Jarek (Scifi Alien Weredragon Romance) (Dragons of Preor Book 1) by Celia Kyle & Erin Tate

Author:Celia Kyle & Erin Tate [Kyle, Celia]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Published: 2016-01-06T05:00:00+00:00

13

Jarek decided he would not laugh again—perhaps ever. The pain that came with the sound nearly sent him to his knees and all hints of his need vanished with the jolting protest of his body. His mate paled when he groaned and he cursed himself for not remaining silent. He did not—could not—be seen as weak or vulnerable. He was the War Master of the Preor fleet. He controlled his men through fear turned respect. Exposing the depth of his injuries was a mistake. One he could not undo.

Yet, his mate should be the one person he was comfortable with. She was the one being he could be vulnerable around without fear. Right?

Knowing’s definition of mates—what they meant to each other and how they were intended to interact flashed through his mind. He could lay himself bare before Melissa without worry or fear of attack. A true mate would never hurt their other half.

He was not sure if the Knowing was correct. He knew it was supposed to be accurate, yet all of his training…

Melissa looked past him, her attention focusing just above his shoulder. “You’re bleeding again,” she murmured. “We need to get you cleaned up so I can re-bandage your injuries.”

He grunted, unsure how to respond to her demand. Being injured and weak in her presence… His very nature objected to the current events despite the Knowing. He tore his gaze from his mate and worked at the ties of his pants again. It took moments to unlace then shove them down his thighs. They pooled in a stiff heap at his feet and he stepped free of the worn katoth. Nude, he eyed the shower, wondering how to use such a chamber.

Melissa presented him with her back and scooted to the right of the shower. “Step into the tub. The nozzle detaches and I can rinse you off. I’ll keep the pressure light.”

Jarek noted she kept her gaze averted, those beautiful eyes no longer roaming over his body. Instead, she focused on twisting and turning a device attached to the wall. A rush of liquid came from one such device—water. Soon she seemed satisfied with her efforts and detached some other device. This had to be the nozzle she spoke of. Soon water came from it as well. Ah, her method of rinsing.

Moving carefully, he did as she bid, folding his wings a little more to properly fit within the space. He swallowed the hiss that threatened, unwilling to express even more weakness. His mate would never believe she was saddled with a lesser male.

But I am not mating her. Why do I care for her opinion?

His heart clenched, gut tightening with the thoughts. She deserved better than a centenarian who’d seen nothing but heartache and war, yet he ached for her. Ached to have her in his arms and beneath his wing.

A nearly useless wing.

No, he would not condemn her to a worthless male.

“This might hurt a little,” she murmured.

Then her hands were on his skin, on flesh and scales.

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