Rocor (Dragons of Kratak Book 5)

by Ruth Anne Scott

  Baz smiled wide when he saw me, and it gave him a very sweet, boyish look. There was no disputing the fact that he was a gorgeous man – I saw the heads of my entire wait staff turn and look at him when he walked by. His good looks were otherworldly. I hadn't heard a man ever called ethereal before, but that's what he was.

  “Good evening, Paige,” he said as he leaned against the bar.

  It was a move that was intended to look smooth and casual, but when he did it, somehow it looked stiff and awkward.

  “Good evening, Baz,” I said. “You are persistent; I will give you that.”

  He smiled. “I am led to believe that persistence pays off in the end.”

  “Oh?” I asked. “And what sort of payoff are you hoping for?”

  He shrugged. “I do not know yet. Perhaps the chance to speak with you in a place other than your Tavern.”

  I took a drink from my bottle of water. “And what's wrong with the Tavern?”

  “Nothing at all,” he replied. “But I would like the chance to speak to you when you're not so – distracted.”

  I looked at him and could see the confidence brimming within him. He was getting a little bit better about not sounding so stiff and awkward. The words coming out of his mouth seemed far more natural, and he'd been nothing but exceedingly respectful. He was learning.

  “And how did you like the music this evening?” I asked.

  He looked at me with an expression that told me he'd been enraptured by it. “It was amazing. Truly amazing,” he said. “I was disappointed that you didn't perform, though.”

  I shrugged. “I don't perform every night,” I said. “Being the owner of the place, I sometimes have a pretty full plate.”

  “Of course,” he said. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply–”

  “It's okay, Baz,” I said. “Seriously.”

  There was an inscrutable expression his face. One that read like frustration as if he were angry with himself for being so painfully awkward and not really being very good at chatting a woman up.

  “Where are you from, Baz?” I asked.

  He gave me a rueful grin. “A place you've probably never heard of before,” he said. “Nothing like this place, that's for sure.”

  “Try me,” I said. “I've done a bit of traveling in my life.”

  Baz laughed. “Probably not to where I come from,” he said.

  I smiled in spite of myself. There was no denying Baz's charm and charisma. He had that in spades. For the first time in a very long time, I wasn't in a hurry to rush away from a man. Baz intrigued me. There was so much about him that was serious. Cloaked in shadow. I had the feeling that there was a lot to his story.

  And it shocked to know that I wanted to learn his story. I was of two minds about it, torn between my head and my heart. I knew I wasn't ready for a relationship. But I also knew that they only way to be ready was to actually be open to one.

  I wasn't quite there yet, but something about Baz was putting doubts in my own head about that.

  “Listen, Paige,” Baz said. “Can I possibly interest you in perhaps, accompanying me out one night? You can bring a chaperone, if you wish.”

  “A chaperone?” I laughed.

  He cocked his head and looked over at me. “Is that funny?” he asked, sounding genuinely curious.

  “I don't wish to frighten you,” I said. “The thought of you dealing with that pains me. I just want you to know that I am on what you call, the up and up. There wouldn't be any monkey business, I assure you.”

  “Monkey business?” I asked and grinned. “What era are you in?”

  “The current one, of course,” he said, not seeming to understand my humor.

  I laughed without meaning to, and an expression of hurt crossed Baz's features. He was trying so very hard. I opened my mouth to speak and was surprised by what came out.

  “You know what?” I asked. “I'd love to go out with you. And don't worry, we don't need a chaperone.”

  He looked at me with an expression of stunned disbelief. “Truly?” he asked.

  “Truly,” I said.

  I had no idea what possessed me to agree to go out with him, but it didn't look like I had much of a choice anymore. I looked over at Josie who shot me a wink and flashed me a smile, obviously overhearing our conversation and approving of it.

  It was just a little conversation over coffee or something. Nothing major, and definitely no commitment implied. Worst case scenario, it doesn't go well and I lose a customer at the Tavern. Not the end of the world.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The sun was shining down upon the bay, reflecting off the water and nearly blinding me with the dazzling brilliance. Baz seemed to be soaking up both the sunshine and the salty sea air. His head was thrown back and his eyes closed as he breathed in deeply, looking relaxed and far less awkward for the first time since we'd met.

