He had been patient for well over a year when he had come around the corner in the guise of an old sani-tech and seen three guards standing over a fourth injured guard, and heard them talking about the Dracons. And the Dracons’ woman.
Now he had the guard, a human male named Barc, in the emergency rations store room, unconscious in the dark on the floor. This was not his favorite hiding place in the skyport. It was too big, too close to more populated areas, reducing his ability to scent unwelcome company. It would have to do. If things did not go the way he hoped, he would be forced to abandon this place. Better this one than one more secure.
The unconscious man on the floor twitched restlessly. He would awaken soon. Slater studied him, once more pondering the idea of simply killing the human and taking his place. He could do it easily enough. From what he’d overheard, this man would be taken to the Dracons as a prisoner for attempting to abduct the Dracons’ woman. The problem was that he had no way of knowing how much time that would take. More than a couple of hours and he would be unable to hold the man’s form and would revert to his own. The very moment that happened would be his last moment alive. Of that he was certain.
The man groaned softly and twitched again. Slater’s tongue flicked out, tasting the air.
Slater decided that he wouldn’t mind dying so much if he weren’t the only one of his people to know that the Ugaztun still lived. His personal destiny aside, he really owed it to his people to remain alive so that he could carry this news back to Onddo. Therefore, dying was out of the question he decided with relief. He needed the human to do the task for him.
Slater was fully aware that the Dracons were the royal family, though this news of an Arima was new. Slater’s tail twitched as he thought of that. During his year on the skyport he had learned that the Ugaztun, or rather, the Jasani as they now called themselves, were a race of males. He had once overheard some of the Jasani guards talking about a prophecy, and the foretelling of an Arima.
Slater wondered if the woman Barc had tried to abduct was the long awaited Arima. He decided that she must be, for no other reason than he wanted her to be. After all, what greater glory could there be than to kill the Jasani’s first, and only, Arima in three thousand years?
The man rolled over onto his back and opened his eyes. Slater watched him. The expressions on the man’s face revealed his initial confusion, his memory of pain, then hope and relief when a tall, unfamiliar guard had entered his cell and approached him, gesturing him to silence.
The man shook his head but, Slater knew, he would be unable to remember further. He sat up slowly, his eyes restless, but, for him, useless. The room was completely dark. Slater of course had no problem seeing the human. But the human would never see him.
Slater’s tongue flicked out once more, testing, tasting. They were alone. He resumed the appearance of the tall guard, and stood silently. He waved a hand, expending precious energy to blur himself and the door next to him. He opened the door, allowing faint light to seep in for the briefest of moments, and closed it softly.
“Who’s there?” the man called out.
“Shhhhhh…” Slater responded as he reached for a portable lamp and flipped it on. The soft glow of light did not reach the corners of the room, but it was enough for the man, Barc, to see him. Barc heaved a sigh of relief at the sight of his rescuer.
“Thank you for getting me out of that cell,” he said, his voice far too loud for Slater’s comfort. Slater shrugged but said nothing.
“Who do you work for?” Barc asked. “Loggia?” Slater shook his head. “No, I do not know this name.”
“Who then?” he demanded. Slater smiled inwardly, but said nothing. Barc frowned at him, then suddenly his eyebrows rose. “Do you work for Lio?” he asked, his voice hushed. Slater raised a brow, then slowly nodded his head. He had no idea who Lio was, but the mingled fear and respect in the human’s voice when he spoke the name appealed to him.
“Well, you can tell him that I was not trying to poach on his territory,” Barc said, speaking quickly. “I know that it maybe looked like that, but it wasn’t. I had no choice. I had orders from someone that does not accept refusal from anyone for any reason. And I wasn’t poaching. She was going back off planet the moment I got orders on how he wanted it done ”
Slater had no idea what the man was rambling about, didn’t really care.
“You attempted to steal an Arima?” he asked, interrupting Barc when he paused to take a breath.
“I don’t know, some woman who turns out to be the bride or wife or whatever of the Dracon brothers. But I didn’t know that at the time,” he added defensively.
“But now you do?”
“I guess,” he said, shrugging. “The other guards said so anyway.”
“Would you go back and take her again?” Slater asked.
Barc laughed. “No way,” he said at once. “I am not going back to that planet. If the Dracons get hold of me…” he shuddered. “Loggia can’t order me to grab her again since I’ve been banished, which is beginning to look like a good thing for me. Right now, I just want to get the hell out of this sector and never come back.”
Slater thought a moment. He reached into a pocket of his shirt and withdrew a pinch of dust. He waved his hand toward the man, releasing the dust into the air. Within seconds the man slumped over, unconscious once more. Slater had learned a great many things over the years, not the least of which was the chemicals which would most quickly subdue anyone who might discover him. His magic was not remotely strong enough to subdue a human, but chemicals worked quite well.
Slater transformed back to his own body. The moment he once again had a tail, it began twitching with irritation. He had spent many months searching through his genetic memories for ideas in preparation for this day. Unfortunately, he did not have strong enough magic to work the vast majority of spells that he had been able to access. There were some he thought he could manage, though one in particular had stood out from the rest. One which turned the caster’s subject into a virtual puppet.
