Dragon's Curvy Invader

by Mychal Daniels

  Just cover him up.

  The idea of covering up a man with a piece of tarp in the dark woods of Georgia in a rainstorm seemed cruel and demented. She wasn't that person. Oh God, the authorities were going to fry her when they found out what she'd done. There was no way a black girl was going to dodge the bullet of killing what appeared to be a white guy in rural Georgia.

  Life was over. Still, she had to keep it together. One thing she wouldn't do was lose it. Spinning thoughts bombarded reason, but Amber fought hard to concentrate on one thought, any thought that would keep her tethered to control.

  Another loud crack of thunder jabbed at her sanity, followed by a show of lightning impressive enough to jolt her survival mode.

  She had to get closer and deal with this mess of gargantuan proportion of her making. No one was here to get her out of it. Rain pelted her skin hard and relentless. The body remained still and solemn against the backdrop of the unruly thickets and untended grass.

  A small step closer.

  The caw of a bird of night startled her enough to jump. Her damnation was getting worse by the minute. Now the crows were out. They knew what she'd done. Condemnation weighed heavier than any physical binds that she'd endure in the aftermath of prison. It was over before she'd gotten a chance to prevail. Her dreams were gone—but, she wasn't at the edge yet. Thank God for small wonders.

  Two more steps and she was close enough to see larger details. From the looks of him, the man had been young and athletic. Lord, Lord, if she'd killed some local town hero that she'd mistaken for an alien, there'd be no trial, just quick retribution. She'd be shot dead on the scene. A new round of visions, more horrific than before assailed her mind, sending her into disorientation.

  Rain continued to ride an uptick of wind that whistled through the nearby trees in fits and starts. She had to face up to her transgressions. That man laying here deserved honor and care.

  Willing her feet to cut the distance more, she came within a few feet and gave up trying to hold back the wall of remorse and self-pity.

  Inconsolable, she wailed, hard, ugly and long. As if magnetized to her transgression, Amber edged closer to the man until she was close enough to reach out and touch the corpse. Never had she been around a dead person before, and the first time was of her own doing. Another gut-wrenching sob tore a path of sorrow through her being.

  Looking down at him, he was—gorgeous. This close and she could perceive that his skin beamed a healthy deep tan like the sun loved to kiss his flesh in the high noon. From the light of the moon, his hair seemed to be dark brown, but not short or long. It clung to his head, weighed down by the might of rain pouring from the skies. Moving around the body to get it over with and put an identity to her victim, Amber positioned herself to stand in front of him.

  The pang of guilt was mighty and swift as she took in the rest of him. His face boasted a healthy day's growth of stubble, but not enough to hide chiseled features that boasted of masculine strength with a rugged handsomeness. His eyes closed in peaceful repose, Amber’s heart lurched at the horror of what she’d done. Worse, was the fact that she found the man highly attractive. Why had this happened? He wasn’t supposed to be out here.

  Thoughts raced as they often did through her mind to figure out how this gorgeous man had come to be here. Careful to retrace her actions, Amber remembered the beast diving toward her, then her closing her eyes and pulling the trigger, followed by her taking pictures of the slain body lying in this exact spot.

  No, it couldn’t be. Amber had to give herself a moment for the thought to move through the regions of her logic. This man couldn’t be the beast. That would make him—absolutely non-human. Even laying on his side with his knees bent, Amber could tell he was tall. Muscular and trim, with a solid appearance, if she didn't know any better, Amber might mistake him for merely sleeping off a drinking binge.

  Yeah, right. A drinking binge where he was naked with bruises and burns. Not likely.

  Through water-distorted vision, she reached out to touch the man. His skin was firm, smooth, and... warm, no—more like bordering on hot to the touch. A glimmer of hope formed around the edges of her faith in miracles. Could he still be alive?

  Moving even closer to hover over him, Amber placed a few fingers along his throat and almost peed herself when a strong heartbeat greeted her probing fingertips.

