The Dragon Protector

by Noah Harris

  “It didn’t take him all that long to warm up to me,” Ronnie said, hoping she’d confirm some of his theories. It was starting to feel strange, this fated mates thing. Did Jack only like him because his dragon felt some inescapable draw? Was that the only foundation of their relationship?

  “Well, that would be because you opened up to him, even if you didn’t realize it. We were all a bit concerned you wouldn’t be up to the challenge, no matter how beautiful Jack is, or how devoted and protective he can be, we were worried his natural defenses, his walls, would keep you out. And not just on his terms. We worried you might not take to him. But we were wrong. The sparks between you, the pheromones, the whole thing was so obvious to me when Frankie J and Fiona told me about you two.”

  “But does that mean…does that mean he only likes me because he’s…he’s supposed to?” he felt childish asking it, and it sounded juvenile coming out of his mouth, but Clara sighed understandingly as if she dealt with this question often. He wondered…

  “Fated mates are not two people who have been shoved together based upon lust. They are individuals who complete one another. He does not love you because you are his fated mate; you are his fated mate because he loves you. It is more complicated than that simple phrase, but I think it sounds nice.” Ronnie looked down at his empty tea again and nodded, feeling a keen sense of relief. Clara chuckled, and he looked up at her.

  “What?”

  “The look of relief on your face. Humans. So interesting.” He laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck, and she sipped her tea. “Anyway, I knew you’d make him work for it, I didn’t think you’d shoot him, but you can’t plan everything. So, the question now…tea?” Ronnie nodded and leaned forward holding out his teacup, and he noticed her nostrils flare like she was scenting the air while she poured the steaming water in his cup and then dropped in a steeper.

  “Um, thank you,” he said, scooting backward in his chair. Was she sniffing him? Jack and Portia hid their identities well, but this woman…she didn’t care who knew. It was a shock to his system when he’d already begun to accept the reality of dragons and their world. He hadn’t been expecting someone so dragon-like. She hummed and drank her tea as he did, watching him with a strange, triumphant smile on her face. He avoided her eyes as she stared at him, and then she placed her cup down with a clink.

  “I shall try not to be too vindicated, of course…but I want you to know that you are pregnant.” Ronnie froze, staring at her over his cup. “And the lack of surprise on your face tells me a great deal!” she laughed, sounding younger than she had this entire meeting. Or maybe this was how she always sounded, maybe her grief and regret over Jack made her seem older, weathered. “So, the second question, are you ready for any of this?”

  “I…” he paused, thinking, what had he said to Jack, last night, in their moment of passion? I know you said that humans can’t sense it…but I felt like I could, ever since we met. Ronnie thought about first meeting Jack, the spark that had run up his arm from Jack’s touch, the immediate draw he’d felt. Clara was watching him, a pleased smile on her face. “I think I’ve been ready since I first met him. He wasn’t, but I was. And if I’d known I could be with Jack in this way, that it was all fate and there was no reason to worry…I think I would’ve been ready even sooner to take the first step.” Clara’s smile spread and her sharp teeth glinted at him, but he found he wasn’t afraid. In fact, he was sure she was happier than she’d been in a long time.

  There was a knock on the door not a moment later, and Clara cleared her throat and looked toward it. Ronnie turned around in his chair as she called for whoever was knocking to come in, and the door swung open. There, white as a sheet, her long hair hanging behind her, her pale green eyes looking gray and ghostly, Portia stood with her phone in her trembling hands.

  “Grandma,” she whimpered. Ronnie jumped to his feet, but Clara beat him to Portia with a speed he hadn’t known she possessed. Like lightning had struck her there, she was at Portia’s side, holding her shoulders firmly.

  “What happened, my dear?” she asked seriously, guiding her into the room and sitting her down. Ronnie sat back down in his chair and leaned toward her. He wasn’t sure if it was the knowledge that he was pregnant with Portia’s future sibling, or just the affection he’d had for her from day one, but his stomach was roiling with worry.

  “I-I was out with Mom and Fiona and…and we were just a few blocks away, at the festival. Mom was talking to Konrad, and…and I saw him, and I took a picture because I couldn’t believe it was him.”

