Rendan (Scifi Alien Dragon Romance) (Dragons of Preor Book 4) (13 page)

“Oh, are you headed there, then?”

Anger flashed in his eyes and was quickly gone. “No, I have learned all I need to know. I am a defense master in all but name.”

She hoped not. Prayed not, anyway. “Oh, right. Of course you would know how to do all that.” She waved her hand. “I mean, you wouldn’t be participating in the Trials of Syh if you weren’t highly skilled.” She just had to placate him long enough to get away and find Rendan. She could deal with him that long. “You, uh, said they were on the roof?”

Ballakin grunted. “They will not allow a female up there. They removed the protective barrier from the edges to allow for easier landings.”

“Well, I promise not to get near the edge.” She gave him an equally fake smile.
Unless it’s to push Rendan off it.

“Come.” He strode to a nearby door, the lock an identipad that opened for his print. “I will show you the path that will allow you to gain access unnoticed.”

The panels parted, exposing a dark hallway beyond the threshold. Should she go with him? Should she follow? Part of her screamed it was a stupid idea, but Preors cherished women. Sure, it seemed they lied to them, but they weren’t supposed to be violent toward females.

Supposed to be
.

Carla met Ballakin’s stare and then flicked her attention back to the darkness. She reminded herself why she was standing in the hallway even having a conversation with the warrior.

Rendan.

Carla squared her shoulders. “Lead the way.”

His smirk should have told her the whole plan was a bad idea. She shouldn’t go hunting her mate. She should go back to her—no longer
their
—condo and wait for him.

Instead, she followed. She trailed after him through the darkness, the path lit by the sporadic safety light and nothing more. Dust stirred, tossed into the air from their gradual climb up the steps. And up. And up. And up some more. Slowly her heart rate increased, exertion taking its toll on her body, but she continued.

Until they nearly reached the end of the stairwell. Ballakin stopped on one of the landings and she peered into the darkness, searching for the floor number. They were only two levels from the roof now—thank the skies.

“Continue on this path. The Training Master may argue, but once he realizes your identity, he will calm.”

“Won’t you get in trouble for leading me…”

“Perhaps additional duties, but you are a Preor mate. I could not deny you.”

His words were right. His tone was wrong. Regardless, she was nearly to her destination and her righteous indignation was still burning brightly in her chest.

“Thanks so much for your help, then. I appreciate it.”

He placed his fist over his heart in a salute. “My honor to serve a mate.”

They parted ways, Ballakin descending, his heavy tread thumping out a monotonous rhythm as he left her. Carla climbed the steps, the lights growing brighter the higher she ascended, and she finally stopped in front of the final door.

Bright red lights gleamed, proclaiming it was an exit. She inspected the door jamb, searching for a glowing identipad that she could use to open the portal, but found nothing.

Nothing more than a metal bar that dissected the large panel. Just above it was a small sign.
Push.

She frowned. Push? She placed her palm on the bar and nudged the piece of metal, surprised when it gave way beneath her hand. Huh. It had to be one of those old, antique doors she’d read about. In Preor Tower? The building
was
old, but…

She shook her head. Now wasn’t the time to get lost in history. She had a mate to yell at.

This time, Carla pushed, her weight behind the shove, and gradually swung the door outward toward the roof. She peered around the edge, hunting for any warriors that might be hanging around. She knew the insignia that proclaimed the masters and she sought him out first. If Rendan wasn’t around, that guy could keep her from getting kicked out.

Except, she didn’t see anyone. The roof was empty—silent—with not a single Preor in the area.

She slipped through the door and onto the scorching roof, heat from the flooring bouncing back and doubling the warmth from the sun. The breeze off the sea did nothing to cool her and sweat immediately formed on her brow.
Goody
.

Carla moved to the center of the roof, turning in a slow circle, hunting for
anyone
on the roof. Ballakin had to have been mistaken. There was no one training there.

