by Kyle, Celia
“No.” Tave’s response was immediate, and he stepped forward to stand before Rina and his youngling as though he feared Taulan or Jarek would cause a female or young harm. Never. “I am holding Lana Coburn. She attempted to gain access to the Ujal with a false identity and sought to secure a position assisting younglings. She is hiding the truth, and I will know of her true purpose here.” Tave glared at his mate. “I will know why she attempted to kidnap Ujal royalty before she is tried.”
“Tried?” Jarek spoke since Taulan could not. He conserved his energy, bottled his rage, and waited for the moment to strike. He could shift quickly—even faster than Jarek—grab Lana and leave. The Ujal would pursue but as long as Jarek did not join, he could escape with his mate.
“For the attempted kidnapping of a royal youngling and subterfuge.”
The rage broke free, his dragon rushing to the fore and wrenching control of his mind. The beast had one craving, one thought that repeated over and over in his mind—Lana, mate. The snap of threads and raised voices were the last sounds he heard as the dragon took power, as it transformed him.
He would keep Lana safe. Or die trying.
6
Lana hadn’t taken her eyes off him from the moment they placed him in the cell beside hers. His massive body overflowed the small bed, shoulders extending past the side edge and feet hanging off the bottom. His clothes had shredded when he’d begun his shift, but someone dressed him in oversized sweats and shirt, the fabric clinging to his muscled body despite their large size.
The only indication he still lived was the gradual rise and fall of his chest, but otherwise, he remained motionless.
But that hadn’t been the case in that room. That room where she’d been forced into a chair and interrogated.
Because they’d discovered who she was—that she’d lied. And after everything that’d happened to the Ujal and Preor in recent months… Stupid, stupid, stupid.
No one ever said Lana was the brightest crayon in the box. That was the saying, right? She couldn’t remember everything from her historical studies. At one point, Earth children colored with sticks of wax and… She shook her head. Now wasn’t the time to get lost in memories.
She’d been researched further—“kidnapping” the prince’s daughter apparently caused that—and within moments of stepping out of the water, she was dragged to the couple who ruled the Earth Ujal.
Theresa cried when she wasn’t allowed to come to Lana, but tears didn’t sway Tave. Lana remained in place, questioned, prodded, and poked.
The only problem was that she didn’t have anything to give them, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to admit the truth unless she absolutely had to. Being beaten and abused by her ex had been bad enough. She didn’t need anyone else to know of her stupidity. She didn't want to risk him finding her. The fewer who knew about her past the better.
Plus, there’d been that thing, that person, continually in her head. It pushed and pushed and pushed until she thought she’d scream with the effort to keep it at bay. But it—they—refused to be brushed aside and forgotten. It screamed a single word over and over: Knowing, knowing, knowing.
Lana squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed her temples as she kicked it to the back of her mind. She didn’t know who—or what—it was, but she needed to stay clearheaded so she could figure a way out of her current situation. Between her and… Taulan? They were in a big pot of hot water.
She’d “allegedly” kidnapped the royal couple’s daughter while also entering the station under a false name, and he’d attacked just about every guard in the room. Jarek—the Preor War Master—told her that Taulan had been trying to get to her—to protect her. Then he’d argued with Tave over her treatment as well as the other Preor’s until they were brought here, to the station’s version of a brig—onsite prison.
And no matter how much Jarek argued, or Lana’s body screamed, she and Taulan weren’t allowed to be in the same cell. So here she sat, staring at him, watching him breathe even though he looked lifeless.
Jarek explained a few things before he’d been escorted from the brig, but not enough. Taulan lost his wings in that accident on the Preor ship mere months ago. He’d been charged with watching after Theresa, but Preors couldn't swim. He was protective of females which is why he'd attacked.
Protective of females. Lana thought there was more to it than that. The Preor tried to lie to her, but after her time with Steven, she could spot an untruth with ease. Human or not, she could tell.
