by Celia Kyle
“Whatever it is isn’t killing me, Khaza. I’m not sick. I’m not dying. I just don’t get the benefit of healing technology, and I’m okay with that. Our ancestors didn’t have ryaapir units and had to recover slowly. That’s all I’m doing.” In William’s words, she was a throwback, and Davenports weren’t throwbacks. “You’re bound by human and Preor vows. You can’t tell anyone.”
“I hear your words,” Chashan growled, “but Elle—”
“Chashan,” Khaza snapped at her mate once more and shot him a glare before turning that soothing gaze back on Elle. “Know that we are here to help when you are prepared.”
Elle released a relieved sigh. “Thank you. I understand what you’re trying to do, but…” She shook her head. “I just can’t.”
Young cha. Another frustrated click and snap from Charlie, but she ignored him. Instead, she hopped from the table, ready to get out of medical and on with her day.
“And now, it’s time for me to…” Small teeth sunk into her shoulder, going deep and breaking skin. “Ouch! Charlie!”
Elle remained still, waiting for him to finish his tantrum. For all his domestic behavior, he was still a wild quasti at heart and didn’t like being ignored. She kept her hands at her sides, curling her fingers and forming tight fists while the pain from his bite lit her nerves. Reaching for him, reprimanding him, would do no good.
Khaza was the first to reach for Charlie, Chashan on her heels, but Elle took a step away from the approaching couple. “No, you have to let him finish.”
“He is injuring you.” Dragon’s breath escaped the large male when he spoke, wings fluttering with the agitation. She could see the fury in his eyes, the way they flickered from his normal gray to yellow with dashes of red.
“Yes.” She couldn’t exactly deny the Preor’s observation. “And as soon as he’s done, he’ll heal me.”
Not fix. Charlie growled low. T-est young cha. He even went so far as to bite harder, sink deeper, and send another nauseating tsunami of pain roaring through her. The burn from Ivoth hadn’t hurt this much, the throbbing ache nothing compared to a quasti bite.
“Charlie,” she rasped out her plea. “You need to…”
He growled again, the sound no longer audible but still present. It danced along her bones, shaking her spine and assaulting her legs until she had to stumble back and lean against the ryaapir unit. Her heartbeat stuttered and her mind clouded, her friend’s—ex-friend’s—attack sapping her of strength.
T-est.
“It’s a battle of wills, Charlie. You know I have a stubborn streak…” A galaxy wide.
But he still held on, kept up that growl and snarl, kept those teeth deep within her flesh.
“We must…” Harsh voices, male and female, argued nearby. They snapped and snarled at each other. “But…remove…terminate…”
“No.” Her mind cleared enough to get that single word out. She was determined to release others. “He’ll let go when he’s ready. If you pull…” Her stomach lurched and she forced the rising bile in her throat back down. “If you pull, he’ll take out a piece of my shoulder and then attack.” Anyone. Everyone.
In the past, she would have sworn that Charlie was gentle if territorial. But this wasn’t the Charlie who’d been at her side for years. This was the feral Charlie she’d encountered as a toddler.
T-est young cha.
Elle sensed his thoughts, his feelings, the emotions driving him to act in such a way. She could read his mind as easily as he read hers.
And she recognized his determination. He wasn’t going to let go until she gave in. He was giving her the physical pain she’d tried to avoid. He was giving her the emotional torment she hadn’t wanted to embrace. It wasn’t a dashing of her hope that he provided, but the emotional devastation of betrayal.
“Fine.” She mouthed the words but couldn’t hear above the roaring of blood in her ears. “Fine.” She put a bit more strength behind her voice that time. “He can do it, Charlie. Happy?”
Because Elle wasn’t. She was shattered—destroyed—and wasn’t sure if she could ever put herself back together again.
Ivoth.
Now Charlie.
Who else was going to screw with her head?
Elle extended her arm, wrist up and inner elbow exposed for Chashan to take his sample. “Do it.” And be done with it before she broke. When the Healing Master hesitated, she snarled at the male, baring her teeth as if she had something worth writing home about. “Do. It.”
