BROGAN_A Steamy WereDragon Romance

by Bonnie Burrows

  There were only about a dozen of them left, including Gabrielle and Brogan, when Holman called the name, “Roman Carnes.”

  And so their time had come. Gabrielle gave Brogan’s shoulder a squeeze and Brogan gave Gabrielle a nod and handed her the top of his skin suit. Determinedly, he stepped from the dimness into the harsh light of the circle where one of the Chithisians was ready for him.

  The alien was even more of an absolute bruiser close-up in the light than he was from the dimness across the chamber. He said nothing, only cracked the knuckles of his three-fingered hands at Brogan, who said nothing in return, only creased his lips and released his human body to two-legged dragon form. He unfurled his wings to make himself look bigger, an instinctive gesture no doubt inherited from the prehistoric dragons that once ruled this planet. In the wild, the now-extinct dragons were thought to flex their wings at an opponent as a sign of strength or warning.

  In response, the Chithisian only snorted like a Terran bull.

  This one, Brogan was sure, is going to be a tough customer.

  And it was on. In the midst of whoops and cries from the dimness, the man-dragon and the plum-hued, hoofed alien charged each other. The Chithisian lunged, making Brogan think the bruiser was going to try to tackle him, but instead he lashed out with his tail and wrapped it around one of Brogan’s scaly forearms. Using the tail, he yanked Brogan savagely forward and slammed his fist into the broad reptilian plates of Brogan’s chest. The dragon man reared back; then, still in the grip of his opponent’s tail, he brought his serpentine neck forward again and lunged with his dragon head, using his backward-curving horns as a battering ram right in the Chithisian’s face.

  The Chithisian went flying back, his tail still tight around Brogan’s arm, and carried Brogan with him. Now the man-dragon sailed forward right on top of his foe, but the alien was ready for him. He swung his arms up and wrapped all six of his fingers around the base of Brogan’s throat in a choking grasp. Now Brogan knew he was in trouble; the Chithisian could make him black out. He chose to return the favor, snaking his own tail up and around, and coiling it around the thick cords of the blue-violet being’s own neck.

  Brogan and the Chithisian stayed that way for a dreadful moment, each one bent on choking the other into unconsciousness. To break the deadlock, the hoofed bruiser forced his knee between the two of them and pushed up with all his might, bringing a force that drove Brogan back and loosened his grip. The vicious shove of the alien’s knee sent Brogan sailing away across the circle, onto his winged back. Growling, the Chithisian sprung back up on his hooves, charged, and leaped forward—right into the sudden, hard and stinging slap of Brogan’s tail, which sent him careening back again.

  The Chithisian recovered quickly, even as Brogan found his footing again. The two of them circled each other, Brogan holding his opponent at bay with quick, whipping slashes of his tail. Snarling, the Chithisian surprised Brogan by grabbing his tail and using it to pull the dragon man to him. Brogan’s dragon snout collided with his foe’s oncoming fist, and the dragon man dropped to his knees. Before Brogan could react further, the alien punished him again with a brutal kick from one hoof.

  Brogan flew back and hit the floor hard, dazed, half-stunned. The Chithisian grinned a cruel and wicked grin, and was upon Brogan at once. The dragon man was barely able to react in time, grabbing the alien’s shoulders to stop him from completely descending onto him. Brogan managed to get back up into a crouch and grab him by the wrists, and the two of them on their knees strained and pushed and grappled against each other.

  Even with all his dragon strength and Corps training, Brogan knew there was only so long he could hold out unarmed against this brute. There had to be some way to get the upper hand and keep it. His only hope was an all-out, total assault. He again brought his tail into play, whipping it around the Chithisian’s neck once again. The snarling alien grabbed Brogan’s tail and tried to pry it off, at the same time bringing up his own tail to encircle Brogan’s neck. But Brogan took a gamble, releasing the alien’s wrists and grabbing the blue-violet tail in one dragon claw before it could seize him.