Now she waited for Jarek to return. Or for Taulan to wake. She didn’t care as long as the quiet was banished and another person’s conversations got rid of the oppressive feelings weighing down on her.
Was it one of the other Preors pounding into her head?
A low hiss preceded the scrape of metal on metal, and the door to the brig parted. Instead of an Ujal guard or Jarek, a small woman entered. A female? She wasn’t sure if the newcomer was Ujal or Preor—maybe human?—but at least it wasn’t a guard coming in to terrify her some more. Then again, all of the guards frightened her. Especially when she was in a cage, and they were free to do whatever they desired.
“Hello.” The woman paused outside the cell and softly gripped the bars. “I’m Nalan and you’re Lana, right?”
She nodded and took a slow step forward.
“By the stars, Nalan!” The resounding, rapid thud of boots on metal told her another approached, and a moment later a winged Preor came into sight. “I stated—“
Nalan waved a hand at the male and stepped to his side, leaning against the large Preor. Were they together? She’d only heard of a handful of human-Ujal couples and only one human-Preor.
“What could she do, Evuklar? She is locked up behind bars as if she was a common criminal. We treat females better than this.” The woman turned a glare on the larger male and he winced.
“Nalan, she—“
“I want her freed.” She even went so far as to stomp her small foot.
“You know Tave has claimed sovereignty. She—“
“Is right here,” Lana drawled. She was afraid—terrified—but she wouldn’t be left out of a conversation about her if she could help it. “And you are?”
Nalan blushed, pink staining her cheeks, while Evuklar glared at her. “Apologies,” the female rushed out. “I am Nalan and this is my mate, Evuklar, Defense Master of the Third Preor Fleet.” Nalan stuck her hand between the bars. “Humans shake hands in greeting, yes?”
Lana stared at the outstretched arm and then refocused on the woman’s face. Then noted her decided lack of wings. “But you’re human.”
Another blush. “No, I am Preor. Like my Evuklar and your Taulan.”
Her who?
“Preor females do not have wings. We are not gifted with the dragons. We bring harmony to a home and care for dragonlets. It is up to our males to defend and protect us.”
“Uh-huh.” She eased forward and grasped Nalan’s hand. She seemed nice enough and the female wanted her freed. She couldn’t be all bad. Since she’d been outed by the Ujal and currently resided behind bars—and out of Steven’s reach—she fell back to her given name. “Lana Coo-Coburn.”
Nalan shook her head. “No, you are Lana joi Taulan Coburn.”
Lana raised her eyebrows. “What?”
That brought out a sigh. “I am getting ahead of myself. You experienced the Knowing, yes?”
“The Know—“ Her question was drowned out by a low groan from the other cell, and Lana’s heart rate picked up. It nearly burst from her chest as hope warred with worry. She peeked around the couple, fighting for sight of her Taulan.
Her Taulan? Lana shook her head. He wasn’t her anything.
And yet he was. Wasn’t he?
The Knowing…
God, she felt like she was going crazy with the back and forth, the push and pull that cycled through her head.
Taulan opened his eyes, lifted his head, and gave it a small shake. A handful of rapid blinks
was followed by him focusing on the couple. For some reason, that… hurt. A part of her whimpered at not being the first person he sought and fuck if she could figure out why. She just wanted to be the most important thing in his life—world.
There was no reason to feel that way, though.
The Knowing.
Something whispered in her ear and a certainty filled her blood. What the hell was a Knowing?
Mate. That same voice, that same certainty. The Knowing signaled the discovery of Preor mates and only manifested when they were in—
“Evuklar? Nalan?” His attention flicked to the bars surrounding him. “Where is La—“ Their gazes collided and he vaulted from the bed, arm outstretched and claw-tipped fingers reaching for her. “Lana.”
She found herself doing the same, the urge to touch him, skin on skin or skin on scales. She didn’t care. The feel of him beneath her hands overwhelmed her until she was driven by that desire.
