by Cara Bristol
The present was all she could lay claim to.
She draped her dry hair over the crook of her arm, conscious more than ever of its weight.
I accept your apology, the dragoness said.
Thank you.
H’ry, standing next to the bed, turned as she entered. His eyes and mouth widened at the sight of her. “I think I’m wearing too many clothes.” He’d removed his boots, and his torso was bare, but he still wore pants.
“That can be remedied,” she said.
His grin turned beguiling and cheeky as he shucked off his pants. Much less hairy than the humans she remembered from Earth long ago, his face was clean now, not covered by scruff. He did have a thick head of hair, but it was short, and body hair was pretty much confined to a dark arrow diving from his lower abdomen to curl around his erection.
She let him amble toward her, watching the play of muscles in his thighs. Not even in demiforma did dragons move with a powerful grace the way he did. Generally uncomfortable in any state not dragon, they lumbered when forced to walk.
H’ry reached her, his caressing scrutiny causing her nipples to tingle, the rings in her core to contract. He smelled like hot cinnamon and spice, wood smoke and ash, sex and promise, possibilities and hope, all the things she believed lost to her.
“You’re holding your hair like it’s a train or a veil.” He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand then trailed his fingers through her hair. “May I?” He transferred the tresses to the crook of his own arm.
She felt lighter, freer, as if he’d lifted more than her hair. Her fyre snapped and crackled, shooting out tendrils on a quest for his spark. She poised on tiptoe and brushed her lips against his mouth, and he pulled her in close for a deep kiss that rocked her to the rings of her core.
He planted another hard, intimate kiss to her mouth then scooped his free arm around her waist and rushed her to the bed with a haste that made her laugh.
The bed covers were a rumpled heap. “Let me fix this.” After gently releasing her hair, he flung the covers to the floor.
Nice ass, the dragoness hummed. Not like the other human’s. His ass was hairy.
H’ry whipped around. “What did you say?”
“Not me! The dragoness!” she said. “She’s right, though, you do have a nice ass.” Firm, rounded, muscular. She recalled gripping those muscles as he’d driven into her.
He’s not as ugly as other humans. The embarrassing commentary continued. He’s well hung, too.
A tinge of color darkened his cheekbones. “Um…uh… Are there going to be three of us?”
Will you please let me handle this alone? O’ne said.
Well, since you said, please…The dragoness retreated.
O’ne waited until her alter ego’s presence waned to near imperceptibility. “It’s just us now.” She lifted a shoulder in a self-deprecating shrug and flashed an apologetic smile. “She won’t butt in again.” It was a relief the dragoness no longer sought to toast H’ry, but acceptance raised a new set of problems. However, she shoved those worries away. They had this one perfect moment, and she wasn’t going to squander it.
She slid her palms up his chest to encircle his neck. She rubbed against him, letting her nipples tease his chest. “Now, where were we?”
He grinned. “I believe we were here.” He kissed her and drew her onto his bed.
Chapter Nineteen
Biggs swallowed the acid burning his throat. Lately it seemed like all he did was put out fires. He’d caught some scuttlebutt of instability in a distant mining tunnel, his number two producer of osmium and rhodium. In search of his ops manager, he poked his head into the control room.
“You seen Hicks?”
The tech jumped, as if he’d been Tased. One hand seemed to be adjusting his trousers, while the other hit the control panel.
Out of the corner of his eye, Biggs spied a flicker and turned his head to catch screen two filled with rocky, black terrain.
“Hey, boss.” The tech swiveled around, his shit-eating grin about as guilty an expression as Biggs had ever seen. “Nah, I haven’t seen him. You check the mess hall?”
“What were you watching?”
He shrugged. “Nothing in particular. Everything.”
Dragons comprised the majority of the visuals. On about a dozen screens, they flew in that methodical grid pattern. The lizard bastards hadn’t given up the search yet. In retrospect, pissing in their rotunda hadn’t been the wisest move, but who could have guessed something so minor would agitate them so much? Still, the fact they were upset gave him a certain satisfaction.
