by Celia Kyle
The dragonlet squirmed more, drawing his attention. Lilet lifted her legs and grasped one foot, wiggling and pulling until she nearly had her toes in her mouth. “Your dragonlet requires food. She is attempting to eat her limbs. It is good humans are behind in development and she still lacks teeth.” Ivoth looked to Delaney. “Though I did not realize human young do not contain a great bit of intelligence at birth.”
Delaney gasped while Elle snorted, and then Delaney snatched her dragonlet from his grasp. “My baby is not stupid. She’s a baby.”
Her glare and redness in her face indicated her anger, but he did not understand what infuriated the female. “I merely stated—”
A hand as soft as aczi ghosted over his arm. “Quit while the hole isn’t too deep and you can still escape.”
Ivoth swallowed his words. He did not understand Elle’s meaning, but he did not have to. Not when silencing himself came with a caress from Elle.
He would happily stand and be stroked by her until he took his final flight. In fact, he decided that was how he would spend the rest of his days. Yet if he did that, he could not fulfill the promise to his sire…
“And I’m not hurt. I’m fine.” Her tone caught his attention, and he narrowed his eyes at her, searching her expression.
“I would never call a female a liar, but I am unsure of your truth.”
“Did you trip and fall again?” Delaney remained nearby, young Lilet in her arms with a bottle between her small lips. A beautiful image of mother and young.
“Fall? Again?” He returned his glare to Elle. Why he’d allowed himself to become distracted, he did not know, but he was not aware of any fallings or agains.
“I was fine then,” Elle scowled at Delaney, “and I’m fine now. I don’t know why you think I hurt myself.” She shook her head. “I just…”
Penelope’s voice rose above them all. “Officer Elle has an injury to her palm. Scans indicate humans would diagnose her with a first-degree burn. She should be escorted to medical.”
Ivoth knew the truth—that Elle was truly injured, and he also knew the cause. Himself. He’d lost control of the dragon, incensed by the threats to Elle’s life, and harmed her.
He should have his wings ripped from his body for causing her pain. No, they should be ripped from his back, and then he should be tossed into the Gulf of Mexico and consumed by the water-beasts humans called sharks. An entire pack of sharks.
No, that was not enough. He should be—
“I have requested an escort from medical.” Penelope broke into his thoughts once more. “They will assist in Elle’s relocation.”
“No,” he snarled, and he did not care. He could not stand the thought of another being responsible for Elle. She was his. Or rather, under his care. “I will escort Elle.”
And may Syh protect any who dared object to his plan.
7
There was nothing more beautiful than the play of the sun’s waning light dancing over the multicolored scales that covered the aliens within sight. The glittering array of hues sparkled, and she wasn’t sure where to focus her attention.
On the dragons flying through the skies? Two-hundred tons of muscle, scales, fangs, and claws that somehow remained aloft despite their size and weight. The members of her quint—even though no one asked her if she wanted one—circled the building and wove random patterns through the air. Argan was the color of the sun at mid-day, the yellow bright and sprinkled with hints of orange and red. Brukr’s blue-gray was lightened by the sunset and giving a purple cast while Triem’s pure blue allowed him to nearly disappear among the clouds high above.
Nearly, until the younger warrior spat a ball of flame at a distracted Radoo that sent the maroon-scaled warrior tumbling a good hundred feet before he caught wind beneath his wings.
Elle quirked her lips in a soft smile and let herself enjoy the few moments of quiet she’d managed to secure. She leaned against the balcony railing, allowing the solid metal bar to take her weight while she tried to shed the stress—and pain—of the day.
There’d been her almost-argument with Ivoth, the burn on her hand, and a trip to medical—complete with familiar lies to the Healing Master. And then… and then, and then, and then. So many tasks that’d required her attention. So many different departments within Cole Pharma that could only wipe their asses with detailed instructions. That was the point in the day when she’d discovered the plant in Georgia shut down.
Not because of a mechanical failure.
