The Dracons' Woman: Book 1 of the Soul-Linked Saga

by Laura Jo Phillips

Never had she seen men that looked like these three. Lariah had read about men described like them in those centuries-old romance novels, but she had never actually been able to picture them in her mind before. The men she was used to seeing were much smaller and softer than this.

  These men were tall, long limbed, broad shouldered, lean hipped and, obvious even through their clothing, ripped with muscle. Their faces were rugged, with sharply defined features: strong jaws, bold noses, high cheekbones and dark slashing brows. Their skin looked smooth and warm, almost spicy, and she wondered briefly if they would taste as good as they looked. She thought they were the most beautiful men she had ever seen.

  Allowing her gaze to drift over the three motionless figures before her, Lariah felt a sudden, totally unfamiliar, rush of heat envelope her body. Her nipples hardened to tight peaks and she felt herself grow wet. “Oh,” she gasped, surprised by her body’s intense reaction. She looked up and met three intent pairs of eyes staring back at her. She flushed hotly and dropped her gaze to the floor, knowing her face was bright red, inwardly cursing her tendency to blush at the least provocation. Her only saving grace was the knowledge that there was no possible way the three men could be aware of her sudden and intense arousal. The sound of the door being opened, then closed, was a welcome interruption.

  Lariah looked up when a petite figure stepped between two of the hulking men crowded in front of the table and smiled gently at her. Once again, Lariah stared. She knew it was rude but she simply could not help herself. The woman had snow white skin, large, luminous purple eyes, and, on her head, short, reddish orange feathers that gleamed iridescently in the overhead lights. “You’re an Alverian Empath,” she blurted. She snapped her mouth shut, feeling the heated flush she knew was once again turning her face bright red with embarrassment. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “That was rude of me.”

  The woman’s smile widened. “I am not offended,” she said in a high, melodic voice. “And yes, I am an Alverian Empath. What is more, I am a Healer. My name is Riata.”

  Lariah could not help but smile back at the woman. Everything about her was calm, relaxing and friendly. “I am Lariah,” she said.

  “I would like to examine you please, Lariah,” Riata offered. “I can already sense that you have an injury to your arm and that it is quite painful. I would also like to check you for other injuries.”

  Lariah hesitated, trying to remember what little she knew about Empaths. Not that it really mattered, she thought. From the way those three men were staring at her, they weren’t going to let her refuse. She wasn’t sure why they cared, but somehow, she knew that they did. Besides, she didn’t know anything about Healers. And her arm did hurt. She sighed. “Okay.”

  Riata stepped closer. “If you would, please remove your jacket and lie down.”

  Lariah lifted her arm to remove her jacket without thinking and hissed with pain. Valen stepped forward and placed his hands gently on her shoulders.

  “Let me,” he said softly. Lariah nodded and let him slide the jacket off of her shoulders and down her arms. Her eyes widened as she realized that she had known which brother was Valen without even thinking about it. How had she known that? The three men looked identical except for their eyes, but she hadn’t looked up when he stepped forward. She looked at him for a moment, considering. Perhaps some part of her brain had kept track of their positions as they had moved, she decided. Yes, that had to be it.

  Self-consciously noticing that everyone was waiting politely while she sat staring at Valen, Lariah flushed for the third time and started to lie down on the table. She hesitated. “A little privacy please?” she asked.

  All three men stiffened, three identical sets of brows lowered over three differently colored, but identically stern sets of eyes. Lariah lifted her chin stubbornly.

  “We will turn our backs,” Garen conceded. Lariah opened her mouth to argue, but he was faster. “We will not leave you,” he said flatly. She could see there would be no arguing with him. Still, she would hold him to his word. She waited until all three of them turned around, then, knowing she had no real choice unless she wanted to make a scene, she laid down on the table.