  Yes—he was alive! How he'd come to be here and who he was would have to be answered later. So thankful for the reprieve from being a murderer, Amber jumped up and started to tug on the man's arm to try to wake him.

  All her tugging devolved into lightly slapping his hands and finally culminating in her pinching his chiseled cheek while she yelled into his ear to wake up. Enthusiastic as her efforts might be, they were a lost cause. The gorgeous wilderness god refused all attempts to be roused. The male mountain would not be moved, at least not by her current efforts.

  Spurred on by the reprieve of his pulse and well, being alive, she refused to give up. Amber wouldn't get the second chance only to lose it because the guy stayed out in the elements and died of an infection or some other preventable stupidity. Another tug on his arm to get him to a position where she could drag him to her van confirmed her guess of how daunting a task she had before her.

  The man was built solidly, and as she'd guessed, he was a male mountain. There was no way she'd be able to lift him by herself. Great. She couldn't wake him, pull him, or get him out of the rain. Her air gun pellets might not have killed him, but a night in the rain unconscious and naked as the day he was born would.

  Desperation drove her to make the next move.

  Bending over close to his handsome, chiseled, and oh so striking face, Amber pleaded, "Please Mister, wake up so I can get you out of this storm. Please?"

  Nothing happened.

  Throwing her hands up, Amber let out a yell. This couldn't be happening to her. Not with all the crap she'd already been through. Being caught with a half-dead guy on this land would surely land her in prison.

  Taking a moment to look at him, Amber allowed herself to run her eyes down the length of him. When she got to his torso, another nasty burn had revealed itself. His arm had hidden it before her tugging. Another gasp escaped, as her heart softened more. Urges, sharp and clear to take care of him rose to take over. He needed help—her help. Those injuries had to be tended to and cleaned.

  Then biology intercepted her plans taking the compassion she felt and morphing it into a rare primal need. An intimate part that had concealed itself in shadow now revealed all its glory in the aftermath of her tugging. Every inch of the handsome stranger was on full display, and in her periphery, was confirmation of that revelation. The bend and angle of his knees no longer shielded his most private part from casual view.

  Before she chickened out to keep going, Amber stole a quick but thorough look at his manhood. It was impressive, flawless and fit his large body perfectly.

  Catching herself ogling his lower half like the sex-starved, hot-blooded woman she'd morphed into, Amber fought hard to lasso in the sense of decency she always thought she possessed. It had to prevail, or she was no better than any guy she'd ever secretly accused of sexism. If the shoe had been on the other foot, she wouldn't have wanted a guy to objectify her like that. This man was in a helpless state, and she had to be his advocate of protection, even if that was against her selfish lust and desire.

  Nope, this wasn't a karma test to be flunked. Amber Chastain had managed escape of one life-altering bullet tonight; she wouldn't be stupid enough to allow another to get her got. With a clearer head driving her actions, it was time to get this guy patched up and on his way, come hell or high water.

  She rose to find the first-aid kit that was back in the van, and the idea to try to wake him one more time had her lightly slapping his cheeks.

  "Wake up, wake up, please Mister. If you don't want to send me to jail, wake the hell up," she said, sing-songing the words as she bent over him.


  Still nothing. The guy lay there, tranquil as the dead. The only difference was now Amber could tell he breathed in and out deep and long.

  This was going to be a long night. A quick jog back over to the van and more bad news greeted her. The rain gave no signs of slowing down. Her clothes were drenched as was the entrance to the back of the van. She'd left the doors open and her equipment sitting there. Amber lifted up her camera and the attached enhancement invention that she'd fabricated herself. The metal housing of her invention that she designed and was not waterproof allowed enough water to drip out of it to make tears well up again. Those tears spilled over when the wet camera's LED display flickered as if possessed.

  "I'm not going to cry. That would be a waste of energy."

