Alpha Dragon_Taran

by Kellan Larkin

  Wedding planning.

  I should be ready for this. Getting married has been on my mind for many years. I kept hoping to meet the right one. When I did, I would be ready.

  Now that the right one is sitting across the table from me, sipping coffee with his hair standing straight up, looking bleary-eyed, I realize I’m not as ready as I should be.

  In fact, with Taran in my life now, all my plans fell apart.

  Dreams of youth melt away in the light of responsible adulthood.

  “I like the idea of a small wedding,” Taran finally says in answer to my question. “If it’s too big of a blow out, we risk things going tits up.”

  He has a point, and the more I look at all the things that need to happen before the baby is born, I realize that five months isn’t all that long now to get ready. “Smaller is better.”

  I tear the scribbled and scratched paper from my legal pad and try again. “So, let’s start with the guest list. Who do you think should be there?”

  Taran leans back in his chair and lets his head fall back so he can think. It’s a sexy move because it shows off the lines of his chest and his tattoos very nicely. “I want the guys from the shop.”

  That is a given, but I write it down anyway.

  “And I think your manager should be there. What’s her name, Cassandra?”

  “Yes, that’s her name. She’s human, though.”

  “There will be other humans there.”

  I think it runs the risk of our dragon shifter status being discovered. However, this isn’t something I can sneak by Cassandra either. “I’ll put her down to help me organize. That should keep her busy with other things.”

  “What did you want to do about the Ring of Fire?”

  That’s a good question. My pen taps rapidly against the page while I think.

  We can’t not have the Ring of Fire. It’s critical for a traditional dragon bonding. The circle, set on fire with the two mated parties in the center, is symbolic to their union.

  “It won’t be a proper ceremony without it,” Taran continues to press.

  “I have to think of the gallery’s fire code.” I don’t think I can get away with a real fire inside my building. Too much that could go wrong. “Well, it doesn’t have to be a live fire, exactly.”

  “Seems kind of cheesy to do anything less.”

  “Let’s table that issue for a bit. I’ll come back to it. Maybe I can sell it to Cassandra that it’s a family tradition thing and we can have it on the back patio of the gallery.” I may make a lot of concessions for the wedding plans, but the Ring of Fire can’t be ignored. It doesn’t look like Taran’s willing to let it go, either.

  “Did you look at the color palettes I put together for you?”

  Taran grunts softly and pulls the sheet over. “I like this one, with the golds and reds.”

  That’s my favorite, too. “And you’re okay with the list of food items on the buffet the caterer sent over?”

  “As long as it’s edible, I’m fine with it. Nosko…” My name ends on a sigh as he stands from the table. “I don’t care what you do. I just want to join my life with yours in a simple ceremony. Don’t over think this.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut and draw in a deep breath. “I know. I just want it to be something to remember.”

  Taran pulls my chair away from the table and guides me to stand up. He places my hands on his hips. His arms drape over my shoulders. “What I need to remember is right here. The man I love, my fated mate, is carrying my baby. Isn’t that enough?”

  “For us, maybe. Family and friends aren’t quite so forgiving.”

  “They can go fuck themselves—”

  “Taran! That’s not very generous.”

  “I don’t care.” Taran stoops, and his arm wraps around my hips to lift and drape me over his shoulder. “Enough talk about wedding stuff. Come back to bed. Let me put another baby in you.”

  “So romantic,” I deadpan as I bounce on the way to the bedroom. “And you know that’s not how babies work, right?”

  “Don’t bother me with the details.”

  The rest of our day off is spent in bed. Taran shows me repeatedly just how much he cares for and cherishes me.

  It’s a new sensation, one that I’m not used to. I’ve been on my own for so many years. Sure, I’ve had lovers before, but none were serious.

  None made me feel as special as Taran does every time he cups my face and kisses me. It’s like he takes protecting me seriously, even though I don’t need protecting.

