Brukr (Scifi Alien Weredragon Romance) (Dragons of Preor Book 8)

by Celia Kyle

  And if she did not yet believe so, he would prove his strength to her. Somehow.

  “There’s really nothing to worry about. He’s just overcautious. As for the other thing… That definitely isn’t your business.”

  “That is what he wishes, though. He wishes to mate with you.” He could not suppress the growl in his tone or stop himself from stepping closer, close enough to catch hints of her natural scent. “It sounds as if he wishes to claim you.”

  “What he wants has no bearing on what’s going to happen.” The growl in her voice went straight to his cock, his body reacting to her once more.

  “By claiming you, he believes he will protect you, but I do not think that is his true purpose when taking you as his mate.” He took another small step and breathed deep, savoring her scent. “He wants you in his bed.”

  More pink filled her cheeks, color transforming to a bright red. “Like I said, it’s none of your business. What does—or doesn’t—happen in my bedroom isn’t your concern.”

  But it was. He simply did not know how to explain it to her.

  “Hannah,” he murmured and lifted his hand. His fingers tingled with the desire to touch her—to feel her bare skin against his fingertips. “Who does he wish to protect you from? Why does he believe he can—”

  “Stop.” She bit off the word and stepped right then left again as she tried to escape him. An honorable male would step aside, but Brukr had lost his honor so many turnings ago… “I don’t want to talk about this.”

  She tried to dart right again and he cut her off and tried again. “But—”

  “But nothing.” She sighed and put distance between them. At least she did not try to flee again. “Just because I work for Cole-Daven that doesn’t mean you can invade my life. My problems are my own. The stuff with Eric is mine. Not yours, not the Preor’s, but mine.” Her shoulders slumped, and the look on her face struck him in the stomach. “I’m asking you to stop…”

  Oh, he could not allow her to ask for anything. Specifically, she couldn’t ask him to stop doing anything related to her or the human Eric. If she demanded he cease speaking of the male and his desires, or the cause of her fear, he would be honor-bound to do so.

  But if she could not speak the words…

  Brukr had never had a mate, but quite a few other Preors now had human females as mates. Each warrior spoke of a quick and easy way to silence their mates and divert their attention to other, more pleasurable thoughts.

  Hannah was not his mate, but he desired her. He also believed she desired him. The scent of her arousal often filled the air in his presence. Her nipples hardened to small nubs that pressed against her tight clothing, and he did not believe that reaction was always due to cold no matter how often she assured him of that fact.

  He did not wish to call her a liar, but… That was also a time he informed her that Syh did not like liars.

  Brukr did as other Preors advised and went into action, darting forward before she could finish her words. And once they stood close, their bodies less than an inch from each other, he did what he’d desired from the moment they met.

  Brukr kissed her.

  No, it was more.

  He wrapped his arms around her body, one hand resting on her lower back while the other settled on the upper curve of her ass. Her round bottom tempted him, but he did not push his luck, as humans said. He would be happy with the touch she allowed and the kiss she granted him.

  She gasped with his embrace and he took advantage of her surprise. He placed his mouth over hers and began their drugging kiss. He lapped at her lips with his tongue and teased them both with the gentle exploration. Then he went deeper, further. He delved into her mouth and explored her wet depths. He licked and tasted her, embracing the musky, salty, sweetness of her natural flavor. The kiss made him feel as if he flew through the skies of Preor, imbuing a sense of home and joy that he’d missed since beginning the journey to Earth.

  Hannah felt perfect in his arms—like home.

  She moaned into his mouth and returned the kiss, her tongue twining with his own while she lifted her arms and slid them around his neck. She wiggled her hips, the softness of her lower stomach caressing his renewed hardness. And that drew another moan from her, one he experienced all the way to his toes. It was filled with passion, with a craving he ached to sate with his own body.

  He wished to lay her on the nearby bed and give her more pleasure than she could ever imagine. Then she would consider him to be her mate and protector—not Eric.

