by Celia Kyle
Delaney blinked her eyes a few times more, bringing her surroundings into focus—smooth metal walls, metallic flooring, and a datapad that displayed medical history. Hers?
She pulled her attention away, eyes dancing over the rest of the space, the hints that she’d been brought to a medical facility. And through her search, her attention finally fell on the man—male since he had peach-hued wings on his back—holding her.
A male whose dark eyes and peach scales seemed familiar.
The eyes, the wings, the scales… Piece by piece she put the blurred puzzle together in her mind.
He was… She fought for the memory, the truth she should know but had somehow lost when she’d passed out. It was right there, dancing in and out of reach—close enough to see, but too far to grasp.
The eyes, the wings, the scales… Her attention dropped to his chest, to the straps that crisscrossed his pecs. One strap for honors, the other for station—both made from katoth as were his pants. It was a Preor warrior’s uniform and what they most often wore even when not on duty.
More came to her then, filtering through the fog to suffuse her mind. She identified the symbols, learning that a defense master held her in his grasp. A defense master with peach coloring who’d been the one to—
Blood. Pain. Death.
“You,” she rasped, her throat sore from the scream.
“Me.” His deep voice rumbled through the air, the vibrations erasing some of the pulsating fear in her blood.
She knew those eyes. She knew that voice. She knew his coloring and what he’d look like when he shifted into his dragon form—two hundred tons of deadly beast that ripped out her throat.
Wait. She shook her head. She was still breathing, still alive, so he couldn’t have ripped out hers. Right? She wasn’t sure anymore and now her head throbbed. She pulled her arm to get free of his gentle grasp only to come up short when she realized it wasn’t just him that held her captive. She was tied to the bed.
Medical platform—ryaapir unit.
The words drifted through her mind, but she wasn’t sure where they came from. They were from her and yet not. She wasn’t sure how that could be, but it was true.
“I need…” She needed something.
“What you need—“ A familiar shrill voice pierced the air, one she’d recognize anywhere.
The male holding her turned his head and opened his mouth, a long, slow hiss escaping his lips. “Silence.”
Delaney jolted, violent images flooding her, pushing aside any thoughts that attempted to remain. She knew that voice, that exact tone, and the fact that it was a pre-cursor to emotional brutality.
When the Preor warrior refocused on her, his face had changed, angles sharpening and peach glittering across his cheeks. He appeared more like his inner dragon. Like the male who’d…
“You killed me,” she whispered. Knowledge that the dreams—nightmares—might not have been imaginary overwhelmed her. “You-you-you…” He reached for her and Delany yanked against her bindings. His face paled while words continued to trip off her tongue. “You ripped out my throat and I fell and the water…”
Pain filled his eyes. “I would never, shaa—“
He didn’t say the rest of the endearment, but Delaney’s mind supplied it for him.
Kouva. Beloved. Shaa kouva. My beloved.
She knew that because she experienced the Knowing. Her stomach rolled, unease joining her panic. She knew of the Knowing because this male was her mate.
Or was he?
That weird thing tried to push forward and supply her with answers, but it was too much for her mind to comprehend. Too much too quick and it all collided to turn her thoughts into living, swirling nightmares of fear and pain.
The other one was her mate but this one was her mate, and somehow she felt connected to two. Yet how was she alive if she’d been killed?
A wave of dizziness rolled through her and Delaney dropped her head back onto the pillow that cradled her skull, sinking into the comforting surface. It felt as if the room spun, swirling round and round, dragging her deeper toward unconsciousness once more. She wasn’t ready to leave this twisted version of the world. She needed to figure out what the hell was going on.
“You’re killing her!” That screech again, enough to pierce the lowering veil of darkness. “Winston! He’s killing her!”
Delaney stirred with a turn of her head and she met her mother’s stare from across the room. Her mother—the one person who was supposed to love her unconditionally.