  I couldn't help but stare at him, in awe of his sheer beauty. His pale skin was the purest white I'd ever seen. Some people might look sickly being that pale, but not Baz. Somehow, he made it look not only healthy, but natural. It was as if he was not a man, but rather was made of stone like he had been carved from alabaster, perhaps. He was reminiscent of a statue you'd expect to see in a museum.

  And knowing that I had such a strong reaction to his physical attributes, I knew I was going to have to be doubly on guard to not let myself get too deeply involved or otherwise do something stupid.

  His hair was a stark contrast to his skin. The sun brought out bluish highlights in his otherwise jet-black hair. It was silky and long, and he'd worn it free, letting it catch the wind and wrap around his face as he soaked in the surroundings.

  A picnic on the bay had been his idea, and he seemed to be enjoying himself. Even before we started eating or talking much, I saw a very different side to this strange, mysterious, and completely alluring man.

  “I love the sea,” he said with a wistful sigh, opening his eyes and smiling at me.

  “Me too,” I said. “I always have.”

  Baz's eyes twinkled, as if having something in common with me was the highlight of his day.

  “What do you love about it?” he asked me, his voice soft.

  “I dunno,” I said with a shrug. “Just everything – the smell, the waves crashing on the shore, the cool air that whips through your hair when you're close by. I feel more myself when I'm by the water.”

  “So do I,” he said. “It just feels right, and I most definitely feel more like myself near the water.”

  I had to agree. He did seem a whole lot more normal out by the bay than he ever did in the Tavern. He seemed more natural and more comfortable, as if somehow just being close to the sea brought him an inner peace. It was a feeling I wholly understood.

  The way he looked at me in that shared moment, however, made my cheeks flush.

  I kept talking, trying to fill the void with conversation. Silence was always nerve-racking to me, but even more so on a first date. I caught myself as soon as I'd thought it. Date? Was this really a date? I didn't know what to think of it, but I knew that I had to keep tight watch on my emotions.

  “Great idea for a picnic out here,” I said. “Such a beautiful day.”

  “It is,” he said. “Is this normal? The weather, I mean?”

  “It is. Sunny and warm most of the year, but not too warm. It's heavenly,” I said. “Speaking of which, where are you from again?”

  Baz didn't answer. Instead, he looked up at the sky, a strange look on his face. Squinting, he just kept staring, as if he saw something unsettling – which made me turn and look. As soon as I did, however, I felt Baz grab me, pushing my face down into the blanket. Terror tore through my body as I feared the worst – was this man crazy? Was he going to hurt me? What was he going to do to me?

  “Sorry, I just–” he started to stammer, standing up and nearly tripping over his feet in the process.

  “What the hell, Baz? What are you doing?”

  “I'll
explain later,” he said, rushing off away from me. “We don't have time right now.”

  “Time? Explain?”

  But my question wasn't heard because Baz was too far away, walking toward the water, staring up at the sky, seeming to mumble to himself.

  “Baz!” I called out, climbing to my feet. “Where are you going?”

  I followed him, and he turned, yelling back at me. “Please, Paige. Go home. Leave, please. I'll explain later, but you need to get out of here.”

  His voice was frantic, and just hearing him beg and plead for me to leave sent chills down my spine. What was going on? I started to ask, but that's when I saw it – saw what he was staring at.

  A hunk of metal was in the sky directly above us. It wasn't a helicopter or a plane though. I had no idea what it was, but it was falling fast and coming right toward us.

  “Please, run. Paige, I'm begging you.”

  But it was too late. Whatever it was hit the ground with a loud boom that shook the earth beneath my feet. I almost lost my balance, but I managed to keep hold of my footing. In the moment of chaos, I swear I saw Baz's outfit changed from what he'd been wearing on our date – a pair of jeans and a white button up shirt – to some sort of full-body suit. He hadn't had time to change, did he?

