Grabbing her nightgown and a pair of panties from the small suitcase she brought with her, she headed for the bathroom. Turning on the water, she breathed a sigh of pleasure as the hot water filled the large tub. She thought back to the renovations on the house.
After making sure the house’s foundation and outside structure were in good shape, she had started on the roof and worked her way down. She had installed the new metal roof with the help of a couple of friends from town. The good thing about being the local librarian was that she knew most of the women in town, who knew most of the men. A few carefully shared comments and she had a dozen healthy men helping her one weekend.
There had been numerous strapping teenagers, a couple of fathers – to watch the strapping teenagers, one or two single brothers with matchmaking sisters, and three old-timers who came to oversee the entire project. Of course, that meant the women had to come and feed the men, which led to the rebuilding of the old corn crib and Model-T sheds, repairs to the porches and railings, and the removal of the old outhouse and chicken coop. The teenagers had handled the bonfire that followed.
It had been like the old days when the residents would get together to raise a house or barn. There had been a steady stream of visitors every weekend for the last six months. Some people stopped by to check in on her and make sure that she hadn’t fallen off a ladder, while others stopped by in the hope of getting her to go out on a date with them – including DeWayne.
She shook her head, then pinned up her hair, so that it wouldn’t get wet. Removing her clothes, she tossed them into the basket. She leaned over, turned off the water, then placed the towel within easy reach. She tested the water with her toes before she stepped into the steaming water.
“Oh yes,” she moaned as she lowered herself into the tub.
She sank down, leaned back against the tub, and stretched out her legs, loving the fact that she could. Hanging her arms over the sides so that she didn’t sink below the water, she sighed and looked up at the ceiling as the heat worked its magic on her sore muscles.
“Now, if I can just sleep without the dreams,” she murmured, closing her eyes and trying to relax.
Her dreams were divided into two groups: erotic annoyances and terrifying nightmares. Out of the two, she preferred the first. Because the same dreams were occurring over and over every night, she had resorted to reading everything she could get her hands on in the library about the meaning of dreams. When that failed to solve the problem, she had driven to Boone to see a psychologist.
She should have saved herself the money. Purchasing something for the house would have been a helluva lot more useful. First, the psychologist wanted to know what medications she was taking and if she was doing drugs – no. Then, the doc had asked about her recent or current relationships. Delilah had laughed at that one – none. Then, came the hang-ups about family – nope, nada. Yes, her parents had died young, but they had always been a loving family. Her dad had worked too much, but he’d had a great sense of humor and he’d loved her mom to distraction. Her mom had one of those quirky personalities that everyone loved, especially kids during story hour at the library. The most unusual fact about her family may have been that her dad was black while her mom was white – and no, Delilah didn’t have any hang-ups about that either. It was life. Her parents had adored each other as much as they had adored her. Who could have a problem with that?
Delilah wondered if that was why she had accepted relatively easily that their deaths had happened so close together. Her dad had worked in the coal mines of Virginia and Kentucky, and he had suffered the effects of black lung as well as smoking too much. Her mom had died from undiagnosed pneumonia a few months after her father died, but Delilah thought if it hadn’t been that, it would have been something else. Her father’s death had truly sucked the life out of her mother.
Of course, at first, Delilah had been heartbroken. It hadn’t been until she went through a box of love letters her mother had saved that she realized the extent of the intensely close relationship her parents had shared. Every day that her father was away, he had sent a letter to her mother. Sometimes he had written poems to her interspersed with what he had done that day. Reading them gave her an image of her father that she never would have had if her mother had not saved the letters.
The psychologist had become frustrated when none of the usual diagnoses fit Delilah. How did you make a connection between two sexy guys who looked like something out of a wrestling magazine, dragons, and golden shape-shifting creatures – all of whom wanted to do things that gave her hot flashes far too early in life – with her parents’ deaths? When the psychologist couldn’t figure that one out, she focused on the terrifying dreams of herself dying.
She’d finally told the woman she agreed that the dream of dying could be connected with her parents’ sudden deaths. Delilah didn’t believe it for a second, but it had been the only way to shut the woman up and get out of her office before she charged for another hour of her totally useless time. Frustrated, Delilah had decided to try to solve the problem on her own.
“Focus, Delilah. Pick the dream apart and see where it might have a connection to something going on in your life,” she murmured, trying a technique that she’d read about in one of the books about dream therapy.
“I die younger than I am now, so it can’t be real,” she whispered, pulling up the image of her younger self lying in the bed.
She smiled when she turned her head and almost saw the other little girl sitting by her side, holding her hand. She curled her fingers around the side of the tub. Sara Wilson – her best friend and sister-of-the-heart. Sara had slipped into her bedroom after the doctor had told Delilah’s mom to keep everyone away.
“What’s wrong, Delilah? Are you sick like the other kids?” Sara asked.
Delilah tried to nod, but she was too tired. Her fingers twitched when Sara wrapped her small hand around hers. It was so hard to breathe and her chest hurt.
“I’ll tell them to let Auntie give you some medicine. These modern docs don’t know nothing about healing people. Auntie has herbs that will make you feel better. She is teaching me,” Sara whispered, afraid of being overheard.
