Draekon Heart: Exiled to the Prison Planet: A Sci-Fi Menage Romance (Dragons in Exile Book 3)

by Lili Zander

  What am I doing in the meanwhile?

  I’m eating chocolate. And a burger, and french fries. Evidently, Raiht’vi didn’t care for things like broccoli and kale, because her replicator only seems to be able to make junk food.

  Suits me just fine. Nothing’s ever tasted as good as this piece of deep-fried goodness, and when another beep-dissolve reveals a bottle of Tabasco sauce, I want to cry in sheer happiness.

  “Is the locator working?” I ask the three men through a mouthful of food. “Can you find the pieces of the cloakship?”

  Thrax doesn’t lift his head up. “Yes,” he replies absently. He’s playing with the screen, his face intent. “They’re marked.” He tilts the screen toward Zorux and Dennox. “So strange seeing a map of the prison planet,” he murmurs. “Did you know there’s an ocean east of us?”

  Figures. Guys and video games. Seems to be a galaxy-wide problem. Then again, I suppose one could say the same about me and chocolate. It’s a good thing that both Thrax and Zorux are too preoccupied to see me lick the last bits of the deliciously sweet goodness from my fingers.

  “Guys, supplies? Cloakship parts?” I ask again, trying to distract the boys from their toys. “Where are they? Beirax thought they were a two-month journey away.”

  “On foot,” Dennox replies. “It’ll be a lot faster by flight.”

  Thrax hands me the tablet, and I study the map. The supply drop is west of us, but there’s an inconveniently placed mountain range in the way. If we were journeying by foot, we’ll have to go due west until we reached the foothills of the Sa’Lung range, then head south, going almost a hundred miles out of our way to reach the Southern Pass. Then across the Sa’Lung Range, and then back up north.

  That’s a lot of walking.

  Fortunately for my feet, if not for my vertigo, we have a secret weapon. Dennox. With him flying us there, the trip will probably take three hours.

  My stomach lurches at the thought of that extended flight. Or maybe it’s the junk food I inhaled. “Are we leaving now?” I ask them nervously.

  “No,” Zorux gives me an amused look. “Not all of us have eaten.” Crap. I’d hoped he was too busy with the map to see me pig out on Raiht’vi’s synthesized junk food, but it appears that I have no such luck. “Let’s give Dennox a chance to catch his breath. We can leave after the midday meal.”

  “Good idea,” Thrax replies. “I saw a thicket of neital berries as we walked here. I’ll gather some.”

  Huh. It’s weird that none of the Draekons are clamoring to use Raiht’vi’s synthesizer. I debate asking them about it, but something makes me bite back the question. Instead, I get to my feet. I want to talk to Thrax, and clear the air about the kiss I shared with Zorux, and this is the perfect opportunity. “I’ll come with you.”

  My heart is racing in my chest.

  I hope that my impulsiveness hasn’t ruined everything.

  For a few moments, the two of us walk in silence. I’m gathering up my courage to broach the kiss, and Thrax seems preoccupied. Finally, I can’t take it. “Do you hate me?” I blurt out.

  Thrax stops dead in his tracks. “Hate you? Why would I hate you, Ryanna?”

  “I kissed Zorux.”

  His lips ghost into a smile. “You think I’m jealous? No, I suspect the scientist was right.” He takes a deep breath. “I’m fighting back rage, little human, but the target of my anger isn’t Zorux. It’s the man who hurt you, who made you afraid.”

  “You overheard my conversation with Raiht’vi.” Of course he did. Stupid Ryanna. I keep forgetting about Draekon hearing.

  “Yes,” he confirms quietly. “I heard everything. I want to kill him, aida. I’ve never killed a man in my life, but if your bond mate were here, I’d tear him apart from limb to limb.”

  I swallow a lump in my throat. My grandparents died before I married Mike. I had no one to stand up for me, no one on my side. No one to do what Thrax is promising to do. To be completely, unquestioningly on my side.

  Last night, I’d been waiting for Zorux to react with anger when I cut him, but he’d been so understanding. He’d held me in his arms and comforted me.

  I don’t trust men, and I don’t trust myself around them. Mike’s lessons run deep. But for the first time, I wonder if things could be different, if I could let myself hope again.

  “Thank you,” I say softly, lacing my fingers in his.

  “For what, Ryanna?” His hand feels solid, warm and infinitely reassuring.

  “For caring,” I mutter. “For being my friend.” Acting on instinct, I stand on tiptoe and brush my lips against his cheek. God, he’s tall, broad and painfully desirable. All the arguments I’ve used to make myself stay away from Thrax don’t seem to matter anymore, not when he’s close enough that I can feel the heat emanate from his body.

  His fingers cup my chin, and he bends his head toward me. “If you want me to stop,” he says, his eyes never leaving mine, his lips inches from my own, “I will.”

  I should speak. I should stop Thrax before he kisses me. This is bound to complicate things.