Chashan burst into action, striding forward with his hypo at the ready. When he pressed the device to her skin, a sharp needle pierced her flesh and withdrew blood from the tiny wound. Now she had to deal with Charlie.
“It’s done, Charlie. Let me go.” She didn’t care that her voice shook or her hands trembled. She didn’t care that her throat closed or that her heart felt as if it’d been ripped out of her chest.
As he withdrew his teeth, Khaza was there, nanopad in hand, and Elle waved it away. She’d experienced enough nanos in her body to last a lifetime. “Just a gauze.”
“But—”
“No, just a gauze.”
Chashan answered her request, a square of cloth appearing in her hand. She reached up and lifted Charlie away and placed him on the ryaapir unit, being careful when Charlie hadn’t given her the same treatment. Then she turned her attention to her own body, to the wound that’d take weeks to fully heal.
Elle firmly pressed the gauze against the gash and ignored the pain that came with the motion. She gritted her teeth, pushing back her instinctual cry, and fought to overcome the pulsating ache.
Charlie chittered. Fix young cha.
And she… just ignored him. She simply… couldn’t.
“Elle, let me view…” The Healing Master attempted to grab the gauze from her, but she ducked out of reach. She didn’t want hands on her. She didn’t want anyone touching her. Not… not then.
“I’m fine.”
Charlie turned against her. It was like her own mind betrayed her, and she wasn’t sure how to deal with that truth.
“I’m fine and I’m leaving.”
Khaza whined and Chashan grumbled while Charlie tried to call her back with a healing song.
Elle shuffled toward the door, intent on getting out of medical and just… away. Somewhere that wasn’t Preor Tower.
14
It was the second choosing session he’d abandoned in as many days, but Ivoth could not remain. Not when her emotions pulled at him. What he experienced was more than the emotional pain from his actions. It delved further, went deeper, and consumed him in a massive wave of… devastation.
Yes, devastation. That was what plagued him. His… Not his. Never his. He’d even gone so far as to call her shaa kava when he did not have the right.
At the very minimum, she was his friend—and she ached. More than ached. The soul crushing agony that bowled over him nearly sent him to his knees, but he pushed on. He wove his way through the crowd of human women and Preor warriors. He did his best not to touch the females, their scents overwhelming to his sensitive nose.
He did not want their aromas clinging to him as he hunted her.
Hunted?
Ivoth shook his head. It was simply a matter of comm’ing the others to discover their location—her office or her condo.
Must hunt.
Ivoth strode past a group of females entering Preor Choosing Station Tau, not even giving them a glance as he exited the building. He would not admit that—at that moment—getting to Elle was more important that even fulfilling his sire’s vow.
Something…
A sharp pain struck his shoulder, and he slapped his hand over the spot, putting pressure on the… wound? No. When he moved his hand, his skin was unmarred. So where did the ache come from?
“Warrior Ivoth sen Pezet’li!”
Ivoth winced, pulling his wings up and then lowering them with a sigh. The need to run, to shift, to hunt still rode him h
ard, but he couldn’t simply ignore the summons. He straightened and slowly turned.
“Esteemed Warrior Jarek.” Ivoth placed his fist over his heart. The male no longer had a tie to the fleet, but he’d once been a war master and deserved the respect that went with the position.
Must hunt. Ivoth pushed his dragon’s thoughts away. He knew what they must do, but he had to first serve the previous War Master.
The male growled low, green eyes blazing yellow, and dark scales sliding free to cover his flesh. “This is the second choosing you have abandoned. If you cannot give Earth females more than a split-second I shall have you taken off rotation—”
HUNT. The dragon wasn’t giving up and instead rested control, snatching the reigns and forcing scales to replace skin. One bone snapped and then another, the whirling clouds of smoke announcing his shift, and he could do nothing to stop the beast’s transformation.
He could only embrace it.
He could only turn and sprint for the open beach and hope he could run faster than the dragon could push the change.
