The Dragon Protector

by Noah Harris

  Jack stared at him like he was in a trance, this was how it felt. Like he’d been waiting his entire life for this, to feel like a man, a human, someone desperately desired and loved. He leaned down and kissed Ronnie hard, feeling like this was the beginning as his dragon roared.

  Clara Anaheim

  Ronnie

  The darkness of Jack’s bedroom was cooling and quieting, but even though Ronnie kept his eyes shut as he listened to Jack’s slow breathing next to him, he couldn’t fall back asleep. His mind was running wild with questions for Jack, but he didn’t want to wake him up. He looked so peaceful sleeping beside him, his shaggy hair splayed on the pillow, his eyes fluttering.

  Bzz. Bzz. Ronnie sat up slightly, noticing Jack’s phone lighting up. Well, looks like he’d have to wake him up, after all.

  “Jack,” he whispered, shaking his beefy shoulder slightly. His skin was soft, and Ronnie bit his lip happily before eyeing the phone again, it was still vibrating urgently. “Jack, your phone.” Jack rolled toward him and squinted at him.

  “Who?”

  “Fiona,” he answered, and Jack groaned. He kissed him lightly, giving Ronnie a thrill down to his toes and then rolled over again and picked up his phone. Was this his life, now? Ronnie could hear Fiona’s voice over the phone, sounding shrill.

  “Are you guys fucking alive? Are you kidding me, Jack?” He rolled his eyes, and Ronnie stifled a laugh.

  “Fiona, we’re fine. I beat the guy up a little bit, and he ran. I don’t think he’ll be coming back.”

  “How do you know that?” she asked, snarky.

  “Because I shifted and scared the shit out of him. If he’s still on the grounds, it’s because he can’t walk.” Fiona sighed irritably over the phone.

  “Did you guys just wake up?” she asked, and Jack glanced at Ronnie, who shrugged with a grin. Go ahead. “Late night, huh, Jack?”

  “Yeah, you could say that,” he laughed, and Ronnie buried his face in Jack’s shoulder, laughing. She snickered over the phone, and he hung up on her, tossing his phone on the bed and rolling back over to envelop Ronnie like a cocoon. “Sleep well?”

  “Yeah,” Ronnie answered, smiling up at him.

  “Me too. I haven’t slept that well in a while, actually,” he admitted.

  “Must be because I’m here,” Ronnie said knowingly, and Jack chuckled.

  “Yeah, must be,” he sighed sleepily and closed his eyes again, and Ronnie watched him fall back into a semi-conscious rest, thinking about the night before.

  He was sore all over, confirming that it had been as earth-shattering as he’d remembered; although waking up next to a naked Jack was a close second. Jack, a dragon. A huge, well-endowed, sweet when he needed to be, dragon.

  “I think we need to talk about something,” Jack said, his eyes still closed. Ronnie nearly jumped when he spoke, and Jack opened one eye with amusement. “You didn’t think I was already asleep, did you?”

  “Maybe,” Ronnie said, curling down farther into the blankets with a sheepish smile. “What do we need to talk about?” Ronnie thought about the phrase for only a moment. In the past, it would’ve made him nervous. Talk about what? But with Jack, he felt only curiosity.

  “Well, I knotted.”

  “I noticed,” Ronnie said, grinning and nuzzling him. Jack cleared his throat and looked down at him. The nervousness returned. “What’s wrong?”

  “Omega shifters go into something called a heat when they’re attracted to an alpha. It’s basically, uh, they get extremely aroused and begin to self-lubricate. There’s almost psychic communication like you can tell what each other is thinking, and it’s, uh, the heat basically increases whatever feelings are there.”

  “Okay,” Ronnie said, shrugging. It sounded familiar, but he wasn’t a shifter.

  “Well, when I was talking about ‘magic’ last night, sometimes, like I said, we can transfer whatever energy we have to our human counterpart. So I think it’s possible you went into heat because we’re mates.”

  “Okay,” Ronnie drawled again. “I’m following, but what are you trying to say?”

  “Right. Well, because you were in heat, and I knotted, it’s possible that, uh, you’re…you could be pregnant. That’s how it works.” Ronnie stared at him for a moment, then rolled onto his back and looked at the cracked ceiling, trying to reconcile the idea.