  The alien’s tail twitched like an electric cable in Brogan’s scaly grasp. With his free hand, Brogan started to ram his dragon fist into the Chithisian’s midsection. Keeping his tail tight around the blue-violet man’s neck to cut off his air, he punched and battered the alien’s stomach again and again in a furious hail of blows. The Chithisian howled with rage. He wrenched himself back and away, out of the grasp of Brogan’s tail and away from the pummeling of the dragon’s fist.

  The Chithisian staggered back and crashed onto his buttocks, but stayed that way only for a second. The next second he came bounding back up and leaped through the distance between him and Brogan, meaning to slam the dragon man in a flying tackle. Brogan met this deadly leap with a broad, powerful sideways slash of his tail. The tail connected with the Chithisian in mid-air. The alien went spilling onto his back, and bounded up yet again. He charged into a blinding storm of blows from Brogan’s dragon fists and tail, one after another, striking like a python, faster than the eye could follow. Giving full vent to the reptile side of his nature, Brogan let loose, hitting again and again and again, until at last the Chithisian reared back in a snorting, snuffling gaze.

  Brogan and his foe faced each other. In this moment Brogan was more purely dragon than he had ever been in his life. The human side of him was almost completely submerged. With a hiss, he dared the alien to have at him one more time. The hoofed being charged forth again. Brogan’s tail and claws moved forward. In a flash, he had his tail around the alien’s waist and his claws around the alien’s wrists. Making a skirling sound of dragon fury, he lifted the Chithisian into the air, held him high overhead—and then slammed him hard onto the floor with an impact that everyone watching could swear that he felt for himself.

  The Chithisian stirred on the floor, snorting and grunting. He made an effort to pull himself up. He failed, collapsing down again. The room exploded into roars and whoops and blasts of applause. Brogan only stood there, shoulders heaving and tail twitching, slowly letting his humanity creep back into his reptile self. In a moment, his scales melted away, his tail and neck and wings receded, his dragon head returned to that of a man, bare from the waist up. He dropped to one knee, breathing heavily, spent but victorious.

  Holman and Goss helped the downed Chithisian pick himself up and stagger from the circle, while the other Chithisian stepped in to take his place. Brogan, with a strain, found his way back to his feet as well and stepped out into the dimness on the opposite side from where he entered. He peered across the way to where Gabrielle stood, nodding fiercely at her with the thought, Your turn now. Do this. Once the aliens were swapped, Holman, standing outside the circle, called, “Darice Greene.”

  Feeling her breaths come hotly, Gabrielle stepped into the light and into the baleful gaze of the other Chithisian. Clenching and unclenching her fists, she relived every moment of hand-to-hand combat training and every refresher class she had ever taken with the Bureau. She was going to need every bit of her knowledge, skill, and cunning for these next fateful minutes.

  Roaring, the Chithisian charged at her. Bringing up her arms and fists defensively, Gabrielle struck the first blow, not with her fists, but with her foot, swinging up and kicking out, catching her hoofed foe right in the stomach and sending him flying back. He hit the floor with his buttocks and skidded part of the way towards the other side of the circle. Then he picked himself up and charged again.

  This time Gabrielle came to meet him, foot-first, with a leap in the air. The sole of her boot connected with the alien’s jaw and dropped him onto his back. Gabrielle landed in a crouch, and a second later the Chithisian towered over her. Faster than she could react, the hoofed one had her by the shoulders and hoisted her from the floor, holding her high up over his head.

  Gabrielle knew that he meant to slam her down hard, and if he did she might not rise again. Thin
king fast, she kicked one more time, her foot catching him in the face and releasing his grip. Calling on her weightless gymnastics training, she somersaulted out of his grasp and landed in another crouch on the floor. Undeterred, the Chithisian advanced on her yet again. The element of surprise, Gabrielle knew, was going to be her best ally against a much stronger foe. Changing her tactics, she put her hands together in a single fist and smashed them against the stomach of her oncoming opponent, making him topple to the side.

