How to Soothe a Dragon

Chapter 1

Chapter 1Derek Herman stared at his front door shaking on its hinges when Ocren Starburst, his downstairs neighbor, pounded on it.

“Let me in, Derek!”

The growl didn’t make it easier to understand the heavily accented words. It made Derek shiver, but he didn’t reply. Instead, he ran to the door and leaned his back against it. If Ocren broke the deadbolt or the hinges, he’d have to get past Derek too before he got into the apartment. Derek had no illusions: Ocren was strong enough to do it.

Years ago, long before Derek was born, the intergalactic council deemed humans unfit to rule Earth. From what Derek had learned in school, they might not have been wrong. Humans had done a good job ruining the planet, but it was only one piece of the puzzle. The Pacurians, one of the more powerful races in the galaxy, had a classic Mars-needs-women thing going on, and humans were compatible with them.

The Pacurians had moved in, not all of them, of course. Pacuria, their home planet, was roughly the size of Earth. If they all came here, Earth would be severely overpopulated, so they came and went. Once they’d managed to knock up some poor human girl, they’d whisk her off to Pacuria, and no one ever saw her or the child again.

“Derek!”

Derek squeezed his eyes shut, silently trying to comfort his poor, innocent door as Ocren’s fist once again connected with the surface. One day, he’d hit through it. Pacurians were freakishly strong and insanely stupid—the last part was a lie. They had all the top positions in society, leaving only minimum wage jobs for humans, and there was nothing wrong with their intelligence. Though in Ocren’s case, Derek had his doubts. He turned into a grunting Neanderthal as soon as he laid eyes on Derek.

Ocren had moved into the apartment block four years ago. Why he lived in a building filled with humans, Derek didn’t know, and he was not going to ask. Talking to Ocren was the biggest mistake he’d ever made.

Derek had met him on the staircase on his way home from work one day and as soon as he’d spoken, those creepy green eyes had begun to glow. Ocren had groaned and then tried to grab him. Luckily, Derek had experience in dodging grabby hands after working as a waiter in bars, one shadier than the other.

“Let me in, Derek!”

The door shook again, and Derek winced. He’d never figured out what it was. He had watched from afar how Ocren had conversed with several others who lived in the apartments, and his eyes never glowed then. He never growled or pounded on their doors, and while Derek never had seen him smile, he appeared relaxed—as long as Derek kept his distance.

Maybe he was allergic to Derek.

Another fist landed on the door, making it quake, and Derek’s heart thudded hard in his chest. Perhaps it would be better if he left. He was exhausted and had wanted a quick shower before crawling into bed, but maybe he should climb down the fire escape and come back in an hour or two when Ocren had fallen asleep.

“Derek.”

The way Ocren’s voice softened had his hackles rising. He rushed through the apartment, threw open the living room window, and jumped out on to the landing of the fire escape.

Some of the Pacurians could control minds—Derek didn’t plan on staying close to Ocren long enough to see if he was one of them.

When Derek had moved in, the grid stair crossing his window had annoyed the hell out of him—way to ruin the view—now he was nothing but grateful. There was only one problem. Since Ocren lived directly underneath him, he also had access to the fire escape, so he’d better hurry.

Before sliding the window shut, he glanced at the front door. When it shook once again, he took off. He steadied himself on the railing, jumping several steps at a time. He lived on the third floor, which meant he had to go down six flights.

The moment his feet touched the ground, he took off running. His heart was thundering in his ears. He rushed down the street, only to dive into the shabby bar at the corner of the block. It was the only place he knew to be open at this time, and he didn’t want to wander the streets.

Casey met his gaze over the bar and frowned, her eyes jumping to a spot behind him, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

“Derek?”

“Case.”

Her lips thinned. “Beer?”

“Please.” He slapped a bill on the bar with more force than he’d meant to. Beers weren’t in his budget. He should use his tip money to buy food, not liquid calories.

“Problem unwinding after work?”

“Noisy neighbor.” He’d told Casey about the way Ocren acted, but this was not the place to talk about it. Most, if not all, businesses were owned by Pacurians, and this bar was no exception. Ziril, Casey’s boss, was eyeing him from the spot she always occupied at the far corner of the bar. Derek had only ever seen her talk to other Pacurians, except for one time when there had been a brawl.

Ziril could control minds. After that time, Derek was certain. It had been like a drill going through his temple, and he didn’t think she’d aimed it at him since he still could do what he wanted. When everyone had moved out of the bar like a group of zombies going for a stroll, he’d gone too, blood dripping from his nose. No one else had gotten a nosebleed.

“Want to sleep at my place?”

“Can I?”

She nodded. “You should report him.”

“Yeah, right.” He snorted. Ocren was a cop. The Pacurians were big on uniforms. They all wore the same kind—similar to the ones The Beatles wore on the Sgt. Pepper’s album cover—and you could tell what occupation they had by the color. They all looked like cosplaying Beatles wannabes, but it came in handy at times.

Ocren wore black, and only cops wore black. There was one thing separating him from all the others—he always wore several burgundy leather bracelets. Derek had never seen any other Pacurians wear jewelry or decorations of any kind, so the bracelets stood out.