  He, a man, was pregnant? How did that even work? Was it this magic, that was the simple and not-so-simple explanation? And how would he explain it to Frankie, Jack’s ex-wife and the mother of his child? They might not be together anymore, but she had some kind of… relationship with him, didn’t she? Friends, life and job partners?

  “If it’s unwanted, there are options,” Jack said hesitantly, and Ronnie looked up at him.

  “Is it unwanted?” he asked, finding that he was dreading Jack’s answer. Sure, it was unexpected, and he had no idea what it would entail, and it was much faster than he’d have wanted it to be if he’d known, but…it wasn’t necessarily unwanted. In fact, the more he thought about it, considered a baby, his baby, their baby, it was entirely wanted. He couldn’t think of anything that made him feel warmer or more complete. Jack stuttered and looked at him, clearly struggling to find an answer. Ronnie frowned. “Just tell me.”

  “No. I mean, not for me. But it’s not my decision. It’s your body,” Jack said quickly like he’d been holding the words hostage and suddenly freed them. Ronnie grinned and threw his arms around him nuzzling their cheeks together. He loved the way Jack’s scruffy beard felt on his skin.

  “It’s wanted. It’s totally wanted,” Ronnie assured him, and Jack laughed in relief.

  “Okay,” he said, nodding in wonder. “Okay. Well, it’s not definite, but I’m, um, glad you said that.” Ronnie sighed and touched his arm, still thinking about Frankie.

  “Is she…is Frankie going to be upset?” he asked tentatively, and Jack laughed out loud.

  “No. She’s been telling me to ‘consider’ this…” he gestured between them. “For days. I think she’ll be relieved.”

  “What about Portia?”

  “Portia loves you more than she loves me or Frankie,” Jack began, and Ronnie shushed him.

  “No, she doesn’t. Don’t be silly.”

  “I’m just saying, she’s going to be ecstatic.”

  “I just want to be respectful of your family,” he said doubtfully, and Jack kissed him again. “Which maybe means going up to spend some time with them, not spending the day in bed.”

  When they got up to the kitchen, Frankie was sitting at the counter drinking coffee. Portia was having her daily smoothie and smiled welcomingly when he came in. Frankie eyed Jack knowingly, but he waved her off.

  “Morning, Ronnie,” Frankie said over her coffee, and he smiled awkwardly.

  “You smell different,” Portia said to him, and he glanced at Jack. He’d have to get used to these dragons, apparently, Portia had found out that he knew all about them. She’d never mentioned his scent before.

  “Portia,” Frankie scolded, and then she smiled tightly at Ronnie, who was feeling more and more like Jack had been wrong about her reaction to them. “Ronnie, Clara would like to speak to you in her study. It’s up the stairs and down the left hallway. First door on the right.” Ronnie looked at Jack, heart palpitating, but Jack only shrugged. He walked nervously out into the lobby, Jack close behind, and then stopped, whirling around.

  “Is she going to kill me? What’s she like?” he asked, and Jack shook his head.

  “She’s not going to kill you. She’s a very nice, intense old woman. Just be polite, and you’ll be fine. Fiona’s probably told her about us,” Jack said, a hint of annoyance in his voice. He’d have to get used to this, too; a lack of privacy.

  “Okay,” he said anxiously, and Jack kissed his forehead. He turned around on his heel and started climbing the large marble staircase, the sound of his heels clicking on each step making him paranoid. He navigated the hallways a
nd found the correct door and knocked on it lightly.

  “Come in,” came a voice, scratchy, like the owner had smoked a pack of cigarettes a day for their entire life. It was decidedly feminine, the voice, but still unsettled him. He twisted the burnished gold doorknob and opened the door, stepping inside.

  The room smelled heavily of smoke, but not cigarette smoke. The pleasant scent of bonfires. He looked around, dazzled for a moment by the gold carvings and murals on the ceiling. The floor was made of dark wood, different from the pink marble outside, and Clara, old, withered, gray-haired and yellow-eyed, sat at a writing desk. She finished a letter with a flourish of her feathered pen and folded it up.

  Without a word, she gestured for him to sit on one of the solid wooden chairs opposite her with a jerk of her head and a pointed look of her hawk-like eyes. He did, crossing and uncrossing his legs and arms nervously.