  Yet I can’t bring myself to do it.

  In a fog, I close the distance between us. He rubs his thumb against my lower lip, and his other hand wraps around my waist, pressing me into his body. “I’ve wanted to do this from the moment I laid eyes on you,” he whispers.

  I part my mouth and nip at his thumb, and his mouth lifts in a familiar grin. “You made me wait for the duration of the rainy season, little human,” he growls. “I think you can be patient for just a little longer.”

  Patience is impossible. Every nerve ending in my body is prickling in awareness of the hard-corded muscles in his chest and abs. I wrap my arm around his neck and place my lips over his.

  He tastes delicious. Better than fries. Better than chocolate. I moan and deepen the kiss, and then Thrax takes over. He coaxes my mouth open—oh, who am I kidding, he didn’t need to try very hard at all—and his tongue slides in.

  My breasts are pressed into Thrax’s sculpted chest. My heart slams against my sternum. I’ve fantasized about this moment—of course I have!—but my imagination has nothing on the reality of this moment.

  His kiss is hungry, his touch intoxicating. His hands twine in my hair, and I breathe him in, trying to absorb the very essence of him into my cells. “Mmm,” I sigh, as pleasure fills every inch of my body.

  We exchange one hungry kiss after another. My breasts feel heavy, my pussy aches with desire. I could stay here all day, pressed against him, losing myself to this heady sensation.

  Thrax groans in his throat and disentangles himself. “I want you, Ryanna.” His cock bulges under his clothing. Sexy Draekon is packing some serious heat. “But not in the middle of the jungle.” He brushes one last kiss across my swollen, throbbing lips. “We should probably gather our berries and head back.”

  Zorux:

  We make the trip in stages. Dennox wants to power through and fly for three straight hours, but I argue against it. I know that the former Zoraken is anxious to get back to his mate, but though Dennox won’t admit it, it’s not easy to carry all four of us.

  To my surprise, Raiht’vi backs me up. “You have to rest,” she says flatly. “The Draekons weren’t built for long-distance flights. A three-hour trip will sap at your endurance.”

  It takes us all afternoon, but we finally reach the area where the supplies are scattered. I look around with interest. We’ve never been west of the Sa’Lung mountains. The terrain here is completely different than that of the Lowlands. The air is drier. There are no jungles, just gently rolling hills covered in a purple grass that I’ve never seen before.

  But the star attraction is the three-foot-square diarmod box in front of us. “I thought you said Alvi was cut off,” Thrax stares at Raiht’vi. “Any idea how the Order of the Crimson Night got hold of the alloy?”

  The scientist looks grim. “No,” she says. “Smugglers, maybe?”

  Dennox frowns. “The component pa
rts of a cloakship, wrapped in boxes made of diarmod to keep them from harm. Beirax’s operation is remarkably well-funded.” He shrugs. “Ah well. That’s a problem for Arax and Vulrux to puzzle over. Is this it?”

  “It’s one of twenty-one,” Thrax replies, studying his map. “We still have to find twenty more.”

  “Twenty?” Dennox looks dismayed. “Bast. Why so many?”

  I don’t blame him. He’s got to be itching to get back to his mate. “Redundancy, mainly,” Thrax replies, reading the label on the package in front of us. “Cloakships have thousands of parts, and each one is critical. There are seven distinct packages, and they’ve sent three copies of each one. They weren’t leaving Beirax’s escape up to chance.”

  “It’ll take us seven days to find all the packages,” I tell Dennox. “There’s no point in you searching with us. Go back home. Return in eight days with Arax, Nyx, and Vulrux, and the four of you can fly the cargo back.”

  Dennox rubs his chin thoughtfully. “That makes sense,” he says. “But I don’t like leaving you here unprotected. The women should come back with me.”

  Ryanna shakes her head immediately. “No, no, hell no,” she says, shuddering with horror. “Not another flight. I’m done. There is not enough kunnr wine on this planet.”

  “I’m staying as well,” Raiht’vi says coolly. “That’s what you wanted, remember? You thought I could be useful because I was a pilot. Let me do my job.”

  “We’ll be fine,” Thrax reassures Dennox. “Now, unless you want to fly back to the Na’Lung Cliffs in the dark, I suggest you leave.”

  Dennox nods reluctantly. Just as he’s about to leave, Raiht’vi pulls something from her pack. It’s the magic toaster. “Harper probably misses food from Earth,” she says gruffly. “She needs it more than I do.”

  I stare at the scientist. That was a genuinely nice thing to do. Maybe I’ve misjudged Raiht’vi after all.

  9

  Ryanna:

  The first thing we do once Dennox leaves is find a safe place to set up camp. Neither Thrax nor Zorux wants to pitch our tents in the meadow. “Too open,” Zorux says at once. “No, I think we need to go back up the mountains.” He gestures to the Sa’Lung Range. “I saw a stream from the air. Let’s find a cave.”

