Rendan (Scifi Alien Dragon Romance) (Dragons of Preor Book 4)

by Celia Kyle

  He could only wait. Wait and suffer through the rolling madness that threatened to overtake him. His mind ached, a pulsating throb in time with his heart.

  How did his mate fare with their separation? How long could they be apart before the Knowing sickness injured them both beyond repair?

  Rendan did not want to find out. Kozav and his human mate Grace had been parted for quite some time, but Grace had recovered. Eventually.

  He would have to hope for “eventually” if his mate truly suffered. He growled low, the sound reverberating through the room and filling the air with his unending rumble. Others would pay if she suffered. He would tear them into—

  A soft whoosh had him spinning, crouched and glaring at the entry. He flexed his claws, fisting his hands and then relaxing them. He was prepared to fight if they dropped the shield. He would battle his way to his mate.

  But the haze did not clear. Instead, two others strode into the room, large Preor males—one who outranked him and should have his respect.

  Rendan had no respect if they would not hand over his blonde female.

  Taulan joi Lana Coburn—the Third Fleet’s War Master—stood on the left. Kozav joi Grace Hall—Primary Warrior—on the right. Both males were impressive in their size, their coloring bright beneath the room’s light. Normally their skin was a deep bronze like all others of their kind yet now their scales shimmered just beneath the surface of their flesh—Taulan purple where Kozav was teal. Their other forms hovered at the edge of breaking free, as if they didn’t trust Rendan to remain in control of himself.

  “Rendan sen Tarkan,” Taulan murmured, and Rendan snarled.

  “Rendan joi…” he shook his head. He did not know her name and that knowledge filled him with disgust. “I have a mate though I do not know her name.” Kozav raised a single brow, disbelief on his features. The male did not accept that Rendan had found his mate, yet was not at her side. Rendan could not help but lash out. “And you kept yours at your side from the moment you met her, Primary Warrior Kozav?”

  That earned him a glare from the male, but Rendan did not care. Kozav could not keep him from his mate, but Taulan… could.

  “Rendan,” Taulan snapped, drawing his attention once more. “What in the skies is wrong with you? Why would you behave in such a way? Has your mind turned to gorsch?”

  No, his mind had not turned to shit.

  But this agitation from Taulan was familiar to him. They’d snarled at each other more than once over the decades, and he knew how to respond to that type of treatment. By meeting it with his own.

  “Me?” He pointed at himself. “I am not the male who injured a female. I am not the male who separated a warrior from his mate.” He sneered, remembering Zadri’s nearness to his mate. Zadri was a good male, but unmated. The peach Preor had been too close to his female for Rendan’s liking. “I am not the male who attacked a Preor quad.”

  Or perhaps he had. It was hard to tell who’d struck first in the hallway. He’d been overwhelmed by pain and need, the two feelings pushing him beyond thought and making his reactions instinctual.

  Both males narrowed their eyes at Rendan, disbelief and suspicion in their gazes.

  “Mate?” That same doubt was in Taulan’s voice. “Where did you find this mate?”

  Rendan hated being questioned, but he would have to answer if he wished to be freed. “In medical. I was brought in after a trial with Ballakin.” He truly disliked the male even if he was the most senior warrior trained in defense on the battleship. This had been the second Trial of Syh he’d endured with the male and Rendan would not be cajoled into a third. Never. He recalled the image of his mate and described her to the two males. “She is small, yet curved. The humans would call her…” he racked his brain for the human word. “They would call her curvy. Her hair is as light as the sun and eyes as blue as the skies.” The scene replayed in his mind. “She was to my left and smelled of sweetness and home.”

  How he wished for a home with her. Somewhere far from other males.

  “That is when the Knowing struck. She stumbled and I heard her moan. Zadri stood near and offered his hand to my mate and I…”

  Could not stand the thought of another touching her.

  Kozav sighed and ran his hand down his face. “Lost your mind.”

