Dragon Guardian (Drakins of Wyrmarach)

by Eden Glenn

  More blood, so much blood flowing from her injuries, Caleb’s psychic contact drifted to Ethan and he finished the thought that had both of them freaked out, and inexplicably sucked up by our skins like an industrial hefty.

  Nothing was without consequence and he didn’t doubt this shit would be monumental.

  ≽∞≼

  A dry, fetid odor hung in the darkened air of the abandoned slaughterhouse. The musty sweetness of death was an aroma he had become accustomed to and found almost pleasant. The work soothed his tension over the colossal failure of what should have been a brilliant maneuver. His plans didn’t fail, not until today. He was The Chosen.

  He shook his head to stop replaying the memory of the woman falling, her scream shattering the air like glass. How could such a perfect plan result in a bungled mess like this? He’d planned every detail, set up events so perfect. Damn, when she fell… well almost fell, through the stairs, she should have saved herself and opened the portal to Wyrmarach, a primitive world parallel to the human one. He needed to stop replaying the scene of her rescue in his mind.

  How to make something of this whole mess? He needed Wren to embrace her role as Dragon Guardian to find her power. Something about her drew the terrifying creatures to her presence. The shape-shifter he’d captured felt safe to transform into the powerful beast, unobserved in the woods.

  Meticulously stalking his human shell on the inkling of suspicion had led to so much more than The Chosen had anticipated. He’d been present to see legend become reality in front of his eyes. He’d remained hidden to witness the miraculous change. Carefully following the human form of the shifter had eventually led to the woman.

  She wore the necklace identifying her as Dragon Guardian. He’d been fascinated by its curious design, obviously old with a pattern on the stones that seemed at times to almost move. He’d tried to gain influence over her with courtship and been summarily rejected. Stupid cunt.

  His mind worked while he cut, ignoring the enraged howling from Phaux, the dragon beast beneath his knife.

  He had searched diligently until he found a sketch of a woman in one of the older books. He’d almost passed it by until he noticed her wearing the jewelry he recognized, like bread crumbs that one reference had led to another and then another.

  Scrupulous research had revealed clues to the magical secrets. He’d interpreted the references he needed in the ancient Greek scrolls and texts. He’d been so positive of his translation. He’d pieced together the information like reclamation of a grand mosaic. His plans evolved from there. He must have overestimated her abilities.

  He had watched, ready to run to the portal and jump behind her into the dimensional shift. He should have gained entrance to the hidden world. He’d planned to take the necklace and assume her place as the Dragon Guardian. That would guarantee him the authority to conduct further experiments in the dragon world-- power, and status would all be his for the taking.

  Then, he’d keep her by his side, chained if necessary. He’d keep her as his very own pet to explore at his leisure. She’d bow to his power, a revenge which he would savor.

  Working always helped him think to sharpen the analytical edge of his scientific mind. He concentrated on his task as the ichor and blood coated his gloved hands, pouring from the shallow slicing wounds to channel down the sides of the great beast and puddle on the floor.

  A bigger swath was necessary to determine if size influenced the outcome of the experiment. A larger piece might reveal the hidden magic. The Chosen carved the patch from across the monster’s broad back humming a discordant melody while music and pounding bass reverberated around the room.

  Bound by chains and sound, the dragon was immobile other than his pitiful vocalizations. The monstrous creature’s body remained stretched and pinned by low frequency sound-waves interlaced with a heavy base throb.

  The right frequency pitch incapacitated the brute a quite effective restraint when experiments required direct hands-on contact. The wretched creature moaned between shrieks of rage and pain while he worked at peeling a bath sheet-sized swath of skin from the large dragon’s body.

  This morning his cleverness had failed him. The image of Wren, her scream of terror, falling toward the pavement as he’d intended, superimposed itself over the bellows of agony from the dragon as he cut. Apparently, she didn’t know her ancestry.