But they were learning Kozav’s tricks—his ability to fly perfectly vertical—something not many Preor could do.

She padded toward the edge of the roof, hating that the Preor had removed the railing even as she understood the intelligence in the action. She peered over the rim, gaze scanning for any hint of her mate or other Preors. Unfortunately, she was looking down when she should have been looking behind her.

Mainly because that was when she fell over the edge.

U
nfamiliar anxiety drove Rendan
. It demanded he hurry, to fly as fast as he could back to the mainland. It crawled beneath his skin, scraping his nerves and pushing him to travel even faster. Anxiety and then fear.

Terror.

He drew nearer to his destination, Preor Tower well within sight, and he didn’t care that he violated Taulan’s orders. Or that other warriors flew at his tail, several snarling and growling at him through their dragon’s maws.

They were friends and fellow warriors, attempting to stop him from wreaking havoc. No one knew he’d consummated his mating with Carla. They still assumed the mating was unresolved.

They thought he suffered from the Knowing sickness—madness.

No, it was merely terror. Terror that had him diving off the training platform in the middle of the Gulf of Mexico. Terror that had him shifting into his dragon form. Terror that had him racing across the seas as quickly as his wings could carry him.

The beach was within view, pedestrians freezing in place and staring openly at him as he approached. He knew his massive presence frightened them and his fellow warriors did not make the situation any better.

Yet he would not stop. Not when movement at the top of Preor Tower drew his attention.

A small person—human—stood atop the roof, very near the edge. Wind whipped through the air, pulling at the human’s clothing and hair, and Rendan’s heart stopped beating. He recognized that honeyed color, the brightness of the sun’s light captured in every strand. He recognized the lush body, the curves he’d so recently traced with his hands and mouth.

He recognized…
her
. Panic suffused him, the unexplained emotions suddenly making sense as he realized they were
hers
.

Carla was anxious. Scared. Worried. Afraid.

And had been for quite some time.

He pushed his body hard, flapping his wings in an increasing pace, riding the waves of the wind. He dug deep for more energy, more strength. Her closeness to the edge scared the living skies out of him and he needed to be on that roof and at her side.

Except… suddenly she wasn’t on that roof. No, she tipped over the edge, arms waving as she tumbled down.

No.

No.

He just found her. He would not lose her now.

Rendan released a roaring bellow, a ball of fire escaping his maw with the booming sound. Screams of terror came from below, but he only had eyes for his Carla.

Her body continued to plummet toward the ground, her blatant panic and overwhelming horror nearly snatching all hint of control he still possessed. But he had to remain clearheaded. He could not rage into the skies at what he witnessed. His only response was to save her.

He would not fail.

He bolted high, gaining altitude so he was above her by the time he reached the tower. He could not simply snatch her from the sky, barreling into her while they remained at different speeds. He had to match Carla’s pace and gently bring them both to a stop.

He could do this. He would do this. He would
not
fail.

He repeated the words again and again. Failure was unacceptable. He was not prepared to lose his mate.

Rendan’s speed outmatched the others, the warriors falling behind while he pushed himself harder than ever before. When he reached the tower, his massive body above Carla’s, he dove straight down. He folded his wings tightly to his body and allowed the Earth’s gravity to pull him toward the concrete below.

Shaa kouva!
He shouted into her mind, fighting to push past the panic that clouded her thoughts. He shoved those emotions out of his own head, unable to function with the stark terror consuming him.

Shaa kouva! I shall catch you!
He tried again, hoping she heard him through the muddle of her mind.

Shaa—

She glanced over her shoulder, wide eyes meeting his.
Rendan.

His name was hardly a whisper, her telepathic voice muted by her feelings. But she saw him and that was enough. Enough to soothe some of her fear and she spread her arms and legs as she had the first time they flew together.

She trusted him to catch her as he once had and he
would not
fail.

He drew closer and closer to her—to the ground. Wings still folded, he sped past his mate, using his streamlined body to cut through the air. The moment he whipped by his mate, he focused on the ground, trying to gauge the distance and plan his next movement.