  Rendan did not lose it. He embraced it. He’d welcomed the dragon’s heart and together they’d battled all who’d tried to keep him from the female.

  “You frightened her half to death.” Taulan’s grave voice had his chest tightening.

  “Is she…” he rasped. Half to death? Did she still linger on the precipice?

  The Knowing still prodded the back of his mind, feeding him information in wave after wave of data. No, if she no longer breathed, the Knowing would cease. A single Preor could not withstand the heavy weight of their race’s blood history. It was why it only manifested with mates. Together, they could weather anything.

  Rendan shook his head. “No, she is not gone.” He straightened his spine and took a step forward. “I must go to her.”

  “No.” Taulan’s voice was grave and unbending.

  “You cannot keep me from her.”

  “Even if she does not wish to see you?” Kozav’s question nearly sent him to his knees.

  “She does not wish…” But they were mates.

  “You scared her, Rendan. Badly.” The war master’s tone was soft and pitying.

  Rendan had endured enough pity over the years. He did not need more. “But the Knowing…”

  “She admits to experiencing the Knowing,” the primary warrior interjected, “but she is wary of you.”

  Wary of him. “I would never harm her.”

  He would rather take his final flight than harm his mate.

  “We know this.” Taulan tipped his head in acknowledgment, and some of the tightness in his gut eased. They did not believe him a threat to her. Good.

  “Then why am I detained?”

  They both gave him shocked expressions, but Kozav answered. “You nearly took out nine Preor over a misunderstanding, Rendan. You may not be a danger to Carla, but you are to the rest of the crew.”

  Car-lah. That was his mate’s name. Car-lah.

  Rendan joi Carla. Once Rendan sen Tarkan—son of Tarkan—and now joined to a female. Rendan joi Carla. He could not help but repeat his new name. He liked the sound of them linked, the change signifying that they belonged to each other.

  Rendan shrugged. “As long as they do not stand between us, they are not in danger.”

  “That is not enough and we will not risk others because you cannot control yourself.” Taulan’s tone was flat.

  “You cannot keep us apart. It is as good as murder, Taulan.” He dropped the war master’s title. This was an argument Preor to Preor.

  “Agreed. But as I said, she is wary. We will be coming to a compromise that will allow you access to your mate but give her a sense of safety and protection.” Rendan opened his mouth to reject the idea, but Taulan continued. “No objections. You do not have a choice. Whatever is decided—by Carla—will be abided by. She is human.”

  “I know this,” he snarled.

  The Preor had come to Earth in search of human mates, females capable of mating and reproducing with their race. After the Great Conflict and loss of so many females and children, their population diminished year by year. The virus that had decimated so many now hobbled their growth until Earth became their only hope.

  Now several males had mated and Taulan’s mate, Lana, was bearing.

  “And because she is human, and a female Preor mate, her wishes will be granted by the Preor.” Taulan’s tone left no room for argument.

  Rendan’s only hope was that her need to be near him overrode her desire to run in fear because that would… damn them both. “Her choice?”

  “Yet to be determined.” Kozav’s grim voice deflated some of his hope.

  Instead of objecting, ranting, or raving at the males, he simply
nodded. He could do nothing but wait. Wait to hear of his Carla’s decision. “Understood.” Both stared at him, their doubt plain. “I will abide by the choices made.”

  Their reservations remained visible on their features, but both turned and headed for the door, prepared to leave him alone with his growing madness.

  “Wait!” He strode to the very edge of the hazy field. Taulan turned to him, the war master’s eyebrow raised. “Her name.” He swallowed hard, the ache for her name growing by the heartbeat. “What is my mate’s full name?”

  He received another piteous glance. “Carla Butler.”

  Rendan joi Carla Butler. The name filled him with a sense of warmth.

  Carla Butler was his mate and he would not rest until he claimed her.

  4

  On the outside, Preor Tower looked like any other high-rise that lined Tampa’s coast. The tall building with its reflective windows and polished glass didn’t appear to be different. But a closer look revealed removable balcony railings and the occasional gouge in concrete—a random missing corner or a scorched window.