  “Paige! Go, now,” he shouted again. He pulled out a knife, a long sword-like blade that was curved and appeared very, very sharp.

  My eyes grew wide. Where had it come from? I had watched as he'd pulled it from a sheath on his back – a sheath that was previously a button-up shirt. Had it been on beneath the shirt the whole time, and I'd just not noticed it? What in the hell was going on?

  Was I dreaming?

  “Bazarok, your brother sends a message.” The voice spoke in a strange accent – much like Baz's own – and it seemed to come from the large metal contraption.

  I watched in stunned disbelief as two men stepped from the metal wreckage, swords of their own in hand. They both looked eerily like Baz with the pale, white skin and dark hair. One had even longer hair – down to his waist and pulled back in a long ponytail. His eyes were coal black, and as he stared at me, it felt like icicles formed inside of my chest.

  The other was taller and leaner, but had a scar down the right side of his face as if someone had split his face open and he had somehow lived to tell the tale. His eyes were also black, but his hair was silver, a light blue color that wasn't found naturally on earth.

  “Tell my brother I don't want to be retrieved, he can have the throne for all I care,” Baz said.

  I was taken aback by his words. He spoke so clearly, as if none of this came as a surprise to him. As if none of this was a shock. I just stood there, frozen in place as I watched the two men walk toward Baz, weapons in hand. Baz was obviously not going down without a fight.

  “Tsk, you know better than that, Bazarok,” the silver-haired man said. “You know that as long as you're out here somewhere, you're a threat. And we can't have that, now can we? Why not just make this quick and be done with it?”

  The man's eyes flicked over to me, briefly, before turning back to Baz.

  Baz looked over at me, too, and there was something in his eyes for the first time since the two men emerged from that wreckage. He was not scared for himself. It was almost like me being there scared him the most. I didn't dare say a word or ask what was going on, mainly because I couldn't find the words. I had no idea what to say even if I could, and I really didn't want to draw attention to myself.

  “We both know you're not here to retrieve me,” Baz said. “I know that Kapoc sent you here to dispatch me. I'm no fool. So, let's get on with it, shall we?”

  “I guess that settles it then, Jorak” The silver-haired man said to his companion with a smile. “He's no fool, and he knows what Kapoc's true orders are.”

  Jorak, the man who'd remained quiet up to that point, lunged toward Baz, his sword slicing through the air with a loud whistle of wind. I closed my eyes, afraid of what I might see, but when I opened them again, Baz was still in one piece. His sword had stopped Jorak's.

  But that still left the other man free, and he, too, went toward Baz wildly, knocking him slightly off balance. I screamed as Baz fell, but he thankfully was not hurt.

  Until that moment, I hadn't realized I wasn't breathing. I had been holding my breath since the fighting began, but as he fell, I let out a panicked cry. I couldn't bear to watch Baz be hurt, even though I had no idea what was going on or why the two men had come for him. Or who they were. Or why they'd emerged from something that reminded me of a wrecked UFO.

  Without thinking, I rushed toward the fighting, determined to help Baz. But when he saw me coming, his eyes grew wide.

  “No, Paige, don't!”

  The silver-haired man knocked my feet out from under me, and I hit the ground hard, driving the breath right out of my lungs. I laid there, stunned for a moment as I tried to learn how to breathe all over again. Baz looked worried, but he didn't have long.

  “Behind you!” I yelled.

  Jorak had come up behind him, nearly taking his head off with a wicked slice of his blade, but Baz ducked just in time. The sword came close, though. Too close.

  “You know this woman, Baz?” Jorak asked, stepping down on my hand until I cried out in pain. “Does she mean something to you?”

  Baz looked at me, and I could see how worried he was, but his answer said otherwise, “No, she's just a human. I am here as an observer. To study. I feel nothing for this other species.”

  “Is that so?”

  He stepped down harder, and I bit my tongue, determined not to scream, but the man continued bearing all of his weight down on my hand. The earth beneath us was soft, so my hand sank in just a bit, the soil giving way and keeping my fingers from breaking under the weight. It didn't hurt nearly as bad as it could have.

