Dragons of Preor: Taulan (4 page)

S
o many changes
, so little time. His claiming threw events into motion that he never foresaw. His only concern—as he’d stared at Lana through the bars—was to ensure she was recognized as his.

His and
not
under Earth’s control. He did not care about the Ujal’s criminal accusations and the reason behind her altered name. It was knowledge that would come at a later date. At that moment, his thoughts revolved around Lana’s happiness and safety—neither of which could be guaranteed on Earth within a UST jail cell. With a handful of words, he’d ensured her future—one to be spent at his side.

At his side on the battleship of the Third Fleet as it floated in orbit around Earth. At his side in his new quarters and then the command deck.

A command deck that would soon belong to Taulan as War Master of the Third Preor Fleet.

Taulan stood before a familiar desk within the War Master’s office just off the command deck. The scarred metal had seen many War Masters, and it seemed that Jarek was determined for it to see yet another—Taulan. He pulled his attention from Jarek and gazed at the twinkling stars visible through the large clear panel. Humans called it a window, though, in truth, the ship did not contain such openings. It used monitoring systems to observe the surroundings and then displayed the images on the hull.

A hole in a battleship? The idea sent a shiver down his spine.

Now he shook his head for the hundredth time in the last hour, daring much by denying his superior, but he repeated the denial all the same. “War Master Jarek—“

“Simply Jarek, now. The decision has been made. I made my nomination and the council endorsed my choice. You will be the fleet’s War Master.”

“You made the decision without my consent.”

Jarek’s wings rustled with agitation. “The military does not need consent to reward its most skilled warriors.”

The ruffling of Jarek’s wings cut Taulan to his soul and brought his focus to the true reason for his refusal. He placed his fists on the dented desk, knuckles resting on the cool metal as he leaned forward. “The warriors will not follow a wingless War Master. I cannot lead them into battle. I cannot—“

“When was the last time a winged battle took place?”

Taulan quirked a brow. Not long ago, several Preors attempted to kill Jarek because of his human mate and out of hatred for their mission. Many still believed that Preors should not breed with humans. The offenders who still lived—for Jarek had dispatched with several—were returned to Preor. Yet he knew they had not found all those who hated the alliance.

Jarek snorted and Taulan jolted in surprise. The staid, constantly serious War Master snorted. He was not sure if the change was good for the male, but he recognized that the cause was his human mate.

A human mate much like Taulan’s own.

“Other than the dishonorable attack perpetrated by a few hatchlings, when was the last time a winged battle took place?”

Centuries. Taulan only had a little over two hundred years beneath his wings, but time was endless and it truly had been centuries—a millennium?—since Preors took to the skies to do battle.

“Regardless, the males will not stand for a War Master who cannot best them in battle.”

Jarek leaned forward, matching Taulan’s stance. “Did losing your wings mean you lost your wits? Challenges are performed with hands and feet, not fangs and claws.” The War Master narrowed his eyes. “Unless you mean to tell me you are too weak of body and soul to meet any challenger.”

He knew the old dry scale attempted to prick his pride. He shouldn’t rise to the bait, but he could not stop himself. He growled low, pushing the words past his gritted teeth. “You know that is an untruth.”

“Then prove it. Prove to me—and your warriors—that you are the male who should lead.”

He pressed his lips together in a grimace. “What you ask—“

“Is something you’ve trained for. I retire now because I wish to spend my years with my mate. I have fought—and won—for Preor. It is now time to have a family and raise my own dragonlets.” The cocky smile that tipped Jarek’s lips told Taulan that his dragonlets might be more than a simple dream.

“And has your mate…?” He raised his eyebrows.

“Human females,” the male dropped his voice. “Experience a quickening each month.
Every
month.”

Taulan jerked back. Every month? “You lie.”

Instead of taking the words as an insult, the War Master—the
War Master
—grinned. “No, it is the truth.”

