by Kyle, Celia
“She does and all human females could.” Feminine tones reached them and they both turned toward the entrance to the office. They watched Melissa, Lana, and Nalan chatter. When Lana smiled, he found himself mirroring the expression.
Jarek was not yet done. “They are our future, Taulan. After all that has happened—after all that my father did—they can give it back to us.”
Ah, Jarek’s father. The male who designed the systems that allowed the warring factions to target females and dragonlets. His father was the reason they’d come to Earth in search of mates. It was only fitting that the son of Preor’s most hated male found his mate first. They all faced adversity during life, but none so much as Jarek—the male who had a terrorist for a sire.
Jarek continued. “To win the love of a human female is the greatest gift a male can experience. To hold his own dragonlet in his arms is like glimpsing the source of the stars.” A large hand fell to his shoulder. “Do not squander the chance you are given. Take the position, lead these males, teach them about human mates and let them learn from the two of you.”
“War Mas—“ Jarek tightened his grip on Taulan’s shoulder and he quickly corrected himself. “Jarek, what can they learn from a wingless War Master?”
“They can learn that a human female values more than the size of a male’s wings. That they can come to their fierce males scarred from their pasts and yet you both can still develop an unbreakable bond.”
Taulan’s heart stuttered at the mention of scars, and he swung his focus back to Jarek. “Is Lana scarred? What do you know of her? What—“
Jarek lifted his hand to stop his speech. “Her life has not been easy. There was not much information, but what little the Ujal possessed revealed a female who endured much, which resulted in having very little. Your female is a fighter. She does not give up easily. She is your perfect match, Taulan. Can you doubt she was made for you? And that the stars would not give you more than you can bear?”
He sighed, knowing the reservations he clung to were merely small hints of unease and not true objections. “You wish me to be War Master of the fleet even though I no longer have wings.”
The thought continually spun through his mind.
“Yes.” There was no hesitation on Jarek’s side.
Watching his mate smile at something Nalan said, he knew he had only one choice. He did not know Lana in truth, but he had no doubt they were made for one another. They were meant to be together. Side by side and loving one another until the skies called them home. And in order to keep her, protect, and love her, he had to do it on the ship or his home planet. They could not do as Jarek and Melissa and make a home on Tampa’s beach.
Their chance at a happy future lay in a massive hunk of metal surrounded by two thousand Preor males.
Males who would turn covetous eyes on his unclaimed mate. Experiencing the Knowing was not enough. He needed to tie her to him.
After spending hours denying Jarek, Taulan gave in. “Very well. I accept the position.”
Jarek grunted. “Good. I will make a general announcement. Are you prepared to prove your worth?”
Prove his worth. He nearly snorted. Jarek had belief in him as did the council, but still he had to prove himself to his men for there would surely be many who opposed his leadership. Jarek had endured several challengers but Taulan knew it was nowhere near the number he would face.
“Yes, I shall prove my worth.” Taulan met Jarek’s intense stare. “And I will not lay claim to Lana until I have done so.”
Jarek gave him the reassurance he needed. “She will be a Preor female by your words alone if not by deed.”
Taulan nodded. Good. For he did not want to make Lana a widow within hours of claiming her as mate.
Because in order to prove himself to the warriors, he would have to fight all challengers.
All.
8
From homeless to… a different kind of homeless, Lana supposed. She padded around the room, exploring her new prison—er, home. She still didn’t quite understand what’d happened down on Earth. Sure, she could let the Knowing come forward, but she refused to let it feed her answers.
For now, she was out of a cell, wearing Ujal clothing and on a Preor ship. On a Preor ship with her mate and in his—their—quarters.
The soft whoosh of the suite’s doors drew her attention. Taulan stepped through the open portal, clutching a large cardboard box. A frown marred his face, his eyebrows lowered and pulled together. He didn’t redirect his gaze until the doors quietly slid shut behind him. That was when he sought her out. The frown remained, but it lightened when their eyes met.