  “There is an art festival, today,” she said vaguely, and he raised his eyebrows in interest.

  “Really? I didn’t know,” he replied, and she hummed absently, nodding.

  “Drake Street loves a festival. Especially after a storm,” she said. “After we have our little chat, I believe Portia has organized a little tour for you, so you two can go shopping. I’ve never understood the term. Shopping for what? In my day, we used to go out shopping when we needed something, not just to pass the time.”

  Ronnie avoided her stern eyes and cleared his throat, nodding. This was torturous. Had she called him up here to lecture him about frivolous financial habits?

  “I understand, though. I do enjoy buying things. I love that girl more than anything in this world,” she said after a few seconds of silence, nodding thoughtfully. Then she smiled at him, her sharp canines poking past her lips. Maybe she’d called him up here to eat him, perhaps he wasn’t as welcome in their little family as Jack had assured him. He steadied his breathing, forcing a smile. “Oh, don’t be so nervous, young man. Would you like some tea?”

  “Uh, sure, yes. I’d love some,” he said, and she nodded, pouring some from an antique teapot with gold veining. He admired it for only a moment, interrupted by her passing him a cup of steaming tea. She sipped her own, watching him with interest. He mirrored her, smiling self-consciously.

  “Hm. Well done,” she said with satisfaction. Ronnie’s eyebrows pinched together, but he quickly smoothed his face, trying to look politely confused.

  “I’m sorry, I…”

  “With Jack, of course.” He gaped at her and then snapped his mouth closed. “You know, Jack’s parents died when he was very, very young. His mother, human, didn’t survive childbirth. And his father, well, Jack was not yet ten when he passed.” Ronnie watched her with astonishment. He hadn’t known any of this, and it explained so much. He felt his heart break for his mate. “I brought him here, took him under my wing. If you’ll excuse my pun,” she said, smiling again with those sharp teeth. He giggled nervously, worried he was going to spill his tea. This was going better than he expected, but he still felt unsettled by her uncanny, witchy appearance.

  “That was very kind of you,” he tried, and she shook her head and waved her hand at him.

  “No, no. Well, it might have been. It did not end up being kind. I was less human back then. I did it as a favor to his father, but…we shifters, we have two beings inside of us. The animal side of us can sometimes reign for longer than we realize. I raised your mate to be a weapon, a guard for my home.” The words your mate sent a thrill through him, but everything else she said seemed to cancel it out.

  The pain he felt for Jack was indescribable. Raised for a purpose, just like him. It was obvious Clara felt immense guilt over it as she swirled the contents of her teacup.

  “Even if people are raised for a purpose, they can become something else. It just takes time,” Ronnie said lightly, leaning forward. She smiled kindly at him, looking more human than before, and nodded.

  “Yes, well, I fear I raised him too harshly, that I took away the part of him that would be able to love,” she paused and put her teacup down. “As he got older, he got darker, harder, more distant. I know, now, that it was my fault.”

  “What about Frankie?” Ronnie asked. “She made him happy, didn’t she? Even if it didn’t work out.” She nodded tiredly.

  “Yes, when Frankie J joined my team, I thought I had found the solution. She was devoted to him from the beginning, she looked up to him, he taught her everything. Fiona was, as well, but Frankie…if anyone could soften his hardened heart, the one I had fossilized, it would be her. When I suggested it to them, they took to it eagerly. Such a good team, those two, and such fine chemistry. I felt like a genius. I’d solved it.” Ronnie watched her sadly, this woman, so formidable to him at first, such a huge part of Jack’s life, was admitting all her guilt and mistakes to him. He couldn’t help but feel bad for her, the way her frown seemed settled into her wrinkles.

  “It wasn’t a complete failure,” Ronnie said softly, and she looked up at him, seeming amused.

  “Ah, yes, Portia. My dear Portia.” She nodded and looked around the room, seeming to gather her thoughts from the air around her. “Jack had grown apart from Frankie J the moment they began trying to conceive. I do not think either of them can pinpoint the moment it went wrong; I can. They were not fated mates. This didn’t bother Frankie J, of course, but for Jack…a dragon’s only desire is to find their fated mate. All shifters feel this. And I had married him off to someone his dragon could not love.”