  While the Chithisian lay more annoyed than stunned, Gabrielle sprang back up and began to circle him with her fists at the ready. The hoofed bruiser stood once more, and again he charged. Gabrielle brought a fist forward to meet him, but the Chithisian surprised her by blocking it with one hand and closing that hand around Gabrielle’s fist, then seizing her by the other arm and lifting her from the floor.

  Gabrielle was potentially in real trouble now, from which perhaps only her reflexes could save her. The alien swung her around, bellowing out his contempt for the human female who dared oppose him. Then, with a cruel heave, he threw Gabrielle across the circle. Gabrielle twisted in the air and landed in a crouch, but the force of the Chithisian’s toss and the impact of her landing knocked her onto one hip, and there she sat, winded from the effort of stopping herself from being dashed against the floor. In this moment, the Chithisian had her.

  The next thing she knew, the alien’s tail was coiled tightly around her waist, lifting her from the floor again, and he turned his two hands into a six-fingered knot, raising them over his head. He was going to bring that knot of alien knuckles down hard upon her with a force that might give her a concussion or worse. She dared not let that blow connect. Desperately, she brought up both feet and shoved them as hard as she could into the alien’s stomach.

  The gambit worked. Surprised, the blue-violet brute staggered back, the grip of his tail loosening enough for Gabrielle to wrench herself free. She spilled onto the floor again, half-crouching, facing the Chithisian as he quickly recovered. What would the alien try next?

  To her surprise, the Chithisian did not directly attack this time. He stepped backward, his hooves clattering on the floor, and gestured to her with his three-fingered hands. Come, human, his cruel alien eyes beckoned her. Have at me.

  Gabrielle narrowed her own eyes, sensing that it was about to become a duel of her cunning against his. She approached him—carefully, warily. Let him try something. Just let him try…

  They approached each other, slowly, warily, moving in tightening arcs around the floor. Gabrielle kept her fists up, ready for anything. Her opponent kept his fists closed but his arms wide, inviting her into his reach with a sinister smile. Gabrielle did not oblige. She kept just enough of her distance and kept moving. She recalled what she knew of Chithisian anatomy: where the hearts were, and the liver, and the four kidneys. A strong and quick enough blow to any of them could make all the difference. She pursed her lips. Yes—the right kind of strike in the right place…

  In a flash and a blur, she moved, launching herself forward with one foot flying. It caught him under his rib cage at the left-hand side, between two of the kidneys—a sensitive spot. The alien howled and toppled onto his back. Gabrielle landed in a crouch and quickly leapt back up—but her foe surprised her with the speed of his recovery and the ferocity of his response. She was out of the reach of his arms, but close enough that when he rolled onto his side and sent his tail whipping out, she was unprepared.

  The tail snared her by one ankle and yanked viciously, spilling her onto the floor. Before Gabrielle could recover, the Chithisian had her. He rose over her, picked her up like a doll—and pulled her into a powerful and cruel embrace, crushing her torso against his.

  There were ways that Gabrielle liked to be held by a male, but this was not one of them. The tightening of this creature’s two strong alien arms around her threatened to break either her back or her ribs. White-hot daggers of pain stabbed through her body. Her sight turned red. She leaned her head back and gritted her teeth. This was not going to go well if she did not do something in the next couple of seconds.

  With her last coherent thought, Gabrielle spread her arms out, clenched her fists—and brought them in with all her might against the Chithisian’s temples. She could swear the slamming sound of her fists hitting the alien’s head above each of his ears was audible across the room. The pain overtook her. She gasped, her mind spinning down into darkness.

  And in the next instant, her body crumpled down onto the floor, free of her opponent’s terrible grasp. She lay like a broken toy, barely conscious, barely aware of the blue-violet heap of the Chithisian’s body lying next to her, or the new explosion of whoops and yells from the spectators in the room.