  Damn, for something so soft and thin, this hide was resilient. By appearance, the skin should part like hot butter. The harsh hacking sound of the hide ripping echoed through the cavernous room. The tissue fought the knife like reinforced Kevlar. The blade was too dull.

  The dragon skin was reported to contained powerful properties essential in transformation. In six months of experimenting on his captive, he’d discovered many things about the dragons. If only he could learn what the writings meant him to do with the section of silken leather.

  The volumes he’d studied alluded to something wondrous about an exchange of hide named the sidhartha. Evidently the term referred to a concept so common place in those ancient times, an explanation seemed unnecessary. He could derive no modern translation for the word.

  Perhaps the presence of the Dragon Guardian would unlock the magic and show him how to claim the power. If, as he guessed from today’s debacle, she didn’t control her Guardian powers she’d be simple enough to detain. And maybe he’d be able to nudge those talents to emerge in a manner he could employ to his advantage. He’d have to consider the perimeter of experiments he might do with the woman here in contact with Phaux.

  His work had come to the attention of the head of the ancient Dragon Slayer society, Knights of Druiere’. The master put his own plans in motion for Wren and the dragon shifters. That began a cascade of disaster. He wasn’t sure how the information had gotten out. Now that he was under their scrutiny, he had to deal with a different kind of monster.

  Another cut of flesh off the dragon’s body, -- ah, if his experiments gave him the answers he needed, he could get control back and perhaps wrest power away from… he hesitated to think the leader’s name, Dirk. The master slayer knew everything that happened, like kudzu with tentacles permeating a vast hidden network.

  The Historian of the Knights prattled on about the dragon society’s divergent class structures. The gist of it being some were born dragon, the under-class and the leading class who were born human gaining their shift with maturity.

  For the last age the incidence of those Royals producing recessives had increased. Dominants and recessives had resulted, the name given those who failed to shift into dragons, thought to be trapped in their human bodies by weak genetics.

  The Knights themselves were progeny of those early recessives. Many had escaped to the earth dimension. Careful monitoring of the population was required. When a dragon erupted from the line, they had been there to destroy the creatures.

  Research that he himself had gleaned from records and books in their library and his own intellectual thought indicated an alternate hypothesis, expressed versus dormant.

  He suspected from his intensive study of the genealogy charts in the records that he was one of those dormant dragon shifters. If he could just find the way to trigger the expression he would have the ability of his true nature, a power that should wisely be controlled and only given to a few.

  Discovering the catalyst could help him develop a way to influence the opposite effect and block the other dormant/recessives from achieving this faculty. He would be the gatekeeper to govern the dispensation of this astounding potential. He was The Chosen.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Tightness inside Caleb’s chest spiraled, winding tauter. He pushed through the inner door to the small, eclectic office partitioned from the back of Wren’s shop. The area contained workspace for a desk, a couch and efficiency kitchenette.

  Ethan followed him into the small room. Wren eyed both of them suspiciously and motioned to the couch for them to sit, which of course they didn’t. “You two
sure know how to fill up a room.”

  Caleb’s thoughts bounced from violence for whoever had hurt her to a curious introspection on how or why she’d become so important to him in a matter of minutes. His reflections kept coming back to consider what had actually happened. She turned on the water tap to the small sink and threw a wash cloth under the flow.

  Ethan moved over to take it from her, wringing out the water. “You are the one who needs to sit down.” Pressing her toward the couch, he reasoned “It will be easier for one of us to clean your injuries.” He picked up a small basin and started filling it with water.

  Caleb reached a tendril of thought out. Ethan are you as wound up as I am?

  Ethan brought the warm water and cloth over to the couch preparing to clean the woman’s wounds. Yeah, my hormones are doing the can-can of want and need. Yours too, wasn’t a question.

  Caleb visually searched. “Do you have a first aid kit?” he asked aloud while he answered Ethan mentally. I’d have to admit to a double dose of that. My head is telling me this sex drive is something more than just her soft curves and beautiful face. The attraction reminds me of how the pheromones draw women to us but this time we are the ones caught.