“Kouva,” —beloved— “I dispatched warriors to Earth to gather your belongings yet this is all that they discovered at the location.” He held the box out for inspection. “You stated you wished for the contents to be retrieved and the vehicle was to be repaired and donated to a charity or destroyed. This is all they found inside. Did you provide the correct coordinates?”
Lana fought to suppress the embarrassment at his discovery. She knew what they’d found. It was one of the reasons she’d tried to talk Taulan out of sending anyone to gather her things. She went to him and peeked inside. Yup, exactly as she’d suspected. “It looks like they got it all.”
She shrugged and battled to keep a flush from staining her cheeks. She should have said she didn’t have anything. At all. That she’d been dumb enough to trust the wrong guy and ended up on the street with a few changes of clothes, a couple of keepsakes, and next to no money to her name. Her name? In the end, she didn’t even have that.
She reached for the container and tugged it from his grasp. Or tried to. “I told you there was nothing I needed in the car.” Or wanted.
“Shaa kouva.” He murmured the words and the translation immediately filled her mind. The Knowing pressed forward, still trying to assert itself in her head. Even if she knew what it was, that didn’t mean she wanted it there.
He strode past her and placed the box on the couch. “Why do you have so little? How could you have so little? Most humans have more than this at a much younger age. Erun’s adopted youngling Tabby has more and she newly acquired her scales.”
There was no denying that truth. But how was she supposed to tell a near stranger about her stupidity and naïveté?
She followed him and grasped the edge, pulling it from his hold. “I decided to try a minimalist lifestyle.”
That concept wasn’t really all that popular anymore, but who cared?
The look he gave her could only be described as sad and disappointed. “You lie, kouva.”
Lana swallowed her instinctual denial and, instead, rasped out words meant to discourage him. “It’s not a story worth telling.”
And her belongings weren’t worth keeping, in all honesty. But she couldn’t make herself toss it all. She pulled out the stack of folded clothing. It needed to be washed, but at least Taulan wouldn’t have to go shopping for her. Beneath the fabric lay a couple of pairs of shoes, including sneakers and another pair of flats. The ones she wore that day were somewhere, though she wasn’t sure where.
She set the shoes aside. She couldn’t walk around barefoot and she had no doubt the rough metal grates in the hallway would tear up her bare feet. The Preor found the roughened pathways helpful when walking, but Lana’s soles weren’t that tough.
Beneath that… Her breath caught and she swallowed a sob. They’d found it. She thought she’d lost it in the mess her life had become, but it must have been hidden away somewhere in the car. With trembling hands, she lifted the locket from its soft bed of cloth. It wasn’t anything special, wasn’t made of gold or silver. The locket—a bit of nickel-plated composite metal—was crudely created yet beautiful in its simplicity. It dangled from a thin chain, the links tarnished by dirt and age. It sported a single rose carved into the surface. Though carved—after all these years—was a term she used loosely. Constant handling had smoothed the impression as well as the
initials engraved on the back.
Yet she recalled the words as if it was yesterday. Today. Tomorrow. Forever.
Her mother loved her today, tomorrow, and forever.
The delicate brush of a finger on her cheek jolted her and she whipped her head around. She found Taulan held one of her tears on the tip of his finger. She was crying?
Lana took a step back, fingers still clutching the battered locket. The last gift from her mother before… Before him.
“Kouva, will you not tell me?”
She shook her head and brushed aside another tear that threatened. Kouva. Beloved. Could she be anyone’s beloved?
The Knowing whispered a ghostly yes. But she knew the truth. The truth was no. Never. She hadn’t been worth anything to anyone else. Why should she be to Taulan?
“Like I said, it isn’t important. It’s not worth telling.”
Taulan didn’t respond—merely hummed and returned his attention to the box. He pulled free a battered stuffed rabbit—stained, cut, and with one arm empty of all stuffing. “This is not worth discussing? It appears broken. Should I have Tyff dispose—“
“No.” She bolted forward and snatched the bunny to her chest. It was the only toy she’d managed to save during one of her ex’s rages.