They were too close. Too close for him to properly catch and slow their descent at the same time.

He would not fail
.

Rendan banked right, knowing he fell just beneath Carla, and then performed his next actions at the same time. He whipped out his wings, spreading them wide to reduce the speed of their fall and at that exact moment, he released a long stream of orange and red flames—at the crowd below.

The ball was not large enough to reach the humans, but it did frighten them into scattering like Earth ants under attack.

Carla’s weight settled on his back, her small hands scrambling to cling to his scales while she wrapped her legs around his neck. She gripped him tightly and the harsh sound of her sobs filled his ears and mind at once. But he could not comfort her. Not until they landed… and survived.

He flapped his wings, fighting the gravity that’d helped him, and struggled to ease their descent. But their speed remained too high. Their fall remained too quick for his wings to counter. Yet he did not give up. He was a Preor warrior and Preor warriors fought to the death. Today was not the day he’d take his final flight.

He gritted his teeth, straining to lift his two-hundred-ton weight and hopefully limit the injuries they’d suffer—he’d suffer—when they struck the ground.

A blur of peach, the color pink like Tampa’s sunrise, shot into Rendan’s vision—Zadri.

The male whipped beneath them, wings spread, body tense and prepared to take Rendan’s weight, to absorb some of the injuries from their fall.

He matched the male’s movements, shifting his pace to work in time with the warrior’s. Rendan fell atop Zadri, their massive bodies colliding—the peach warrior catching them—and continued their descent.

Carla’s panicked screams filled his head, his adrenaline flooding his veins while her fear battered him. It had not lessened with Zadri’s appearance but grown. She scratched and clawed at his scales, as if she could penetrate the thick covering that protected his flesh. As if her tugs and yanks could save them.

The ground was mere feet away. Close enough to see the items dropped by the scurrying humans. Close enough to notice the cracks in the concrete.

Rendan braced himself for what was to come. Every warrior knew how to fall. They also knew what kind of damage they’d endure. He did not believe any warriors practiced plummeting toward the ground with their mates on their backs.

Zadri rolled away first, his peach body tumbling to the left, across the ground and toward the sands, his massive form demolishing everything in his path. That left Rendan. Rendan to simply fall and fight not to tuck his body and collide with the Earth as he’d been taught so long ago. He would take the damage… to protect his mate.

Then he hit. Large body slamming into the hard Earth. The sounds of cracks and crumbling metal filled his ears, Carla’s scream adding to that disjointed symphony. The rough ground tore at his scales, yanking and pulling them, attempting to rip them from his body. A high-pitched screech, an increased panic, hit him a moment before he watched his mate fly past. Her body sliced through the air while he was powerless to intervene. He was stuck watching her roll over the ground, spots of blood staining the concrete in her wake.

He still slid, but he pulled his claws beneath him, digging the deadly nails into the shattered ground so he could slow his slide toward his motionless mate. If he struck her…

Rendan dug his claws in deeper, destroying everything he touched while he battled to halt his two hundred tons of deadly dragon.

He would not…

He would not…

He would not…

His attempts to stop forced his body into a spin, twisting and turning him while he drew closer with every rapid beat of his heart.

He would not…

Finally… Finally, he slowed, slowed enough for him to stumble and then jump over his fallen mate, roll over the ground and eventually stop several body lengths away. But he only halted for a moment. Just long enough to stand upright and let the change wash over him. He went from two hundred tons to over two hundred pounds in a whirling blur of pink.

He had to get to Carla. He had to get her to medical. He had to…

The crowd closed in on his mate, humans drawing nearer to her unmoving form, and his dragon’s breath surged in his throat. He released an ominous bellow, fire bursting forth, while he burst into a loping run. His wing hung loosely from his back, the other torn through the thin membrane that kept him sky-bound. One arm burned, fractured but not broken through.

Rendan had survived. Would Carla?

