by Cara Bristol
“Help!” Biggs thumped the comm link on his chest. “Help!” He pulled off his hood.
His expression incredibly sad, his brother backed up. There was a cracking sound as horns thrust through his skull, his neck stretched, and his jaw lengthened into a snout. His hazmat suit shredded into tatters as his body morphed and enlarged, wings unfurling, a barbed tail snapping. Brown eyes yellowed.
Not his brother. A fucking dragon. He stumbled, nearly falling on his ass.
The space lizard tossed its head and roared.
He grabbed for his laser scythe, but it had disappeared. The dragon opened its massive fang-filled maw and hurled a fireball straight at him.
His bladder went slack. Biggs screamed—
He bolted upright in bed, his heart pounding. Not real, not real. Another damn nightmare. He lunged for the bedside lamp and turned it on. No dragon. His brother was still dead. He was in his suite in Bunker One on Earth.
Biggs swung his legs over the side of the mattress and sat up, dragging air into his lungs. The acid reflux hurt so bad, if he hadn’t known what it was, he would have feared he was having a heart attack.
The fucking dream. Since learning of Bobby’s death, he’d had the nightmare every evening. It always followed the same pattern: landing on Elementa, meeting his dead brother, Bobby turning into a space lizard. Then jolting awake before death by immolation. He loathed the fucking lizards more than ever. They had caused this!
He hated the swing of emotions the dream forced him to feel: elation at seeing Bobby alive, terror at facing down the dragon, then awakening and plunging into grief, feeling as if he’d lost his brother all over again. Then the humiliation of finding himself lying in his own piss. In the dream, just as the dragon spit the fireball, he’d wet himself. That part was real. During every dream, he pissed himself.
He stripped off his wet boxers and the bedsheets, shoved them all into the incinerator and then remade the bed. He couldn’t leave his humiliating weakness for the maids to find.
He strode into the bathroom to shower. When he came out, he eyed the bed warily. He’d never had two nightmares in the same evening, but a gut feeling warned him not go back to sleep again.
Not that he could. He was wide awake.
He donned a pair of clean shorts and robe then grabbed his laptop and plopped into a chair. He called up the reports from the colony.
Chapter Nineteen
“What is this?” Helena examined the device T’mar had handed her. A sour rain scent rolled off her. She was angry and hurt.
What has happened to our mate? What did you say to her? the dragon demanded.
Nothing. You would know if I’d said anything, wouldn’t you? he retorted.
“It’s a respirator. You’ll need it on Draco. We’ve landed,” he explained tersely. Two interminable days had passed since he’d seen her. His lust hadn’t abated—further indication he needed to keep his distance.
“It looks like an asthma inhaler,” she said.
“It contains temporary nanobots which will filter out particulate matter harmful to your human lungs and physiology. Use it at regular intervals and whenever you feel respiratory discomfort.”
“I assume Henry and Patsy will get respirators?”
“They’ve already gotten them and have been escorted off the ship and flown to the human habitat.”
“They’re gone? Already? Without me? Why?”
“As I said, you’ll reside in the palace harem. They’ll be staying in the human habitat.”
“Why can’t they come with me?”
“Because the harem is for dragonesses—females only,” he replied. “Henry cannot stay there.”
“But Patsy could.”
“She’s not a concubine. Their accommodations are not dissimilar from the human settlement on Elementa. Your friends will be comfortable. The habitat housed visiting ambassadors when the treaties were in force between our two planets.”
“Then, why can’t I live there?”
“Because you are a concubine. It would be an insult and a dishonor for you to be housed anyplace but at the palace compound.” He wished he could send her to the habitat. Farther away, she would present less of a temptation, but although the king loathed humans, he adhered to protocol and would insist on a consort to a prince staying in the palace harem.
“What did you mean when you said Patsy and Henry were flown? Like by helicopter or a small airplane?”
He snorted. “Why would we need an aircraft?”