That was the one he had decided to use. The problem now was that unless the caster had very strong magic, which Slater admitted to himself he did not possess, the subject had to be cooperative. There had to be an existing desire in Barc to do what Slater demanded of him. Even with that desire, the spell would need to be worked into the man’s flesh or its power would fade so quickly it would be of no use at all. It would also require as much as a few weeks to complete, so if Barc was unwilling, or even just slightly willing, the entire process would be a waste of time and effort.
Slater stared at the man, nearly hissing with frustration. He held his temper back with all of his will. If he lost it, he would devour the human and thus throw away this opportunity. He turned his back on the man and moved to the far corner of the room to think.
He could bite the man and inject a tiny amount of venom. If the man lived, and if he reacted as the small, wild humanoids of Onddo usually did, then he would be obedient to all of Slater’s wishes. Slater considered it for a long time, his tongue flicking out occasionally. Finally he turned to look at the man who, he noticed, was beginning to awaken once more.
He would bite the man, Slater decided. If Barc lived, he would see if the man was obedient. If he was, then Slater would work the spell into the man’s flesh.
If Barc died from the venom, so be it. If he did not become obedient, then Slater would kill him. He really had nothing to lose. The man was no use to him, unwilling as he was. Slater spent a moment wishing he had strong enough magic to force the man to be willing, then shrugged. He did not have that magic, so it did not matter.
Slater moved closer to the man. He briefly considered letting the man see his true form. He knew the man would be frightened by him. Humans usually were, though Slater had never been able to figure out why. But no, the man would become excited, and that would engage Slater’s instincts. That would not be good. Slater needed to maintain perfect control in order to p
recisely manage the amount of venom he injected.
Barc moved again and Slater struck, fast and silent, fangs aiming unerringly for the jugular. He injected a minute amount of venom and withdrew. He waited patiently, watching the man carefully. His tongue flicked out, testing, tasting, and finally, detecting a change in the man’s breathing and temperature. Again Slater’s tail twitched with irritation. Within minutes, the man was dead.
Slater hissed in anger, then struck at the man, sinking his fangs deeply into the rapidly cooling flesh, releasing pent up venom. When at last he withdrew, his tantrum was over and his temper had subsided.
He stared at the body, knowing that eventually his venom would liquefy it. But he had not fed in several days and it was foolish to waste good food.
Slater removed the man’s indigestible clothing, considering his next step. He decided he would continue to wait. Eventually he would find the right person to complete his plan. Patience always paid off. Satisfied with his decision he tossed the man’s clothing aside and turned off the light. Bright lights annoyed him when he dined.
Chapter 7
Lariah awoke with her head on a warm, broad chest, strong arms wrapped around her, a solid body tucked up close against her back. She cuddled closer, enjoying the experience of feeling safe and cared for, knowing at once that it was Val at her back, and Trey’s chest beneath her cheek.
Out of nowhere, guilt raised its ugly head. She was lying in bed with two men whom she barely knew. She should be mortified, horrified and outraged at the situation. Not to mention embarrassed.
She squashed the guilt immediately. She was a woman, not a child, and entitled to do as she pleased. Besides, she thought, it wasn’t as though there was anyone in the galaxy she had to answer to anyway.
Suddenly her eyes flew open as she remembered the previous night. She groaned softly. “Please tell me it was a dream?” she said, her voice rising a bit, turning the statement into a hopeful question.
She felt Trey kiss her on the forehead. “Sorry little love, it was real,” he replied.
Lariah sighed. “Yeah, I know.” She felt Garen step into the room and she raised her head so she could see him.
“Good morning, sharali,” he greeted her softly.
She smiled, loving the way they all showered her with endearments. “Good morning,” she replied, feeling relaxed and happy even though she was pretty certain she should feel worried and scared.
“We must apologize,” Garen said, a note of regret in his voice.
“Why?” she asked, lowering her head back onto Trey’s warm chest.
“For frightening you last night,” Garen said. “I promise you, it was not intended. Although, you startled us as well when you fainted.”
“I never faint,” Lariah stated firmly. “I was just really tired.” She felt Val’s body jerk against her back. “And don’t laugh at me,” she added. “The truth is, while seeing you three…transform…was startling, there was something else that shocked me more.”
“What?” Trey asked, his voice rumbling beneath her ear.
“Remember when you said that I sang to you?” she asked, looking at Garen. He nodded his head slowly, looking at her expectantly. “Well, I don’t remember doing it, but, I do remember dreaming about it.” She hesitated. Aw, to hell with it, she thought. “Since I was a little girl, I’ve had dreams about three dragons. Dragons with fur.”
Garen stared at her, his expression unreadable. “Dragon?” he asked. “Is that anything like a dracon?”
Lariah nodded. “From the stories I’ve read and the drawings I’ve seen, they are very much like your dracon.”
Garen’s eyebrows rose with interest. “You have stories on Earth of dracons?” he asked.
