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©Copyright 2023 by - Lilly Wilder All rights reserved.
In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.
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My Dragon Protectors
Menage Mating Romance
By: Lilly Wilder
CHAPTER 1
Brandon
Beating our wings, my partner and I, with the wind brushing along our scales and our tails twisting behind us, aimed ourselves down through the air to where we were told we could find her.
Rowan Campion ran a cafe and art gallery here in Jerome, Arizona. There was nothing so remarkable about that. Jerome was a Mecca for the arts and was full of places like Campion’s. It was not, however, full of women like Rowan Campion. She was something rare and special, and Mace and I had been sent to find her and take her away with us, for her own sake—and the sake of the world. We didn’t have all the details yet about why she was so important. We’d be given those on a need-to-know basis. We only knew who and what Rowan Campion was, and that we needed to get her into protective custody before they could get to her. Which was what brought us to Campion’s today as something other than browsing art-lovers and coffee-drinking customers.
With wings at full span, we dropped onto the pavement outside of Campion’s and immediately started to morph. Once we were inside the place, Mace and I would attract attention just by being there in our Scale Patrol uniforms; there was no need to get the humans excited. If they saw us the way we flew in, it was possible they could get just a bit worked up.
We had horned dragon heads sitting atop long serpentine necks; big leathery wings extending from our upper backs; and long, flattened tails extending from our lower backs. Our skin was of smooth, shiny, leathery scales all over, though the uniforms covered everything but our necks, arms, wings, and tails; and our fingers ended in long, sharp talons. We found that humans in some places were a little more accepting of us than others. Jerome was a place full of artists and intellectuals, humans who could deal with unusual things and ideas. It was the kind of place where our kind could live a little more openly and freely than in a lot of other human places. Our people generally kept to our own communities in the mountains and valleys, but some of us were known to be living here and doing well for themselves. Jerome was the kind of place where some of the humans might actually seek us out and not be afraid. But we were taking no chances. The world was full of enough fear as it was—not just fear, but stark terror. It was everywhere and it was getting worse; Mace and I knew that. It was the reason why the Patrol had sent us to find this woman.
As soon as we touched down, Mace and I let our dragon forms melt into our human shapes. Our wings and tails retracted into the special, self-sealing notches for them in our sleeveless uniforms. Our heads, necks, and hands morphed from dragon to human; our dragon skin melted into human flesh. No sooner had we finished morphing than we got a taste of the dire, dangerous thing we knew only too well was going on in the world.
Up and down the street were the sounds of humans shouting, some of them crying. People came out of buildings and ran for their vehicles, shouting into their phones, calling the names of loved ones. Cars came out of parking places with tires screeching, and Mace and I saw one near-collision. I hoped no one was about to get hit. The fear in the air was almost a thing you could touch. There had been so much fear, coming in wave after wave, ever since Washington and Moscow fell. The whole world was reeling on the edge of chaos and it was only by some miracle that some shred of sanity was still prevailing. I was afraid it couldn’t last, and though he hadn’t said so, I knew the same was true for Mace.
We approached the front steps leading up to the entrance to Campion’s, and the door flew open and several people came running out onto the front landing. They stopped at the sight of us, and the fear on their faces and lighting their eyes, we knew, had nothing to do with us.
One woman came right up to me and asked in a voice shaky with terror, “What are you here for? Is it about what’s happening in St. Louis? You heard about St. Louis, didn’t you? It’s going on there right now! It’s terrible! Are they coming this way?”
Another woman, just as terrified, said to Mace, “You know about Phoenix and Flagstaff and Tucson, don’t you? They’re ready to evacuate. Are we going to have to evacuate here? Are we next?”
Mace replied, “We can’t be sure. You just have to stay calm. The human authorities will tell you if anything happens near here.”
That woman had a man with her—a husband, a boyfriend. He demanded, “Then what are you here for? Why isn’t the Alliance stopping them? Why don’t you do something? They’ve hit California and Texas. New York and Washington are gone. They’re making more of themselves and more of those weapons all the time. What’s it going to take?”
My partner shot me a look, quietly saying, We’ve got no time for this. Mace was right, of course. And he knew I was better at handling situations like this than he was. I sent out an empathic wave of calm to smooth over the humans’ nerves and ease their fears at least a little. I felt the panic level off and start to drop just a notch. The world was full of frightened humans right now, and they had a reason to be so. They were scared that they would be the next targets, and I couldn’t blame them.
“Please,” I said to the group of humans, “my partner and I have business inside. We need to have a word with the owner. If you’d excuse us…”
Mace simply stepped around the people who were addressing him and made for the door. “Come on, Brandon, let’s get this done.”
“Don’t worry,” I said to the people as I moved after Mace. In the time that I’d been partnered with him, I’d learned what my role was in the game of Good Dragon/Bad Dragon. It was just the way our personalities worked. He was already through the door as I made my way past them, giving them a last reassurance. “Everything’s good here; just go on home and keep the News on.” Quickly, I entered Campion’s and let these few scared patrons get on their way.
Campion’s was a welcoming-looking place inside. There was a coffee bar area and plenty of comfortable-looking seating with tables and chairs and booths. Off to one side was the gallery area where paintings and sculptures were on display. I remembered the briefing that Mace and I got before we left. Some of the paintings might have been the work of the owner. Out in back was a terrace or deck area of stained wood, with more tables and chairs and some other sculptures. But the main focus of attention was at the bar area, and the video screen over it. Everyone was looking there—including the woman behind the bar.
There she was—Rowan Campion. She hadn’t noticed Mace and me yet, but Mace had noticed her. He was standing still, looking right at her. I had to admit, she was something to stop anyone in his tracks. Of all the humans that we could have been sent out to find and protect, Rowan Campion was, if I say so myself, a sight to behold.
Rowan wasn’t looking our way; we were seeing her in profile as she, with the customers who hadn’t run out in a panic, stared up at the newsfeed on the screen. What we could see was the profile of a young human female that you’d want to sit for a painting, a photograph, a hologram—anything that would capture that beauty. A cascade of long red hair tumbled down from her head over her shoulders. Owning an art gallery was the right occupation for this woman. She was a work of art herself.
There was a feeling coming off of her. I could sense it and I knew Mace must be picking up on it as well. It was like the feeling that I’d sent out to calm the people we’d met a minute ago. It had affected the few other people who were still in the place. I could tell, and I was sure Mace could too, that they were scared. But the feeling coming off of Rowan was keeping them from flying into panic like those who’d come running out. The empathy from her was holding them in place, scared as they were. Art was not her only talent.
I walked over closer to Mace, and he spoke up. “Rowan Campion…?”
She made herself look away from the screen to acknowledge us. She recognized our uniforms and said, “Scale Patrol? Is there something I can help you with? Are we in trouble?” She glanced back up at the screen, then back at us. “Is that coming here now?”