  She lay on the futon rested her head back on an overstuffed pillow with a weary exhale before answering Caleb. “There’s a small one, some band aids, cut stuff and antibiotic cream over there.”

  He dug the plastic box out of the clutter on top of the office refrigerator. Ethan knelt on the floor and began to wash the blood off her face.

  Caleb studied her. Their scent certainly didn’t seem to affect her libido at all. Then, her uncontrollable shivers erupted again making her appear vulnerable and overwhelmed. Caleb pulled a soft blanket off the back of the couch and drew it over her. “Easy, it’s just the adrenaline.”

  Her stubbornness radiated through her sharp eyes and the tilt of her jaw as she fairly glared at Ethan. “I can wash my own face.”

  “Shh. Hush.” Ethan carefully smoothed the cloth over her cheek, rinsed and cleaned more.

  Caleb watched his twin’s calm care of the woman. He and Ethan had long ago acknowledged their talent as something given by the deity Gelfin herself. She had led them to this slip of a woman. That intervention occurred in time to save her. There in lay the rub. In the cosmos things happened, sometimes danger averted by a small decision.

  When events rocketed out of whack from the Goddess’s grand design, Caleb and Ethan were there to intercede and get events back on track within the larger scheme of things. Once actions had reached that juncture they’d always played out in line with their precognition. She, a human, had altered the time line alone without assistance from either he or Ethan. How did she do that?

  --Got me bro. She doesn’t have the scent of a shifter who’s transformed. She could be off spring of a recessive.

  He grappled for a way to explain his body’s response to the woman. It was impossible for humans and even other Drakins to change fate. He and Ethan were the only ones capable of circumventing happenings to put outcomes back on course. No one else ever could, until today, that is.

  She’s certainly something and we need to keep an eye on her.

  ≽∞≼

  The adrenaline surge Wren was coming out of caused the stunned numbness that wrapped around her mind, immobilizing her. The men invading her office were on a hotness scale of one to ten, somewhere around eighteen, and pulsated with sensual heat. Yes, the man who’d pulled the afghan over her was Caleb, and Ethan bathed her face. While they might be an identical match to the world, to her they were unique and independent from each other. She found them individuality distinctive.

  She looked up at Caleb standing by the couch watching at her as if she were a complicated puzzle to figure out, a kind but shrewd look that communicated more than words. He had a slight bump on the bridge of his nose, evidence of a past break. Her glance drifted down his chest, abs and oh, yes.

  His worn faded jeans didn’t leave much to the imagination. This man’s sculpted muscles were a work of art. He was hard marble and hot in ways a statue never could be. His dark eyes captivated her. She could have lost herself in their depths. Whoever described brown eyes as plain had obviously never seen Caleb’s.

  He scrutinized her face with a look of total concentration. Under his gaze, her nipples tightened into pebbled knots. Arousal sent a quiver of sensation through her belly into the center of her essence, which sparked a pulsing release of moisture between her legs. The urgent edge of physical need cut through her with a sharp demanding throb that begged for relief. Then, he flashed his dazzling smile with a brief shy, duck of his head that said here’s a snarky smart-ass that tries to get himself out of trouble with charm. A move so adorable she was convinced yes he could, darling bashful boy…er man. She closed her eyes in a vain effort. He’d already caught her ogling his assets.

  “I don’t… I’m not sure I understand what’s going on.” Her mouth was dry, her voice still raspy. “I’m shaken up a little bit. I don’t know what happened to my stairs.”

  His brother, Ethan, knelt between her legs, examining the cuts and scrapes on her stomach. His hand bumped against her jeweled belly ring. She tried to ignore the sensation that spread across her abdomen. She considered the possibility that he was heavier muscled than his twin.

  She reached out to him, placing her hand on his chest. The softness of the black t-shirt cloth stretched over his hard pecs. The sleeves of the shirt were torn out giving it a little more stretch across his torso. The president should declare clothing such a body a federal crime.