“Sort of,” she admitted. “But not quite. There are a lot of different stories about dragons, but there are a few things most of the stories agree on; they fly, they breathe fire, and they do not have fur. I got teased a lot about my furry dragon dreams when I was a child because of that. Eventually, I learned not to mention them.”
“It’s very interesting that you had dreams of creatures like us,” Garen said, smiling. “Perhaps there is something deep within you that was aware of your destiny even though your conscious mind was not.”
Lariah’s eyes widened as she considered that. Could it be true that she was really their Arima? Is that why she had those dreams? More likely she was just strange, like everyone had always told her, and her furry dragons were simply the result of an overactive imagination. That Garen, Val and Trey transformed into furry dracons was just a coincidence.
“Perhaps,” she replied uncertainly.
“I am curious though,” Garen said, “if your legendary dragons didn’t have fur, what did they have? Feathers?”
“No, they did not have feathers,” she said, smiling as she tried to imagine a dragon with feathers. “Dragons are reptilian.”
All three men suddenly tensed. Lariah felt the chest beneath her cheek suddenly harden into marble. She looked up and saw that both Trey and Garen were staring at her intently, and she knew that behind her, Val was as well. Suddenly Garen hissed, a long, drawn out sound that caused her flesh to pebble.
“You have reptilian dragons on Earth?” he demanded, his voice so cold she shivered.
She shook her head, her mouth suddenly dry. “No,” she replied, her sudden tension preventing her from speaking above a whisper. “They are stories only, fairy tales. Not real.”
A long moment later Garen’s face relaxed. “Forgive me, Lariah,” he said. “I did not mean to frighten you.” She felt Trey and Val relax against her, both of them stroking her soothingly.
“You think some of your ancient enemy reached Earth, don’t you?” she asked.
“Perhaps,” Garen replied, a little too casually she thought.
A tense silence fell over the group. Suddenly, Val brightened.
“I find I am tired of seeing you dressed in clothing that does not fit you properly,” he said.
Lariah craned her neck around, trying to see his face over her shoulder. “What has that to do with anything?” she asked suspiciously.
Val shrugged. “Just that we wish to take you into town for new clothes this morning.”
“New clothes?”
“Yes, new clothes,” Trey answered as he sat up, gently pulling her up with him. “We have set aside our work for this, so you cannot refuse.”
Lariah looked up at Garen. He merely smiled and reached for her, lifting her easily out of the bed and cradling her in his arms as he strode toward the bathroom. He set her on her feet just inside the door, and brushed her forehead with a light kiss.
“Get yourself ready and we will meet you in the kitchen,” he said.
“Alright,” Lariah replied, watching as all three men smiled at her before they left the room, closing the door behind them.
Lariah closed the bathroom door and stared at herself in the mirror. She frowned. It had not escaped her notice that, while Garen, Val and Trey were constantly touching and soothing her, even kissing her on the forehead now and then, none of them had touched her intimately in any way since the previous morning. Though she had awakened with both Trey and Val practically wrapped around her, they had both been fully dressed, and she had been beneath the covers.
She studied her reflection in the mirror and admitted that her appearance might have something to do with it. Her hair was all snarly, her plain gray shirt and shorts were neither flattering nor attractive, and she probably had morning breath. “Not exactly looking your best Lari,” she whispered softly to herself.
She reached into the shower and turned on the water. As she pulled her t-shirt over her head it occurred to her that the reason they wanted to take her shopping was to see if new clothes would improve her appearance. Actually, now that she thought about it, Val had said he was tired of her clothes. She sighed as she removed the rest of her clothing and stepped into the shower. She was all for some new clothes, but that was beca
use the few items she had were plain, oversized, and she’d been wearing them repeatedly for several weeks.
If they had changed their minds since yesterday morning and no longer wanted her in that way, she didn’t see how a few new clothes were going to change anything. She certainly hadn’t been wearing any when they’d interrupted her bath.
No, she decided, this was not about her clothing. Therefore it could only be about her, and something she had either done, or not done correctly.
She wet her hair and reached for the shampoo, going over the previous morning in her mind. She had been so sure that they were pleased with her responses to them. That her submissive reactions had actually excited them. Now, she wasn’t so sure. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that all she had done was stand around like a lump. She hadn’t even tried to touch any of them back. Her inexperience had certainly showed, and they had undoubtedly been put off by it.
Then there was that crazy idea about her being their Arima. Standing in the shower alone, with nobody else around to see her, she could admit to her most secret self that she wanted it to be true. She felt as though she belonged here, with Garen, Trey and Val. She not only wanted to be with them, she felt as though she needed to be with them. All three of them.
But, she had learned long ago that just because she wanted something to be true did not mean that it was true, or ever would be. From the moment Garen told her that she was their Arima she had believed that there had to be a mistake, that such a thing could not be possible. Perhaps they had come to the same conclusion.
She felt a hot stinging sensation behind her eyes and tilted her head up, letting the water spray into her face. It was a long time before she was able to stop the tears and finish her shower.
The Dracons' Woman: Book 1 of the Soul-Linked Saga Page 9