Ivoth (Scifi Alien Weredragon Romance) (Dragons of Preor Book 7)

by Celia Kyle

  “Very well.” The shuffle of paper sliding against paper filled the office, as if Penelope dug through a desk. “You have received one thousand, two hundred forty-three death threats.” A soft ding immediately followed. “Correction, forty-four.”

  “Lovely,” she murmured and closed her eyes, not exactly looking forward to what was to come. “How many come from Daven—”

  “I have broken them down by likelihood of violence and death by Preor technology.”

  “Because the Preor will take humans down with war blades?”

  Penelope harrumphed. “Because I shall take command of offense weapons and end their lives.” A soft sniffle came next—real or a gag programmed by Liquid? “I like you and Charlie-quasti. I would be displeased should any succeed.”

  Elle’s eyes stung, a tiny pinch of pain she decided she’d ignore. Even if the sentiment was programmed, it felt good for both of them to be liked. “Thank you, Penelope,” she rasped, throat tightening. She coughed and straightened her back, ready to get to work. “Now, let’s go through these idiots.”

  “Sixty-two point five seven percent are from Daven Bio shareholders. Liquid has assured me they will not be a threat. She indicated measures have been taken, though she did not elaborate.” A bolt of happiness shot through her, a laugh almost making it past her lips. Liquid’s “measures” were typically monetary. She hit the jerks in the pocket book. Hard.

  “The rest?”

  “Thirty-five point two four percent come from Cole Pharma—shareholders, associates, and the relocated, previous President of the company.” A long, silent pause blanketed the office, Penelope remaining quiet and not moving on to the next group.

  “Penelope?”

  “I cannot confirm nor deny operational details—”

  Oh God, that could not be good. Liquid Knot had taken her pound of flesh out of Delaney’s parents on Delaney’s behalf. The ex-President of Cole Pharma and his wife were now penniless and living off the good graces of the Preor.

  Delaney couldn’t turn away from her parents entirely—she didn’t want to see them starve, but the human-Preor mate didn’t want to see them prospering either.

  “Penelope?” She adopted the tone she usually saved for a misbehaving Charlie. “What did you do?”

  “I would like you to recall that they threatened to cease your existence due to your association with Delaney. Actions were not taken until a thorough threat analysis was completed and only in response to their attempted attack and hatred.”

  Elle groaned and leaned forward, resting her forehead on the desk. “Spit it out.”

  “Computers are incapable of spitting.”

  “You’re just being difficult,” Elle fired back.

  “I do not believe Liquid programmed me with code that could be described as difficult. I will inquire. Please hold.”

  “Don’t you navigate away from me, Penelope! I’ll have Liquid…” Gah, what would she have Liquid do? “I’ll have Liquid do a-a-a system restore!”

  “You would not.”

  Elle bolted upright. “I would.” She even nodded. “I’ll comm her right now if you don’t finish going through this. What did you do and who comprises the remaining two point one nine percent?”

  Silence. Total quiet. No hint of sound came from outside the building due to safety shields and insulation, while inside… Penelope remained noiseless.

  And when she did finally respond to Elle, it was with the tone and tempo of the ship that’d entered Earth’s orbit what felt like forever ago—not the reprogrammed Penelope of today.

  “The human adults with the designations of Mr. and Mrs. Cole are no longer residents of the planet Earth. They have been relocated per presidential order and are now residents of Mars. They are not permitted to make off-world contact.” A charged quiet followed, this one different than the others. Penelope had more to say, but kept it to herself. At least for a short while. That was when Liquid’s version of Penelope returned, not with a sarcastic comment but a soft whisper. “They wished a great deal of pain and death on you, Elle. The Preor call you friend, and I call you…”

  “I’m your friend as well,” she murmured.

  “I will never share their words, but I do not believe humans such as them should share the air you breathe.”

  “They’re Delaney’s parents. You don’t have the right to make those decisions.” Elle matched Penelope’s soft tone.

  “Delaney joi Zadri granted me permission.”

  “And the Presidential order?”