Right. She nearly snorted. Nearly simply because she knew actual snorting was unbecoming of a Cole. So many things were unbecoming of a Cole. Including finding herself in a “delicate condition.” Delaney obviously wasn’t that delicate since she’d survived… something.
The loss of a mate and location of a new mate.
That-that-that Knowing thing again. She shuddered, the feeling of knowledge in her head—knowledge she shouldn’t have—unnerving her.
“Oooh,” the click and clack of high heels on metal followed the cooing sound. “My poor, poor baby.” The stench of her mother’s flowery perfume filled her nose, like an invisible dump truck of faux flowers bowling over her. “We won’t let them hurt you. We’ll take you—“
Claw-like fingers reached for her, wrinkles covering the aged digits—it’d been too long since she’d had work done—with perfectly manicured nails tipping each one. Her mother’s hand. How many times had Delaney experienced her mother’s “loving” touch?
She jerked her head aside, pulling just out of reach. “No.”
One word. The only word she could get past her lips. She wasn’t sure who scared her more—her mother or the peach Preor.
“Oh,” her mother cooed again. “You poor, poor soul. Mommy will—“
She actually did snort at that—ignoring her mother’s stare. She had never wanted to be Mommy. Ever. “Just stop.”
The more she moved and spoke, the better she felt, her strength returning with each passing second she remained awake.
“Just stop,” she repeated herself, just in case the woman didn’t catch it the first time. “Don’t pretend. Not for me.” Delaney scanned the room, trying to identify the others. She spied two additional Preor beyond the one that stood so close. The reason for her mother’s pretty show. “Don’t pretend for them.”
“Delaney Collins Cole,” her mother snapped, fire in her eyes. That was the mother she grew up with. “Winston, do you hear your daughter?”
Winston Cole—her father—stepped forward. He’d never been Dad or Daddy. Nope, only Father. He’d also never told the truth a day in his life. Even then, he adopted a familiar smile, one that said “trust me with everything you own, I won’t let you down.” If others only knew.
“Now, buttercup,” her father murmured, his hand coming to rest on her mother’s waist. Ah, they were touching each other. Interesting. Delaney couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen them share even the slightest bit of affection. “She’s been through an ordeal. We can’t expect her to remember her manners just yet.”
An ordeal?
Manners?
Delaney squeezed her eyes shut, blocking her surroundings from view. Instead, she focused on herself. Hell, she even let the weird Knowing thing sneak in a little info. Unfortunately, other than confirming the peach Preor was her mate and that what whirled through her mind was her ex-mate’s death, it didn’t have much.
Her gut clenched and mouth flooded with saliva. Had the peach Preor murdered her other mate so he could have her? The new fear made her lips dry and heart pound, growing terror suffusing her blood.
“We’ll just get her on home and all will be well.” Her father chuckled, whole body jiggling with the laugh. He’d actually practiced that move, shaking his body a little like how he imagined Santa Claus would. No one could get mad at Santa, right?
Ignoring her parents, she focused on the peach Preor, eyes solely locked with his. “I need…”
>
“Anything,” his reply was instant.
“Let me free?” She needed her body to be her own again. She needed to be able to run and hide if…
If they got her.
The Preor’s hands immediately went to her bindings, fingers adeptly granting her freedom. First one wrist was released and the rest of her bindings soon followed. Once she was free, she pushed herself upright. She propped her weight on one hand while the other clutched her rounded stomach, her baby shifting inside her.
Her baby. The reason she’d run from her home and gone to the Preor in the first place.
Another male stepped forward, moving into her father’s path, and the Knowing told her his robes were that of a healing master. A master of his craft. One of the highest ranks for a Preor healer.
“What’s your name?” She looked to the peach Preor. She had to know the identity of the male who’d killed her mate. How could he do such a thing and then actually be her mate as well?
“Zadri sen Syh, Defense Master of the Preor Third Fleet.”
The air whooshed from Delaney’s lungs. sen Syh. Son of Syh. An orphan without a name, abandoned at an age when he didn’t even know his family.