  His gaze penetrates deeply through me, as if to see in my soul. In front of him, I can hide nothing.

  He takes his time with me on this lazy morning, his mouth and tongue and fingers finding all the sensitive places on my body, even discovering some new ones. I’m pliant and willing beneath his touches.

  When we find release, it’s through raised voices and harsh breathing. His knot settles deep, tying us together as we find our peace wrapped in each other’s arms.

  It’s sad but the next day asserts reality into our lives again. We are forced to crawl from our self-imposed sexually delirious exile to enter the world again.

  On a whim, or better to say, on a gut feeling, I decide to head to Annika’s shop. I saw the pictures Taran took at her launch party but I want to see them up close and personal.

  It’s not hard to find, even if I didn’t know where it was already located.

  On the outside, it looks like a cross between Taran’s shop and a thrift store. I hesitate to call it clutter but that’s really what it looks like. The shop is filled with all kinds of tchotchkes, although when I step into it, it also looks more spacious than should be possible in physical reality.

  She steps from the back of the store only moments after I enter. “Hi,” she says. “Looking for a tattoo?”

  Even though I’m not a big guy, she makes me look positively gargantuan. At my height, she still only comes up to my shoulder. She has rings on every finger and several chains hanging around her neck, with half a dozen different charms and pendants dangling from them. Both of her ears are pierced, filled with various sizes of earrings.

  For the most part, she looks exactly like the images I found on the internet from before she disappeared and the documentation of her last experience with the gallery. But there’s something different I can’t put my finger on.

  “Um, not really? But I’m a fan and I know you had a launch party the other night. I couldn’t make it then so I decided to come by during the day.”

  That doesn’t leave her a huge opening for conversation so I clear my throat and keep going. I fish a business card out of my wallet and extend it to her. “I’m Robert Nosko, owner of Second Floor Art.”

  She’s hesitant to approach. I can tell she’s a little distrustful until her eyes widen. “Oh right, you sent me an email a week back or so.”

  “Yeah, that’s me.”

  “The gallery name sounded familiar. I looked you up. A while back, I showed some of my art in the gallery there. I guess it was under different management.” She tucks the card in her back pocket. With a flutter of her hand, she motions for me to sit on the sofa in the reception area and takes a seat on the stool pushed up for the counter.

  I’m pleased she remembers the history between herself and the gallery. “That’s the one, yes. I recently found the advertisement and the marketing push for your showing. Your art is still amazing.”

  “Thanks. I’ve been working on my craft for a few years now.”

  It’s like she anticipated my question. “I was curious where you went. You gave up a lucrative shop back then to pursue your craft.”

  “Not everything’s about the money. I know you have some experience with that.”

  I’m not sure if I did or not. I’m not even sure what she insinuated. “That’s cryptic,” I say, half joking, half on edge.

  She quirks her head to the side, a sudden, sharp motion. Her lips turn up in a mysterious smile that deepens he
r dimples. “We all have our little secrets about our lives, don’t we?”

  That’s a loaded statement if there ever was one. Paranoia and intrigue war within me. Does she know I’m a dragon? I go back over everything I’ve said and nothing comes to mind that I let it slip.

  While she sits there, she pushes up the sleeves on her hoodie. With her forearms exposed, I get a glimpse of the ink. There’s something about it that doesn’t sit right with me.

  It takes a moment for it to sink in.

  Those aren’t her tattoos.

  Well, that’s not exactly what I want to say. Those are not the tattoos from the images I saw on the internet. It’s rude to pull out my phone to verify that, but I’m certain of it.

  Not that it’s any of my business. If she had some tattoos removed and fresh ones done while out of the public eye, what does that have to do with me or what I want from her?

  It does seem odd that she would have it done at all. In fact, the whole thing is surreal.

  “So, what do you think about the shop across the street from you?” I glance through the windows at Taran’s shop. By the looks of it, the guys are busy today.