“Don’t… leave… me,” Delilah pleaded, trying to draw enough air into her lungs. Her eyes closed and her fingers trembled. “I’m … scared, … Sara.”
“I won’t leave you,” Sara promised.
Delilah could feel tears slipping down her cheeks. She opened her eyes and blinked. Perhaps this wasn’t about her, but about Sara. Sitting up, she wrapped her arms around her bent legs. Sara had left when she was sixteen. They had kept in touch, sending emails back and forth. Sara had moved to Columbia a couple years ago, and told Delilah all about her studies and life there, but a little over a year ago, all correspondence had suddenly stopped – when Sara disappeared.
“Maybe I need to find her,” Delilah said, raising a wet hand to wipe her cheeks. “Damn it! Why didn’t I think of this before?”
Guilt washed through her. She had accepted the University and government’s findings that Sara was dead, but what if she wasn’t, and Sara was reaching out to her somehow? Delilah leaned forward and pulled the drain plug. She had immersed herself in the house renovations when she should have been devoting herself to finding her friend.
Cursing under her breath at her own selfishness, she rose from the tub and grabbed the towel. She had to go back to work tomorrow. She had no idea where to start, but she would figure it out. Hell, part of a librarian’s job was to do research. She would start looking tomorrow. She had plenty of resources at her fingertips.
She dried off and dressed in an oversized nightshirt that said ‘Bite me and I’ll bite back’ with a picture of a grinning Rottweiler on the front. Pulling off the hair clip, she ran her fingers through her hair. Confident that she was finally on the right track in resolving the issue of her dreams, she hung up the damp towel and walked into the bedroom before coming to an abrupt stop. She glared a
t the bed.
“Oh, hell no! I did not spend a small fortune for you damn dogs. Get your ass off my side,” she growled, stomping over to the bed where the two Rottweilers were sprawled with their heads on her pillow.
Chapter Two
Barrack guided their transport toward the spaceport in orbit around Valdier. A muscle ticked in his jaw. This would be their first major obstacle to overcome.
“How much do you want to bet that we get stopped?” Brogan commented, sliding into the seat next to him.
“We should have used the symbiots,” Barrack answered.
Brogan chuckled and cracked his knuckles. “I told you that before we left Kardosa. You should have listened to me,” he said, leaning forward and staring out at the spaceport. “Their technology has changed a lot over the centuries.”
“We already knew that from what we saw at the outer rim,” Barrack retorted, ignoring his brother’s jab.
“This is the Valdier Command Spaceport. State your business,” a voice ordered over the communications system.
Barrack bit back a growl of frustration when Brogan reached forward and opened the link. As per usual, his brother wanted to charge into things without even considering a less intrusive method – preferably one that didn’t require fighting or escaping from a prison cell, which had happened a considerable number of times over the past couple of centuries. The scar gracing Brogan’s cheek was evidence of their last encounter with a Marastin Dow warship and the battle that ensued.
“We are looking for a warrior named Jaguin with a mate named Sara. Where are they?” Brogan demanded.
Barrack shook his head. “Smooth, Brogan, real smooth. Why don’t you beat your chest as well?” he retorted.
“This is the Valdier Command Spaceport, please report to Dock A4-8 for clearance,” the voice replied.
“Affirmative,” Barrack replied, cutting the communications and following the lighted path to the docking station. “So much for telling them we are simple merchants.”
Brogan shrugged. “I forgot. What does it matter? We must find this Jaguin and his mate, why not get it over with?” he said, pulling his laser pistol from the sheath at his waist and checking the weapon to make sure it was fully charged.
Barrack bit the inside of his cheek. If they were thrown in a cell because of Brogan again, he was going to leave his brother there. He wasn’t about to lose their only chance of finding their mate because of Brogan’s temper.
Zoran Reykill frowned as he purposely strode down the corridor of the Spaceport. His brothers, Creon, Kelan, and Mandra, followed. Crew members swiftly moved to the side and stood at attention as they passed.
Zoran paused as he reached a set of double doors. The two guards standing outside pressed their hands to their chest before opening the doors for him and his brothers. Trelon Reykill turned and raised an eyebrow at Zoran.
“I didn’t expect all of you to come,” Trelon commented, walking over to Zoran when the small group stopped.
“We were having a meeting when you notified us,” Zoran said, glancing over Trelon’s shoulder to the detention cell block. “Are you sure it is them?”
Trelon nodded. “There is no mistake,” he said with a disbelieving shake of his head.
“Where did they come from?” Mandra asked.
“Kardosa Spaceport was the last place their ship was registered. They wiped everything else clean,” Trelon answered.
Kelan frowned. “I could take a look,” he suggested.
Trelon shook his head. “Cara already went over their system. Trust me, it is clean. She is impressed with the repairs done on the engines. She said some of the parts were shitty and they were lucky they made it this far,” he chuckled.
“What about their symbiots?” Zoran asked.
Trelon shrugged. “They remained docile when we took the twins into custody,” he said.