  “Just relax. We’re going to check the stairs out in a minute.” His voice had a soothing dark quality that whispered to her mind of sultry exotic places. He carried a trace of an accent that was both comforting and familiar, but she couldn’t quite place.

  Goddess, what had he said? She looked up into Ethan’s eyes. Yes, what she felt started with shaken up and ended with-- she didn’t know where she ended up. She licked her dry bottom lip. He was too beautiful, if you could call a man beautiful; too masculine; too large, too everything, to be real.

  His straight raven hair arched off his forehead from a peak and fell down across his neck and shoulders. He seemed somehow old world, a warrior. His warm, chocolate brown eyes darted to hers periodically, studying her as he efficiently treated her cuts and abrasions. His lips were full, supple, and kissable.

  She imagined how his mouth would feel moving over her, pausing to kiss and nibble her most intimate places as his brother held her tight in his arms. Desire intruded over her common sense, leaving her without control of her thoughts. She shook her head to dispel the image of forbidden sex with both men, together.

  She didn’t know them and here she was snuggled between the two, lost in an erotic fantasy while her fog-filled brain checked in and out of reality. Nor am I too sure what’s happening to me that all I want to think about is where cozying up in bed between these two could lead. Had she hit her head? Maybe she had a concussion. The whole experience might be a hallucination.

  The whiff of his pleasant man smell snuck in with her next breath. The same undefined fragrance had haunted her for weeks, eluding her ability to identify the luscious scent. Male pheromone now flooded her mind with a unique tangy spice, strangely wild and untamed, a mixture of sage and eucalyptus laced under the hard maleness. The aroma increased the soft and horny need cocooning her.

  “I feel really weird. I mean the king- sized, colossal, beyond weird kinda weird.

  I should really…”

  Ethan doctored her hand wounds with ointments. She hissed at the sting as he dabbed her scrapes with something noxious. Her distress caused him to blow cool air across the cuts until the medicine stopped burning. So much for the hallucination concept which made the concussion theory seemed more and more believable. Dang, that stuff hurt.

  “Are you an E.M.T or something?”

  “I’ve had some training.

  She stopped
gawking at him long enough to comprehend he had pushed her shirt up around her neck while his firm hands touched her here and there, cleaning the bleeding scrapes across her chest and stomach with an air of clinical detachment before smoothing cream and bandages over the cuts.

  What the hell is wrong with me? She sat up while she pulled her shirt down and struggled to re-arrange her clothes. “I can take care of that myself, thank you.” She had to get these two out of here before she did something she would most definitely NOT regret in the morning but held potential for long term devastation.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Her heart thundered like she was having a freaking heart attack. The intense attraction to these two men drowned her in a flood of heat that obliterated any logical thought she may have had.

  “Miss…”

  She shivered. This was how his voice would sound after they’d worn themselves out making love. He put a hand on her arm to get her attention, the warmth of his palm saturating her with heat.

  “Miss,” Ethan said. “Your chin is going to need a butterfly strip to heal clean, unless you want a doctor to suture the cut?”

  She shook her head in a sharp, no, no doctor. He didn’t question her reasons for not wanting to go to the hospital. Great Freya, she was lusting after these two strangers and they didn’t even know her name. She wrestled with her emotions fighting to get a hold on her spiraling hunger. She had to get them out the door.

  Ethan cleaned the wound with care before applying a thin dot of antibiotic ointment. The strain of maintaining his tight control was evident in the way his hands shook while he applied the strip bandage to her chin. Caleb eased a makeshift ice pack against the wound. “This will help keep the swelling down.”

  “My name is Wren.” She patted her throat with slightly battered fingers. She touched the flat chain of her dragon pendant Gram had given her. Thank the Goddess; she had not lost the medallion. Ethan’s hand abruptly clenched her knee as she fingered the small dragon. A fission of fear passed through her at his interest in the necklace.