His eyes flashed deep purple for a moment when he couldn’t reach her and then he gripped the bars.
“Let me out,” Taulan snarled at Evuklar and the larger Preor did not look the least bit scared.
“Taulan—“
“Now.” His growl made the hairs on her arms stand up, a hint of fear slinking in to tangle with her craving for him. His hold on the bars strengthened until his knuckles turned white and then the bars… turned red. “Now.”
“Taulan.” The harsh voice was familiar, the tone and grating roughness reminding her of another Preor she’d met recently. As in, right before Taulan began his furious change from two legs to claws. It’d been this newcomer who’d subdued Taulan.
Then they’d both been brought here. Her in cuffs and him dragged along.
Taulan was distracted by the green-winged male, giving him unwavering attention.
“Mine.” The hiss sounded more reptilian than man, and it resonated with something inside Lana’s heart. Tears sprang to her eyes and she reached for Taulan once more even though she knew the move was pointless.
His. She was his and he was hers. She drew her hand back as she shook her head. No, that was wrong. That was…
The Knowing. Information trickled forward with her inattention and she rested her forehead against the bars. The cool metal soothed some of the hotness coursing through her head and she panted with the massive wave of… of Knowing.
“Jarek.” Another hiss, the red of the bars spreading and she realized he was heating them. “Mine.”
The clipped tones that followed were the embodiment of strength and solid steel. “Enough. Stand down.” But Taulan’s actions never wavered. “Stand. Down. Primary Warrior.”
Primary Warrior. An important position within the Preor military. He was the commander of the ship when the War Master was not onboard. He answered only to his War Master and no other. It was a position gained after—
The Knowing had interfered again.
Taulan snarled. “Jarek—“
“If you will cease, I will inform you of the decisions that have been made.”
“I will not lose her.”
“No.” Jarek shook his head. “You will not lose her. But because of her, you might lose Earth.”
Everyone’s eyes turned to Lana, their various coloring weighing heavily on her shoulders.
“Explain.” Now it was Taulan’s turn to sound both fierce and deadly.
“Tave is very protective of Theresa and while he is willing to concede that Lana’s actions were not an attempt to kidnap the princess, she still attempted to join the Ujal using false identification. He will not permit her to remain near the station and since Preor Tower is your current home and you cannot live outside the compound…”
Then they’d have to go to space—to live on the ship. A ship that contained approximately two thousand males, all warriors ranging in ranking from—
She accepted the reason behind the Knowing, that perhaps she was Taulan’s mate, but could it stop feeding her information already?
The door whooshed open once more and then closed, more visitors coming toward them.
What now?
Familiar Ujals stepped into sight—Erun and Rhal—two of the scariest Ujals she’d ever seen. Lana flinched, putting space between her and the males. Bars weren’t enough protection from those two. Taulan snarled, the sound more beast than man, and everyone froze—Lana included. As one, attention shifted to the Preor still captured, to the golden red of the cell walls. The brightness stretched outward and she whimpered as a tendril of fear snaked into her blood.
“Lana, you must calm.” Nalan’s voice was soft and soothing.
“Wha—“
“Calm.” The woman spoke out of the side of her mouth. “He’s your mate and he’s reacting to your distress—your fear.”
“Mate?” she whispered. There was knowing, the Knowing, and then there was hearing the words aloud.
Taulan’s midnight gaze captured hers. “Shaa kouva.”
Shaa kouva. Two Preor words. My beloved.
She might not want all that the Knowing had to offer, but she wanted the dark-haired stranger. “Shaa kouvi.”
Taulan’s voice rang deeply within the brig. “By Earth treaty I lay claim to Lana Coburn as Kouva to Taulan sen Pavon, now Taulan joi Lana, Primary Warrior to the Preor Third Fleet.”