His fangs descended, replacing blunted teeth, and then came claws, dull nails now black and sharp. With each step, more of the feral beast appeared, more of his fierce control vanished beneath the fire-breather’s need. Need to run. Need to fly.
Need to hunt.
The dragon wouldn’t let him explain anything to those he passed. It wouldn’t allow him to do anything that might slow the transition. The sense of urgency grew by the step, each pounding stride sending vibrations over his shifting body. Soon concrete gave way to soft sand, and he fought against the animal for twenty more strides, twenty more steps to get him away from happy families and giggling Ujal younglings.
He was only twenty steps strong, though. The moment he pushed for the twenty-first, the dragon embraced him. It wrapped its base mind around his and turned him into a dangerous, feral beast.
One that wanted—needed—to be with Elle.
To soothe her pain. Pain that seemed even greater now that he’d adopted his dragon form. Over two hundred tons—larger than any local Preor—of scales, fangs, and fire prepared to do what was necessary to find her.
He leapt into the air with a trumpeting roar and a stream of white-hot fire. It sizzled in the air, turning the dampness in the winds to pale clouds of steam. He beat his wings, each one carrying him higher and higher into the sky. He rose above the salt waters, the powerful flex of his wings sending great waves across the sea. Screams reached him—of fear and panic—and his dragon did not care. It did not care that Jarek would remove him from the choosing rotation. It did not care that his search for a mate would be delayed. The beast needed Elle and wouldn’t be appeased until it saw her with its yellowed eyes—felt her smooth skin on its rough scales.
The feral animal wanted to spirit her away to its aerie—to safety. Somewhere she would never feel pain again. Ivoth’s mind shied from the fact that he was a cause of her pain.
Roars followed him, and the warmth of another’s fire licked at his scales. Another Preor’s flames couldn’t harm him, but the blast was enough to tell him someone was on his tail—and close. He turned his head slightly and spied his pursuer—Radoo.
Ivoth curled his lip and then opened his maw, spitting a gust of flames at the male. He would not be stopped. He flapped his wings harder, rose higher. Not simply to escape Radoo’s attempt to slow him, but to give him a better view of the Earth below. He scanned the ground, hunting for the only one who could soothe the ferocity boiling in his blood.
The dragon focused on Elle’s feelings, on the tumultuous emotions and physical pain. They acted like a beacon, leading him up the coast and inward, not far from the choosing station.
In fact, she was close to the choosing station. It was why her emotions punished him so. Their proximity allowed him to grasp their connection and follow it easily.
Away from Preor Choosing Station Tau.
Past Preor Tower.
Beyond the open expanse of sand that separated Preor Tower from Ujal Station Tau—to a clearing that was the origination of hope for the Preor race. The spot where the first negotiations between the Preor and humans commenced. The spot where the Ujal proved their worth as friends of Preor when the Ujal prince saved the original Negotiate Master’s mate.
And at that moment, it was occupied by the most important female in all the galaxies—important to Ivoth, anyway—Elle.
The dragon released a trumpeting roar of celebration, shooting a long stream of fire before he banked left and began his gradual descent. He circled round and round, drifting closer to the ground below. He scanned the open clearing, searching for the remainder of his team. He was overjoyed at finding her, but why had the other males allowed her to be so vulnerable?
More heat bathed him, warming his scales, and he glared at Radoo once more. He would not be stopped. Not when his goal was in sight.
He continued his spiral, wings spread as he drifted on the gusting air blowing in from the Gulf of Mexico. The distance lessened with each gliding circle, and he eyed the ground, searching for the perfect place to land. The clearing was large, but Elle rested in the middle of the expanse. His landing would be much easier if she would simply move. But he would not tell her so when he landed. He did not wish to annoy her further.
Perhaps when she was no longer angry at him or hurt, he would instruct her.
Two more revolutions and his claws skimmed the palm trees, fronds whipping back and forth with the strength of his passing. Sand billowed and blew from the ground, sparse grass flattening with the strength of the strong breeze, and the decorative tree bark tumbled across the manicured lawn.