Her eyes widened. “Their escorts shifted into dragon form, picked them up, and flew them to the habitat? Oh my god—Patsy! She must have freak—is that how I’m getting to the harem?”
He nodded. “My dragon will take you.” He’d intended to send for a donatta to retrieve her, but the dragon refused to allow it. No male must touch our mate.
We have female harem guardians—
No. No donatta. We must take her ourselves.
The creature had threatened to refuse to shift again. Having suffered that humiliation for months, T’mar had no wish to repeat it, so he’d conceded. The dragon hadn’t realized yet that there would be no visits to the harem. When he did, he would pitch a fit. However, on that battle, T’mar vowed to hold his ground. He’d walk for the next 10,000 years if he had to.
“When are we leaving?” Helena asked.
“Now. Follow me.” He waved at her to walk with him.
“So,” she said, “your planet is ruled by a king. You sequester your women in harems. Your society seems to be male dominated with women at the bottom of the heap.”
Surprised, he looked at her. “That’s what you think?”
“It’s what I observe.”
“Then appearances are deceiving. Yes, my father rules Draco as his father did before him. We are immortal and, once in power, the monarch rules a long time. In the past, dragonesses have ruled Draco. The females in the harem have petitioned to be there; it is considered a great honor to serve a royal in such a manner. Many apply, few are chosen.”
“I did not choose,” she muttered.
Alarm shot through him. “You didn’t come here of your own free will?”
She hesitated but then shook her head. “I did, but the arrangement hasn’t worked out the way I thought.”
It hadn’t for him, either. He’d expected to fulfill his duty without physical or emotional involvement. Instead, his body ached for her. He thought of her constantly. He missed her conversation, her smiles, and her laughter. His attempts to dredge up resentment toward humans to bolster his shields resulted in his loathing turning inward. He’d hurt her. He wanted to fix it but couldn’t.
She was human. He was dragon.
“One of my sisters had her own harem before she mated,” he offered as conversation to ease the awkwardness.
“She did?” She looked so surprised, he almost laughed.
“You’ve gotten the mistaken impression we treat our females as second-class citizens. Nothing could be further from the truth. They participate fully in society. You couldn’t put a female dragon down if you wanted to.” His mouth quirked. “She would fry your ass.”
He started walking again. “The most powerful dragon on Draco, more powerful than the king, is female.”
“Your mother?” she said dryly.
Despite himself, he chuckled. “Okay, there are two females more powerful than my father.” He sobered. “I was referring to the priestess of the Temple of the Eternal Fyre. Although she chooses to cloister herself and rarely interferes in matters of rule, her power is absolute. She has abilities we can only guess at. When I go to the temple to pay homage, I always hope I don’t encounter her.”
“Why?”
“She’s scary.” T’mar wasn’t afraid to admit it.
Terrifying, his dragon agreed.
“Everyone tries to avoid her, hoping she won’t appear when they visit the temple. The king stays away if he can.”
“How awful! So this poor femal
e dragon is ostracized with nothing but a campfire to keep her warm?”
“Trust me, she is not a poor anything, and the Eternal Fyre is not a campfire.” In trying to alleviate the awkwardness, he’d let his guard down. He’d never told anyone he found the priestess scary or hinted his mother could overrule the king.
More reasons to deposit Helena in the harem and leave. She was dangerous.
Fortunately, the dragon, preoccupied by visions of flying with Helena, wasn’t paying attention. He was planning his itinerary, figuring out which scenic route to take. T’mar would be forced to endure the leisure, but as soon as they landed at the palace, he would regain control.
They had reached the passage to the open gangway, and his nose detected the taint of sulfur and volcanic gas. “You’d better use the inhaler,” he said.
Obediently, she took a puff.
They strode onto a large, open platform. Her eyes were wide as she pivoted her head, getting her first glimpse of Draco. “Your planet is breathtaking.”
She should have seen Draco in its glory days. Still, it was beautiful, the craggy harsh volcanic land offset by white marble towers.