He always tried to destroy anything that made her happy—anything that elicited a smile.
“Then tell me why.” He pressed his lips together in a firm line, the white slash cutting across his face beneath his nose.
Tell him why?
Tell him why?
“Because…” Because life wasn’t fair. It didn’t stop for the injured and broken, and it didn’t help anyone who wouldn’t help themselves.
He moved closer until hardly any space separated them. Until his scent surrounded her and his strength overwhelmed her senses. “Tell me, kouva.”
Lana made a last ditch effort to redirect his attention. “Why don’t you tell me—“
His large hand cupped her cheek, more tears vanishing with his soft strokes. “Tell me.”
If someone had told her Preor warriors could be gentle, she would have called them liars. No way could males so massive, so deadly and dangerous, have such a delicate touch.
But Taulan could—did.
And… and she couldn’t help but do as he asked. Because his voice was soft, his touch even softer and his eyes… The look in his eyes begged her to trust him, to put her trust in his hands. Did she dare?
“It’s not a pretty story, Taulan.” The “shaa kouvi” endearment leapt to her lips, the Knowing pushing her toward accepting him, but she shoved it back. She had her own mind, her own thoughts. She wouldn’t be controlled by some bizarre alien thing.
“There are always dark parts of a person’s life, shaa kouva. It is up to me, as your mate, to assure you that the past is immaterial. We are here now and together. Today, tomorrow, and on until we take our final flights.”
Lana leaned forward, fingers curled around the locket and her other hand clutching her toy. The familiar weights were both a comfort and a heartache combined. She pressed her forehead to Taulan’s chest, taking solace in his nearness. His heat suffused her, warming her from inside out. He wanted her story, wanted the truth.
“My ex…” Her ex was a monster. The epitome of evil, the reason for every flinch, and the cause of every tear.
Taulan slipped his arms around her waist, and she leaned even closer until their bodies were flush. The Knowing’s presence assured her that Taulan really was her mate—her one. Did that make it okay to give so much to a near stranger?
Apparently, yes.
Then again, they were getting to know one another, right? This had to be part of it. Too bad they couldn’t have started with an easier story.
Who was she kidding? Nothing was ever easy.
“Tell me.”
So easy, yet so difficult. “My ex, these things, my past… They’re one and the same.” She drew in a deep breath, savoring his heated scent and using his nearness as strength. Strength to get the words out, to speak of things she’d never revealed. Not to those she’d paid for a new identity and no one in her old life.
As Taulan held her close, comforted her without words, Lana closed her eyes and told her story.
“I had a good childhood.” A great childhood. Loving parents, friends, and a bright future. “I did well in school and when I graduated, I headed off to college.” Far, far away from home. “There, I met Steven.”
Taulan growled, but instead of fear overtaking her, a curious warmth suffused her body. His hint of jealousy was the same as she’d experienced in the past and yet… different. She wasn’t afraid of him—of what he’d do. At least, not to her.
“Things started small. ‘Wear your hair like this.’ or ‘Don’t ever wear that again, it’s ugly.’” She hadn’t seen it then. Even when her friends told her Steven was an ass. “I was ugly. I was ugly unless I listened to him. I was ugly unless I dressed how he liked and wore my makeup just so. I was ugly if…” Those old feelings reared their heads and pushed forward, attempting to overtake her—banish what little self-esteem she’d managed to find. She swallowed hard and pushed his words aside.
“You could never be ugly if you tried, shaa kouva.” A snarl tinged his tone. “Never.”
And when he said those words, she believed them. From head to toe and into her soul, she believed him. “That was how it started and it went on for four years. By the time I’d earned my diploma, I…” Tears stung her eyes and she blinked them back, pushing them aside when they threatened to overwhelm her. “I didn’t have any friends. I hardly talked to my parents and I’d changed my major so we had every class together.”