Yet Elle did not look up. She did not search the skies for the disturbance or search out any of the warriors—warriors he still had not located. Had she eluded their protection? The dragon snorted, and Ivoth mentally shook his head. Despite Triem’s young age, he was an excellent warrior. With Argan and Brukr at his side, there was no chance she had escaped their watchful eyes.
Which meant they were near but out of sight. Because she’d ordered them to retreat?
He did not know, but he would soon.
One last circle of the clearing, his massive shape casting a large, dark shadow over the empty expanse, and he finally allowed himself to land. He raised his head, lowered his back legs, and gave a heaving beat of his massive wings. It brought his travels to an abrupt halt, and he hovered in midair for a moment before his weight landed with a deep thud on the soft ground.
Elle had not spared him a glance during his approach, but now she jumped to her feet and whirled to face him, hair flinging out behind her as she turned. The varying shades of brown drew his attention for a moment, but then he focused on Elle’s face—on the emotions that played over her features in rapid succession.
Surprise.
Fear.
Recognition.
Pain.
The feelings didn’t just flash across her face, though. They consumed her heart, overwhelmed all other thoughts, and sent them crashing into Ivoth’s mind. He no longer questioned their connection’s existence but merely accepted it and would use it to repair whatever plagued Elle at that moment.
A stab of pain sliced through his scales and straight into his heart, though it wasn’t physical agony. It was emotional. The sight of him wounded her even more—beyond the physical pain on her… shoulder?
He gusted out a cloud of smoke and narrowed his eyes, gaze sliding over her body. The ache was more than nagging now. It throbbed with growing agony, filling his blood with the single need to beg for relief.
Preor warriors did not beg.
Ivoth folded his wings against his massive back and dropped his front claws to the earth with a ground-shaking boom. He glanced around the clearing, still searching for the others and still finding them nowhere in sight.
He would praise them for their ability to hide later.
Or he would kill them for leaving Elle unattended.
Actually, as he looked her over and spied the bright splotch of red at her shoulder, he decided he would kill them regardless. She’d been injured under their care. That truth enraged his dragon, the beast’s feral craving for death snatching any hint of control that Ivoth had retained. He was simply a visitor in his own body, a passenger while the animal’s emotions overtook him.
He took a step forward and then another, claws digging into the grass with each lumbering stride, the dragon intent on seeing the injury for itself. Her body had not been damaged when she’d left that morning. What had they allowed to happen?
Elle took a step back, countering his forward movement with her own—away from him. He growled low, fury over her retreat making anger stir in his blood. Smoke escaped his nose, crowding the air, and the gulf’s winds quickly swept it away.
Was it fear that fueled her need for escape? He met her stare and beckoned more of her emotions to come forth. No, it was not fear.
Fury.
Pain.
Heartache.
But not fear.
So he would not let her leave. She would reveal her wounds to his gaze and then listen to his words. He did not know what he would say, but he could not allow her sadness continue. Everything inside him demanded he repair whatever he’d broken and return joy to Elle’s face.
Ivoth continued his approach, and she continued to retreat until finally—finally—she stopped. She straightened her spine, rose to her full height, and stared at him with… dead eyes. He did not like those dead eyes and the fake smile that followed. She’d used the same expression when she’d first began working for Delaney joi Zadri. He did not want the pretend Elle, he wanted real Elle.
He would tell her so. Just as soon as he got his claws on her and secured her in an aerie—out of sight and under his protection.
Less than two dragon lengths separated them, and he increased his speed, moving faster so his steps far outpaced her own. He would have her in his claws soon. Secure and—
Ivoth slammed into something hard. And invisible. It shimmered where he struck the surface, a glittering of colors that rippled over the dome-shaped… shield? He poked his nose forward once more, snout colliding with the iridescent shell. The third time he touched the covering, he followed the shimmering path, searching for the places it began—and ended. Hopefully he could find the source and destroy—