  “Who, Poe?” Ronnie asked, reaching out to touch her hand. She raised her phantom eyes to his and blinked a few tears.

  “T-Travis. Travis Caulfield.”

  “On Drake Street? I don’t know if…” he trailed off disbelievingly. Then she showed him her phone, and he shook his head. It was Travis. Travis, looking pale and secretive, one arm in a sling. Ronnie stared at the photo and then back up at Portia. “So he’s on Drake Street…” he murmured, something niggling in the back of his mind, unreachable. “What does that matter?”

  “I showed it to Mom because…because I was excited, you know, he’s one of you, I thought you might be excited,” she said, her words now coming out in a rush. “And she said that he looked like the height of the guy that broke onto the property. And he was dressed in the same clothes. And then we came home, and I showed it to Dad. And he said…he said he dropped the gunman on his side from the air and broke his arm.” Ronnie stared at her and then dropped his eyes to her phone, looking at the cast on Travis’ arm.

  “That could…that could just be a coincidence,” he said shakily, but she shook her head.

  “Ronnie, remember you called him, and texted him, just like you called everyone else. And he never answered. But he’s here.”

  The three of them rushed down the stairs into the kitchen, where Jack and Frankie J were both typing away on a laptop and a tablet, respectively. Ronnie saw they were scanning street cameras.

  “Is it Travis?” he asked, and they both jerked away from their focus and looked at him. Jack rushed to his side and grabbed his arm, looking down at him gravely. “Has it been him, this whole time?”

  “It’s…it’s looking like it was him, Ronnie. It’s all lining up,” Jack said slowly, trying to lessen the blow. Ronnie nodded joltingly, looking around at them all. He felt his stomach drop and roll away from him across the marble floor. He thought about Travis, young, annoying and flighty, desperate to spend time with him and Lucy, asking them why they were leaving Perry, why they seemed so angry. Ronnie thought about Travis’ anger, so similar to his own, self-destructive, so explosive that the blast harmed everyone around him.

  “Well,” he said slowly, struggling to swallow. “Then it’s all my fault.”

  “What do you mean?” Frankie asked, putting down her tablet.

  “He’s doing this because we sold him out. Lucy and me, we left Perry. We left Travis with Perry. Perry must’ve been doing the same thing to Travis all these years.”

  “That’s not your fault, Ronnie,” Jack said angrily, and Ronnie looked up at him earnestly and nodded, feeling his throat burning from unshed tears.

  “If I’d come out about Perry earlier, he wouldn’t have been able to hurt Travis, too. He’s been taking out his pain on Lucy and me because we left him alone, we sold him out. We moved on and left everyone else behind.”

  “Well, that’s all very sad, but he’s still a criminal and we’re going to catch him,” Frankie said intensely, like a promise. Ronnie only shook his head.

  “No. No, I deserved all this. Travis is dealing with all this trauma alone, at least I had Lucy. This was a cry for help.”

  “Ronnie,” Jack began, but Ronnie stepped forward, into the middle of the circle that they had all created around him.

  “We have to find Travis. We have to save him,” he said, and Jack sputtered.

  “Ronnie,” he said again, more insistently. “None
of this is your fault. You didn’t deserve this, and it’s not your job to fix it.”

  “We have to save him from whatever hell Perry’s put him through, whatever has twisted his life up like this. He needs peace, and only I can give it to him.”

  “Well,” Clara said, nodding thoughtfully around at them all and then settling her piercing gaze on Ronnie. He held it, and she smiled. “There’s no better place than Drake Street to save someone.”

  Frenemies

  Jack

  Clara had gone back into her study, satisfied with their plan and feeling she had no other part to play in it. Little did she know, Jack was still feeling murderous over it.

  “Absolutely not, Ronnie,” Jack snapped, and Ronnie rolled his eyes and looked to Frankie J and Fiona for help. They merely shrugged, glancing at one another with amused smiles. He huffed and crossed his arms.

  “So, what’s the other plan, then? If I don’t draw him, how will you get him there?”

  “Ronnie, I’ll fucking pick his ass up and drag him there myself. But you’re not getting anywhere near him until we know he’s unarmed and not dangerous.”