  If her proof of what she'd saw tonight was gone, it would be too much. Hurrying to check to see if she'd remembered to start the transfer of files from the camera before it got wet, her worst fears were confirmed.

  The files hadn't uploaded. Initiating them now showed a corrupted file notice on the monitor of her laptop. Determined to find some ray of sunshine, she reminded herself that her laptop was still in working order and that—oh yeah—she hadn't killed a guy who may be an alien able to shift into a Dragon.

  Pushing disappointment to the back of her mind to deal with later, Amber left the first-aid kit to make it back to the unconscious Adonis Alien Dragon man who still laid on his side in the rain, butt naked. If she didn't have proof of him one, way, she'd get it another. This mountain was coming with her.

  4

  Noran

  The feminine voice was full of vitality and frightened. Not like scared, more like determined to will what she wanted and failing. Yes, that was the best way to describe the voice that cut through his dreams. What he wouldn't give to hear that voice all the time. It lulled him into peaceful rest while making him excited to hear her next words.

  What was that? She wanted him to wake up. But why? It was so serene, peaceful even, not like his usual existence that was about being on constant guard and diligence to stay hidden from the knowledge of this world. This place, wherever it was, had a smooth, tranquil vibe to it. Noran decided he liked it here. Yeah, he'd stay and hang out for a while.

  Her voice drifted through the ease of his rest as it came back again, this time pleading and asking him to help her not go to jail. Wait, why would the lovely voice go to that hideous place humans used to discipline their criminals?

  As part of the honored guardians of the Dragons, Noran had been sent to Earth years ago as a reward for his long tenure of valiant service as a Dragon Guardian Warrior. Instead of continuing to fight at the portals to protect the interdimensional passageways and being on constant alert, he'd been granted his final assignment. Being part of the Dragon's Bond Clan was one of the highest honors. It meant being able to protect the Lair of some of the noblest Dragon warriors. The only drawback? Dragons who'd either lost their mates or never found them resided here at the Dragon's Bond Lair. He was one of those who'd never found his mate. After years of mourning the lost opportunity, Noran had resolved himself to his fate as a Warrior Dragon and nothing more.

  The feminine voice that had called to him sounded like hope. He had to ignore it. Hope only led to despair and unmet desire. He'd use wisdom and steer clear of her wiles.

  Try as he might to ignore her presence and stay in this perfect rest, the urge to find her grew in intensity with each passing second. Noran was a Warrior, called and honored with the highest levels of Dragon prowess. His way wasn’t to shirk responsibility or deny life. Being here in this haze of peaceful nothingness was a denial of life and vitality. The way of the Dragon was to choose right over comfort.

  Stealing his will to leave the enticing pull of his deep sleep, Noran commanded his entire being to wake and return. As soon as the thought formed, his beast pressed close to the surface, giving him added strength to rebound.

  Gasps of wet, earthy air and a feminine musk that played with his sensual urges filled his nostrils. Unfocused darkness flooded his senses as his eyes popped open. Even using his Dragon senses, Noran’s disorientation was overwhelming. A negligible movement, subtle and essential to stand, demanded payment with a barrage of pain pricks too numerous to comprehend. Every part of his being was in pain.

  “Easy there, let me help you.”

  That voice. It was the one from his deep rest. Was she real? Pushing out, ignoring the searing sensations of injury, Noran groped in search of the source of that voice. His reward was a soft, gentle hand clasping his in the darkness.

  “Wait a minute. Let me position myself better to help you up." He relished the touch of her hands as they clasped his arm. "I’m no petite thing, and I'm also out of shape, as you can tell."

  A nervous light giggle followed the female’s self-deprecating jab. As she spoke, Noran’s beast rejected her proclamation. Dragon wisdom prevailed that the voice currently speaking didn’t belong to an unappealing feminine—not by a long shot.

  Unwilling to reveal his weakness of not having his full vision restored, Noran remained silent and waited for her direction. The voice huffed as she scuffled to find purchase. She was positioned behind him now, attempting to get her arm around his waist to pull him up. With extreme effort and determination, Noran commanded his body to cooperate with the female.