  Brukr did not wish to examine that thought too closely, afraid of what it would reveal. Instead, he focused on the meeting of their mouths, the way her hands stroked his back and the feeling of her delicate fingers along the flight line of one wing. He shuddered and groaned, body flung at the edge of release with that simple touch.

  So beautiful, so delicious, so…

  “At least I do not have to see your dick.”

  …so interrupted by Triem. The male was a good warrior. Soon to be a dead good warrior.

  Hannah gasped and ripped away from him, their passion dispersed with those few words.

  Yes, he would kill Triem.

  Brukr propped his hands on his hips and dropped his head forward as he sought to bank the fire in his blood. It would probably upset Hannah if he were to kill Triem in her sleeping chamber. He would wait until they were in the hall. Or perhaps he would throw the other male from the balcony and then they could battle in the skies.

  That could be fun.

  “Triem?” Brukr growled.

  “Yes?” There was laughter in the other male’s voice, a smile that formed at Brukr’s expense.

  Yes, killing the male was an excellent idea.

  “Leave us.” How Brukr kept his voice even, he did not know.

  “Wait!” Hannah’s voice rang out in the room, and any chance of Triem leaving them vanished in that moment. No matter what Brukr ordered, Triem would see to Hannah first.

  Damn the skies.

  “Why are you here? How did you get in? Into my condo?”

  “I walked.” Triem spoke as if Hannah was a dragonlet in need of lessons and Brukr snorted. The male did not try to be sar-cass-tik, but he found that Triem’s responses were often seen in such a way.

  “I know that,” Hannah growled. “I mean why were you able to walk through the door into my—”

  “Oh!” The slap of skin on skin followed. The male had come to smacking his head when sudden realization struck. The War Master indicated it was a move seen in some ancient Earth vids. “There was no barrier. I believed it was left open in anticipation of my arrival, which is why I entered.”

  Brukr groaned and cursed himself. “I did not secure the aerie after I entered.”

  “Perfect. So, anyone could have walked in,” Hannah grumbled.

  “I am the only one who saw your embrace,” Triem added, and Brukr could not decide if the male sought to be helpful or harmful by reminding Hannah of what he’d seen.

  “And now you are departing.” Brukr straightened and turned. “And you will never enter without explicit permission.”

  Triem had the brass bahlls to shake his head. “I am under orders to escort Hannah to her morning appointment. I cannot return without her.”

  “She is not needed by Cole-Daven until eight.” Brukr had memorized her schedule, though he would not admit to as much.

  “Chashan requires her presence.” Triem countered and Brukr grunted.

  “Good. He can repair her wrist and feet. She was too stubborn to seek treatment last night. She—”

  “He is unaware of other injuries. I will comm him.” Triem leaned to the side and tried to peer past Brukr while Brukr widened his wings. He did not want others viewing her body. Triem straightened and gave him a knowing smile. “It is her time to undergo treatment for Pol Mutation.”

  “The hell it is.”

  Hannah’s shout echoed in her sleeping chamber, and Brukr… still did not know the definit
ion of hell.

  Chapter Eight

  Hannah was in hell. A great big, surrounded-by-wings hell. Wait, there was the occasional human woman, but nope, still hell.

  With needles. And prodding doctors—healers—with their devices and technology intent on changing her. They thought it was for the better.

  Yeah, she didn’t agree.

  Ivoth and Elle—her bosses—stood on one side of the medical platform near her feet. The large, alien warrior’s nearly-black wing curled around his mate in a protective stance that made Hannah… wish for the same treatment from a certain blue-gray scaled Preor. But they hadn’t experienced the Knowing. The Preor’s blood knowledge—genetic memory—hadn’t flourished when they first met.

  The way Ivoth cared for Elle… it was something reserved for fated mates.

  Mates like the pair on the other side of Hannah’s spot on the medical platform. No, the Preor called it a ryaapir unit. Their kind—as well as humans—laid on the platform, and then Preor technology did its thing. It identified injuries and repaired them.

  Well, Hannah didn’t need to be repaired. Unfortunately, she was outnumbered.

