Arrested by the Dragon: Gay Police Paranormal Romance

by Clearwater, Julian

   Copyright 2017 by Julian Clearwater - All rights reserved.

  In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.

  Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.

  Arrested By The Dragon

  Gay Romance

  By: Julian Clearwater

  Contents

  Arrested by the Dragon

  Bonus Story: Burning for His Dragon

  Bonus Story: Bearly Knocked Up

  Bonus Story: Bun in His Oven

  Arrested by the Dragon

  Carefully shuffling into his freshly pressed police uniform, Daryl Jameson examined his reflection with no small measure of pride. The navy blue of the uniform contrasted with his porcelain pale skin. His jet-black hair was neatly trimmed into a clean crew cut, and his green eyes shone with genuine excitement for what was perhaps the first time in his life. Today was the day. After years of strenuous training, after years of longing, it was finally here. Today was his first day on the force.

  Daryl quirked his lips in a faint smile, his pointed teeth just barely visible. He had done a lot of growing since the day, many years ago, that he decided he wanted to join the force. He had been little more than a child then. Then again, he had gone through things that no child rightfully should. His eyes grew slightly hazy as he became lost in thought, reflecting on what had brought him to this point.

  At the age of ten, what was then a boy became so much more. He still carried vague memories of being snatched out of his yard, still carried vague memories of his dead parents. More prevalent in his mind were the years that followed, from when he was taken until the police managed to shut down the mysterious operation. The intent of the organization was unclear, and the police reports had since been vaulted.

  Daryl remembered the other children captured by Genesis Corporation, however, and he remembered when he’d received his first injection. He’d never been fond of needles, crying and screaming every time he had to receive some sort of vaccination. The injections given by Genesis were immeasurably more painful than those he had received prior. It was as if his insides were set aflame each time they injected the mysterious fluid into his veins.

  While the other children began to grow ill, he only grew stronger. He noticed changes with his body, starting with the subtle point of his teeth and nails. Strenuous testing exercises were the norm, but nothing slowed him down. Nothing hurt him, except those cursed shots.

  It all culminated when they gave him a final injection, and it seemed to trigger some ultimate transformation. His body had contorted, cracked, and shifted in ways he never thought possible. The other children were given similar injections that day. He was the only one who survived the transformation. He could still remember the sensation of fire brewing in his stomach, exploding out of his mouth to set the building aflame. After that incident, he was forced to wear a muzzle at all times, even when he wasn’t in the form of… well, might as well call it what it was. Over the course of the painful injections of ancient DNA, he had become something unimaginable.

  He had become part dragon.

  Daryl himself never learned the purpose behind the experiment. The strongest memory of that time was being forced to bury the bodies of the other children. He thought that place was all he would ever know, until the police raided the facility. They could have rightfully killed him. He had been turned into a monster, a man who had no place among humans. A kind officer offered to take him in, however, and the rest was history.

  Which brought him to the present day, where he shook himself free of his thoughts. He noticed tears pricking at the corner of his eyes, and roughly rubbed away the evidence that he had been crying.

  “Be strong, Daryl. You have to make them proud,” he muttered to his reflection, his expression somber. He inhaled a sharp breath, straightening his back and lingering a moment longer at the mirror. Though he wasn’t due at the station for another hour, he was eager to make a good impression. This was his dream come true.

  A few moments later found him walking the sidewalk in the direction of the station, humming softly under his breath. Though he had been reluctant to move to another town, it was for the best to obscure his identity. He had chosen a town rumored to be riddled with crime in the hopes that he would be able to make a real difference.

  The police chief had seemed friendly enough when they first spoke, and Daryl was eager to get to know the other officers on the force. As he approached the station, he spotted a few uniformed officers lingering outside, cigarettes hanging from their mouths. He steeled himself before approaching, nodding his head at the men as he stepped among them. They seemed to reel at his appearance, and before he could voice his greeting, one of the older men was swift to speak.

  “Ah, this must be the pretty boy the chief was talking about. Hell, kid, what do you think you’re getting yourself into?” The man took a drag off of his cigarette.

  Daryl hesitated, considering his words carefully. “I’m here to make a difference.”

  The other men exchanged looks before bursting into laughter.

  “You have no idea how the real world works, pretty boy,” another officer said with a grin.

  Daryl fought not to bare his teeth, dismissing the men as bitter and jaded. Perhaps they thought it was good enough to scrape by on their duties, but he had a stronger work ethic than that. He had a stronger moral code.

  He slipped past them, the sounds of their laughter following him into the station. He shuffled toward the chief’s office, eager to get his first assignment. It was obvious this place could use someone with a bit of get up and go, though Daryl was sure the officers standing outside the building were not the best the station had to offer. It was easy for older officers to get jaded after years on the job, but he was ready to bring a fresh new perspective.

  Inhaling a steadying breath, he knocked politely on the police chief’s door.

  “Come in,” a voice boomed from the other side of the door.

  Daryl stepped inside, taking in the cluttered yet comfortable room. “Chief Franklin,” he said amicably.