  “I cannot confirm nor deny operational details…”

  Elle sighed. Great. Just great. She was already exhausted. She ran a hand down her face, not caring that her fingers caught on her hair and tugged the intricate knot of strands. She didn’t care that her makeup smudged either. “The last two point one nine percent?”

  “It is comprised of a single person threatening your life in several different ways. You sire wishes you to die a—”

  “Die? Sire?” The harsh rasp was familiar. The fury tinging his voice was familiar as well. How often had she annoyed him until he could barely form words?

  “Officer Elle, Ivoth sen Pezet’li is present.” Penelope sounded way too cheerful.

  “Yes,” she drawled and turned her attention to the office’s door. “I can see that.”

  Ivoth stood in the entry, the wide doorway framing his massive size. Wings spread to block the portal, hands propped on his hips, and legs parted to balance his weight. He was a study in carved muscle that she wanted to touch and taste. From the pounding pulse at the base of his throat to the deeply carved V of his hips, she’d lick every rise and fall of his granite hard body.

  Even when he glared at her, she wanted him. Wanted to touch and feel him inside her. But… she didn’t want her heart broken, either. And Ivoth was a walking, talking, and flying heartbreak.

  “Your sire wishes for your death.” He stomped forward.

  “He wanted it yesterday, remember? What makes you think he’d suddenly stop?” She kept the words light, parting her lips in a practiced smile so he wouldn’t see the pain she shoved deep inside her.

  “He has not ceased. Human male William Davenport has requested Elle die in twenty-seven different ways. Some include his participation, others do not.”

  Green eyes burrowed into hers, Ivoth’s stern gaze practically scorching her with its heat, and Elle swallowed hard. “Ivoth…”

  “I will make him wish he’d never hatched.”

  Based on the orange flames flickering in his eyes and the dark green scales sliding over his flesh, she figured he couldn’t wait to get started. He clenched his fists, tan and green knuckles turning white with the force of his grip. The muscles of his forearms tightened, bulging until the web of veins became visible. And that tension wasn’t limited to his arms. It spread over his body like a furious blanket of controlled rage.

  And it was rage. It pulsed through the room, booming in time with the beat of her heart. Her body throbbed with every thud, as if Ivoth’s rage was somehow a part of her. Part of her, yet not. Because while she was angry about her father’s actions, she was more hurt by his threats. What she experienced now was something different. Something that both soothed and scorched her. Something that touched her heart while it… scared her?

  No. She mentally shook her head. She couldn’t be afraid of Ivoth. Not after all the time they’d spent in each other’s company.

  Ivoth’s wings trembled, his shoulders broadening even further, body growing beneath her gaze. Tendrils of smoke drifted from his nose, his green eyes now fully the yellow of his inner dragon. Then he relaxed his hands, fingers uncurling to reveal the midnight tips of his claws. The warrior’s beast was right there, hovering at the edge and itching to take control of him—something he couldn’t do within an office inside Preor Tower. He’d bring the whole thing down on them all.

  Elle turned her chair and slowly gained her feet, not bothering to slip her shoes back on. Her traini
ng as a Davenport tried to kick in—Davenports never appeared disheveled in front of anyone—but the need to calm Ivoth was stronger than the years she’d spent in her father’s house.

  “Ivoth,” she murmured, carefully padding closer to the furious male. Preors could be dangerous when angered, and if all of that pent-up dragon rage burst free… “Ivoth, I’m fine. I’m right here.” She spoke softly, as if she was trying to soothe a crying child and not a dragon-shifting alien who could kill her with one ball of flame. “I’m safe.”

  The two words resonated in her soul. She was safe. Safe with the Preor, sure. More importantly, safe with Ivoth. The massive warrior huffed, a puff of dark smoke clouding the air with his exhale. One that said he wasn’t falling for her tender treatment.

  “He wants…” The words were muffled, long fangs making it difficult for Ivoth to speak. He turned his head and twisted his neck, bones and joints snapping in a cascading ripple. “Death.”