“She could…” The mere idea staggered him. Preor females experienced a quickening once, perhaps twice, every ten years. For a human female to be fertile so often…

“She does and all human females could.” Feminine tones reached them and they both turned toward the entrance to the office. They watched Melissa, Lana, and Nalan chatter. When Lana smiled, he found himself mirroring the expression.

Jarek was not yet done. “They are our future, Taulan. After all that has happened—after all that my father did—they can give it back to us.”

Ah, Jarek’s father. The male who designed the systems that allowed the warring factions to target females and dragonlets. His father was the reason they’d come to Earth in search of mates. It was only fitting that the son of Preor’s most hated male found his mate first. They all faced adversity during life, but none so much as Jarek—the male who had a terrorist for a sire.

Jarek continued. “To win the love of a human female is the greatest gift a male can experience. To hold his own dragonlet in his arms is like glimpsing the source of the stars.” A large hand fell to his shoulder. “Do not squander the chance you are given. Take the position, lead these males, teach them about human mates and let them learn from the two of you.”

“War Mas—“ Jarek tightened his grip on Taulan’s shoulder and he quickly corrected himself. “Jarek, what can they learn from a wingless War Master?”

“They can learn that a human female values more than the size of a male’s wings. That they can come to their fierce males scarred from their pasts and yet you both can still develop an unbreakable bond.”

Taulan’s heart stuttered at the mention of scars, and he swung his focus back to Jarek. “Is Lana scarred? What do you know of her? What—“

Jarek lifted his hand to stop his speech. “Her life has not been easy. There was not much information, but what little the Ujal possessed revealed a female who endured much, which resulted in having very little. Your female is a fighter. She does not give up easily. She is your perfect match, Taulan. Can you doubt she was made for you? And that the stars would not give you more than you can bear?”

He sighed, knowing the reservations he clung to were merely small hints of unease and not true objections. “You wish me to be War Master of the fleet even though I no longer have wings.”

The thought continually spun through his mind.

“Yes.” There was no hesitation on Jarek’s side.

Watching his mate smile at something Nalan said, he knew he had only one choice. He did not know Lana in truth, but he had no doubt they were made for one another. They were meant to be together. Side by side and loving one another until the skies called them home. And in order to keep her, protect, and love her, he had to do it on the ship or his home planet. They could not do as Jarek and Melissa and make a home on Tampa’s beach.

Their chance at a happy future lay in a massive hunk of metal surrounded by two thousand Preor males.

Males who would turn covetous eyes on his unclaimed mate. Experiencing the Knowing was not enough. He needed to tie her to him.

After spending hours denying Jarek, Taulan gave in. “Very well. I accept the position.”

Jarek grunted. “Good. I will make a general announcement. Are you prepared to prove your worth?”

Prove his worth. He nearly snorted. Jarek had belief in him as did the council, but still he had to prove himself to his men for there would surely be many who opposed his leadership. Jarek had endured several challengers but Taulan knew it was nowhere near the number he would face.

“Yes, I shall prove my worth.” Taulan met Jarek’s intense stare. “And I will not lay claim to Lana until I have done so.”

Jarek gave him the reassurance he needed. “She will be a Preor female by your words alone if not by deed.”

Taulan nodded. Good. For he did not want to make Lana a widow within hours of claiming her as mate.

Because in order to prove himself to the warriors, he would have to fight all challengers.

All
.

F
rom homeless to
… a different kind of homeless, Lana supposed. She padded around the room, exploring her new prison—er, home. She still didn’t quite understand what’d happened down on Earth. Sure, she could let the Knowing come forward, but she refused to let it feed her answers.

For now, she was out of a cell, wearing Ujal clothing and on a Preor ship. On a Preor ship with her mate and in his—
their
—quarters.

The soft whoosh of the suite’s doors drew her attention. Taulan stepped through the open portal, clutching a large cardboard box. A frown marred his face, his eyebrows lowered and pulled together. He didn’t redirect his gaze until the doors quietly slid shut behind him. That was when he sought her out. The frown remained, but it lightened when their eyes met.

