Argan: Dragons of Preor

by Kyle, Celia

  That was a pain he was unfamiliar with and it troubled him—greatly. Without another word exchanged, he cuddled her closer and gave her a gentle kiss to her forehead. He remained aware of the bandages at the back of her head, careful of his delicate mate. Her feelings of comfort were fed to him. Along with the relief that he still desired her—was willing to touch and kiss her even though she was not the same. Her eyes remained clouded by concern and she reached for him—caressing his cheek—as their gazes remained locked. He had the feeling of being watched, but not in a way that caused him unease. The exposure to Lily was remarkable and he had no idea what to make of the altered situation.

  Could it mean they truly were mates?

  With that thought at the forefront, Argan peered deeper into Lily’s mind, discovering unfamiliar images. Scenery that was not local to Tampa. People—humans he had never met—that were strangers. And he realized these were memories he’d accessed—Lily’s memories. A child running through a field. The first rush that accompanied her implant installation. The pain of a lost friendship. The giddy happiness at being touched by Argan.

  “Lily,” he breathed, unable to hold himself back. “Do…”

  “I feel it,” she answered his question without having to hear his words. “Are you… doing anything to me? Are you sure they didn’t do anything but take the implants out?”

  “This is like the freedom I experience when removing my armor.” He explained the sensations as best he could. “Is it possible we feel this way because the implants are gone?”

  Excitement, wonder, and anxiety fired inside Lily’s mind, the emotions boiling up like the foamy waves of the sea. She opened her mouth to reply with one of the dozens of ideas floating in her head, but they had no time.

  The doors whooshed apart and in strode War Master Taulan and his mate, Lana. Taulan’s glare would cow a weaker male, but Argan rolled to his feet and stood tall, bristling at the interruption. He had just had Lily restored to him and they could not be left at peace? The frustration remained hot in his mind while Lily’s influence urged him to calm and be soothed by her presence.

  “Argan,” Taulan stopped at the base of the ryaapir unit. “We must speak.”

  “Lily has suffered an attack and surgery,” he struggled to keep the snarl in his voice hidden from the war master. “She needs care in order to recover. That includes no interruptions.”

  Argan did not care that Taulan was the war master. Nor did he care that his superior narrowed his eyes in a darkening glare. Surprise coated Lana’s features, the war mistress not used to Argan’s blatant and unequivocal denial. Before either could utter a word, Penelope materialized in the room.

  “Sorry for the interruption, but I have a report about the source of the attack on Lily.”

  That snared Argan’s attention. He carefully eased Lily aside and climbed to his feet, unfolding himself from his position at her side. He stood at his full height and rolled his shoulders back, body prepared for any action. “Who harmed her?” he growled and stalked toward the hologram. “Do you have a name? Tell me so I can get retribution.”

  “That’s not the best strategy, but A for effort.” Penelope winked at him. Now that Lily was on the mend, it was as if Penelope had slipped her staid leash and allowed herself to be sarcastic and snark-laden again.

  “That’s part of why we’re here,” Lana interrupted. “Penelope, go ahead and explain so we’re all on the same page.”

  “Gladly,” Penelope turned back to Argan and Lily. “I traced the attack through several encrypted relays, but this was not the work of a sophisticated individual. My results indicate Warrior Zafre is responsible for harming Lily.”

  Argan’s wings snapped out, his dragon surging in a sudden rush of power meant to take control of his body. Smoke furled from his nose with every exhale, the desperate need to hunt and destroy consuming him with every beat of his heart. His anger boiled around him like a fire bursting to life and he ached to burn Zafre to a crumbling cinder. He knew he showed his uncontrollable fury and he worried over how his mate would respond to the ragged edge of his emotions only to sense… Yes, there was a tendril of fear coming from his mate but also a fierce pride—an emotion Argan gladly clung to and cradled close.

  “Where is he?” Argan snarled, his dragon’s voice overtaking his human-like vocal cords.