  “He’s not dangerous. He didn’t shoot me in the tunnels, Jack. He’s hurting.”

  “Dad, maybe…”

  “Portia, don’t,” Frankie J hissed, and Portia jutted her bottom lip out and slouched in her chair.

  “People who are hurting do stupid things, Ronnie,” Jack argued, but Ronnie only shook his head.

  “This is the only way.”

  “Jack, I have to interrupt, here,” Fiona said before Jack could lose his temper, he felt it coming. “It really is looking like the only option.”

  “Wait, one second,” Ronnie said, pulling his phone out. Jack leaned over and looked at the screen. Lucy was calling.

  “Why is Lucy calling you?” Jack asked suspiciously, and Ronnie winced.

  “I might have told her what was going on.”

  “Ronnie, you know that compromises the whole thing,” Frankie huffed, but he just answered the phone and put it on speakerphone.

  “Hey, Luce. What’s up?” he asked casually.

  “What’s up? For fuck’s sake, Ronnie. Travis. Scumbag. Well, I’m on my way to the airport. I’m just going to get a ticket for the next flight back,” she said in one breath, and Jack looked at Ronnie in a panic. Ronnie returned the look, his eyes wide.

  “What? Lucy, no, stay where you are. We’re handling this on our side, you don’t need to get involved.”

  “Um, I absolutely do need to get involved. I’ll kick his ass myself!” she shouted, and there was some slamming on her end. Jack took the phone from Ronnie, who was looking helpless.

  “Lucy, it’s me. Do not come here.”

  “Jack? Jackie, hi, darling! I am going to be there this afternoon, can you just wait for me?”

  “Lucy, I said not to come here,” Jack insisted, and there was silence, static, for a few seconds.

  “I just want to be there for Ronnie,” she said, and Jack sighed. Fiona rolled her eyes, but Ronnie smiled affectionally at the phone.

  “You can be there for me without being here, Luce. It’s not safe.”

  “You guys are no fun. Text me,” then she hung up. Everyone looked irritably at Ronnie, who shrugged bashfully.

  “Sorry. I thought it might be important for her to know.” Frankie sighed and nodded.

  “It probably was. Now, here’s what we’re doing. Jack, you’re going to lighten up and let Ronnie lure Travis into the Home’s garden…”

  “J…”

  “Jack, shut up. That is the plan. Fiona and you will tail Ronnie, then Ronnie and Travis, once he starts following Ronnie. Got it?” Fiona nodded confidently, and Jack sucked his cheeks in irritably.

  “Yeah.”

  “Good. I’ll be waiting in the garden to apprehend him. Simple plan.”

  “What can I do?” Portia interjected, leaning forward on her barstool. Frankie gave her a withering look.

  “Nothing. You can stay here with Clara.”

  “Mom!”

  “No, Portia!” Frankie snapped back, and Portia looked imploringly up at Jack. He considered her for a moment, just to make her feel better. “Jack,” Frankie warned, and Jack waved her off.

  “I know. Portia, you’re staying here. End of discussion.” Portia groaned loudly and slid off her stool, stomping out of the room. They listened to her slam her way up the stairs and into her bedroom.

  “So, that’s it. Ronnie, are you sure about this?” Fiona said, walking over to him and grasping his arm. Ronnie nodded, looking determined. Jack rubbed his face and walked away from them, wandering into the lobby. He couldn’t believe he was the only one against this. How could they put Ronnie in danger like this? It was unnecessary, it was terrifying. He was never scared, but right now, he felt light-headed with it.

  “Jack?” He stopped his pacing to see Ronnie walking toward him apprehensively. “I’m not trying to upset you,” he said, and Jack sighed heavily and looked down at the floor.

  “I know. I just…I don’t like this plan. Usually, I’m up for anything, but this…”

  “I’m scared, too. But I need to do this,” Ronnie said, closing the distance between them and putting his palms on Jack’s chest. He felt a calm energy spread beneath them, and he took a deep breath.

  “I-I know you do. And I’ll let you. But I’m not going to let it go so far that you get hurt. You have to understand that.”

  “I understand. It won’t go that far. I know Travis. He’s just in pain.” Jack chewed his lip and put his hands in the air, then let them drop to Ronnie’s shoulders.