Zoran glanced at Creon, who was standing silently to the side, listening. The reason the four other brothers had come was partially out of curiosity, but mostly out of concern. Fortunately, Creon knew more about twin dragons than any of them. Not only was he close friends with Cree and Calo – twin dragons who had been children when Barrack and Brogan had supposedly died – he and Carmen also had a set of very young twins.
If the seasoned original twin dragons attacked, it would take their combined strength to defeat them. The only other warriors who might stand a chance of defeating Barrack and Brogan on their own were Cree and Calo – who were not here. Twin dragons were more extraordinarily more formidable than ordinary warriors because they worked as one with a skill and power that rivaled those of the royal blood.
Zoran hadn’t admitted to his brothers that he had been half expecting the twins. In truth, he hadn’t been sure if the dream he’d had the night before was a portent of something real or not. He was about to find out.
“Take me to them,” Zoran ordered.
Trelon led them down the short corridor to a holding cell. Behind the clear shield were two men, identical except for the fact that one had several long scars running down one side of his face and neck. The men looked up.
“Open the shield,” Zoran quietly ordered.
As the tall, powerful Valdier warrior entered the room, the deference of his dragon and his symbiot let Brogan know this was a man of royal blood.
“I am Zoran Reykill,” the man said with a nod of his head.
“I’m Brogan, this is my brother, Barrack,” Brogan replied.
“We met your father once when we were young. He was a good warrior,” Barrack quietly said.
“Yes, he was,” Zoran replied, tightening his lips.
Brogan glanced at the source of his dragon’s uneasiness - the man standing next to Zoran and the ones behind him. Zoran was certainly dangerous, but a good leader had to be tempered and wise. The man standing next to him had a roiling darkness within him that Brogan could relate to on a primitive, savage level. The others were on a varying level between the two men standing in front.
“This is Creon,” Zoran said with a nod. “The others are Mandra, Trelon, and Kelan.”
“Brogan, Barrack,” Creon greeted with a brief nod.
“Now that introductions are done, we want to know where a Valdier warrior named Jaguin and his mate are located,” Brogan stated in a blunt tone.
“Getting out of this detention cell and off the Spaceport would be helpful, too,” Barrack dryly added.
Brogan shrugged his shoulders. “We can handle that. Do you know who this warrior is and where we can find him?” he asked.
Zoran raised an eyebrow, and Brogan thought that perhaps he should have phrased his question so it didn’t come out more like a command. Better yet, he should have let Barrack do the talking. His brother had a much better temperament for negotiating than he did, but Barrack had grown quiet the moment they had docked.
“Yes, I know Jaguin and his mate, Sara. I also know why you are here,” Zoran replied.
“You… How?” Brogan demanded, taken aback.
Zoran’s gaze held a seriousness that carried weight and his expression was stern. Once again, Brogan was reminded that he was no longer at the outer rim, but on Valdier in the presence of the powerful leader of all the dragon-shifting species.
“I received an unexpected visit in my dreams from a certain Goddess who appears to have taken a liking to you both,” Zoran dryly replied.
“I can’t imagine why,” Creon muttered under his breath.
“Neither can I,” Zoran agreed with an amused grin.
“I have one more question that I hope you can answer,” Barrack quietly interrupted from where he had been silently standing near the wall.
Zoran turned to Barrack, his observant gaze not missing a detail. “If I can, I will answer it,” he replied.
Brogan saw a hint of indecision flash through Barrack’s eyes. It took a moment for the image in his brother’s mind to appear in his own. When it did, his stomach clenched.
“Do you k
now if our parents still live?” Barrack asked.
Creon spoke this time. “Yes, they both live in the same village,” he said.
Brogan turned his head to look at Creon. “How do you know?” he asked in a voice that was rougher than normal.
Creon grinned. “Cree and Calo’s mate, Melina, kicked your younger brother’s ass,” he chuckled.
“They are alive,” Barrack repeated, a slow grin curving his lips.
Brogan blanched. “We have a brother?” he said.
“You have missed a lot since you have been gone, but your journey is not yet over. Come, we will return to the palace, and I will explain what I know and help you as best as I can,” Zoran stated, signaling them to follow him.
Brogan looked at Barrack. “Cree and Calo have a mate,” he said, his expression changing to remorse when he remembered his cruel words to the younger twins so long ago.
“There really is hope for us,” Barrack murmured.
Chapter Three
Barrack gazed around the palace grounds. Over the centuries, he and his brother had spent most of their time either on Spaceports along the Outer Rim of the Star System or alien planets that ranged from desert conditions to water worlds. Some had been brutal, while others had been beautiful, but none of them had given him a sense of peace like this one did. He was home.
We home, his dragon chortled, pushing at him to be released. I fly.
Not yet. We must learn where this warrior and his mate are first so that we can find our true mate, was Barrack’s silent reply.
Want to fly, his dragon moaned in regret.
Barrack understood his dragon’s growing restlessness. There was not a lot of room on a Spaceport, especially for a dragon. Their need to fly, to release their dragons had been one of the reasons they had been forced to visit other worlds.