Not due to an order from the Food and Drug Ministry.
And not even because they’d received a direct order from anyone in the corporate offices.
Oh, no… The plant manager stated that they’d shipped all orders for Nostacet, and corporate hadn’t forwarded any new manufacturing orders.
The plant had been closed two weeks before the crap-storm finally rolled up high enough to land on Delaney’s desk—who then transferred it to Elle’s.
God, that’d been hours ago, and she felt her frustration and anger rising once more, the emotions rearing their ugly heads and sinking into her blood. She took a deep breath and sought a calm that still lingered just out of reach.
But she was determined to get her emotions under control. She could and she would. Davenports didn’t suffer from rapid swings of heightened emotions. As far as William was concerned, they had few feelings all together.
Giggles from down below pulled her attention, and she lowered her gaze to the rolling waves, to the frolicking children—Ujal younglings—who danced in the shallows and enjoyed the last bit of sun. Sprinklings of scales peeked above the lapping water, their mermaid-like tails revealed as the waves retreated.
So happy. So carefree. Alien children who’d found joy on a strange planet.
Joy and happiness and safety. Children whose parents wouldn’t threaten to murder—
A soft click was followed by a low whoosh, and then the cool air of her condo rushed forward to bathe her back. Goosebumps raised along her arms, prickling her skin and making the tiny hairs stand on end. The sea breeze gusted, as if it wanted to push that artificially cooled air back to where it’d come from, and Elle breathed in the briny scent of the gulf.
She most definitely didn’t think about the person—male—who’d just intruded on her quiet time. Four of the five in her quad were in the skies, and Ivoth had vowed one of his males would always be near. At the time, he hadn’t said he would be that male.
Hadn’t he realized he drove her crazy with his closeness? Preors were supposed to have an excellent sense of smell. Did he not get that she was aroused by him—wanted him? Then again, he might and just didn’t care since he was searching for a mate and… Elle was not her.
“You should not be out here.” The deep tenor slithered down her spine, caressing her back with a ghostlike touch. “You should be resting. Healing Master Chashan indicated—”
Elle twisted her lips in a wry smile. “That I should take it easy. Standing here on the balcony is taking it easy.”
Ivoth grunted and moved forward, his heavy boots thudding on the concrete balcony. “I do not agree.”
Elle snorted and shook her head. She focused on the playing children, trying to distract herself from the massive male on her left. “That’s the thing about life and freedom. You don’t always have to agree.”
Unless your father is William Davenport and you know he kills anyone who disagrees.
He grunted again and leaned forward, matching her slouched stance. Well, as slouched as a Preor warrior could be. He propped his forearms on the metal beam and followed the direction of her gaze with his own.
And Elle was aware of it all—aware of every shift of muscle and glide of tendons and joints. She was simply aware of him. Always.
“You watch the Ujal young.”
“Yeah.” She couldn’t help it. They were just so full of life.
“Do you find happiness in young?”
Elle glanced at him out of the corner
of her eye, eyebrow quirked. “Do you mean, do I like kids?” At his short nod, she shrugged. “Of course.”
“Not of course. Some females who visit the choosing station state they never wish to have dragonlets of their own. I am filled with joy when I do not experience the Knowing with one of them.”
“Because you want babies.” She gave him a teasing grin even as a little piece of her heart cracked. Babies with some nameless, faceless human woman that wasn’t Elle. Could she be more pathetic?
Ivoth straightened, and the heavy weight of his stare landed on her shoulders. “Before his death, I vowed to my sire that I would not allow our line to end with my final flight. I would not dishonor my sire or the deaths of my dam and sister by not fulfilling my oath.”
“I know,” she whispered, the laughs of the Ujal younglings drawing her eyes back to the sea. “I just wish…”
For things that could never be.
“If you find happiness in young, why have you not chosen to present?” His confusion would be cute if his words didn’t stab her in the gut. “Humans do not require the Knowing to create young. Penelope assures me that is a truth.”