The crowd scattered with his fire, but quickly resurged, moving to surround his mate. Unacceptable.

He spat at the humans again, shoving them aside with the burning promise of pain. He saw Zadri out of the corner of his eye—the peach warrior gaining his feet and quickly shifting as well. Then he had a fellow warrior closing in on Carla, another male who would defend his mate.

Now Rendan focused fully on Carla. On getting to her. On destroying any who dared stand between him and his mate.

If one more human moved, they would all die. All.

But they dispersed once more, this time staying far away from his mate. He fell to his knees beside her, mind whirling as he looked over her injuries. Blood and sand clung to her body, raw wounds a stark contrast to her pale skin. Several bled freely, more than one deep enough for him to see bone through her flesh.

Medical. He had to get her to medical. The healers in medical would save Carla.

Zadri dropped to the ground beside Rendan and saved his own life by not reaching for Carla. “What do you require?”

“Keep them back. Make a path to medical.” He tore his attention from Carla and focused on Zadri. “Any means necessary.”

Nothing mattered if he lost Carla. Nothing.

“Understood.” Zadri pushed to his feet and acted much like Rendan, releasing a stream of threatening fire that frightened the humans into retreat.

Sirens sounded in the distance—human peace keepers or healers, he was not sure which. But they were not better than the Preor healers. They did not have the
ryaapir
platforms available.

And Carla would need much repair.

Gritting his teeth, he slipped his arms beneath her lax body, lifting and holding her against his chest as he regained his feet. His injuries screamed in protest, body demanding he stop and heal, but his mind was stronger than his injuries. His dragon’s mind pushed him on, snarling and demanding he get his mate to safety—get her help.

Zadri’s pace remained steady, brisk but not jogging. Quick enough to take the time to adequately scare the humans. The tower’s double doors swung open, the warriors quick to respond to their approach. They stepped aside as he and Zadri entered.

“Make a hole!” Zadri’s voice echoed down the passageway and he watched others scatter and flatten themselves against the hallway walls.

Path cleared, the two of them strode toward medical, Rendan conscious of the precious bundle he carried. Conscious of her blood coating his skin. Conscious of the ever-slowing beat of her heart.

The other warriors were nothing more than a blur in his peripheral vision, nameless and faceless forms that he ignored.

Except one. Except the one whose banked happiness pulled at him as he strode by. He took a split second to glance to his right, to meet the warrior’s gaze—Ballakin’s gaze. His expression was adequately worried, but his eyes…

Carla moaned and Rendan concentrated on his task. Carla. Medical. Carla. Medical.

They turned the last corner, Zadri already standing within medical’s doorway and holding the panels open for him. He did not hesitate to stride into the space, to step into the mass chaos of scrambling healers.

He bypassed them all, striding to the nearest
ryaapir
platform, and he gently placed his burden on the flat surface.

Chashan rushed forward, another healer on his heels, and Rendan did not miss the male’s fleeting distaste for Carla.

He knew Chashan’s disgust was Rendan’s own fault, but he did not have time to explain. Explain why he’d acted as he had or why Carla was not the catalyst for his choice. He simply needed the male to perform his duties.

Rendan reached across the platform and snatched the male’s
katoth
strap—the one revealing his rank as healing master. “You will heal her no matter your feelings. You will heal her and she will walk out of medical—“ He bared his fangs, hissing at the male. “Alive and uninjured.”

“Understood, Offense Master.”

“Good.” Now all Rendan had to do was wait… and pray to the skies he hadn’t destroyed his mating with Carla before it had a chance to start. For if she discovered what he’d done—how he’d betrayed her—he did not believe he could ever earn her forgiveness.

Syh…
He tried to speak to the very skies themselves and yet… what could he say? His throat tightened and pain unrelated to his fall wrapped around his chest. Chashan peeled cloth from Carla’s body, revealing more injuries and more deathly pale skin.

What could he say to
Syh
?

Please.