  “Please try to relax,” Riata urged gently as she stepped closer to the table. She raised her hands, palms flat, about an inch above Lariah’s body, and moved them slowly over her, starting at her feet and moving upward. Lariah felt soft warmth emanating from the Healer’s hands and she began to relax in spite of herself. Her eyes closed slowly without her being aware of it.

  Riata gasped and Lariah’s eyes flew open. Riata met her gaze steadily. “My apologies,” she said, then continued as though nothing had happened. Lariah was fairly certain she knew why the Healer had gasped, but there was simply nothing she could do about it. She closed her eyes once more, trying to convince herself it didn’t matter what the Empath discovered about her.

  Several minutes later, the pain in her arm blessedly gone, Lariah sat up again with Riata’s help.

  “How do you feel?” Riata asked.

  “Good,” Lariah replied honestly as she flexed her arm experimentally. There was no pain at all and her arm felt strong for the first time in months. In fact, she felt better all over than she had since… Lariah stopped that thought and forced herself to smile at the Healer. “Thank you,” she said. “I feel much better, and my arm doesn’t hurt at all now.”

  Riata smiled. “You are most welcome. There is a lavatory through that door there, if you would like to refresh yourself,” she offered.

  “I would, very much,” she said with relief as she slid off the table. No sooner had her feet touched the floor than Garen, Valen and Treyen spun around, all three of them looking as though they intended to pick her up and carry her the half dozen steps across the room. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at them. They didn’t seem to notice.

  “This is the only entrance to the lavatory,” Riata soothed. Garen looked at the Healer for a moment, then stepped back, clearing the way for Lariah to get to the bathroom on her own. She stepped inside the small enclosure and pulled the door shut behind her with a snap. She examined the door knob, and pushed the lock button with a satisfied “hmmph.”

  “The lavatory is soundproof with the door closed,” Riata said. “She will not hear us.”

  Garen’s intense gaze met the Healer’s. “Tell us” he demanded.

  Riata did not take offense at the abrupt command, but she did hesitate. As a Healer, it was important that she maintain her patient’s privacy at all times, but this was, she knew, a unique situation. And this young woman was unique, whether or not she knew it herself. Still, she had to be sure.

  “She is your Arima?” she asked delicately. She had lived on Jasan long enough to know more about the Jasani than most outsiders, though she was also aware that her knowledge was quite limited. The Jasani were an extremely private people. Even so, she knew what an Arima was. She also knew that there had not been one in thousands of years.

  “She is,” Garen confirmed. “What you know, we must know in order to ensure her health and safety.”

  Riata nodded. “What I tell you now will not be easy to hear. You must not allow yourselves to lose control. It would be extremely frightening to your Arima at this time and would cause her undue stress and fear.” Riata knew that her words would, in themselves, prevent the Dracons from succumbing to a blood-rage. As she understood it, their Arima’s health and safety would literally exceed any and all things. Still, the subtle increase in tension she felt gave her pause. But they had to know. They had to be aware that the young woman they would claim as their own would need to be handled with some care.

  “We will maintain our control, Healer,” Garen assured her gently. “We can do no other. We will do whatever we must for her.”

  Riata nodded. “She has been greatly harmed,” she began. “She has only just recovered from many injuries, is still recovering from others. The arm I Healed was not broken today so much as re-broken. The
initial break was barely healed. She has several other breaks that have only recently healed as well. I was able to complete their healing, so she should have no lingering pain or weakness from them now. They have caused her great suffering for perhaps two months. She spent time in a healing tank but was removed too soon.”

  Riata paused a moment, her hands shaking. The pain Lariah had suffered was still affecting her. As both Empath and Healer, Riata was able to sense not only Lariah’s recent injuries, but also the pain and terror that had accompanied them. Continuing her examination of the young woman while hiding her feelings and maintaining an outward expression of calm had been most difficult. She cleared her throat and continued.

  “She suffered many wounds on her body. Almost all were soft tissue wounds. She was in the healing tank long enough to heal those wounds, and, mercifully, prevent visible scarring. However, many of the wounds were quite severe and though healed, I sense a deep, lingering trauma in her very skin, muscle and tissues. This is not something that can be Healed. It will, hopefully, fade with time.” Riata felt slightly faint. She placed one hand on the counter to steady herself.

