hanging there for all to see. He felt no guilt or regret.

  Only as he turned to Vega did the pain strike him. It took him by surprise. He couldn't breathe. His heart refused to beat. He beautiful red hair was spread over the ground; her alabaster skin glowed in the sunlight. Aisaak lifted her onto his lap and rocked her as he would have done to their children. He pleaded with her to come back. Of course, she couldn't, though had it been possible he knew she should have. She would never have left him here alone on purpose.

  His Vega was gone. His angel was now among the stars. He'd hung his head and wept until the families found them the following day.

  Now, the waitress turned. Aisaak let out a breath, and his heart beat once more. It wasn't Vega. This woman was indeed beautiful, but her eyes were not green. They were blue. They held no stars or signs of love. She was also human, not Naga. Aisaak decided he was in hell, not heaven.

  Chapter Four

  ***Irene***

  Irene hadn't been able to shut down her abilities as an empath since Krane's arrival. She'd simply dealt with them the best she could until the atmosphere changed. She was busy taking and delivering orders and didn't get a look at the person who had entered, but their emotional state brought an uplifting climate to counteract the evil. The person was obviously tired, yet happy and relieved. She had no clue as to why relief was one of the strongest of his emotions. However, it seemed very important to the newcomer. She didn't question it. She just accepted the calming effect on her nerves.