  The female.

  Memories began to wash over him as recall of what he'd been doing emerged. Her—she had to be the female intruder he was trying to save.

  Her appealing voice cut through the onslaught of recollection and revelation.

  "Yeah, you're solid. Whew--you’re working with more of a... gladiator body." A knee poked and thudded into his lower back, sending Nova bursts of pain through his body. She must have sensed his body tense as she added, "Oops, I'm so sorry for getting close to your burn back here. I can't seem to maneuver without touching one of your burns."

  His burns? And what she considered touching felt more like pummeling. Still, he said nothing. That would be his plan until he determined if she was truly friend or foe. This female had already been way more trouble than he'd managed in many years. Pushing past the reflex to roar or at least grunt with the additional pain her help was producing, Noran remained silent.

  Her breath, warm but light, brushed his shoulder and upper back as she continued to huff and puff while trying to help him to his feet. The pleasing sensation threatened to undo his plan to remain silent.

  "Okay." She paused everything. "Seems this is going to take some innovative engineering to get you up from this slippery ground.”

  He paused, allowing the words to penetrate his primal need to control his environment.

  "All right, big guy. We go on three." He heard another pause. She continued, "I sure hope you can understand the words that are coming out of my mouth. Can you?"

  Silence.

  She wanted him to reveal something about himself. Noran considered the decision he'd make as quick as he dared without tipping her off that he'd understood her question. If he refused to acknowledge his understanding, she might say something to give her true intentions away. On the other hand, if he withheld that bit of information as she was attempting to help him, that would go against his honor as a member of the Dragon Warrior Guardians.

  Deciding to meet her halfway, he gave a quick nod.

  "Good deal. That'll make all of this a bit easier. Do you think you can help me get you on your feet?"

  Another nod.

  "Cool. Now, on the count of three: one, two, three."

  His arm was now snugly fitted around her small neck. He tried his best to rise when she gave the go and tugged. Noran didn't like the amount of trembling her body endured as she helped him get to his feet. This female was frail and shorter than he'd first estimated. There was no way she could be a physical threat to him or even a human child with how soft and delicate she was.

  On his feet, Noran stood tall taking a wide stance to gain his balance. He also wanted to give t
he female the much-needed relief from his weight. Even in his humanoid form, he weighed more than most humans of comparable mass and size.

  Dragons, especially Warrior ones, were made of tightly packed muscle and weighed more than their appearance would suggest. Dragon weight ratio was an advantage on any planet they inhabited with gravity. It was part of the evolutionary development needed for them to protect the galaxies adequately.

  Squinting and willing his eyesight to return fully, Noran peered up at the night sky and allowed the raindrops to wash his face of remnants of soil and grass. The female at his side continued to stand there as if waiting for him to take a tumble. He admired her for staying to help him, although there was little doubt she'd be able to do much if he fell. At his full height, her head barely reached his lower chest. Still, that same determination he'd locked into his psyche during his dream was evident in her voice now. If she could, he had no doubt she'd try to help.

  Her reaction to him was—refreshing. Knowing that she must have put the connection between Dragon and "man" together as one, the female didn't seem too concerned for her safety or what he might do next. Many humans were frightened by what they didn't understand.

  "You good to stand on your own there?"

  Her question sliced through his thoughts. Again, he offered a nod.

  "I just want to make sure you're good. Is there someone I can call to get you? You know, like do you have family or, um, a house nearby? I don't want to leave you out here by yourself." As if she thought about something else to say, he could hear her clamp her mouth shut.

  Rain falling, thunder rumbling in the distance, and him still half-blind didn't erase the fact that she was acting a bit awkward in comparison to most of his human encounters. She was cautious, and that meant she knew what he was or at least what she thought he might be. The way she spoke, he was certain she did not doubt his Dragon nature.