“Yes, I retain the facility for human speech dragon form. I just did not wish to speak with you.” His dragon voice was gravelly and low but tinged with some emotion. Alara didn’t have much basis for comparison, but she thought he sounded petulant.
“Yeah, and I don’t want to talk to you either. So maybe you should leave.” She pointed him to the door.
“My shift was unintentional.” She heard embarrassment in his words and a snarl that seemed more aimed at the speaker than at her. “You made me angry.”
“I’m still not understanding why you’re still here…” With each passing moment her irritation at him lessened. It was hard to stay mad now that they weren’t shouting.
Those enormous black eyes rolled in their slanted sockets. “I can’t get through the door.”
Her giggle erupted before he’d even finished the sentence and built into a chorus of laughter that bent her over. He huffed and stomped around once more before re-settling into the carpet. “You could leave, you know.”
His statement only made her laugh harder. “I’m not leaving. It’s my room! Why don’t you just shift back to human?” She looked around the floor at the scraps of clothes, looking forward to his running back to his room in one of her robes.
“I need a few minutes before I can shift again. I’ll leave as soon as that window passes.”
She grabbed the remote off her desk and crossed the room, hopping up onto his back. “I’ll wait with you.”
* * * *
Alara lay on her stomach across his scales, her soft cheek pressed near his neck. The rise and fall of her breathing atop his body drained the last of his frustration.
She pointed the item in her hand toward a screen on the far wall, switching on the television. “I hope you like Ingmar Bergman, dragon.”
Alara’s tiny hands whispered over his scales absentmindedly as she watched the movie. He wanted to roll on his back, let her rub his soft underbelly. Perhaps, she would touch him lower, at the vent where his reproductive organs remained tucked.
Good gods, this woman brought out his most depraved urges! Dragons could only copulate with other dragons. Period. Still, his hemipeni firmed.
“Kai,” she whispered, “I slept with you because I…well, I thought you were hot.”
He’d thought he didn’t care anymore about her reasoning but felt a weight lift from his chest. “You found my form appealing?”
Alara snorted. “Everyone finds your form appealing, Kai. Males, females, dolphins. Stop fishing for compliments.”
He chuckled, causing Alara to bounce up and down on his back. “I too, find your form very appealing, both your forms."
Alara slid off his back to rest in the crease of his folded body. Her side curved into the indentation, warming his cold blood. “Yeah, I know.” He couldn’t see her face, but he imagined her little lips twitched to the side.
The film drew his attention, though he didn’t understand the words. “I like this movie.”
Alara said from within his coils, “Hmmm…Dark, maudlin, old-fashioned. Why does that not surprise me?”
Kai humphed. “We have television in the Underwater City. And cable!” He heard Alara scoff. “But I have always preferred films in black and white.”
She petted his scales, reassuring him. “Hey, I’m just glad to have someone to watch this with. Kay and E won’t watch anything not produced by John Hughes.”
“Who is John Hughes?”
Alara laughed again, but this one sounded kinder. “Dragon, if you’re not careful, I may fall in love with you.
Kai’s gut twisted. Whether in fear or desire, he couldn’t tell.
His heart rate had slowed, signaling a full recovery from his shift to dragon. He could change now if he wanted to. Alara’s body rose and fell with her breaths, almost as if she slept on him. He decided to stay for a while, letting her weight warm his scales.
* * * *
Dr. Grathers speared his needle deep into the vein at Gracie’s elbow and drew vial after vial of blood. With each new tube, the red liquid spurted into the vacuum, slowing as the pressure decreased. The sharp stick jostled every time, but the succubus resisted the urge to cry out. She looked straight ahead. Men with white coats terrified her, but she would never again give them the satisfaction of showing it.
At last, he removed the tourniquet and pressed gauze against the wound as he withdrew. His waxy skin brushed her as he affixed a Band Aid. As if the thin plastic wrapper could cover all the damage he’d done.
During her time at the Dendric labs she’d seldom seen Pierson Grathers. His lab assistants conducted his experiments. Gracie wondered in passing what those budding PhDs wrote for their dissertations and where else they might find work in their field.
He had been in charge of the lab, though. Every scream she’d heard, every spinal tap she’d endured, ever body that had been wheeled past her cage had resulted from this one man’s orders. Sure, Dendric Research funded the studies. Without the biotech company, Grathers would be dissecting mice in a basement somewhere. Without Grathers, however, Dendric would lose its mastermind.
The doctor muttered to himself as he stored her blood in a tall refrigerator. His pate shined with sweat as he retrieved items from a storage cabinet.
Gracie stood, straightened her skirt and willed herself to be gorgeous. Grathers had come alone to the ship this time. No one would notice for several days if he disappeared. She’d have plenty of time to run. She stiffened her spine, pictured Karon’s strong shoulders and self-deprecating grin. Her pheromones rose up, filling the room with the scent of exotic spices. The scientist keened softly, a high-pitched whine that made bile catch in Gracie’s throat.
Just oral, she could handle that, dissociate from the rest. Once her powers locked in to his emotions the drain would be easy and lethal. Unable to bear looking at him, she closed her eyes and allowed the air-born chemicals to draw him in. Despite her closed eyes, she knew the moment the doctor returned to her. The sterile scent of the lab and science permeated his clothes. With a gag, she remembered her time in the cage, surrounded by the aroma of disinfectants.