“Technically.” She turned her head slightly and gave him a closed lip smile, old grief prodding her, and she fought to hide the pain. “They can. I just…” She shrugged, feigning an indifference that didn’t exist. “I can’t.”
“I do not understand.”
“I’m physically incapable of getting pregnant.” A deep rumble came from the male at her side, his rolling growl vibrating through her bones, and she just rolled her eyes. “Getting pissy doesn’t change the truth, Ivoth.”
“You have never said this before,” he spat, accusation in his tone and something like anger in his eyes.
She turned, angling her body toward him, and leaned her hip against the solid metal bar. “You think we’ve shared every secret?” She shook her head. “I’ve got a lifetime of secrets, and we only spend—spent—an hour or two together each day when you shuttled me between the tower and the ship. Heck,”—Davenports limited cursing whenever possible—”we hardly talked at all during the first month.”
Elle recalled the massive Preor standing on the landing platform, his overwhelming presence and stilted, formal speech. He’d been so strong and imposing, she had to call on the lessons she’d learned as a Davenport.
Show no fear. Demand, don’t request.
She’d had her sharp tone at the ready, prepared to issue orders so he wouldn’t recognize her uneasiness. Then she’d seen the one thing that set her at ease—his trembling wings. It wasn’t an audible rustle, and she hardly caught their movement, but having Charlie in her life meant that she was hyperaware of everything around her. She had to be cognizant of even the tiniest of physical nuances.
A twitch of Charlie’s left ear and flick of his right claw meant something was about to be destroyed if she didn’t step in—which wasn’t often anymore, but in the past she’d spent a lot of her allowance on fixing his little tantrums.
So, yeah, she’d seen his wariness, and instead of meeting it with demands, she met it with a smile. One he didn’t return for a good three and a half weeks.
“We were not meant to socialize.” He straightened away from the rail and crossed his arms over his chest, staring down at her with inscrutable eyes. “I was given a duty.”
“Is that all I am? A duty?” Another closed mouth smile, and she felt as if her face would crack at any moment. “Why did you volunteer your quint to look after me, then? Any other quint—”
“No other.” His voice dropped and a low hiss filled the air. He stepped closer and she backed away, not wanting him too close. If he touched her… she’d be lost. “No other is worthy of protecting you.”
Not no other quintet but no other.
“I’d believe you if you didn’t look at me like I was your favorite toy and you don’t want anyone else to touch me. I’m not a possession.”
“No other shall touch you.” He furrowed his brow and gusted out a breath, tilting his head to the side as he stared at her. “And Preor males do not have toys. I had training blades, and I would have fought any who dared lay their claws on them.”
Elle just sighed and shook her head. “Never mind.”
“Elle,” he dropped his voice, and the deep murmur reached out to her with an invisible hand. It caressed her cheek, and she sensed a mixture of confusion and regret inside him. She wasn’t sure how or why his emotions called to her, but they did. “I have upset you, and I do not know why.”
Then it was his physical hand, his palm holding the smallest bit of warmth as he cupped her cheek. He traced her cheekbone with his thumb, the callused pad scraping her sensitive flesh. It should have stung, but instead it sent a jolt of pleasure straight to her pussy. That gentle touch made her ache—utterly, entirely ache.
“I care for you, Elle.” His voice held a rough huskiness that had nothing to do with his dragon and everything to do with desire. He wanted her. She felt that truth in the very marrow of her bones.
“I…” She licked her lips, unsure of how to respond. I care for you? I want you? I love you—No. Not that one. “I do, too.”
There. Let him interpret that as he wished.
“Do you?” he murmured, stepping even closer. There was hardly any space between their bodies, only the slightest of gaps.
“Yes,” she whispered in return, and what little distance remained vanished with the tiniest of shuffles by Elle.
Their bodies were aligned, her curves snug with his hard planes—specifically, one particularly hard part of him. His cock was firm and thick within his katoth pants, captured by the tanned hide from a Preor beast. The long length pressed against her hip like a hot brand, his shaft throbbing and straining the katoth, as if it fought to get free—to get to her.