  Those were all things Carla noticed during her passage on a short-flight—a small Preor shuttle—from the battleship orbiting high above Earth’s atmosphere. The tiny ship transported her, along with a Preor warrior quad, to the surface.

  Each Preor was motionless in their seats, no wings ruffling or twitches of muscles to reveal their feelings. They were simply frozen blank slates. She crossed her arms over her chest and stared out the window. Or rather, the ship’s projection of the passing scenery. She watched them descend through the clouds and pass over the large expanse of the Gulf of Mexico. They flew low enough for her to spy a pod of dolphins playing in the sea and she grinned at the sight.

  Yeah, she was heading into a future unknown, but at least she got a glimpse of normalcy before everything collapsed in on her.

  That “everything” was a hundred stories tall, an imposing building of sparkling glass, metal supports and concrete that sliced through Tampa’s sky. It grew larger and larger in the view screen, coming into focus the nearer they drew to the coast.

  They slowed, the ship lining up for a gentle landing. They touched down without a bump as if the landing gear merely kissed the landing pad with the lightest of touches. The warriors were quick to unbuckle themselves, rising from their seats and scattering—some out the back hatch and a couple others out the side. She was left with one yellow warrior, his face scarred with a single jagged line that ran from his right temple to the opposite jaw. A large scar from a killing blow—the Knowing supplied. Inferred based on positioning, depth and angle.

  Someone had tried to kill this sunshine hued Preor. Another supposition came from the Knowing, the assumption that he was injured during the great conflict on Preor.

  A victim of war. War… something she was familiar with—more than she liked.

  A door hissed, the entry to the cockpit sliding open, and a dark green warrior—his wings almost appearing black—stepped forward. He jolted to a stop, his attention flicking to the yellow male and then back to her.

  “Healer Carla joi Rendan Butler? Is something wrong?”

  Now it was her turn to jerk. Carla joi Rendan Butler. She swallowed hard, her stomach rolling and threatening to send her lunch back up. joi. She was joined to a Preor even if they’d never actually met. All she knew was his name and rank—Rendan sen Tarkan, offense master of the Preor Third Fleet.

  Rendan joi Carla, now.

  It struck her then. She was mated, her life had changed, and her future was uncertain. Yes, the events on the ship had happened, but she hadn’t realized the full depth of everything until that very moment.

  “Warrior Argan is to take you to your aah-part-ment. Is that not to your satisfaction?” The green warrior still spoke and she figured the yellow guy had to be Argan.

  “No, everything’s fine. I just wanted to say…” Well, now she felt like an idiot. It probably wasn’t a “thing” Preors did, but her father always had, so… “Thank you.”

  The green warrior frowned. “I do not understand, Healer Car—“

  She shook her head. “It’s something my father used to say whenever we traveled.” Which was always. She waved her hand, encompassing the small short flight. “It takes a lot of study, dedication, and a certain amount of faith in yourself to pilot a ship. You’re the reason I’m standing here and not in the middle of the ocean. I’m thanking you for every sacrifice, hard day and harder night, to get here. So,” she shrugged, playing it off as nothing. Those two words brought up some of her past, both good and bad. “Thank you for all you’ve done—today and in the past.”

  “I…” The green warrior’s mouth hung open for a moment and then he snapped it closed. “It was an honor, Healer Carla joi Rendan Butler.”

  Her face burned, embarrassed at the spectacle she’d created. Low murmurs from outside the ship filtered in and she thought she heard more than one male ask about what was taking so long. Lovely.

  “Right, um,” she pressed her lips together and then looked to Argan. “They’re sounding impatient. Should we…”

  He stared at her as if she had two heads. Okay, then. Maybe she needed to make the first move?

  Carla padded toward the rear exit, hatch opened wide for her to stride down the ramp and onto the platform. The heavy thud of stomping feet reached her and then Argan was at her side, his wing curling around her with a level of protection she hadn’t experienced before.