Before she lost her nerve, Gracie dropped to her knees and ran her hand the short distance from the knee to the groin of his slacks. A semi-hard, pointed erection met her hand. With a deep breath, she imagined Karon’s salty-earth smell, his crisp chest hair against her face. The pencil-like tool in her hand became her lover’s finger.
Gathering her courage, Gracie unbuttoned and unzipped him as fast as she could. When her hand ducked below the white cotton briefs, the doctor’s voice rained down. “Ah, Matilda…” Thank gods he was thinking of someone else too. Perhaps whoever it was might guide him into the next life.
And with that charitable thought, Gracie stroked hard and willed Grather’s essence to leave his body.
* * * *
Karon still shivered from his most recent dive as he strode toward the med room. He’d told fucking Grathers to stay away from Gracie, but one of his crew said they were down drawing blood. No doubt she was re-living every damn second of her captivity and torture.
He swiveled around the last corner and yanked open the door, planning to tear Grathers a new one. His heart fell clear from his goddamn chest. Gracie had pulled her face away, but still she clung to—Oh fuck.
The metal corridors streaked by in a haze. His brain flashed so many images he could have been having a seizure. Gracie’s delicate fingers, Grathers’ ferret-like face scrunched up around the eyes, but his mouth hanging open. He didn’t stop running until he got to the head in his quarters. Great heaving spasms ejected the contents of his stomach into the toilet.
He laid his forehead against the cool wall behind him. A moment later, a cloth pressed against the back of his neck. Gracie’s honey and spice scent filled the room, echoes of the pheromones she’d thrown at Grathers. His stomach clenched again.
“Fuck, Gracie. Why?” He couldn’t look at her. Her hand landed on his shoulder and he flinched away.
“I wanted to kill him, John.” Her words were stern, unyielding. Still Karon couldn’t stop shaking. No matter her reason, she’d touched that evil fuck.
“Did you?” Maybe if Grathers was dead he could stand to look Gracie in the eye.
“No. He lost consciousness, but…”
Karon heard her soft breath hitch and knew that she was crying. Damn, she’d been through so much, and doing what she did must have taken balls of steel. He reached out to her jean-covered leg and stroked down her calf. Her hand touched his hair, the movement tentative, but still bringing his heart to his throat.
“I couldn’t finish it, John.” A sob escaped her lips. “I…I just couldn’t.”
It could have been minutes, hours, or days later when she walked away. He never met her eyes, and she didn’t say a word. By the time he left his room she was no longer aboard.
* * * *
When Alara arrived in her office the next morning, Kaylee stood poised with a fresh batch of complaints in hand. Pouring a much-needed cup of coffee, Alara slumped into her seat and read them one by one.
“’Lara, I wish I could say that I’m glad for the dragons’ help, but this is ridiculous.” Kaylee, who normally thought the best of everyone, shook her head, bouncing her curls from side to side. “Practically every soldier in the army has registered a complaint. They issue orders! They don’t follow directions! They disrespect Murrough protocols!”
Alara nodded and rubbed the sore muscles in her shoulder. She hadn’t gotten out in the field at all the previous day. Instead she’d mediated turf wars and battles of will.
“Kay, at least no more kids had been stolen since yesterday.” Apparently Alara was actually defending the dragons now. How had that happened?
“Yeah, but we’re no closer to finding the culprits—or the seven missing children. And those dragons just keep racking up the enemies! Even E is furious. Twenty-five hunky guys show up, and E is so pissed he won’t even talk to any of them. Alara, you need to do something.”
The princess flipped through the sheets of written complaints, her irritation spiking with each page. “Yeah, I’ll talk to Kai.”
The sound of her door opening distracted her from her thoughts. A seven-foot-tall, mocha-skinned dragon walked in like he owned the place and cast down a haughty glare.
“We need three more boats and some other items.” He handed Alara a list as if he expected her to go fetch him his heart’s desire.
Standing from her desk, she squared her shoulders and leveled him a hard stare. “Soldier, you will knock before you enter my office.”
He gritted his teeth at the reprimand, and Alara’s hand gripped into a tight fist. He might have a solid foot on her, but she could break his jaw before he moved.
He neither replied nor apologized.
Trying to get a hold of her temper before it got the better of her, she handed the list back to the dragon. “Hans is in charge of assigning the boats. He’ll tell you where to find the rest.” She lifted her chin and returned his disdain with a good dose of her own.
The dragon raised an eyebrow, “General Nasu intimated that you were grateful for our assistance.” His expression dared her to contradict him.
Kaylee whispered, “Oh
hell
no!”
Alara gritted out, “I’m grateful for his help, but I didn’t invite the rest of you here. I plan to have a conversation with him about your attitude.”
The soldier turned on his heel, muttering, “Godsdamned mere.”
* * * *
Kai glowed with pride as his men loaded the boats. His troops had led the first in-depth sweep of the waters surrounding Murrough Island in record time. And though their search had yielded little results, a second, wider sweep was almost underway. Laird jogged up the dock, puffs of steam escaping his lips.