  “Rein in your anger, Argan.” Taulan backed his words with his presence, the war master stepping closer to him.

  “We can’t just go around turning warriors into Lunchables without a trial or even, you know, a conversation.” Lana took a deep breath. “I trust Penelope and her work, but that doesn’t make Zafre guilty.”

  “So we drag him in for a hearing and let him slither out of this?”

  “I will not allow that. He will be punished for his crimes against my mate.” Argan rounded on the leaders, his intent clear in words and expression.

  “Zafre…” Lily furrowed her brow. “Why would he attack me? I don’t understand. Other than seeing him on the shuttle trips, I don’t even know him. I don’t think we’ve said two words to each other.”

  “It is unclear at this time.” Penelope spoke up once again. “He has never exhibited violent behavior in the past, which is why I agree with War Mistress Lana. Immediate termination is not the most reasonable course of action…”

  Argan gave zero fucks about reason.

  “…nor the most just.”

  Argan wasn’t sure he gave a fuck about justice either.

  “In other words, the whole thing is so opposite of his past behavior and out of character, it’s best if we can get further proof or a confession.”

  Lily scoffed. “Super easy. Just get a few of his friends to ask him if he attempted murder lately. No bigs.”

  Argan believed that was his mate’s sarcasm and he was relieved that she retained that part of her personality.

  “An attack on you is particularly unusual.” Taulan narrowed his eyes at Lily. “The two of you have no direct connection. Unless there is something you two have not divulged.”

  “There is not.”

  “There isn’t.”

  They spoke at the same time and then stared at one another, exchanging a soft smile.

  “Regardless, we need something more,” Lana reminded them.

  “My head seems fine, but I won’t be much help until we know how much I’ve lost.” A pang of sadness crept from Lily to Argan and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

  “Word has not yet spread that Lily survived the attack and subsequent operation.” Penelope made that statement and the room fell quiet.

  “We can take him by surprise.” Argan ached for the male’s blood.

  “That is correct,” Penelope nodded. “And I have the perfect plan.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The heavy weight of multiple gazes settled on Argan’s back as he strode through the ship’s corridors. He even swore a few hushed words danced through the air and echoed off the metal walls of the passages. Quiet. Abrupt.

  Unless paranoia had invaded him. No, he refused to attribute the sounds to something as simple as suspicion. The voices existed, and their presence meant the plan continued as intended. That did not mean he agreed with the war master’s choices. Choices that were the exact opposite of Argan’s own desires. He ached to tear and destroy. This subtlety Taulan demanded was not his preferred method. He was a powerful, destructive warrior. Not an actor.

  He made his way toward the dining hall, intent on securing a drink. He was not truly interested in a beverage, but his current purpose was to wander the ship and simply be present. That, at least, was something he could accomplish. The eyes that watched him weren’t only those of the crew who whispered behind his back when they thought he did not pay attention. Penelope monitored him through the ship’s cameras as well.

  For some reason, that was perhaps the strangest part of the plan, as far as he was concerned. He was always passively aware that Penelope could watch anyo
ne on the ship, but knowing he had her whole attention made him uneasy. Especially when he could not track her physical presence. It was as if he was haunted by a ghost. One who claimed only a loose grasp of the etiquette of organic life.

  “Warrior Argan?”

  Argan slowed to a stop and turned his attention slowly across the busy hall to spy a healer hurrying toward him. His jaw tightened and he prepared himself for what was to come. Prepared himself to act.

  “Yes?” Argan’s voice came out far too loud—awkward.

  Fortunately for him, the healer was no better, and the way he spoke seemed just as clunky. “Healing Master Whelon is with War Master Taulan on the bridge,” he spoke loudly enough for all others to hear. “They wish to see you immediately to oversee the removal of your Binds. Liquid Knot’s condition is worsening, and Healing Master Whelon does not wish to delay any longer.”

  Liquid Knot. The name tasted sour even in his mind. She was Lily to him and always would be. Liquid Knot was a face she presented to others, not to him.