  Elle continued to approach, not stopping until they stood nearly toe to toe. Heat poured from his body, over six feet of muscular male—flesh, and scales that practically burned her pale skin. But she wasn’t going to back down. She had a crush on him, sure, but above all, he was her friend. And she hated seeing her friend like this.

  She lifted her hand, and the ship decided to interrupt. “Elle, touching Ivoth Pezet’li will result in injury. You should not—”

  “Silence, Penelope.” She cupped his cheek, fighting the need to flinch from the burning of his flesh. It stung but didn’t hurt—not truly. It was just enough to make their connection uncomfortable.

  “Ivoth. Right here. Alive. Breathing. Annoying you.” She forced a grin to her lips, fighting to break the rage-fueled fire inside him.

  “Left. Gone,” he rasped, yellow eyes now tinged with a deep red.

  A twist of guilt stabbed her in the chest, and she regretted sneaking out after assuring him she wouldn’t. “I just came to my office.” When he opened his mouth as if to speak again, she pushed on. “But on my honor, while this mess with my father is ongoing, I won’t go anywhere without you. Not again.”

  His eyes bore into hers, the dragon and logical portion of his mind arguing while he stared. She imagined the two halves of him trying to decide if she was being truthful.

  “On our friendship, Ivoth.” Her breath caught, a tendril of longing wrapping around her lungs. She wanted more than friendship, but that was all they had. “I swear on our friendship.”

  An expression she didn’t want to identify flitted across his features. Longing?

  Nope, she wasn’t about to let her imagination run there. It would be too easy for her to get lost in her fantasies and imagine a future that featured Ivoth as her husband—mate.

  “Elle,” he rumbled, and the color of his eyes wavered. As if he couldn’t decide if he should be angry any longer. He brought his hand to rest atop hers, his large palm covering her smaller one where she cupped his cheek. He turned his head slightly and nuzzled her palm. “Elle.” He breathed out her name with a soft sigh. “You should not have done that.”

  She winced and squeezed her eyes shut. “I know. I just…” She shrugged. “I don’t like being told what to do.” Not anymore. Not since she’d left the oppressive weight of William’s home months ago. “Which seems childish now that I say the words aloud, but I…”

  Elle shrugged, unable to figure out how to finish the sentence.

  But Ivoth seemed to know—seemed to read her mind. Just like he had since the moment he’d first flown her up to the Penelope all those months ago. It’d been his job—his quintet’s job—to get her from Earth to the ship so she could work at Delaney’s side.

  Eventually they’d formed an easy friendship, one with comfortable silences and more smiles than frowns.

  Ivoth lowered his head, pressing his forehead to hers, and released a gentle sigh. “I understand,” he said, nodding. “But do not turn the hairs on my head gray. Please. I…”

  “I won’t. I’m sorry.”

  “Elle? Warrior Ivoth? Delaney joi Zadri approaches.” Penelope’s voice was equally soft, a delicate whisper in the quiet office.

  Ivoth grunted and Elle chuckled. She also begged her wayward body to quit finding Ivoth so delicious.

  6

  Ivoth allowed his dragon’s tongue to taste the air, to draw in Elle’s natural flavors and sample them. In truth, she was better than even his favorite maor as prepared by his dam. The sweetness tinged with a hint of tart, a delicious twining of tastes that called to the very depths of his soul. He—and his dragon—mourned the fact that Elle was not theirs. Mourned the truth that the Knowing had not manifested.

  Now he begged his wayward beast to cease finding Elle so delicious. He also wished it would discover some measure of strength and control. He’d very nearly shifted, and that… would have destroyed many.

  Elle pulled free of his gentle grip, her aczi—silken—skin a delicate caress to his callused fingers. He did not want to release her, but Delaney would soon arrive. Delaney who called Elle friend. More importantly, Delaney whose mate Zadri called Elle friend.

  If Zadri knew what Ivoth craved… Ivoth would lose his wred—dick—by nightfall.

  He fought to remain motionless while she moved away, but a flash of red caught his eye. Red where he should see nothing but a swath of creamy skin. He changed his grip in an instant, turning his hand and capturing her wrist before she could take a second step.