  She huffs out a breath that catches her hair to blow it off her face. “At first, I wasn’t wild about it. I used to be the only artist in the neighborhood. It wouldn’t be so bad if they were further down the street. But, I dunno, I guess it’s not that big of a deal. I’m not hurting for the cash. I like working and designing tattoos and dealing with all kinds of people. Maybe they’ll be good for my business.”

  So it doesn’t seem that she’s going to be a hardass about the competition. Hopefully that will set Taran’s mind at ease about her being here.

  “I was thinking about coming by your gallery later this week.” Her voice cuts through my thought fog and I tear my attention away from her arms.

  “I’d like that. Are you considering my offer to showcase some of your work?”

  “Yes, I am. I think it’d be good publicity for the re-opening of my shop.”

  “I think having an exhibit of your art would be a fantastic opportunity.”

  She glances at her watch before she slides down the stool. “Great. Let me see what I have that I’m willing to turn loose for a bit and I’ll give you a call.”

  We shake on it, and I leave the shop feeling slightly off balance.

  “That’s all she said?” Taran leans against his office desk in the back of the shop.

  I get comfortable in the chair across from him. “Yeah. I know it wasn’t a whole lot. It was like talking to a shadow, always shifting just a little out of focus. I have to wonder if she knows we’re shifters.”

  That could be a problem if she does.

  “So, was it like a threat or what?”

  I have no clue. “It didn’t sound like one but I don’t normally receive threats so I’m not a good judge if one’s good or bad.”

  Taran snorts softly. “Could be that she doesn’t know anything and is yanking your chain. Having a go at you.”

  “Why would she do that?” It makes no sense to me.

  “Because she can. I swear, Nosko, there are times you’d be a really easy mark.”

  “A mark for what, though?”

  Taran laughing at me doesn’t normally bother me because he’s usually not laughing at me at all, just with me when crazy things happen in my life with no rhyme or reason. “I say we wait it out and see if she comes up off any more information. Until then, business as usual. You meet with her, get her art in your gallery, make loads of money off her, keep me in my comfortable life, and we’re golden.”

  “You’re incorrigible.”

  Taran spreads his arms and grins at me. “I’m a dragon, it’s my job description.”

  “I haven’t noticed I’m incorrigible.”

  Taran pushes from the desk and takes my hands to help me to my feet. “You’re not a good judge of that. Go back to work. We can finish talking about this tonight when I get off.”

  “I’m getting rushed out, I get it.”

  “Just until tonight.” Taran’s voice drops to a whisper against my ear. “Then I’ll take my sweet time with you.”

  It’s his bedroom voice, which is guaranteed to get me horny every time. I whimper in protest but allow myself to be escorted from the office.

  Taran walks me through the shop and I wave to all the guys as we go until we’re at the front door. “I’ll see you later?”

  I huff in exasperation. “Like you think I’ll wait up for you?”

  “Won’t need to, Nosko. By the time I’m crawling in bed, you’ll be begging for me.”

  I make a show of rolling my eyes. “Oh boy. I need to leave before it gets thick.”

  Taran’s laughter is heard until I’m halfway down the block to the bus station.

  11

  Nosko

  Any time spent with Taran puts me in a good mood. It carries with me through the rest of the afternoon at work. I think I’m so annoyingly in a good mood that even Cassandra remarks on it.

  I’m totally okay with it. Things in my life are running smoothly. Sure, something could happen to upset that but why borrow trouble? I’ll deal with it as it comes, like I always do.

  This time is different. I have someone to deal with it by my side. Knowing someone has your back is a very safe, secure feeling.

  So, I’m not at my most observant when I step off the bus at the corner of my block on my way home. It’s dark outside now, the street lamps casting their pools of light at intervals.

  One flickers for a moment, then goes out. I look up at it. The new bulbs the city puts in the lights give off great illumination and they’re supposed to be good for the environment, cutting down on light pollution in the night sky. They have a tendency to burn out faster.