  “Thank you, Healer, this is good and true information.” He raised his voice to match the healer’s. “I will go to the bridge. That is where my Bind will be removed.”

  “That is correct.” They stared at each other for a moment, the silence uncomfortable the longer they stayed in place, but neither was sure who should disengage first.

  Bah. This was why they should have let him simply kill Zafre and be done with the task.

  “I will go now.” Argan took a step away, waiting to see how the healer reacted.

  “Yes. I too, will go. Now.” The healer stuttered out the words and Argan gave up on any pretense of civility. He pushed past the healer and strode down the corridor on his way to the bridge. He was uncomfortable with speaking and had never been able to tell a believable lie.

  Thankfully he was not the one tasked with spreading the rumor. If he had been assigned the errand, he would not have been successful. Simply because he did not like speaking with any other than his mate.

  More than a few warriors had observed the conversation with the healer and word on a ship traveled very quickly. Especially when the information was interesting. Lily referred to such details as “juicy.” Argan would put trust in her judgement.

  He wove his way through the ship until he approached one of the lifts. He stepped inside the empty chamber and pressed the button that would transport him to the bridge. He was not sure what he would do once he arrived other than to appear confused before leaving once more. He was unclear on this step in the plan.

  Then their target removed any uncertainty—by shouting at him and making his presence known.

  “Argan!” Zafre strode down the passage, his muscles tense and wings flared while smoke drifted from his nostrils.

  Zafre hurried through the thin crowd and slipped into the lift a moment before the doors slid closed. They had not even been secured fully before Zafre lunged and struck Argan across the face, slamming him against the wall.

  Argan cursed himself as he thrust Zafre away and the two remained frozen, the confines not letting them put much space between them. They glared at each other, wings half-extended, nostrils flaring and breaths heaving in and out of their lungs. They remained motionless for one moment and then two before launching at one another again. This time, Argan was ready.

  The two bodies collided, claw-tipped fingers reaching and seeking purchase in vulnerable flesh. Zafre twisted and bent, fighting to wrap his arm around Argan’s neck, but Argan spun and pushed Zafre against the wall before landing a hard blow into the other warrior’s stomach. Zafre grunted but brought his head forward, cracking his forehead against Argan’s nose and sending him staggering back.

  “You are making a mistake, Zafre,” Argan snarled as he recovered and the familiar sound of honed metal on katoth whispered within the small car—a blade being unsheathed.

  “Yes,” he growled. “I should have ended Lily’s life and allowed you to come to me.”

  Blade drawn, Zafre thrust at Argan in the small space, but Argan’s body—honed after centuries of battle—reacted without thought. He dodged the blow and welcomed the killing edge that filled his blood.

  Zafre struck again, this time catching Argan across the chest, but he did not feel a hint of pain with the wound. He used his opponent’s momentum against him and kicked the back of Zafre’s leg, sending him to a knee. This gave Argan just enough time to draw his own blade. He brought it down on Zafre but the other Preor raised his weapon and blocked the strike. They stared at each other across the deadly blades. Smoke furled from their mouths as they glared daggers at each other.

  Pure hatred crackled like fire in Zafre, but Argan struggled with a much direr fury. The thought of Zafre touching Lily sent his protective instincts screaming throughout his body, and it took every ounce of will not to fly into a killing frenzy. He ached to release his dragon and dine on the other male. He did not care if they were in a tight space and he did not care if it would see him killed.

  “You were not punished harshly enough, Argan,” Zafre hissed. “My brother was returned to Preor for offending the war master and yet you are granted freedom and a mate? You, who threatened the life of the engineering master! You are the war master’s pet—”

  Though their blades remained locked, Argan twisted and bent, bringing his knee up to collide with Zafre’s jaw. The sharp crack made the Preor’s teeth smash together and Zafre stumbled back, collapsing to the grated floor. His dragon roared that he should end the threat to their mate now, but he did not kill his enemy.