For now, he focused on the one particular monitor. “What’s happening in sector two?”
“Two?” The tech glanced at the screen and scratched his stubbly cheek. “Nada. Quiet. No activity.”
“Show me what you were looking at,” Biggs said.
“What?”
“Switch to what was on the screen before I entered.”
“It was nothing—”
“Do it.”
The tech hunched his shoulders, swiveled around, and tapped a couple of buttons. Black rock disappeared, replaced by a naked, humping couple, man on top, his pasty ass jiggling with every thrust. The broad’s body was hidden by the guy, and hair partially obscured her face, but he recognized the hooker who’d lost her shit. And the man was Hicks.
“Turn it off.” He flicked his wrist with disgust. Jesus Christ. He couldn’t fault Hicks. Technically, it was his day off, and Biggs had imported the whores for the workers to use.
However, the tech’s actions were another matter. If the men spied on each other to watch a little homegrown porn, that was their business—unless they were on the job and were supposed to be keeping an eye on—
“What the fuck! Zoom in on camera one.”
Hurriedly the tech magnified the image of a dragon carrying a human.
“Son of a bitch!”
“Jesus.” The tech gulped. “It’s right over us!”
The disturbing part wasn’t only that a dragon had invaded their airspace but also that the lizard carried Winslow who’d been a thorn in Biggs’s side. He hadn’t been able to turn him like he had Patsy. He harbored a special hatred for men he couldn’t threaten or buy—and a greater contempt for those he could. Fact was he disliked most people and trusted few.
Maybe the dragon would drop the fucker. He could hope, but it appeared as though it held him securely. Nor did Winslow appear to be struggling—on the contrary, he almost appeared to be happy to go along for the ride.
“It almost looks like the lizard is cradling him,” the tech commented. “Maybe he adopted him as a pet.”
The dragon turned its head, and its beady yellow eyes stared directly into the hidden camera lens.
“Jesus! What a face.” The tech reeled, and Biggs checked his own instinctive recoil. He’d never seen an attractive dragon, but this thing took hideous to a whole new level. Grayish-green scales covered its face, its reptilian genetics further revealed in a snake-like neck topped by a lizard frill. Thorny protuberances poked out of its head, crowned by a ring of horns. If that wasn’t bad enough, its face appeared to be scarred. Shiny, black rivulets ran from its eyes down its snout.
Finally it veered off, carrying its human payload. He watched it move onto screen two then three. When he was confident it was leaving, Biggs returned his attention to the tech.
He’d throttle the idiot, except he’d hired the jackoff. It didn’t serve his purposes for employees to be too sharp. An excess of intelligence led them to question things they shouldn’t. They only needed to be smart enough to do their jobs.
But he was still pissed. “If I hadn’t come in, you would have been too busy watching Hicks fuck a whore to notice a dragon had entered our sector. Why the fuck do you think I have you monitoring the screens anyway? What you do off shift is your business. When you’re working, you keep your dick in your pants and your mind on the job. I’m putting you on an extra
shift and deducting rations for the next week. Buzz Hicks and tell him to get his pasty white ass into my office.” He stalked out of the control room.
* * * *
“You wanted to see me?” Hicks asked warily.
“Sit down.”
“What’s going on?” Blinking rapidly, the ops manager perched on the edge of the hard wooden guest chair. The hot seat was about to get hotter.
“A dragon flew right overhead. He carried a man.”
“Shit! One of our workers?” Hicks sprang to his feet. “Do they know we’re here?”
“No. It’s the man who came in on the ship.”
“Jesus. The poor bastard.” He sank into the chair again.
Biggs grabbed a bottle of antacids from a desk drawer and popped four tablets. Damn things didn’t do any good. His goddamn belly and throat were on fire.
“Maybe you ought to see the doc about the reflux,” Hicks suggested.