“Kouva,” —
beloved
— “I dispatched warriors to Earth to gather your belongings yet this is all that they discovered at the location.” He held the box out for inspection. “You stated you wished for the contents to be retrieved and the vehicle was to be repaired and donated to a charity or destroyed. This is all they found inside. Did you provide the correct coordinates?”

Lana fought to suppress the embarrassment at his discovery. She knew what they’d found. It was one of the reasons she’d tried to talk Taulan out of sending anyone to gather her things. She went to him and peeked inside. Yup, exactly as she’d suspected. “It looks like they got it all.”

She shrugged and battled to keep a flush from staining her cheeks. She should have said she didn’t have anything. At all. That she’d been dumb enough to trust the wrong guy and ended up on the street with a few changes of clothes, a couple of keepsakes, and next to no money to her name. Her name? In the end, she didn’t even have
that
.

She reached for the container and tugged it from his grasp. Or tried to. “I told you there was nothing I needed in the car.”
Or wanted.

“
Shaa kouva
.” He murmured the words and the translation immediately filled her mind. The Knowing pressed forward, still trying to assert itself in her head. Even if she knew what it was, that didn’t mean she
wanted
it there.

He strode past her and placed the box on the couch. “Why do you have so little?
How
could you have so little? Most humans have more than this at a much younger age. Erun’s adopted youngling Tabby has more and she newly acquired her scales.”

There was no denying that truth. But how was she supposed to tell a near stranger about her stupidity and naïveté?

She followed him and grasped the edge, pulling it from his hold. “I decided to try a minimalist lifestyle.”

That concept wasn’t really all that popular anymore, but who cared?

The look he gave her could only be described as sad and disappointed. “You lie, kouva.”

Lana swallowed her instinctual denial and, instead, rasped out words meant to discourage him. “It’s not a story worth telling.”

And her belongings weren’t worth keeping, in all honesty. But she couldn’t make herself toss it all. She pulled out the stack of folded clothing. It needed to be washed, but at least Taulan wouldn’t have to go shopping for her. Beneath the fabric lay a couple of pairs of shoes, including sneakers and another pair of flats. The ones she wore that day were somewhere, though she wasn’t sure where.

She set the shoes aside. She couldn’t walk around barefoot and she had no doubt the rough metal grates in the hallway would tear up her bare feet. The Preor found the roughened pathways helpful when walking, but Lana’s soles weren’t that tough.

Beneath that… Her breath caught and she swallowed a sob. They’d found it. She thought she’d lost it in the mess her life had become, but it must have been hidden away somewhere in the car. With trembling hands, she lifted the locket from its soft bed of cloth. It wasn’t anything special, wasn’t made of gold or silver. The locket—a bit of nickel-plated composite metal—was crudely created yet beautiful in its simplicity. It dangled from a thin chain, the links tarnished by dirt and age. It sported a single rose carved into the surface. Though carved—after all these years—was a term she used loosely. Constant handling had smoothed the impression as well as the initials engraved on the back.

Yet she recalled the words as if it was yesterday.
Today. Tomorrow. Forever.

Her mother loved her today, tomorrow, and forever.

The delicate brush of a finger on her cheek jolted her and she whipped her head around. She found Taulan held one of her tears on the tip of his finger. She was crying?

Lana took a step back, fingers still clutching the battered locket. The last gift from her mother before… Before
him
.

“Kouva, will you not tell me?”

She shook her head and brushed aside another tear that threatened. Kouva. Beloved. Could she be anyone’s beloved?

The Knowing whispered a ghostly
yes
. But she knew the truth. The truth was no. Never. She hadn’t been worth anything to anyone else. Why should she be to Taulan?

“Like I said, it isn’t important. It’s not worth telling.”