  Because on the other side of the platform—across from Ivoth and Elle—stood Esteemed Warrior Jarek and his mate Melissa.

  Esteemed Warrior Jarek. The large, green hued Preor no longer acted as the War Master of the Preor Third Fleet—he’d resigned after finding Melissa—but that didn’t mean the male was any less powerful. And she didn’t mean only physically powerful. He was in control of everything on Earth. He helped his fellow Preors find mates and ensured the warriors remained in control.

  Jarek’s word was law.

  She really hoped he agreed with her.

  “So, the thing about it is…” she hedged, trying to find the right words, but none she came up with sounded better than the bald truth. “I’m not having my Pol Mutation cured.”

  They didn’t say anything. The two couples remained silent along with everyone else in the small room. Healing Master Chashan was present—of course, but Triem had remained and Brukr had followed them from Hannah’s condo, so he was crowded into the space as well. And God forbid the rest of the quintet be left out because Radoo and Argan stomped in shortly after she’d arrived.

  Seven ginormous Preor warriors and three human women in one tiny exam room.

  And then their wings rustled. Not just a tiny shift of wing skin, either. It wasn’t like one or two of them shifted their weight. Preor always held perfect balance and battle readiness, according to Brukr. This was the ruffle and flutter of wings, a sign of the warriors’ unease and strong emotions.

  Chashan was the first to respond, his voice calm and even despite the agitated trembling of his wings. “I do not under—”

  “Explain.” Brukr growled the word. Or half-growled, half-snarled with a hint of smoke for good measure. She hadn’t given him a reason in her condo, and she wasn’t about to explain herself in front of a crowd of people. She wasn’t explaining herself ever.

  “Has the Pol Mutation injured her mind?” Jarek mumbled. “I did not realize it caused mind injuries. Ivoth, did you know it would do such?”

  To which Ivoth shook his head. “No, I was not aware.”

  “It has not damaged her mind.” Brukr joined their conversation, but Ivoth wasn’t listening. No, he’d lowered himself, dark eyes meeting Hannah’s as he spoke slowly. And loudly. As if she was a child who had difficulty hearing. “Han-ah, do… you… hear… my… words?”

  “She has not seemed so stoo-pid in the past.” Triem had to add his voice to the group as well.

  “Don’t call Hannah stoo-pid.” More smoke from Brukr.

  “I did not state she was stoo-pid. I stated she has not seemed so in the past.” Triem shrugged. “She does now.”

  “She does not seem stoo-pid.” Radoo elbowed Triem. The maroon warrior added a glare directed at Triem, as well. “You are stoo-pid.”

  Triem’s pale blue scales rippled into view before disappearing once more. “I will show you stoo-pid. We will meet on the training platform, and I—”

  “Penelope stated the training platform is undergoing repair and modification. Plus, now is not the time to measure wingspan.” Argan growled and stepped between the two males, his wings spreading slightly to block them entirely. “We must discover the cause of Hannah’s deficiency.”

  “I’m not deficient.” Maybe not perfect, but she wasn’t deficient. “I simply don’t want my Pol Mutation cured.”

  “Deficient.” Jarek nodded. “That is a good term. Chashan, were you aware Pol Mutation made humans deficient?”

  “I was not aware.” The Healing Master leapt into motion, positioning himself at the foot of the ryaapir unit and between the two couples. “If you will remain motionless, Hannah, I will determine the level of deficiency.”

  “Stop!” She straightened and glared first at Chashan and then scanned the room. She let her narrow-eyed stare land on each warrior, making sure they knew she was pissed.

  “She did not remain motionless.” Chashan frowned and stared at the display. “I do not know the cause, but I agree she suffers from a deficiency if she cannot remain still as directed.” Chashan’s attention turned to Elle, then. “Elle joi Ivoth, do you believe the quasti Charlie can assist us?”

  The small animal, Elle’s dangerous, furry best friend gradually eased into sight. He remained invisible most of the time. The Preor generally felt that the only good quasti was a dead quasti, so she couldn’t blame him.

  Hannah would have liked to be invisible.