  Someone will be along in a few days to replace it.

  I round the corner to my apartment building when suddenly I feel myself being jerked into the shadows of a dark alley. My keys jangle sharply as they hit the concrete.

  When I look up, I’m staring into bright, wide eyes peering from a full ski mask. The coolness of a blade presses against my throat. “You make a sound, and I’ll carve you up good.”

  This is too bold and startling for me to form any other answer than a short nod of my head.

  My attacker doesn’t release the pressure of his forearm against my chest to keep me pinned against the wall. “Now, you be a good lizard and unload your wallet for me, nice and slow. This may not kill you but it’ll sure put a hurt on you, boy, if you press me on this.”

  I’ve never been mugged before. I should be concerned, even fearful. Any right-thinking person would be. Muggings have been known to turn deadly when done against humans. It’d take more than a knife to kill a dragon shifter, even one as weak as I am.

  And that’s what bothers me.

  Lizard.

  A derogatory slur against dragon-kind. Does this mean the guy knows I’m a dragon?

  I won’t give anything away since I don’t want this to go badly, dangerous to me or not. I nod again and fumble for my wallet. He jerks it from my hands, and opens it to see the sparse amount of cash I carry in case of emergency.

  With a snarl, he tucks the wallet away and backs into the shadows. I hear the echo of footfalls as they run away from me.

  Once I’m certain that he’s really gone, I pick up my keys.

  Even with the minimal threat, my hands are shaking. I hurry to my building and key in, slamming the security door behind me before heading up the stairs to my apartment.

  I get some water to calm my nerves and collect myself. I’ll need to call Stelline Savings and have them issue me a new blue card. Then call the city registration board and get a new identity card, and cancel all my credit cards. I can’t think of anything else that was in my wallet of value.

  And call the police and report the mugging.

  Might as well start the process tonight, because I’m not getting any sleep until Taran comes by after he clo
ses shop.

  After making all the calls, I sit at the kitchen table sipping hot chocolate, reviewing what happened in the alley.

  Although the guy had a knife and he threatened me, I wasn’t afraid for my life. Maybe it was due to the fact that it would take someone skilled in killing dragons for me to have been in any danger. It could be that even though he threatened me, I didn’t sense any true threat from him.

  Almost like the mugging was an afterthought.

  So what was he after, if it wasn’t my money? I don’t have anything of value, certainly not anything I’d carry with me.

  I can’t help but think back to my conversation with Annika earlier today.

  She was so cagey and mysterious. After her comment about secrets… I just don’t know.

  Surely she wouldn’t target me? It doesn’t make any sense but I can’t help this nagging suspicion that there’s more here going on than I can see.

  Maybe if I try to sleep on it, I’ll think differently in the morning.

  I am a little disappointed when I wake up this morning and Taran isn’t here. But only because I miss him. It’s probably best that I don’t mention this to him. Who knows how he’ll react? Right now, I need to keep my wits about me while I take care of all my missing credentials.

  Calling Cassandra that I’ll be late, I start the day off with a visit to the police.

  It’s almost lunch by the time I get to the gallery. Cassandra meets me at the door. Judging by her body language, she’s ready to lay into me about dragging in late. She stops abruptly, crosses her arms, and frowns at me. “What’s wrong?”

  “Wrong?”

  “I can tell something’s wrong. You’re not you this afternoon. I knew something was up when you called.”

  “I could have been calling because I was hung over. Or had Taran in bed.”

  She shakes her head. “No. You didn’t sound like you normally do. And you’re not glowing.”

  I glow? I feel my face. I’m not feverish.

  “Usually when you spend time with Taran, your voice is smoother, calmer, more relaxed. Your gait has spring and you—” She waves her hand vaguely before she turns on her heel. “Sparkle. You can tell me later.” She makes it sound like I won’t have a choice. “The Batten Institute called earlier, they said it’s urgent.”