  “What is this?” He glared at the redness, wishing it away. Had her sire gained access and already harmed her? Had he—

  “Huh?” Two pale brown eyebrows pulled together, her lips forming a soft pout, and a feeling of confusion slid over him. “What’s what?”

  Ivoth altered his hold once more, turning her arm and hand as desired before lifting and drawing her attention to the inflamed flesh of her palm. “This? What harmed you? How did you injure yourself?” He shook his head. Why did he drill Elle when the ship would know? “Penelope, recount events that could cause the damage present on Elle’s hand.”

  Elle’s eyes widened, her attention flicking between him and her palm. She tugged against his hold. “Ivoth, I’m fine.”

  He would not release her. Not until he knew the cause of her injury and the best method of repair. “Penelope?”

  “Don’t answer him, Penelope!” Elle’s voice rose over his.

  “As a Preor Warrior, I order you to answer—”

  “I will have Liquid do a full system restore. Just see if I don’t,” Elle threatened. He was not sure of the severity of the threat, but anything involving the human hacker was not something to be enjoyed.

  “My question. Imm—”

  “Nuts to bolts, hand to God.”

  “—immediately.” He tilted his head and stared down at Elle. “The ship cannot worship Syh. Do your injuries go beyond—”

  “Good morning, Delaney joi Zadri Cole and Lilet den Cole.” Penelope’s voice rose above his and Elle’s to welcome the two females, Lilet cradled in Delaney’s arms.

  While he always wished a female and dragonlet well, damn them to the stars for interrupting his argument with Elle. He would not rest until he knew what caused her harm.

  Delaney breezed into the office, the giggling dragonlet smiling widely and wiggling in her dam’s grip. A familiar warmth filled his chest, longing for young of his own surging inside him. More than a desire for dragonlets, in truth. It was a desire for dragonlets presented by one particular female.

  He let his gaze drift to her—to the small brown curls escaping the tight knot of hair at the back of her head, the long length of her pale throat, and heavy roundness of her breasts. He heard talk of the War Master’s mate—Lana—feeding her dragonlets from her breast. Even the young male, since his teeth were not quite as sharp because he was a human-Preor hybrid. A fully Preor male dragonlet would have shredded its dam’s flesh.

  Ivoth wondered if Elle would do the same to her own young. He refused to let his other t
hought come forward. The one that related to their young.

  Because they did not—nor would they ever—have young.

  Hatchling Lilet leaned toward Elle, as if preparing to leap from her dam’s arms, and he rushed forward. With her hand injured, she could not catch the squirming bay-bee.

  But Ivoth could.

  Then did.

  He called on his warrior training, on his need to be both quick and agile in battle. He slid easily between the two chatting females, neither aware of the dangerous game young Lilet played. Battle scarred hands captured the dragonlet midair, while the small, delicate body hovered close to true danger. He gripped the squirming bundle, his touch firm but not so hard that he would harm her.

  Dragonlet giggles and coos followed his abrupt movements while Elle laughed outright and Delaney sighed.

  And Ivoth… held the smiling, squirming being. He gripped her beneath her arms, his hands nearly encircling her small chest. Drool flowed from her mouth, some sliding over his thumbs, and he was thankful it was not like the saliva of the oions from Argulava. Otherwise his flesh would be eaten away like the strongest of Earth’s acids instead of merely… wet.

  Short legs flailed, rolls of flesh jiggled, and tiny arms swung through the air. They were covered in folds of skin and fat as well. The War Master’s t-win-z were similar, so he decided Lilet was not malformed. Humans were merely well cushioned when still bay-beez.

  The dragonlet slapped her hands together, eyes dancing with happiness as she released more laughter.

  “Lilet den Cole, what did you do?” Delaney spoke from his right, the young’s dam moving closer.

  Did Delaney not realize her young had not yet mastered language? “She launched herself at Elle, but Elle is injured. She would have caused greater harm to Elle.”

  Delaney gave him a rueful smile. “Oh, I know what she did.”

  Ivoth frowned. “Then why did you ask—”