  “But he still loves Portia,” Ronnie objected, and she nodded.

  “Yes, he does. But for him…I cannot be sure, but I imagine he feels like he failed her. He could not love her mother and give her a proper family. He joined the military to escape us all and took part in an extended service. He refused to come home for years.”

  “He told me he hated the war,” Ronnie said in confusion, thinking about Portia, fatherless, her life split in half. He could understand Jack’s reasons and forgive him, but it still pained him to think about it. Clara smiled sadly at him.

  “I am sure he does, after what he has seen. But for him, perhaps it was better than here.” Ronnie swallowed thickly, staring down at the remnants of the tea leaves at the bottom of his cup. “I wept for my boy, but I also wept for myself, because I knew I had made mistake after mistake. My only redeeming moment was telling them to divorce.”

  “You told them to?” Ronnie asked in shock, and she laughed humorlessly.

  “I did not demand it, no, but I planted the idea in their minds. It was the only way to free both of them and little Portia. Do not judge me so harshly, young man,” she warned, and he cleared his throat and lowered his gaze.

  “I’m sorry,” he said sincerely, and she hummed.

  “Yes. Well, after the divorce, I began searching around Drake Street, in my flight and others, for someone who might have a solution. Someone who could see things I did not, could fix the things I had broken. Frankie J looked, too, for all our sakes. If he’d known we were looking so hard for someone, he would have died of embarrassment and shame. Perhaps left for good. We couldn’t risk it, but we also couldn’t risk him wasting away in those tunnels of his.”

  “Why did you try to set him up again? Why not let him find someone?” Ronnie asked, feeling baffled by the levels of interference this woman had gone to. She sighed, eyeing him warily.

  “I do not think I asked you in here to judge me for my past mistakes, but I suppose that is what I deserve.”

  “I’m not…I’m not trying to judge you,” he backtracked, and she sighed wearily again.

  “I have been making mistakes my entire life. I suppose I thought someone else might be able to fix them for me. I did not want to matchmake again. I wanted it to be natural for him, with just a nudge in the correct direction from his family. Portia was a gift from heaven that none of us regret or would give up, but otherwise, my first plan was a failure. I needed to rethink it.”

  “Who…who fixed it, then?”
he asked, trying to be more careful with how he phrased things. He didn’t want this ancient, sad dragon to take out her frustrations on him.

  “Well, Fiona has been finding him mercenary and bodyguard jobs for years. We have been sending him all over the world, which I know he enjoys, he is very fond of personal space, in an effort for him to possibly find his mate.” Ronnie stared at her, slowly putting the pieces together. She smiled at him, noticing his mind working. “Fiona is a very social person. When she found out you needed help, well, we thought you might be just the person for our Jack.”

  “Me? You knew, all along? You planned this?”

  “Well, of course, I did not. I did not send you those letters, but I did pull some strings to get you to choose Jack as your bodyguard and investigator. A beautiful celebrity in trouble, needing exactly what Jack loves to give, in a package he would certainly appreciate,” she paused, gesturing toward his body. “But, of course, we could not be sure. It was worth a shot. It is possible that you two would not end up being fated mates, and it would be just another job. But Jack…he takes a long time to recognize his desire, his feelings. We needed to push it along, or he’d never find it…you.”

  Ronnie placed his tea down, half-impressed and half-horrified by this woman’s playing with his life. Sure, she wasn’t the source of the threats, but she’d still manipulated his life. But could he be mad at her? If not for her, he never would have met Jack, the man he was fated to be with.

  “Just think about this, some people, even dragons, take a long time to feel. Ask me how I feel, and I will answer you immediately. Ask Portia, she’ll answer you before you finish the question. Ask Jack, or even Frankie J ‘how are you doing?’. And you can expect a wait of thirty minutes or more. As if their emotions are being lifted up from below ground in a dumbwaiter. It’s just how some of us are, it’s not strange. But it is something I took a while to understand. He needed a push, and then he needed some time.” Ronnie paused, thinking about Jack. Sure, at first, he’d be distant and reserved. But it hadn’t taken him very long to start talking to Ronnie and opening up. Or was that simply because they were fated mates?