  Because they were on Earth and he was worried she’d be a target of some sort?

  Argan whipped out a handful of harsh words she couldn’t catch, his voice snapping through the air as if it was a hand and struck the rest of the quad. Surprised gazes flicked to her and then the men were in close formation, their group tight as she was led to the nearby Preor Tower.

  The guards at the doors jumped into action with another snap from Argan, those warriors jumping to do his bidding. She wondered if he outranked everyone or if they were just flat-out afraid of the imposing warrior. She hadn’t taken the time to glance at his rank insignia on the katoth straps that crossed over a Preor’s chest. One held a symbol of rank while the other showed evidence of his honors and accomplishments.

  She’d been too distracted by the whole “Knowing” thing. The Knowing that acted like a sluggish river. It swelled and slid through her mind, twisting its way through her brain in a random weave of bends and curves.

  They all rode in the elevator together, the massive metal box altered to fit the quad plus the green-hued pilot. She watched one of the warriors press the button for the seventy-sixth floor, and she stored that number in her memory.

  The rise was quick and painless. Her ears popped once, but otherwise the trip went by without a problem. As one, they strode from the elevator and Carla absorbed her surroundings. Thick carpet, pale walls, glowing light instead of the harsh fluorescent bulbs that many buildings used.

  Soon, they stood before door seventy-six twenty-four and Argan pointed at the identipad to the door’s right. “Healer Carla joi—“

  She held up her hand to stop him. “Carla. Just Carla.” She moved to the pad and pressed her palm flat, watching the light turn from red to green, and then the panel slid open.

  Argan stepped into the space first and she followed him. It wasn’t until she stood in the middle of her new living room that she realized the others hadn’t followed. Argan was the only other male in the space, his heavy steps carrying him from room to room. The squeak of hinges told her he was opening things. Checking to make sure the apartment was empty?

  Considering the troubles the Preor had experienced in the past, she didn’t doubt it.

  When he finally emerged from one of the rooms, she gave him a tentative smile. “Everything okay?”

  He just grunted, which she took to mean “yes.” Some of the Preor weren’t much for talking.

  “This door leads to Offense Master Rendan joi Carla Butler’s aerie.” He pointed at a do
or in the far wall, the only one he hadn’t opened. That was Rendan’s apartment then.

  “Oh,” she whispered the word, her nerves re-emerging with those few words.

  That door would keep Rendan out of her space. Or let him in. It was up to her. No matter what, though, they had to be close. Already the Knowing informed her that the headache and some of her nausea was due to the Knowing sickness. Their separation before they could fully mate pressed down on her head, suffocating her with the pain.

  Argan grunted again and strode toward the apartment’s door, the portal still opened wide. The other men peered into the space, watching their exchange. Some appeared skeptical, others unsure, and a couple looked at her as if she held the secrets to the universe.

  “Why are they…” she gestured at the men and Argan just shrugged.

  “Did you speak the truth?”

  “Yes. I mean,” she stumbled over her words. “I don’t know when you’re talking about, but I don’t lie. So, whatever I said, was the truth as I saw it at the time.”

  “You believe Ivoth should be thanked for his service.”

  “Yes?” She took a step back, not knowing what the hell she’d done to get this mini-interrogation. Her heart rate increased, the muscle fluttering in her chest as if it wanted to break free. Was this how the Preor dealt with a simple thank you? “I didn’t mean to offend—“

  One of the males near the door snorted.

  “You did not know his status. You were simply thankful for his service,” Argan barked and she jolted.

  “Yes. He…”

  “You did not wish to see what he could provide or his appearance before offering thanks.”

  “No,” she shook her head. “None of that matters. I’m here. I’m alive. The landing was perfect. He could be the emperor or poor as a church mouse, but nothing changes what he’s accomplished. I don’t understand what this—“

  Another grunt, but there didn’t seem to be a hint of disbelief tied to it that time. Instead, Argan strode toward the apartment’s door, his wings rustling and boots thumbing with each step.