“Who do you think prescribed this worthless shit?” He flung the bottle into his desk and slammed the drawer. “What I do know is that I happened to spot the dragon on the monitor when I went looking for you.”
“I’m off duty.” Hicks fidgeted.
Biggs would get to the hooker in a moment. “I heard you halted operations on the number two producer.”
An almost comical relief washed over Hicks’s face. “Fissures appeared overnight. I worried the tunnel could cave in, so I ordered stability tests. I was waiting for the results before I talked to you about it.”
“What about the workers?”
“I moved them to another tunnel until we have answers.”
“Good plan. We can’t afford to lose anybody.”
“No.”
Until ships could get in and out, he had no way to replace lost workers.
“If something did happen, what’s the plan for dealing with the bodies?” Previously, the few fatally injured on the job had been cremated, their bodies tossed into a lava pool, but since they couldn’t go topside anymore that wasn’t an option.
“Leave them in an unused, nonproducing tunnel, I guess,” Hicks said. “The ground is too rocky to bury them. I mean, we dig into rock all the time, but I didn’t think you’d risk breaking drill bits to bury somebody.”
“No, you’re right. Hopefully there are enough bacteria and bugs in this fiery hellhole to decompose the body.”
“Hopefully that won’t be necessary at all.”
Biggs didn’t reply, letting the silence build until Hicks began to squirm. “Now. Tell me about the hooker.”
A red flush stained the ops manager’s cheeks. “I, uh, I was off the clock, so I’m uh—”
“I don’t give a shit who you fuck. What I am concerned about is this one’s mental state. This planet is crawling with goddamn flying lizards—and now we had one in our sector. The broad could have exposed us all by wandering around. If she’s gone nutso, she needs to be neutralized.”
Hicks’s eyes widened. “No, boss. She’s solid. Her mind is stable.”
“And you know that because you were so interested in her mind?”
Hicks flushed again.
Jesus, Biggs thought.
“Initially, I had the same concerns you raised. So I talked to her for a while to get a sense of where her head was at. She’s okay, for a hooker, I mean. She’s nice. We talked a couple of times. One thing led to another, and…” He shrugged. “You know.”
Yeah, the fucking idiot had a crush on a whore. Which meant his judgment was compromised, and he might try to protect her. He’d have to assign someone else to keep an eye on her for signs of mental instability because he couldn’t count on Hicks to remain objective.
“If her head is screwed on straight, why was she wandering naked topside?”
“It only happened once. She said thought she saw a man and went to investigate.”
“Somebody else went to the surface?” Heads. Would. Roll. He might excuse some dumb hooker but for a worker to disobey orders?
“Not that I can find. I viewed the feeds during that time frame, and I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. I didn’t tell you about it because there wasn’t anything to report.”
The isolation, the lack of natural light in the tunnels, the continual threat of a dragon attack messed with a person. Everyone felt the stress, and the broad wouldn’t be the first person to crack, but he needed people who could keep it together. “From now on, I want you to tell me everything. Don’t wait for a final report.”
Hicks swallowed. “Sure thing.”
“And why was she bare-assed naked?”
“She said her suit caught fire from a fumarole burst.”
Biggs shrugged. “All right. I’m not convinced she’s altogether there, but I’ll count on you to keep her in line. If any more crazy shit goes down, I want to know about it.”
“Absolutely!” Hicks’s head bobbed like a toy in a vintage automobile rear window.
“You’re dismissed.”
Alone again, Biggs contacted Asher.
Most considered him a pleasant, upbeat employee, low on the food chain but likable. Asher always had a smile or a joke for someone who seemed to be down.
“Hiya, boss!” he answered.
“I need an accident,” Biggs said.
“Who?”
“The hooker Hicks is fucking.”
“The brunette who went topside?”
“That’s the one.”
“How soon do you need it?”