  “Fine. I’ll stop complaining. But I will kill him if he tries anything, so you should be aware of that.”

  “I’d expect nothing less,” Ronnie smiled, leaning up and kissing him softly.

  “Eww, guys,” Portia’s voice floated down the stairs, and they broke apart to see her standing at the top, leaning over the banister. Ronnie laughed and flushed, and Jack glared playfully at her.

  “I thought we sent you to your room, Poe?”

  “All set on your end?” Jack murmured, scanning the crowd. Without even looking, Jack could mark Ronnie, that sweet tang of citrus and the earthiness of pistachios, the headiness of his pregnancy floating around him like a perfume. He was standing at a stall that was selling CD’s and blasting a sample of the ethereal music from a small boombox. Jack recognized the man standing beside it, Konrad, one of the other dragons, mate. He was thin and willowy, with a crop of black hair and gapped teeth that revealed themselves whenever he smiled easily at Ronnie. Jack knew he should’ve been watching for Travis, but he couldn’t take his eyes off Ronnie, how easily he mingled with people, how simple it would be for him to mesh with the group and make friends with the other omegas. His dragon puffed its chest proudly as he watched Ronnie coo over the other man’s child.

  “This is Aiden,” Jack heard the man say with a noticeable accent. Irish?

  “She’s beautiful. Silver hair,” Ronnie said with delight, and the little girl reached out for him. Jack could see, in his mind’s eye, them having a little girl with Ronnie’s freckles and his dark hair, or perhaps with Ronnie’s red hair and Jack and Portia’s smoky green eyes.

  “All set,” Frankie said sharply over the headset, or maybe it just sounded sharp because he’d been distracted. He cleared his throat reflexively and looked around again.

  “Good here, haven’t seen him yet,” Fiona said more quietly, and he tapped his earpiece.

  “Me neither,” Jack replied. The three of them had spread out and mixed into the festival’s crowd so they could try to locate Travis before he reached Ronnie, but just in case they couldn’t Jack’s dragon paced anxiously, its nostrils steaming, Ronnie was the bait. The plan was that he would wander around the festival, make himself known, talk to people and eventually, hopefully, Travis would see him. If all worked out, he’d begin tailing Ronnie, and Jack would begin tailing him, all the way to the Dr
ake Street Home.

  Jack continued examining the crowd, looking for Travis. Ronnie was holding the child, letting her tug on his nose. Jack watched them for a moment, his chest warming at the sight. The child clapped, sparks flying from her hands, and the man laughed loudly and took her out of Ronnie’s arms. Ronnie was watching the child in awe.

  “I get so nervous, still, when she does that in public. I always forget how oblivious we humans are,” the man said, bouncing the child. Ronnie absently wrapped his arms around his stomach, and Jack felt a thrill of excitement pass through his body; then one of crippling anxiety. The plan. What if it went wrong? Then Ronnie said good-bye to them and was walking through the mob of people, slipping around and through groups. Jack put it out of his mind and followed, sticking to the sidewalks and the sides of the buildings.

  Suddenly Jack saw it, someone in a black hood walking behind Ronnie, seeming to mirror his movements and the direction he walked in. Ronnie stopped abruptly at another stand that sold stained-glass artwork and then subtly looked around him. Jack saw him spot Travis, but his face remained inscrutable, a broad smile directed at everyone he looked at.

  Jack’s palms were slick as he watched Travis gravitate toward Ronnie. Would he try something here, now, in the middle of the crowd? Did he have a knife? A gun? Was he willing to hurt others, strangers, in the process? Ronnie took off again, stretching his arm in the air and pretending to wave at someone. The signal. Jack stepped into the flow of the crowd, raising his hand to his ear.

  “Spotted, walking back.” Ronnie led them through the crowd, weaving through the masses. Travis followed him far too closely, almost close enough to touch him. Jack sped up and watched him carefully, ready to pounce. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Fiona looking like a drowned ghost with her wavy green hair shimmering down her back, following Travis like a shadow. They followed Ronnie and Travis all the way to the end of the street on the corner, to a well taken care of building with a small, tidy garden in front. Ronnie walked through the gates and Travis hesitated, looking up at it.