She cupped the roundness of her full belly, baby moving beneath her palm. Abandoned. How could anyone abandon a baby?
The Knowing tried to tell her that Preor babies were called dragonlets, but she ignored it once more. Something about his words niggled her mind, the confusion of everything swirling around her making her thoughts sluggish and disjointed.
“Zadri joi…”
He was hers, wasn’t he? But he’d killed the other one so did that mean they weren’t…
She rubbed her forehead and pinched the bridge of her nose, fighting off a headache that seemed determined to make itself known.
The Knowing supplied the appropriate rulings about their situation. No matter the perceived crime, Zadri was her mate—their remaining connection and presence of the Knowing proving that fact.
“Zadri joi Delaney Cole,” she whispered the words and he froze, becoming an immovable statue. She met his stare, repeating herself with a strength she didn’t feel. Didn’t, but did, but didn’t… “Zadri joi Delaney Cole.”
Hope filled his expression, eyes going wide while his breath caught. “Delaney joi—“
“You can’t keep me from my only child. You wouldn’t deny a mother her… What do you people call them? Offspring? You wouldn’t deny a mother her very own offspring, would you?” That sugary sweetness only came out when her mother thought she was close to getting her way. It was that extra push over the edge that usually secured the outcome she desired.
“Give it up, Mom,” Delaney sneered and shifted position so that her legs dangled off the edge of the bed. “I’m not buying the act even if they are.”
Her mother gasped, hand flying to her chest, and Delaney imagined her clutching a set of imaginary pearls. “Delaney Collins Cole! Winston!”
“Now, Delly-girl…” Her father was laying it on thick. He usually only whipped out a good “Delly-girl” when the Cole Pharma publicist rode him about his poor image in the media. And appearances were a big deal when it came to the president of the largest pharmaceutical company on Earth.
If the memories plaguing her were true, the media was probably all over this story and her father needed to put on the show of his life.
“Don’t.” She shook her head and held out a hand to stave him off. She didn’t want him anywhere near her. “Don’t touch me. Don’t come near me.”
Her father jolted, freezing in place while his expression shifted to bland nothingness. He wasn’t usually the one who had to cry or look caring—that was her mother’s job—so he didn’t have either of those expressions in his repertoire.
“Oh, Delaney, how could you be so mean?” her mother gasped, pushing forward as well, and she eased closer to the large Preor—Zadri.
“Me? Mean?” Delaney stayed in place, the distance between her and Zadri no more than a handful of inches. “I was…” she placed both of her hands on her belly. “I am five months pregnant and you…” Tears stung her eyes, her mother’s demand and her father’s agreement still fresh. “You ordered me to—“
Her head pounded, pulse throbbing so hard black spots filled her vision with every beat. Pressure grew, wrapping around her skull and squeezing. Her face flushed, an odd heat filling her cheeks before spreading to stretch through her body. A new dizziness overwhelmed her and she swayed where she sat, reaching out for Zadri on instinct. Even though those bloody images plagued her mind, the desire to trust him was even greater.
He gently grabbed Delaney, large hands cradling her shoulders as he stepped closer. She leaned into his body, so overwhelmed by the odd pressure and pains. She rested her head on his chest, his skin almost cool where they touched, and she sighed with that hint of cold.
“Delaney?” Zadri murmured her name and gave her a gentle shake.
She moaned in response, words hard to form on her tongue. She just needed a minute…
His tone turned urgent, his touch not-so-gentle. “Delaney?”
Another moan, the rush easing only slightly with the room’s silence.
“Chashan!” Zadri’s voice was hardly more than an animalistic snarl, but she was able to discern the single word.
Other hands were there, touches that burned instead of soothed, and the Knowing fed her more information. She hadn’t fully mated Zadri so the feel of other males was painful. Once they came together, joined their bodies, she’d be able to interact with males. Until then… She hissed when Chashan’s fingers brushed her neck, trembling as Zadri’s threatening growl then filled the room.