Except those few. Those few that allowed her to earn two diplomas, that let her qualify to do what she loved.
He let her think, let her thoughts wander and twist until she spoke again. “We moved in together after graduation and it got,” she swallowed back the bile that threatened. “It got so much worse.”
Lana transferred her bunny to her other hand and reached up to stroke her cheek. If she pressed hard enough, she could feel the ridge of bone. It’d never fully healed properly. And her nose. That, at least, had been handled by a plastic surgeon. Her cheek hadn’t made her look ugly, so Steven saved himself the questions and aggravation and just never took her to the doctor.
Her nose though… He had to look at her every day. He needed something pretty across the dining room table.
“He started with pushing. Just shoving me aside when we argued. He tried to intimidate me with his size and it—“ her gut clenched “—it worked. I gave in. I didn’t push. I didn’t argue. It was just easier.”
“This Steven will die.” The tone told Lana he wasn’t kidding.
“No,” she shook her head and nuzzled him. “I don’t want you to go near him. To even think about him after today. It’s done.”
It’s over.
“By the time I was ready to leave—by the time he crossed that line I could never forgive—he had chosen my job, my clothes, my car. He gave me money if I asked for it and then made me tell him where every penny went.”
And God forgive her if she couldn’t account for each one.
Tension filled her mate’s body, his muscles and bones vibrating with suppressed violence. And she recognized the feelings for what they were. She was attuned to him and knew he craved Steven’s death.
She did too.
“I lost ten cents once,” she released a rueful chuckle. She remembered every punch. That was when he’d broken her cheekbone.
“What happened when you misplaced these cents?”
“Ten punches. One for every penny.”
Heat rolled over her and she knew it came from her mate, his anger making him grow warm. “I will hunt him and kill him. Slowly.”
God, she wanted that.
“No.” She drew small circles on his chest and then placed her palm over his heart. Her gaze lifted until their eyes locked. “I
t’s done. It’s over.”
“Shaa kouva,” he cupped her cheek. “He still causes you pain and the damage scars your soul. It shall never be over.”
She knew that better than anyone. “It’s better, then.”
He brushed his lips across her forehead and she took comfort in the caress. It was better.
“Is that the end of your story?”
If only.
“The last time…” She swallowed hard, remembering the beating. “I’d talked to my mother. She was making plans to help me leave him.” She dropped her voice to a hoarse whisper, the remembered pain making it difficult to speak. “He found out.”
“Tell me,” he whispered against her skin, his warm breath fanning her face.
“Four cracked ribs, broken arm, three broken fingers.” He’d had fun breaking each one as she watched and screamed. “More bruises than anyone could count.”
Taulan’s grip tightened with each of her words. “Where. Is. He? Vengeance is mine.”
She lov—liked him for the sentiment. “It doesn’t matter. He’s not part of my life, our lives.” She sighed. “He thinks I’m dead and he got away with murder. The police questioned him—held him—while I got far, far away.” She remembered the pain-filled nights, the exhausting days, and the hours she spent drugged in the back of some half-stranger’s car. “Do I hate him? Yes. Do I still flinch and do I have nightmares? Yes.” She took a calming breath. “But he won’t rule my life. My past won’t rule my future.”
She rubbed the ear of her bunny. “And these are memories of my childhood. When I was happy and loved. Everything between then and now…” Tears stung her eyes. “Everything between then and this moment doesn’t matter. Every tear, every cry, every bit of pain… With your touch, your presence, it doesn’t matter.”
His eyes searched hers, as if he sought out a lie, and then he finally jerked his head in a sharp nod. “As you say. But I will still kill him.”
9
Taulan would kill this Steven slowly, painfully, and without hesitation. Perhaps he could put the male in stasis for healing a few times to draw out the torture. He knew much of pain, and he would show this human the breadth of his knowledge.