  Trey stepped forward and guided Riata toward a chair. He met his brothers’ eyes. The Healer’s distress told them more eloquently than her words how badly Lariah had been injured.

  “Wounds? Where? From what”” Garen asked.

  “There were deep wounds encircling her wrists as though she had been…shackled. With metal. The damage to her wrists was severe, but thankfully they were fully healed in the tank. I merely repaired a bit of leftover nerve damage. From what I can sense, I would say that most of her body was covered with burns, cuts, scratches and bruises. In some places she was cut to the bone. In others muscles and tendons were severed or damaged. She suffered the most pain from the burns which covered most of her body. In some places they went so deep that….” Riata stopped, closed her eyes and fought back nausea.

  “Her voice is soft because she has a damaged larynx,” Riata continued, unable to bear further description of the burns. “I believe the damage was caused by…by her screams.” Riata swallowed hard and willed herself to finish. “Someone worked long and hard to manually repair the damage. I would guess she has only been able to speak for a few weeks. I did my best to aid the healing there as well, but it may be some time, if ever, before she regains her full voice.”

  Riata took a deep, calming breath and decided she had revealed more than enough. She waited, her eyes on the floor as she again felt the tension in the room quickly rise, this time to a nearly unbearable level. Then, slowly, the Dracons calmed themselves. She took another deep breath and raised her eyes. The anger she saw in their eyes she expected. It was the sadness that surprised her. But it also gave her the strength to go on.

  “Lariah was brutally and repeatedly beaten, burned…tortured, over the course of, I believe, several days. I sense that whatever it was her captors wanted, they did not get from her. She thwarted them, though I do not know how. I believe she was rescued. Perhaps she escaped. Now, she is filled with a fear of again falling into the hands of those who did this to her. She believes herself still in danger and that if she suffers similar treatment again, it will shatter her mind. I believe she is correct.

  “However, she is strong minded, and it is in her nature to be happy and optimistic. If the threat to her is removed, her mind will recover fully.” Riata paused for a moment, then added, “In light of what she suffered, that says much about her.

  “I think it is important to note that as badly as she was hurt, none of her injuries were life threatening. I think that her captors were very careful not to do anything to her that would cause her to die. Also, she was not sexually violated during her captivity.” Riata frowned. “I am, of course, glad that she did not suffer such a violation, but I admit I find it surprising. With the level of brutality she suffered, it seems, somehow, odd.”

  “I can tell you what it means, Healer,” Garen said in a voice that was little more than a growl. “It means her captor was either a female, or a male with no interest in females.”

  “Yes, I suppose that is the most logical explanation,” she said uncertainly. Her expression became stern and she looked directly into Garen’s eyes. “This young woman has suffered greatly. Though her injuries are now fully healed, her body is still traumatized, as is her mind, though she hides it well. She will feel much stronger now, but she will tire easily and need a long period of rest. She needs an environment that will not be stressful for her. She is also in need of better nutrition than she has been getting.”

  “Do not worry Riata,” Garen said, “Lariah is the most important person in our lives now. Her health and well being are of the utmost importance to us. We shall personally see to it that she receives anything and everything that she needs.”

  Riata bowed, satisfied that her patient would receive the best of care. “Thank you, Highness,” she said.

  “No, it is we who thank you, Riata, for your help, and your healing of our Arima,” Garen replied. “We would offer you a boon.”

  “No boon is needed, Highness,” she replied. “It is mine to Heal.”

  Garen felt her sincerity. “Your name precedes you Riata,” he said. “We have all heard of the good works you have done, using your talents for our people. May I ask, why do you now work in this small facility?”