Taulan didn’t respond—merely hummed and returned his attention to the box. He pulled free a battered stuffed rabbit—stained, cut, and with one arm empty of all stuffing. “This is not worth discussing? It appears broken. Should I have Tyff dispose—“

“
No
.” She bolted forward and snatched the bunny to her chest. It was the only toy she’d managed to save during one of her ex’s rages.

He always tried to destroy anything that made her happy—anything that elicited a smile.

“Then tell me why.” He pressed his lips together in a firm line, the white slash cutting across his face beneath his nose.

Tell him why?

Tell him why?

“Because…” Because life wasn’t fair. It didn’t stop for the injured and broken, and it didn’t help anyone who wouldn’t help themselves.

He moved closer until hardly any space separated them. Until his scent surrounded her and his strength overwhelmed her senses. “Tell me, kouva.”

Lana made a last ditch effort to redirect his attention. “Why don’t you tell me—“

His large hand cupped her cheek, more tears vanishing with his soft strokes. “Tell me.”

If someone had told her Preor warriors could be gentle, she would have called them liars. No way could males so massive, so deadly and dangerous, have such a delicate touch.

But Taulan could—did.

And… and she couldn’t help but do as he asked. Because his voice was soft, his touch even softer and his eyes… The look in his eyes begged her to trust him, to put her trust in his hands. Did she dare?

“It’s not a pretty story, Taulan.” The “
shaa kouvi
” endearment leapt to her lips, the Knowing pushing her toward accepting him, but she shoved it back. She had her own mind, her own thoughts. She wouldn’t be controlled by some bizarre alien
thing
.

“There are always dark parts of a person’s life,
shaa kouva
. It is up to me, as your mate, to assure you that the past is immaterial. We are here now and together. Today, tomorrow, and on until we take our final flights.”

Lana leaned forward, fingers curled around the locket and her other hand clutching her toy. The familiar weights were both a comfort and a heartache combined. She pressed her forehead to Taulan’s chest, taking solace in his nearness. His heat suffused her, warming her from inside out. He wanted her story, wanted the truth.

“My ex…” Her ex was a monster. The epitome of evil, the reason for every flinch, and the cause of every tear.

Taulan slipped his arms around her waist, and she leaned even closer until their bodies were flush. The Knowing’s presence assured her that Taulan really was her mate—her one. Did that make it okay to give so much to a near stranger?

Apparently, yes.

Then again, they were getting to know one another, right? This had to be part of it. Too bad they couldn’t have started with an easier story.

Who was she kidding? Nothing was ever easy.

“Tell me.”

So easy, yet so difficult. “My ex, these things, my past… They’re one and the same.” She drew in a deep breath, savoring his heated scent and using his nearness as strength. Strength to get the words out, to speak of things she’d never revealed. Not to those she’d paid for a new identity and no one in her old life.

As Taulan held her close, comforted her without words, Lana closed her eyes and told her story.

“I had a good childhood.” A great childhood. Loving parents, friends, and a bright future. “I did well in school and when I graduated, I headed off to college.” Far, far away from home. “There, I met Steven.”

Taulan growled, but instead of fear overtaking her, a curious warmth suffused her body. His hint of jealousy was the same as she’d experienced in the past and yet… different. She wasn’t afraid of him—of what he’d do. At least, not to her.

“Things started small. ‘Wear your hair like this.’ or ‘Don’t ever wear that again, it’s ugly.’” She hadn’t seen it then. Even when her friends told her Steven was an ass. “I was ugly. I was ugly unless I listened to him. I was ugly unless I dressed how he liked and wore my makeup just so. I was ugly if…” Those old feelings reared their heads and pushed forward, attempting to overtake her—banish what little self-esteem she’d managed to find. She swallowed hard and pushed his words aside.

“You could never be ugly if you tried,
shaa kouva
.” A snarl tinged his tone. “Never.”