  Panting, mentally scrambling to restore her senses, Gabrielle felt hands grasping her. Through blurred vision she saw things shift around her at the same time as she felt herself sliding—or being dragged—across the floor into the dimness outside of the circle.

  When her head cleared, she was lying in the lap of the still topless Brogan Holt, who had raced back into the circle to get her out. Enzo Goss crouched next to them; Burl Holman stood right behind him, arms folded, looking down at the two victors of the circle.

  “Congratulations,” said Goss. “You’re both in.”

  “Get yourselves taken care of and get rested up,” Holman instructed. “Tomorrow you’ll get your orders for where you’re going to be working. Be ready.”

  The clouds and static cleared from Gabrielle’s mind enough that she was able to sit up, though she was still in Brogan’s lap and he still had his top off, having tucked it into the waist of his suit bottom. It was, she had to admit, a much more pleasing sensation than being held by a Chithisian. After what she had just gone through, being in the lap and the arms of the half-nude Brogan was just what she needed. He was warm and smelled of perspiration and musk; she could tell that he had cooled down somewhat after his own ordeal, but not completely. He felt good.

  “Good,” said Brogan, speaking for both of them. “We’ll be ready.”

  Goss nodded at Brogan, and for a moment their eyes locked. Something passed between them. Brogan could not tell exactly what it was. Perhaps it was only the criminal’s final inspection of the two newest members of the gang. Goss lingered on Brogan’s face with an unreadable expression before getting up and joining the other mob leader. Goss and Holman walked off to call the next would-be Skinner minion into the circle.

  Brogan got back up, helping Gabrielle up at the same time, and saw her squint her eyes, clench her teeth, and wince with a sharp hiss of pain as she moved. “What is it?” he asked.

  “I think,” Gabrielle grunted, “I have some cracked ribs here. You have to get me to the Corps infirmary on the double.”

  “We’re as good as there,” said Brogan, putting her arm around his shoulder and leading her out of the spaceport sub-basement.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  She was incredible. She was fantastic. She was…

  Sitting in the waiting area of the Corps infirmary, Brogan was running out of adjectives to praise Gabrielle for her victory in the spaceport sub-basement. He had never seen a female do battle that way. Well, a human female. Of course, his only real experience with human females was in situations that were the farthest thing from combat—without clothing and usually lying down, and the blows being struck were of a very different kind.

  She was amazing.

  Brogan had been dismissed from the treatment area as soon as he got Gabrielle there and she was admitted, and now it was just a matter of waiting until they were done with her. He was not going anywhere until she was out of treatment and he was assured that she was fully on the mend. It was critical to their mission. And, he had to admit, it was important to him, personally. She had been so magnificent in that circle with that alien bruiser, she deserved nothing less than to be fully, completely, quickly healed. He trusted the infirmary staff to make that happen, of course. But he would no
t be personally satisfied until he saw her that way.

  He snapped to attention when he heard her calling to him: “Well, that’s that.”

  Brogan looked up and saw her striding slowly, carefully, out from behind the sliding metal and glass doors to the treatment area. She was smiling and he could tell that the worst of it was over, but her body was not forgetting so quickly what she had been through. Brogan stood up and went to meet her. “You’re all right, then?”

  “Almost one hundred percent,” she said. “Standard treatment for cracked ribs: a pass under the therapeutic laser to knit the bones back, and an hour under the healing lights to take away the bruising. There’s just some leftover aching and soreness now, and they gave me some healing minerals for that. I have to take a bath with them before bed, and I’ll be as good as new.”

  The prognosis was good to hear. Brogan looked at her confident, can-do expression and was encouraged. This was one fearless human woman. He liked that about her. He was appreciating her better all the time.

  “You know what makes a great painkiller?” he asked.

  “What’s that?” she asked back.

  “Algerion brandy,” he answered.

  She smiled deliciously. “Do you have any?”