Taulan (Dragons of Preor Book 2)(10)

By: Celia Kyle & Erin Tate

She tilted her head toward the man on the beach. “What about him? Does he have to speak with ‘security personnel’? He let—”

“He could not have done more than he did, which was alert us to trouble.” Bikk pressed his lips together and looked toward the sandy beach. “Preors cannot tolerate the seas. They sink and do not have the ability to swim. Coming into the waters would have been a pointless death.”

For some reason a jolt of worry and concern assaulted her and then a wave of comfort and reassurance came from the Knowing.

Someone was dicking with her head and she didn’t like it. At all.

But if he was a Preor, why didn’t the male on the beach have—

“And that is something Theresa knows.” A grim admonishment filled his tone and Theresa flinched.

“Are you gonna tell Mama and Papa?” Her voice was so small, so tiny.

“No, you will.” Bikk’s words brooked no argument.

A cramp teased her outer thigh, and she gritted her teeth against the pulsating pain in her muscles. It wouldn’t be long before all thoughts of conversation were replaced with the urge to simply stay alive. While she didn’t exactly trust these Ujal, something inside her urged her to put her faith in Bikk and the others.

“Bikk, right?” She hissed when her calf knotted and then fought against the grimace threatening to overtake her face.


“Either take me to the beach, take Theresa, or support me. I won’t last much longer.” She hated to admit the weakness, but pride wouldn’t keep her breathing.

The words had Theresa tightening her hold and burying her face against Lana’s neck.

“Apologies. I forget human frailty.”

Frailty? If she wasn’t so tired she’d show him frailty. Treading water in the ocean in a suit skirt while holding a toddler was hardly frail.

Bikk drifted forward, slicing through the water without difficulty, and then she found herself flush against him, her side pressed to his chest. Goosebumps rose all over her, overcoming her skin, while a wave of revulsion embraced her from head to toe. She swallowed against the accompanying zip of pain and suppressed the urge to groan. His touch caused more pain than the cramp stiffening her thigh.

He didn’t wait for her to grant her agreement. Instead, the moment she was flush with him, he took off. He sliced through the water, moving with surprising speed despite the added weight. The others moved to surround them and easily kept pace, their granite-like gazes missing nothing as they surveyed the surroundings.

Theresa’s hold never lessened, small arms firmly clinging to her.

Bikk didn’t say a word while he transported them to UST.

Yet, while the Ujal remained quiet, the Preor did not. Within seconds of beginning their travels, the other male roared, the sound shaking the air and forcing the water to tremble with its strength.

Yes, he shouted and it sounded like… “Mine.”

But that wasn’t the surprising part—or not the only surprising part. No, what frightened Lana even more was the way her body reacted. She sucked in a quick breath when her nipples pebbled and body tightened. That single word resonated through her from head to toe and that weird, intrusive person—thing—announced itself once more. It didn’t do much beyond whisper a single word through her head in return. “Mine.”

No. No way. She wasn’t losing her mind. She wasn’t infatuated with some Preor running along the beach who roared instead of spoke. She wasn’t.

But that didn’t stop the sensations from coming. No amount of denial halted the certainty in its tracks. Just as sure as she held an Ujal youngling in her arms, she had a Preor chasing them.

A Preor who belonged to her.


They would not allow him to see her, would not even tell him her name or her condition. He’d raced over the sands, cursing his lack of wings with every pounding step. His dragon prowled, his fiery nature snarling at his handicap. If he’d had his wings…

But he didn’t. Which meant two legs had to take him from place to place. Sand flew when he took off, and a roar escaped his mouth to be followed by a spurt of red flames. His fingers ached and throbbed, the need to shift pummeling him, yet what good would it do?

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