“Stay here,” he instructed and made space. He called to the dragon, who needed little coaxing.
* * * *
Although Helena had seen T’mar shift, she still wasn’t prepared for the cracking of bones splitting. She flinched, but her awe grew as he transformed. His body turned scaly and thorny, lengthening and widening, doubling in size then doubling again. Massive leathery wings and a stinger-tipped tail thrust from his spine. Arms and legs refashioned into talon-tipped limbs. Nose and mouth merged into a long snout. Hair disappeared, replaced by a wide face-framing frill. Horns sprouted from his forehead.
The dragon snaked its long neck down to where she stood, gazing at her with a look of total devotion, so different from T’mar’s stilted manner.
Seeing him again had brought back the humiliation of being used. Past relationships had failed, some painfully, some merely fizzling, but never had a man used her for sex and then dropped her. And despite T’mar’s shabby treatment, she ached for him. Had missed him. Damn it, he didn’t deserve a moment of her regard. The sooner she arrived at the harem, and they parted ways, the better off she’d be. Except, the idea of him leaving made her want to cling to him.
I’m pathetic.
The dragon sniffed, nudging her with its snout. She reached up and patted his scaly face. She couldn’t blame him for T’mar’s failings. In some strange way, she sensed an ally. She stroked a horn protruding from his forehead. He whuffed, a pleasurable-sounding exhalation that caressed her face with smoky clove-scented breath, and then captured a lock of her hair in a massive claw. He sniffed. Fangs flashed, and deep indentations appeared on either side of the snout.
Oh my god. The dragon has dimples!
The creature emitted a purr then enfolded her in his claws and turned her away from him.
“What are you doing?” She tried to twist, but he pulled her tight against his scaled chest and leaped into the air with a great flap of wing. She gave a little scream of surprise. Up, up, he flew, until the entire city sprawled out beneath them, and she realized he’d turned her around so she could see the view.
Massive towers of marble spired into the sky. A thin river of glowing-red lava wove around ornate pillared pavilions, grand coliseums, and massive theaters. The topography of black rock reminded her of Elementa, but she could see Draco differed by its relative lack of volcanic activity. On Elementa, fumaroles puffed and smoked everywhere and, on approach by spacecraft, she’d counted dozens of volcanic eruptions.
Here, she spied craters but little activity. Only a slight haze hovered over the city, a stark contrast to the heavy vog clouding Elementa. Still, Draco was beautiful, its sky a lovely rose, the jagged black rocks of the landscape forming interesting shapes. The towers and buildings were so white and grand. She loved seeing how the people lived. Filled with hundreds and hundreds of flying dragons, the sky was busier than the busiest airport. “This is incredible, amazing!”
The dragon bugled.
Soaring high, the air rushing against her face, she felt free. When they landed, her problems would still be there, so why not enjoy the moment? In coming to Draco, she’d rushed headlong into a dangerous situation, personally and politically, and perhaps she, like Patsy, should have retained a healthy wariness, but for some inexplicable reason, she didn’t fear the dragons—at least not this one. She liked him.
He circled a huge round, stark-white building. Lacking the adornments of the other edifices, it appeared to have been constructed of veinless marble or alabaster. Massive unadorned columns supported a domed roof. Sitting between the pillars were sentries. She wished she could communicate with the dragon to learn more about what she was seeing. How did Draconians keep their buildings so white and pristine when they lived in a volcanic environment? Didn’t buildings get covered with ash?
Veering away, the dragon flew over a structure resembling the interlocking hamster tubes of the colonist’s settlement on Elementa. “Is that the human habitat?”
The whuff sounded like a yes.
Were Patsy and Henry already there? Most likely since they’d left before her, and she doubted their escorts had given them a tour. She hoped Patsy was all right. If she’d fainted dead away when T’mar had shifted, she could imagine her reaction when the escort shifted, snatched her up in his claws, and took to the air.