  Chief Franklin chewed on a wad of tobacco, taking a moment to spit in a Styrofoam coffee cup before speaking.

  “Yeah, right, you’re the new kid. Darren, was it?” Chief Franklin smiled.

  “Daryl, actually. Daryl Jameson. I know I’m early, but I was eager to get a head start.”

  The chief narrowed his eyes. “One thing you’ll learn working here, newbie, is that I don’t like being corrected. The last thing we need is some bright-eyed, bushy-tailed kid coming in here thinking he owns the place.” Chief Franklin shuffled through some papers on his desk.

  “I’m deeply sorry, Chief. It won’t happen again,” Daryl said smoothly.

  The Chief spat another wad of spit into his cup before considering Daryl again. “Make sure that it doesn’t. Now, since it’s your first day on the job, I’m going to start you off on the traffic duty. It’s not fast-paced work in most instances, but if you do well, we’ll see about bumping you up to more serious calls.”

  Daryl internally cringed, but maintained his cool expression on the surface. “Thank you for this opportunity, Chief. I’ll be sure to make you proud.”

  The Chief rumbled a laugh, and Daryl slipped out the door before the older man could get another dig in. He was slightly shaken by how different the officers of this precinct were f
rom the those in his hometown. Though he knew it was unrealistic to expect every police officer to be kind and welcoming, he had expected at least one friendly face. None of the men on the force seemed too happy with his presence, and he cursed himself for how uncertain he felt.

  Not allowing himself to get caught up in his thoughts, he stepped out of the station, walked to the parking lot, and unlocked the cruiser he had been assigned. He turned on the ignition and shifted into gear with ease, pulling out of the lot and making his way along the busy streets. He made a cursory loop through the city, scoping out areas where he could park and look out for lawbreakers. He settled on the parking lot of an auto parts store, tucked behind some decorative bushes where he could see out, but no one could see him until it was too late.

  The day passed at an agonizingly slow pace, and though he gave his fair share of tickets, he didn’t feel particularly accomplished. As his lunch break rolled around, he drove back to the station and parked the cruiser. He wasn’t particularly used to being cooped up in a car all day, preferring to stretch his legs and walk the block. After locking the car, he stepped into the sunlight and inhaled a deep breath. Though the city air was smoggy and polluted, it was better than the stench of the cruiser’s unwashed interior.

  Deciding to skip a food lunch and get some coffee, he slipped through the doors of the police station and shuffled to the break area. It was blessedly empty and he breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing that the coffee was already brewed. He poured himself a cup, stirring in some sugar and cream before taking a sip. He cringed at the taste, though he wasn’t sure what he honestly expected. He lingered at the coffee pot for a moment, weighing his options before slipping back out of the break room.

  Deciding that it would be in his best interest to learn the history of the station, he walked to the back office where files on recent cases were kept. He carefully placed his coffee cup on top of one of the file cabinets, choosing a drawer at random and pulling it open. He flipped through various files and read over the recent happenings in the station.

  He was somewhat startled to see a fair share of very serious cases, most of which were resolved by the charges being dropped. The number of dropped charges was actually rather alarming in his opinion, though he supposed he hadn’t been in town long enough to gauge how frequently they received false reports. Grabbing his coffee cup, he slipped out of the back office. His lunch hour was coming to a close, and it was back to traffic duty. Though he wasn’t particularly thrilled by how the day had gone thus far, he could only hope it would improve if he stuck with it. He had come too far to give up now. He would not give up on his dreams so easily.

  ***

  Rick Lamaar walked with an air of dignity that did not quite befit his dingy clothes, his shaggy hair, nor his general air of homelessness. Rick, however, was not one to let his social standing stop him from having a good time. Though this had not always been the case, Rick had long stopped caring what the general population thought of him. He couldn’t always access the facilities to shower, and though he never outright stunk, he tended to have a certain musk about him. He’d not seen a hairbrush since he was a teenager, though he made his best efforts to keep his long locks from getting tangled. It was often a lost cause, but then again, so was Rick—at least in the eyes of most people. Most certainly in the eyes of his parents, whom he hadn’t seen in nearly ten years.

  Rick had never planned to be homeless. He had never planned to pickpocket just enough to afford a meal every so often. He had never planned to be kicked out of his childhood home, but he had never expected to be gay, either. It was one of those things that snuck up on you and bit you in the ass (then abruptly stuck it up your ass). He had been a pretty normal kid, his mother’s pride and joy. He played little league, pulled girls’ pigtails, the kind of things you’d expect a precocious young boy to do. Things just got a little convoluted when he turned thirteen and ‘fell in love’ with an older boy at his school. He was able to keep it under wraps until he hit the ripe age of fifteen, and everything hit the fan.