7
So many changes, so little time. His claiming threw events into motion that he never foresaw. His only concern—as he’d stared at Lana through the bars—was to ensure she was recognized as his.
His and not under Earth’s control. He did not care about the Ujal’s criminal accusations and the reason behind her altered name. It was knowledge that would come at a later date. At that moment, his thoughts revolved around Lana’s happiness and safety—neither of which could be guaranteed on Earth within a UST jail cell. With a handful of words, he’d ensured her future—one to be spent at his side.
At his side on the battleship of the Third Fleet as it floated in orbit around Earth. At his side in his new quarters and then the command deck.
A command deck that would soon belong to Taulan as War Master of the Third Preor Fleet.
Taulan stood before a familiar desk within the War Master’s office just off the command deck. The scarred metal had seen many War Masters, and it seemed that Jarek was determined for it to see yet another—Taulan. He pulled his attention from Jarek and gazed at the twinkling stars visible through the large clear panel. Humans called it a window, though, in truth, the ship did not contain such openings. It used monitoring systems to observe the surroundings and then displayed the images on the hull.
A hole in a battleship? The idea sent a shiver down his spine.
Now he shook his head for the hundredth time in the last hour, daring much by denying his superior, but he repeated the denial all the same. “War Master Jarek—“
“Simply Jarek, now. The decision has been made. I made my nomination and the council endorsed my choice. You will be the fleet’s War Master.”
“You made the decision without my consent.”
Jarek’s wings rustled with agitation. “The military does not need consent to reward its most skilled warriors.”
The ruffling of Jarek’s wings cut Taulan to his soul and brought his focus to the true reason for his refusal. He placed his fists on the dented desk, knuckles resting on the cool metal as he leaned forward. “The warriors will not follow a wingless War Master. I cannot lead them into battle. I cannot—“
“When was the last time a winged battle took place?”
Taulan quirked a brow. Not long ago, several Preors attempted to kill Jarek because of his human mate and out of hatred for their mission. Many still believed that Preors should not breed with humans. The offenders who still lived—for Jarek had dispatched with several—were returned to Preor. Yet he knew they had not found all those who hated the alliance.
Jarek snorted and Taulan jolted in surprise. The staid, constantly serious War Master snorted. He was not s
ure if the change was good for the male, but he recognized that the cause was his human mate.
A human mate much like Taulan’s own.
“Other than the dishonorable attack perpetrated by a few hatchlings, when was the last time a winged battle took place?”
Centuries. Taulan only had a little over two hundred years beneath his wings, but time was endless and it truly had been centuries—a millennium?—since Preors took to the skies to do battle.
“Regardless, the males will not stand for a War Master who cannot best them in battle.”
Jarek leaned forward, matching Taulan’s stance. “Did losing your wings mean you lost your wits? Challenges are performed with hands and feet, not fangs and claws.” The War Master narrowed his eyes. “Unless you mean to tell me you are too weak of body and soul to meet any challenger.”
He knew the old dry scale attempted to prick his pride. He shouldn’t rise to the bait, but he could not stop himself. He growled low, pushing the words past his gritted teeth. “You know that is an untruth.”
“Then prove it. Prove to me—and your warriors—that you are the male who should lead.”
He pressed his lips together in a grimace. “What you ask—“
“Is something you’ve trained for. I retire now because I wish to spend my years with my mate. I have fought—and won—for Preor. It is now time to have a family and raise my own dragonlets.” The cocky smile that tipped Jarek’s lips told Taulan that his dragonlets might be more than a simple dream.
“And has your mate…?” He raised his eyebrows.
“Human females,” the male dropped his voice. “Experience a quickening each month. Every month.”
Taulan jerked back. Every month? “You lie.”
Instead of taking the words as an insult, the War Master—the War Master—grinned. “No, it is the truth.”
“She could…” The mere idea staggered him. Preor females experienced a quickening once, perhaps twice, every ten years. For a human female to be fertile so often…