“You should keep a bottle of lemon juice on you.”

Derek stared at her before laughing. “What?”

Casey leaned closer, glancing at Ziril, before whispering, “They’re allergic to lemons.”

Derek chuckled and took a swig of the beer. “They’re not. It’s a myth. If they were, there wouldn’t have been any lemons left on Earth.”

“Shh.” Casey glared at him, and Ziril looked their way. Derek schooled his face. He didn’t believe Pacurians were sensitive to lemons, lemons were everywhere, but as Casey continued to glare, he sighed.

“Can I have a tequila shot?” He shouldn’t waste money on booze.

“One tequila coming up.”

Seconds later, Casey placed a salt-rimmed shot glass and a lime wedge in front of him. Derek frowned. “I’d like lemon instead of lime.”

“Sorry, we don’t have lemon.”

Derek narrowed his eyes. “Seriously.”

“Not a single drink with lemon juice.”

That couldn’t be. He’d never worked behind the bar, but surely, he’d carried out drinks with lemon juice in them. Hadn’t he?

* * * *

Ocren Starburst leaned his forehead against Derek’s door. He was gone. He knew it in his soul. The ache was welling up again. His hands shook as he pushed away from the wall.

Next time. He’d handle it better the next time.

Shaking his head, he went back to his apartment. Hopelessness painted the walls, and cold sweat coated his skin. He needed Derek. The moment he’d seen him, he’d known he needed him. He didn’t know what to do.

As soon as he saw him, he wanted to push. Wanted to take over his mind. Wanted to crawl into him, and he feared taking over his mind wouldn’t be enough. It was as if Derek was the key, the one person who could heal the rip in his soul. The only one who could calm him.

He was born under the Zatera moon—volatile and feared by most. His stay on Earth wasn’t one he’d chosen, but it was an effective way to get rid of the Zatera born. Put them on Earth, and since most of them never sired any offspring, they’d remain there. The only way to get back home, unless you were of an important family, was to sire a child. Then they welcomed you with open arms. A Zatera born would never be welcomed with open arms.

He growled.

They’d placed him in a human building because no one wanted to be close to him. Fine with him, he didn’t want to be close to them either. His teeth grew sharp as he neared the window and looked at the ugly fire escape blocking most of the view.

After a second’s thought, he opened the window and pushed through. Derek would have no problem climbing out the window, he was small and fine-limbed—maybe not by human standards but compared to him at least. A metallic groan sounded as he put his boots on the grid and climbed up the two flights to Derek’s apartment.

Part of him was ashamed of his behavior, but he was only gonna make sure Derek was okay. He isn’t there. Whatever he told himself, it was a lie. Derek wasn’t in the building. Ocren sensed when he was nearby, and when he wasn’t.

Biting back a snarl, he looked through the glass into Derek’s living room—tidy. There weren’t many things, only a couch, a coffee table, a TV, and a bookshelf. His heart ached. Derek’s scent would be strong inside.

He glanced toward the bed and pictured Derek sleeping there, warm and cozy. His pale skin fascinated Ocren, and he wanted to run his hands over it, over every part of him. Burning heat coursed through his veins and his c**k was painfully hard—it always was when he could breathe in Derek’s scent.

The scent wasn’t enough, though. He needed Derek, and he needed him now. It had been four years, and Ocren didn’t have much time left. He wanted to spend whatever time he had with Derek.

Ocren was forty-four, and he’d never heard of any Zatera born living that long without a mate. The few who lived long, happy lives were those who found a mate born under a more balanced moon. Hardly anyone would ever consider mating a Zatera born. They were cruel, turned feral, got violent…or so everyone was told—Zatera born included.

Ocren had been violent, he’d been angry—still was—but he’d never hurt someone he loved.

He didn’t have anyone to love here on Earth.

His rage was getting out of control. He’d almost taken off his boss’s head earlier today. The fucker had touched him—no one touched him—and Ocren had snapped. He’d thrown him into the wall and had been about to pounce when Kan had stepped into his line of sight.

Kan was another Zatera born, the only other Zatera born at their department. He was mated to Ilqan, a quiet Pacurian male with a soft face and sharp eyes. Ilqan leveled him.

Ocren had seen Kan at his worst, but after meeting Ilqan he’d turned into another man. He was still Zatera born, still sharp and harsh, as warriors should be, but he was more balanced.

Because of the incident earlier in the day, Ocren was on a week’s leave from work, and he feared it would tip him over the edge. What if he ended up slaughtering the inhabitants of the entire apartment block? He wanted to sink his fangs into anyone who’d ever spoken to Derek, and while part of him knew it wasn’t a charming trait, he couldn’t stop his brain from painting pictures of blood-sprayed walls and broken bodies.

A drop of rain landed on his forehead, making him aware of being outside—not only outside, but on the fire escape, three floors up, looking into an apartment that wasn’t his.

If his colleagues found out, he’d be put in isolation. He could hold on to his sanity while being at home for a week, but there was no question what would happen if they locked him up—he’d go feral.