“Give it a couple of days. Hicks might get suspicious if something happened to her right away. But watch her. If she does anything stupid, take her out immediately.”
“Understood.”
As much as he could trust anyone, he trusted Asher. He’d been a reliable enforcer on Earth before coming to Elementa.
He hoped he didn’t have to eliminate his ops manager, too. He needed a few smart people, and the guy was competent—when he thought with his big head and not the little one. Besides, like he’d told Hicks himself, there was a moratorium on employee recruitment until ships could get in and out.
He’d let Hicks’s future ride. After the whore met her demise, he’d see how the ops manager reacted and then decide what to do.
Chapter Twenty
Glowing lava spilled over the sides of the crater as sparks, smoke, cinders, and ash spewed into the air.
This is close enough! Henry said mentally. He was pretty sure the dragoness wouldn’t drop him into the volcano, but better safe than sorry.
Her bugle sounded a lot like a laugh.
Stop teasing him, O’ne said.
She bugled again but banked hard to the right and veered away from the massive pit of molten, burning rock.
They’d left T’mar’s palace for a sightseeing flight more akin to a roller-coaster ride. The dragoness would climb high, high, high, and then dive. Hard banks right and left. Then she’d make a line drive at a rock formation, veering away only seconds before impact. She did everything to rattle him, except fly upside down.
Are you okay? O’ne asked him.
Peachy, he replied.
She won’t hurt you.
If this was a truce, the dragoness had a funny way of showing it. On the other hand, she hadn’t toasted him, and her grip around his middle remained secure and gentle. If she was testing his mettle, he’d be damned if he’d fail. So he hadn’t protested until they’d gotten close enough to the volcano to singe his nose hairs.
I would never hurt our mate, the dragoness said.
Communicating telepathically blew his mind, unnerving him because he wasn’t sure how much of his thoughts were being shared and how much was private. He sensed O’ne and the dragoness communicated with one another and wondered if he had the ability to pick and choose the receiver or if only dragons could do it.
You have the ability. It takes focus and practice, O’ne said.
You picked up on that? I broadcasted that?
You’ve been broadcasting everything,
the dragoness replied. Your mental meanderings are quite amusing.
New paradigm. That had been apparent from the moment he watched O’ne shift from a beautiful human-appearing woman into a thorny, winged, fireball-throwing creature the size of a small jet. The eyes, and her voice, which he heard in his head, remained the same. But that’s when it really hit him he was dealing with two separate individuals, each with a mind and consciousness.
The dragoness had gathered him in her talons, clutched him to her underbelly, and took him on an acrobatic “tour.” They’d soared over towering crags, molten rivers, volcanos, and geyser-like fumaroles. The planet was a pyrotechnic wonder, its land harsh but breathtaking, the perfect home for the Draconians.
You are our mate. It is your home now, the dragoness said.
The simple pronouncement ignited a bittersweet ache. That she accepted him solved one problem, but their future remained uncertain, improbable. According to O’ne, one couldn’t serve the Eternal Fyre and take a mate. Before she’d hidden her emotions, he’d picked up on her fear. He intended to stand by her no matter what, but the “what” could be so beyond his ken, he might be useless to her. What could a mere human offer a demigod anyway?
Your care and concern feeds my fyre, ignites my will to fight, she said.
Crap. He needed to learn how to shield his thoughts pronto.
I will teach you, but I like hearing your honest, open thoughts. I never dreamed I could have a mate, someone who loved me as I am, who did not need anything from me.
I only need you, he replied.
It is mutual.
What’s a demigod? the dragoness asked.
A supernatural being with powers beyond a mortal, he replied.
She tossed her head and bugled. I am a demigod!
The unfiltered honesty amused him, and he almost chuckled.
A priestess is the vessel for the sacred fyre; the vessel cannot be filled with pride, O’ne chastised her.
He sobered, along with the dragoness. Her responsibility was as great as her power. While she hadn’t created a world or people, she carried the life of a world.