And she wanted it. The craving was stupid and she’d hate herself later, but she wanted it.
“Elle,” he moaned. Ivoth lowered his head, green eyes locked on hers as he moved nearer and nearer.
She let hers flutter closed while she pushed to her tiptoes, needing the connection before he suddenly changed his mind. She pressed her lips to his, a careful brush of their mouths. Heat sparked between them, invisible flames dancing around their touching lips.
Elle couldn’t keep her hands to herself, not when she had him there with her—kissing her. She traced his thick forearms and even thicker biceps. Her palms skated over his shoulders, and she didn’t stop until she twined her fingers behind his neck. Her palm throbbed from use, but she didn’t care. Not when Ivoth took control.
And that was exactly what he did. He took control.
Those large, battle-scarred hands moved to her back, arms embracing her and pressing her even more firmly against his. One hand settled between her shoulders while the other shifted south to cup her ass. He gave her a tight squeeze, and then it was time to dominate their kiss.
Ivoth lapped at the seam of her lips, silently demanding entrance, and she opened to him—opened to his invasion. He swept into her mouth, tongue caressing her own and exploring her depths.
But Elle wouldn’t be left out. She’d waited—craved—his kiss for so long. She countered his movements, gathering every hint of his flavors and savoring each one. Smoke. Heat. Sweet. Spicy.
Delicious.
He pulled away, nipping her lower lip, and she whimpered in response, the sharp sting going straight to her clit and tightening her center. She needed to be touched there. Touched and caressed and… fucked.
Taken.
She mewled and silently begged for more, giving him an open-mouthed kiss that yearned to be completed.
Ivoth didn’t hesitate. He captured her lips again, and his tongue circled and danced, teasing her with what he could do with that part of him. And oh how she wished he’d put that talented tongue to use between her thighs. He’d plunder her pussy, nip and taste every part of her before he thrust his cock into her wetness.
She shuddered,
the mere thought pushing her to the edge of release. She wasn’t sure she’d even need his touch. She could come from his mere kiss. Her nipples were rock hard nubs, and she knew she needed his mouth there, too.
Needed, not wanted. Needed. To suck and nibble and tongue until she cried out his name.
She slipped in and out of his mouth in an explicit come and get me, a taunt of what they could have if he’d just—
A loud roar and snarl pierced her thoughts, the sounds from a nearby dragon. A flying dragon that could see what they did. A rush of embarrassment overtook her. Davenports didn’t display emotion in public. Definitely not passion.
Elle pulled away from the drugging kiss and turned her head so he couldn’t capture her mouth once more. Kissing Ivoth was a very, very dumb idea no matter how much she wanted to sink into his desire.
“Elle,” he moaned and leaned close once more.
“No,” she whispered and pushed on his chest while she shook her head. “No. I…”
The clear panel to her left wavered, the crystal-clear material rippling for a brief moment before solidifying once more. A tendril of concern prodded her mind—the thought and feeling not hers—and she sighed, her heartache and tension bleeding away. “Hey, Charlie.”
“Charlie?” Ivoth took a step away from her, hands reaching back for his blades. He didn’t speak again until the katoth handles rested in his palms, swords at the ready. “What does the beast desire? I will slaughter him if he thinks to cause any harm.”
Elle simply ignored him and his warrior posturing. She ignored her simmering arousal and desperate need for Ivoth, too. Instead, she focused on her small friend, the one being in the world that worried for—and loved—her. No conditions, no hesitations, and only occasional grumbling when she forgot to bring home a treat.
She tracked his path across the balcony, their deep connection allowing her to sense him even if she couldn’t see him. He preferred his invisible existence, the ability to blend and cause havoc with no one the wiser. He launched himself from the ground, flying high until his tiny claws dug into her pants. Then it was the scrambling climb up her body, his ascent not ceasing until he rested on her shoulder and snuggled against her neck.