“The pressure of her blood is too high.” Chashan’s explanation was a lot longer than a human’s, but the message was the same—Delaney suffered from high blood pressure. She hadn’t before she’d gotten pregnant, but now that she had a bun in the oven… yeah.
“What does she require?” Anxiety filled Zadri’s tone and if she wasn’t still a little bit afraid of him she would be touched by his worry.
“Quiet. Removal of stress.” Chashan’s response was immediate though he kept his voice low.
Delaney followed up the order with one of her own. “Get rid of my parents.”
“Done.” Zadri’s snarl sounded more like a threat than a promise but she’d take what she could get at that point. She’d take just about anything if it meant getting their soulless, hateful bodies away from her—from her baby.
Just about anything.
3
The doors to medical finally slid shut, cutting off the screeching sounds of Delaney’s dam and the loud bellows of her sire. Even Chashan vacated after giving Delaney a hypo of medication meant to ease the pressure of her blood. Zadri had never heard of such a thing, but he did not doubt the healing master’s words. His mate—mate—did not look well. Her pale face was flushed pink, her eyes glazed and breathing rough. She trembled, small shakes racking her body, and he ached to embrace her fully—give whatever comfort he could provide.
The loving endearment shared between mates still tickled the tip of his tongue, threatening to flow past his lips like a burst of flame. Shaa kouva. Now he did not doubt that she’d felt the connection in return, recognized his change in status from sen Syh to joi Delaney Cole.
And the Knowing. By the skies, the Knowing. He did not know how—or why—the skies had blessed him with Delaney, but he would not reject her. Her or the dragonlet she carried.
He did not move for several moments, enjoying the feel of her shoulders beneath his palms, the slight heat that came from her flesh, and the delicate notes of her scent as they filled his nose. She shuddered, entire body trembling, and he tensed. If she worsened, he would fetch Chashan no matter how much he wished to be alone with her.
“Delaney?” he kept his voice low, unsure how to proceed with a female. He had not been around many when he resided with other children of Syh. None once he was ejected from
their care. “Are you well?”
She sighed and let her head drop forward, hair forming a curtain and shielding her from his gaze. “Peachy.”
He mouthed the word, sounding it out while searching for the definition. The Knowing provided some human information, but it was sluggish since it came secondhand from his mate. All he was able to discern was that the name for the color peach was derived from an Earth fruit. “You are not a fruit.”
Delaney twitched and jerked back to give him a frown. “Huh?”
“You said you were peachy.” He shrugged and then tilted his head to the side, unsure why his statement did not seem to translate. “You are not a fruit. You are human.” He narrowed his eyes, a new suspicion creeping into his mind. “Does the pressure in your blood cause confusion? Should I fetch Chashan?” No, an honorable, worthy mate would not ask if the healing master needed to be located. He would be an honorable, worthy mate. He nodded to himself, choice made. He would simply drag the male to his mate’s side. “I will fetch Chashan.”
Zadri spun and took one step toward the room’s entrance, mouth already open to bellow at the old dry scale. Until a soft tickle teased the flight line on his right wing, the tentative caress of warm fingers on scales. The touch nearly sent him collapsing to his knees. It was not merely the physical connection to his mate, but where she’d chosen to stroke him.
His cock hardened until he thought it’d tear through the katoth pants, long and aching for the female at his back. He wanted to sink into her, claim her, take her.
“Shaa,” he cleared his throat. “Delaney,” he rasped. “Please do not…”
She withdrew and he nearly whimpered like a lonely dragonlet for his dam. It’d been such a tentative caress yet he missed it greatly already.
“Sorry,” she whispered the apology and he cursed himself for being such a bumbling male. “I didn’t mean—“
Zadri was an idiot. He believed that was the correct term for someone no longer in possession of his mind. He turned once more, facing Delaney, and reached for her hands. The volume of her screams still rang in his ears, but there were no tears or further scents of fear in the air. When the fear had gripped her tightest, she had not demanded he leave as well. Perhaps it was not as great as he feared.