Worried for her friend and concerned about the separation, some enjoyment of the flight dissipated. Will I ever see Patsy and Henry again? How will I contact them? Was she being isolated from her friends so she could be more easily controlled? Was she an honored guest or a prisoner? Staying in the harem was supposed to be a position of favor, so T’mar had said. She’d found no favor with him. After seducing her, he’d dumped her.
The dragon circled around some mountains and a small lava-filled lake before heading toward a compound way grander than any she’d seen so far. Perimeter walls glittered with jewels. The carved motifs on pillars and entablatures were ornate with statuary built into the design. Tucked in a section of the compound was an impressive star-shaped edifice. Five equidistant wings radiated from a pentagon-shaped courtyard where a massive statue posed in a lava pool and spewed fire from its mouth. A bas-relief decorated the frieze around the outside of the building, and stone dragons menaced like gargoyles atop each arm of the star. She gave a start when one of the gargoyles turned its massive head to stare at them. They’re real! Her breath caught in her throat, and she took a quick puff of her inhaler.
The dragon bugled and then swooped downward to land in the courtyard next to the lava pool. His claws tightened, almost in a hug, and then he released her. He gave her a final longing glance and then morphed into T’mar. Who had a hard-on. Show it to somebody who cares! She averted her gaze, but the glimpse was enough to bring back sensations of the fullness, the thrusting, and the ecstasy.
“So, this is the harem,” she bit out, angry he could still arouse her when she’d been nothing more to him than an object to scratch his itch.
“Yes.”
Like the other buildings, this one seemed to be constructed of solid white marble. She hadn’t seen that many active volcanoes or smoking fumaroles, but there had been a few. “How do you keep your buildings so white?”
“They self-clean. They’re a composition of stone, ash, and intelligent polymer.” He strode over to stand next to her.
Her skin prickled with awareness, and she found herself automatically inhaling to draw in his smoky, clove scent. “For god’s sake, put some clothes on!”
“I don’t have any. I forgot to ask you to pick them up before we left the dock. The dragon couldn’t carry you and the clothing.” He looked at her, his expression unsure. “Will you be all right here?”
“I guess I’ll have to be, won’t I?” she said.
“This courtyard is the communal area. Each concubine has her own
private section. Your quarters are located in that arm.” He pointed.
Five arms to the star—“I’m your fifth concubine, then?” She’d thought he only had three others. Horny bastard.
“Fourth. One wing is the servants’ area.” He leaned in and sniffed. “You’re…angry.”
She ignored his comment. “Where are the doors? Are they hidden like on the ship? As we flew in, I didn’t see any.” She’d had a dragon’s-eye view of the entire star, and it had appeared to be one continuous, bejeweled structure without any doors or windows opening to the outside.
“There’s one in the servants’ section, but otherwise we fly in and out.”
“Well, that’s convenient—if one can fly. How am I supposed to come and go? Or am I a prisoner?”
T’mar motioned to one of the gargoyles. It flew down, landed in the courtyard, and shifted into a demiforma woman.
“Your Highness.” She touched her chest above her bare breasts.
Was everybody naked in this place?
“B’kah will be your donatta,” he said. “A donatta is a harem guardian. She will take you in and out. If you require anything, she will provide it. If you wish to see your friends, tell B’kah.”
So, he was assigning her a keeper.
He turned to the gargoyle-dragoness-guard. “Helena is my concubine. She will be your donja.”
She thought she saw B’kah’s lip curl, but if it did, it vanished in a blink of yellow eyes.
“Show her to the fourth wing. Her belongings will be delivered from the ship, if they haven’t already been.”
“Certainly, Your Highness. It will be my honor to take care of her.” B’kah looked directly at Helena for the first time. Her tone was level, unemotional as she said, “Come with me, please.”
Helena followed the donatta. She held her head high and refused to check if T’mar headed to another arm so one of his other concubines could take care of that hard-on.
* * * *
The lingering scent of Helena’s emotions stabbed him with guilt. She’d been hurt. She’d expected more personal attention from him.