  In a foolish move, he’d invited his crush over to his house to work on their homework together. That led to kissing, which led to touching, which led to his parents catching him with his pants down (literally). They had been much more brokenhearted than he would have expected. His parents weren’t your average Bible thumpers, but that didn’t stop them from disowning him entirely. His dad had been the driving force, and the older man’s cruel words would haunt Rick for the rest of his life. More apparent, however, was the long scar that curved along the side of his cheek. He didn’t expect to get in a knife fight with his old man, either, but that’s how it had gone down. He’d been unable to afford medical care, and had mostly lucked out in the sense that the resulting wounds didn’t get infected. Without the needed stitches, however, his face was forever marred. He’d been self-conscious about it for some time. Still was, sometimes, though it was the least of his worries.

  After the fall-out, he’d run to the other boy’s house, begging for a place to stay. Needless to say, that didn’t end particularly well, either. Fortunately, for the other kid at least, he had been the one to come the door and not his parents. It might have been fortunate for Rick as well, but the other boy had a sudden change of heart after seeing the messed-up situation Rick had ended up in. Rick was thrown to the side, treated as little more than garbage.

  He began to see himself as garbage—hell, he even lived in a dumpster for a while. He didn’t want to live, but he didn’t believe in offing himself. His situation wasn’t ideal, but he had to entertain the hope that things would get better. Somehow, some way. He ended up hopping a train and traveling a few towns over. He’d never been a big kid, but he became outright scrawny from days and days without food. Fortunately, when he first hit the big city, he had his share of sympathy. Well-to-do people who would buy him a warm meal, offer him a few dollars to get by. As he got older, however, the sympathy well dried up. Once he lost his baby face and began to grow a beard, the masses seemed less sympathetic to his plight.

  That’s what led him here. Where he’d been for some years, now. Wandering the streets and snagging the wallets off of folks who looked like they could spare a few bucks. He never stole from people who looked like they were hurting for money, but he also didn’t consider himself any more ethical for it. Stealing was stealing, he supposed. Living was living too, however, and no one was going to hire him looking the way he did. He’d tried, granted. Still tried from time to time, though his efforts were all risk and no reward. As soon as he stepped in most people’s fine establishments, he was shown the door before he could even ask for an application.

  Not that he was bitter. Bitterness had faded long ago, and Rick accepted his life for what it was. It wasn’t the best life, but it wasn’t the worst either; not by any means. He got by, usually had enough cash to buy himself a burger from his favorite drive through every evening.

  His goal for today was significantly different, however. He’d been saving his extra cash in a hidden stash for some months now, and he was looking to get the last bit of money he needed for the down payment on an apartment. It was a big step, maybe little more than a dream, but he was sick of finding a warm alleyway to snooze in every night. He’d have to figure out how to cover utilities later, rent, the sorts of things normal people covered for day to day life. He was taking it one step at a time, however, and would look to the future when that day came. Today, he just needed to snag a few wallets.

  Shaking off his thoughts, he scoped out the immediate area for someone who looked like they could spare some change. Nice clothes, a certain swagger that people who were confident in their living situation always seemed to exude. A rather vapid expression was a plus, though that was almost a given in this city. Same people day by day, wandering the sidewalks. Thinking about their jobs, the things they were supposed to do. They were absorbed in their obligations, not what made them happy. It wasn’t the life he wanted, and he told himself that if
he were in their place, he would have more fun with life. The daily grind just seemed to take the soul out of people.

  He looked up in time to see a rather extravagant car pull up, a short and stout man with scarcely any hair stepped out of it. A cigar hung from the man’s lips, and his wrist was adorned with a golden watch. His clothes were obviously fitted, clinging to what the man likely thought were assets. He looked much like some sort of rodent, but he looked like a rich rat at the very least.

  Rick smiled to himself, lingering at the edge of the crowd. He knew how to remain inconspicuous, especially for situations such as these; rare though they were. The man spoke in hushed tones with a larger, more muscular fellow. Buff enough to be the sort that Rick might have looked twice at back in the day. For now, he focused on trailing behind the balding gremlin of a man.

  He kept a respectable distance, not wanting the fact that he was following the man to be particularly obvious. He wasn’t worried, lots of people were walking in the same direction as the two of them, thus was the steady ebb and flow of the city. The man seemed wrapped up in a conversation on his cell phone, another thing that was something of a given in this city. If they weren’t staring off into space, lost in the lack of meaning in their life, they were engaged in some pointless conversation riddled with too many of those weird smiling face icons.

  Though the squat fellow didn’t seem the type to be popular by any means, Rick supposed a good chunk of change could get you anywhere in life. His mind wandered to his small stash of money, hidden deep in the city. It would likely be little more than change in this man’s pocket. Though it was a bleak thought, it was an exciting one as well. This would be an easy pick, and then Rick would have it made. At least, for a while. Maybe he’d treat himself to two hamburgers, a chocolate shake, even. He crept closer and closer to the man, growing vaguely aware that the number of people surrounding them was dwindling. It was worrisome, but not to the point that Rick wanted to back out. He was already dreaming of that apartment, a nice shower, a new set of clothes. The man was too wrapped up in his phone to even notice Rick was following him anyway, so he took another bold step closer. When he grew close enough to smell the man’s cologne, a rather pungent smell, he reached out. His hand closed around the man’s wallet, and he fought to contain himself as he drew away to cleanly complete the pick.