  Especially when Charlie leapt from Elle’s shoulder and scurried across the ryaapir unit. He hopped from the flat surface to the tip of Hannah’s shoe. Then it was a series of jumps back and forth from leg to leg as he traveled up her body. She could practically hear the animal’s voice in her mind but knew it was something only shared between him, Elle, and Ivoth.

  Jump. Jump. Jump. Stoo-pid Prey-or. Jump.

  Charlie landed on her lap and took one last leap, his small claws grasping the neck of her shirt. He hauled himself a little higher and then she stared into tiny black eyes. The quasti balanced himself on his back legs while he pinched and squeezed her face with his front paws. He poked one cheek, then the other, and then both together. That was when he moved to her eyes, careful when he tugged her eyelids up and down.

  Hannah held herself still, fighting the instinct to yank the animal off her face. There was a reason the Preor felt like all quasti should be killed—they could kill anyone with a sound. Literally. She didn’t want to die because she made a furball cry.

  Brukr didn’t have any such hesitance. He pushed through the crowd, grabbed Charlie around his middle, and tossed him to Ivoth, who caught the little beast with ease.

  Charlie squeaked and snapped his teeth, following up those two threats with a growl, and Ivoth sighed. “Be at ease. I will have Argan and Radoo beat on him for you, Charlie.”

  The quasti sniffed and fell silent, gradually disappearing once more. Which meant she was right where she’d been moments before—the center of attention. With Brukr at her side. Perfect.

  “Hannah is not deficient in her mind and does not need the assistance of the quasti.” Brukr glared in Charlie’s direction and a low growl came from that general area.

  “Just piss off the one being that can kill us with a squeak. Perfect. That seems like a great idea.” She mumbled and rolled her eyes.

  “See? She is deficient.” Triem opened his mouth again and everyone in the room—including Hannah—sighed.

  “Out!” Brukr roared. “Radoo, Argan, and Triem out. Take him elsewhere and explain what happens when he does not keep silent. Painfully.”

  Hannah wasn’t sure that was an order Brukr could issue, but the three males listened to his demand and then their group had a little more breathing room in the space.

  “Everyone else can leave too.” Hannah smiled. “Or I’ll leave! That sounds like a great idea.” She nodded and scoo
ted to the edge of the ryaapir unit. “I’ll leave and you guys can move on to the next person on your list.”

  “Hannah…” That murmur. It was that murmur that had her freezing in place.

  No, not just the low mumble, but the feel of his large palm on her forearm as well. His touch was gentle, callused fingers cradling her arm rather than squeezing to keep her immobile. He rubbed his thumb across her smooth skin, a soft brush back and forth that sent a shudder down her spine.

  It did other things too. Desire blossomed deep within, arousal coaxed to life by his careful touch. That simple connection was almost like the kiss they’d shared, her body suffused by need.

  And he’d only said one word. Her name. A single touch and her name, and now she craved him. Her nipples hardened, center growing hot and slick while her clit throbbed with a desperate longing to be caressed—licked.

  It’d been a mistake to kiss him. Well, she hadn’t kissed him, he’d kissed her, but it’d been a mistake to kiss him back.

  “Hannah?” Brukr spoke again and she shook her head, battling to push the growing craving back.

  “Huh?”

  He stroked her again, a small smile teasing his lips as if he knew what his nearness and touch did to her. The bastard probably did. Bastard. “Explain why you do not wish to have your Pol Mutation healed. I am told symptoms can be painful.” Not as painful as recovering from gen mods, but she wasn’t going to say that aloud. “They can lead to death. Do you not wish to live?”

  If only he knew that healing her PM meant that it might kill her in other ways.

  “Of course I do.” She shrugged and scrambled for an excuse. Or rather, an excuse that didn’t sound lame. “But I’ve always had PM, and I’ve survived this long. The pain is never anything worse than my period, so I don’t see why I have to—”

  “Is peer-ee-odd another human illness I should research? The Preor do not wish females to suffer when we could…” Hannah, Elle, and Melissa glared at Chashan until he fell silent.