And when he said those words, she believed them. From head to toe and into her soul, she believed him. “That was how it started and it went on for four years. By the time I’d earned my diploma, I…” Tears stung her eyes and she blinked them back, pushing them aside when they threatened to overwhelm her. “I didn’t have any friends. I hardly talked to my parents and I’d changed my major so we had every class together.”

Except those few. Those few that allowed her to earn two diplomas, that let her qualify to do what she loved.

He let her think, let her thoughts wander and twist until she spoke again. “We moved in together after graduation and it got,” she swallowed back the bile that threatened. “It got so much worse.”

Lana transferred her bunny to her other hand and reached up to stroke her cheek. If she pressed hard enough, she could feel the ridge of bone. It’d never fully healed properly. And her nose. That, at least, had been handled by a plastic surgeon. Her cheek hadn’t made her look ugly, so Steven saved himself the questions and aggravation and just never took her to the doctor.

Her nose though… He had to look at her every day. He needed something pretty across the dining room table.

“He started with pushing. Just shoving me aside when we argued. He tried to intimidate me with his size and it—“ her gut clenched “—it worked. I gave in. I didn’t push. I didn’t argue. It was just easier.”

“This Steven will die.” The tone told Lana he wasn’t kidding.

“No,” she shook her head and nuzzled him. “I don’t want you to go near him. To even think about him after today. It’s done.”

It’s over.

“By the time I was ready to leave—by the time he crossed that line I could never forgive—he had chosen my job, my clothes, my car. He gave me money if I asked for it and then made me tell him where every penny went.”

And God forgive her if she couldn’t account for each one.

Tension filled her mate’s body, his muscles and bones vibrating with suppressed violence. And she recognized the feelings for what they were. She was attuned to him and knew he craved Steven’s death.

She did too.

“I lost ten cents once,” she released a rueful chuckle. She remembered every punch. That was when he’d broken her cheekbone.

“What happened when you misplaced these
cents?
”

“Ten punches. One for every penny.”

Heat rolled over her and she knew it came from her mate, his anger making him grow warm. “I will hunt him and kill him. Slowly.”

God, she wanted that.

“No.” She drew small circles on his chest and then placed her palm over his heart. Her gaze lifted until their eyes locked. “It’s done. It’s over.”

“
Shaa kouva
,” he cupped her cheek. “He still causes you pain and the damage scars your soul. It shall never be over.”

She knew that better than anyone. “It’s better, then.”

He brushed his lips across her forehead and she took comfort in the caress. It was better.

“Is that the end of your story?”

If only.

“The last time…” She swallowed hard, remembering the beating. “I’d talked to my mother. She was making plans to help me leave him.” She dropped her voice to a hoarse whisper, the remembered pain making it difficult to speak. “He found out.”

“Tell me,” he whispered against her skin, his warm breath fanning her face.

“Four cracked ribs, broken arm, three broken fingers.” He’d had fun breaking each one as she watched and screamed. “More bruises than anyone could count.”

Taulan’s grip tightened with each of her words. “Where. Is. He? Vengeance is mine.”

She lov—
liked
him for the sentiment. “It doesn’t matter. He’s not part of my life, our lives.” She sighed. “He thinks I’m dead and he got away with murder. The police questioned him—held him—while I got far, far away.” She remembered the pain-filled nights, the exhausting days, and the hours she spent drugged in the back of some half-stranger’s car. “Do I hate him? Yes. Do I still flinch and do I have nightmares? Yes.” She took a calming breath. “But he won’t rule my life. My past won’t rule my future.”

She rubbed the ear of her bunny. “And these are memories of my childhood. When I was happy and loved. Everything between then and now…” Tears stung her eyes. “Everything between then and this moment doesn’t matter. Every tear, every cry, every bit of pain… With your touch, your presence, it doesn’t matter.”

His eyes searched hers, as if he sought out a lie, and then he finally jerked his head in a sharp nod. “As you say. But I will still kill him.”