  “Rise!” Argan ordered. “Battle like a true warrior if you have the strength.”

  Zafre sprang to his feet, sword swinging toward Argan. The transport’s doors parted and Argan took advantage of the extra space they now had. He sidestepped Zafre’s strike and parried it, easing out of the transport and onto the bridge. Officers and warriors gasped and cleared away from the transport as the two Preor spilled out, blades clashing.

  Zafre grinned and stabbed at him once more, the joy in the male’s expression unmistakable. That was the moment Argan realized he had left the male an opening, the opportunity to wound him—possibly end him. He tensed and struggled to guard himself, demanding his body move quicker to save himself before Zafre’s blade was buried in his flesh. He gritted his teeth and changed position, time slowing as that deadly, sharpened metal moved ever nearer.

  Only for him to discover he had not quite moved quickly enough. Zafre’s sword would delve deeply into the opening he left behind and… And a shower of blue sparks coupled with a pale shimmer materialized out of nothing.

  A shield—one of Penelope’s. The hologram soon flickered into sight, and the glowing wave receded from around Argan—leaving only Zafre encased.

  “That’s enough,” Penelope spoke to Argan and Zafre both, and while Argan’s dragon raged in his mind, Zafre shouted his displeasure. He roared and snarled, beating at the shield holding him captive. Penelope tipped her head to the side, and with a blink, Zafre’s words no longer polluted the bridge. “And that’s enough talking about of you, thankyouverymuch.” The hologram turned to Argan. “You were perfect, Argan.”

  Argan was sure his acting was poor, but he kept his mouth shut, simply nodding.

  The bridge vibrated, deep, heavy thuds announcing the arrival of someone new, and Argan glanced over his shoulder to spy War Master Taulan drawing near.

  “Let him speak, Penelope.” Taulan waved at Zafre. “I would hear his words.”

  Penelope sighed but did as the war master asked.

  “What is this?” Zafre bellowed into the quiet bridge.

  “Your arrest, Zafre.” Taulan descended a short set of steps to approach them. “The transports are monitored and you spoke your damning confession before attacking a warrior. Explain yourself.”

  “You protect him?” Zafre pointed a finger at Argan. “He makes a mockery of Preor mating. I did our race a favor by trying to eliminate the human.”


  “I will pain the shores of Earth with your blood,” Argan snarled and bared his fangs, struggling to hold back his beast when he thirsted for Zafre’s blood.

  “Argan,” Penelope murmured, her tone edged with a hint of warning, and he forced himself to settle. Losing control would harm Lily. He must remember to remain calm.

  “This is injustice,” Zafre growled. “My brother languishes on Preor and you protect this… this ‘Bara? He is not worthy.”

  “I have heard enough.” Taulan sighed and frowned. “We may review your brother’s case, Zafre, but you will receive no such leniency.” Taulan looked to a handful of nearby guards. “Take him to the cells.”

  “Now that that’s handled.” Penelope tucked her hands in her pockets. “Two healers with a portable ryaapir unit are on their way.”

  Argan frowned and glanced around, searching for anyone who had been injured. “Why?”

  Penelope quirked an eyebrow, her lips twitching. “Because someone hasn’t sparred in close quarters recently and has a boo-boo.”

  Close quarters? Boo-boo?

  Argan finally turned his attention to himself and stared down his body, gaze caught on his chest. His chest was covered by a curtain of blood that made its way down his front. Ah. He knew there must be a reason he felt lightheaded.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Argan curled his lip, baring his fangs at the healers who held him captive. Their hands pinned him to the portable ryaapir unit, forcing him to remain in place while they transported him to medical.

  “I can walk.” He flexed and struggled against their hold.

  “This is standard procedure, warrior.” One of the healers spoke as they maneuvered him into medical. This place was all too familiar to Argan now and his instincts urged him to resist entering the space. No self-respecting Preor allowed himself to become known to the healers. If they did, it meant they were weak or sickly and needed constant attention.