  “Just leave her out of it,” Baz screamed.

  “Leave her out of it? Really? Did you hear that, Jorak? He doesn't care for her, but he wants us to leave her out of it.”

  “Because she's not who you're after. It's me,” Baz snarled. “So come and get me.”

  Jorak was too busy laughing with the silver-haired man to noticed Baz's sword move swiftly through the air. One slice – that's all it took. I screamed as Jorak's head crashed down to the ground with a meaty sounding thud, falling a few inches away from my own face. The silver-haired man looked surprised and angry, but also a bit impressed.

  “What a fool. He shouldn't have let his guard down,” the silver-haired man said with a sigh. “But that's fine. I can take you out myself.”

  The man stepped off my hand, giving me the freedom to grab him by the ankle. Wrapping both my hands around his leg, I pulled him down to the ground. His free leg kicked back hard, hitting me in the face. I saw stars, but I didn't relent. The whole time he fought with me, Baz slipped into position. I'd distracted him enough that Baz now had him by the throat. The tip of his blade was against his flesh, holding him in place, and Baz smiled at him.

  “Talking about fools with their guard down – ironic, isn't it?”

  Before the man could answer, Baz buried the blade into the soft flesh of his throat. I closed my eyes, but that didn't stop me from seeing blood gushing from the man's neck and splashing to the ground all around me. But what drew the biggest scream for me was the fact that the blood was blue.

  I screamed and screamed, but it was as if no one heard me.

  No one. Not even Baz. He was lost in his own little world.

  And I was lost, afraid I was stuck in a horrible nightmare with no escape.

  ****

  “What in the hell was that?” I stammered. “I just watched you kill two men. Who in the hell were they and what happened? Please tell me that was self-defense. Please, please, please.”

  Baz was wiping the blood away, helping me bathe in the bay, and rinsing me off. He didn't say a word, and there was something in his eyes that made me feel almost sad for him, as if he was horrified
over the entire scene. At least, I wasn't the only one.

  “I really don't know how to explain it to you, Paige,” he said, meeting my gaze. “What do you think you saw?”

  My hair was soaking wet, but the blood was gone, at least as far as we could see.

  “I don't even know,” I whispered. “I mean, it all felt so – paranormal. So alien. Not sure if that's the right word for it, but whatever it was, it didn't feel human to me.”

  “That's because it's not,” he said with a sigh, wiping the water from my cheek with the blanket we had been sitting on before all hell broke loose.

  “What do you mean, it's not?”

  “It wasn't human,” he said softly. “Because I'm not human.”

  Book Two – Revelation

  Chapter One: Paige

  My heart was hammering in my chest so hard I was sure it could be heard over the waves that crashed ashore close by. My head was spinning, and I had no idea what in the hell was going on. What had I just seen? What had just happened?

  I dropped to my knees in the sand, fighting against the tears that stung my eyes. I'd just witness Baz kill two men. He stood up to his ankles in the water, washing blood – blue blood – from the curved blade of a sword I hadn't even known he was carrying. I caught myself looking at the steel blade, watching the way the sunlight glinted off of it.

  Was this all just a bad dream? Some horrible waking nightmare brought on by anxiety, perhaps?

  I touched my face and felt the sting upon my skin from where one of the men Baz had killed kicked me. My hand also slightly throbbed from where it had been stepped on. No, this was most assuredly not a dream, not unless it was the most exceptionally vivid dream in recorded history.

  I looked the man up and down and realized I knew a lot less than I thought I knew about him – which was already virtually nothing. Nothing about any of this made sense to me. What made even less sense, though, was what Baz had just said to me.

  “What do you mean you're not human?” I asked him.

  He turned and looked at me, a soft, gentle expression upon his face. He finished cleaning the blade of his sword and slid it back into the sheath on his back. Although he'd been wearing jeans and a white button-up shirt when we'd met for our date, he was now dressed in a black bodysuit of a sort. It was tight and clung to his every feature, revealing a man who was well defined and in shape. He was a man who was more powerful and physically imposing than he looked in normal clothing.