  A faint peach color tinted her white skin, recognized by the Dracons as an Alverian blush. “You honor me too much, Highness,” she said... “To answer your question though, I do not work here. I came to see a friend off on a journey and stopped to speak with a colleague. When Jackson Bearen requested help for your Arima, I offered my services.” She carefully omitted the resident physician’s outright terror and near collapse over the idea of treating the Prince’s Arima. She herself had been a bit nervous at first.

  “You know much about our history, Riata, and I know of your skills. I also know that Lariah feels comfortable with you. I wonder if you would be interested in learning more about us.” Garen kept his tone casual, knowing full well that what he was offering had never before been offered to anyone not of their species. He watched Riata very carefully. Her eyes widened with shock and her skin flushed again, this time with excitement. It was plain that she understood exactly what she was being offered. She opened her mouth, then closed it firmly and took a few moments to think before she spoke.

  “I must admit that my first reaction, aside from surprise, was excitement and, perhaps a bit of greed,” she admitted finally. “I have known a bit about the Jasani for a long time, and have often wished to know more. But the truth is, if you offer the knowledge in return for my Healing, I must decline. I cannot justify accepting such knowledge for the sake of my own curiosity.”

  Garen smiled inwardly. Rarely had he met such an honorable being. “I do not offer it as an exchange or inducement Riata,” he said. “I offer it as a tool for you to use in treating our Arima. We will soon need help of a sort that you, and your talents, are best suited for. If you agree to help us, you will need to be prepared for it with knowledge you do not now own.”

  Riata looked at him for a long moment, then said, “I am pleased to help you, and your Arima, in any way that I can.”

  “We are grateful,” Garen replied. “We must make some arrangements. May we contact you in a day or two?”

  “Whenever you are ready.”

  “I would also ask, were you able to sample Lariah’s genetic code or must we arrange for a sample to be taken?” Garen asked.

  Riata closed her eyes, her expression growing distant. After a brief time she opened her eyes and frowned. “No sample is necessary Highness,” she replied. “She is human, but there is an oddity that I have never seen and do not understand. I would suggest that you not claim her as yet. It would perhaps be best to allow a little time to understand the oddity.”

  Garen nodded. “We shall follow your advice,” he said. He knew that Lariah was their Arima. He would take no chances with h
er health and well being.

  The click of the bathroom door lock prevented further discussion as Lariah opened the door and stepped out of the bathroom. From the set of her shoulders and the tilt of her chin it was clear she had made up her mind about something. As he watched her, Garen felt pride--this small woman with red-gold freckles and glossy black hair had enormous courage. That alone made her worthy to be their Arima.

  “Riata, thank you very much for the Healing,” she said in her soft, husky voice. “I know that you did more than heal my arm, and I am grateful.”

  She then turned her attention to the Dracon brothers. “I also must thank you for helping me,” she said. “I am not sure why you helped me, or even what happened for that matter, but nevertheless, I thank you.” She paused and took a deep breath. “Now, if you will all excuse me, I will be on my way.” She reached for the bags Trey had left on the counter and began looping the straps over her shoulders.

  “Where are you going?” Garen asked, trying to sound as reasonable as possible. It wasn’t easy since he was watching the woman they had waited centuries for prepare to calmly walk away from them.

  Lariah shrugged. “I have a reservation in the lodging center for tonight,” she replied.

  “Do you think that wise?” he asked.

  “Why would it not be?”

  “Did you forget that you were nearly abducted the moment you stepped foot off the shuttle?” he asked.

  “No, I did not forget,” she replied, growing pale. “But…wait…was the man caught?”

  “He is not yet in custody.” Garen replied, feeling guilt at the slight evasion as he saw her face pale even further. He stepped forward and very gently put his hands on her shoulders. “Look at me, sharali,” he said. Lariah looked up at him, her emerald eyes wide with fear. “You will come home with us. We will keep you safe.”

  “I can’t go home with you,” Lariah argued. “I don’t even know who you are.”

  Riata laughed. “The Dracons are the Royal Princes of Jasan,” she said. “There is no safer place for you to be.”