  As much as I like the wide-open spaces, Zorux’s logic makes sense. We gather up our belongings and walk east, and my muscles don’t even protest. Much. More than three months on the prison planet, and I’m in the best shape of my life.

  It’s Thrax who finds the perfect spot. His sharp eyes spot a fissure in the steep vertical rock face, about twenty feet off the ground. He climbs up to explore, while we wait. A couple of minutes later, he calls out. “It’s perfect,” he says. “Come on up.”

  Raiht’vi manages the ascent with ease, bless her heart. I’m a little less mountain-goat, but though my heart is in my throat as I climb, with Zorux’s help, I manage it as well. Once I reach the ledge, I see why Thrax likes the spot. There are two roomy caves, separated by a thick wall, each one high enough to stand up in. The floors are smooth rock, and the mouths are nice and large. One of the caves has a natural skylight, which will help us vent our cooking fires. There’s even a small stream nearby.

  While I explore, Thrax and Zorux carry up our supplies, and it’s hard not to ogle at their rippling muscles. Confession: I don’t try very hard. Hey, it’s not a sin to look.

  You did more than look today, my conscience reminds me snidely.

  “Home.” Thrax grins widely as he sets the packs down. “Not bad at all.”

  Part of me is disappointed that there are two caves. I’ve been fantasizing about curling up between Thrax and Zorux’s bodies. Then again, in my fantasies, Raiht’vi is conveniently missing.

  Once we’re settled, I busy myself with getting a meal ready, even though I’m not really hungry and neither, as far as I can tell, is anyone else. Mostly, I’m doing it to distract myself from thinking about Zorux and Thrax.

  It doesn’t work. Again and again, my mind returns to the two kisses, until my head spins. So far, I’ve been resisting them out of fear, but they’ve more than amply demonstrated that they are nothing like my ex-husband. Should I give into my attraction, or would that be a huge mistake? It’s a small camp. I don’t want things to become awkward.

  Zorux approaches me. “You don’t need to get our meals every single day, Ryanna.”

  The truth is, it’s kind of nice to cook for them. “Your packs are heavier than mine,” I murmur. “I need to pull my own weight.”

  He takes the laius root from me and starts to slice them into rounds. “You’re always working,” he says quietly. “You act like you have something to prove, little human. Why?”

  The daylight is fading. All four of us are in the cave with the skylight. Thrax has opened Beirax’s package and has spread out cloakship parts all around him. Raiht’vi is surveying the pieces as well. The whole thing reminds me of Ikea. Ugh.

  Zorux is far too perceptive for his own good. “Viola is a scientist,” I say, staring into the distance. “Sofia is a doctor. I used to work in a grocery store. I don’t belong.”

  He pats my hand. “Would you believe me if I told you I can relate to the way you feel?”

  “Can you?” I doubt it. He’s a Highborn with estates of his own. His family is wealthy. We have nothing in common.

  But he held me in the middle of the night when I couldn’t sleep, and he lied for me this morning.

  “Why didn’t you tell Vulrux and Dennox that I cut you?” I whisper.

  “It was an accident, Ryanna,” he says gently. “You didn’t mean to hurt me.”

  I get the sense that Zorux isn’t telling me the whole truth. “Was that the only reason?”

  There’s a long silence. “I understand the importance of secrets,” he says finally. “I understand their weight.” His fingers brush the back of my hand, and his light touch makes me shiver. “If you ever want to talk about it, I’m here.”

  Something makes me reach up, to touch his cheek just under the cut I gave him. He sucks in a breath but holds still as I trace it. The slash isn’t deep, and it’s already healing, but it’s going to leave a small pale scar. He’ll always bear my mark.

  “I’m sorry.” There’s an older, deeper scar on his face, but Zorux captures my hand before I can trace it. “Sorry,” I repeat.

  “Don’t be,” he murmurs and tugs my hand in invitation. I step closer. His smoky smell surrounds me, and I want more than anything to kiss him. Not just him. I want Thrax too. I’m greedy.

  “Can I ask you something? I couldn’t wait to eat a burger and fries, but I noticed that none of you used the synthesizer to conjure up Zorahn food. Why not?”

  He busies himself with getting the fire going. “I can’t speak for the others,” he responds after a long pause. “I don’t have the best memories of the homeworld. The food was an unpleasant reminder of something that I thought was in my past.”

  I stare at him. “If we get the Cloakship working, would you go back?”

  “Never.”

  There’s no doubt in his voice at all. “So you’d stay here for the rest of your life?” I question. It’s rare to catch Zorux in a talkative mood.

  He threads the laius roots on a thin bone knife and places the skewer on the fire. “The High Empire is vast,” he replies. “But the universe is bigger, and there are places a man may go where the Draekon mutation isn’t a death sentence.” His lips twist bitterly. “They call it Exile, but this isn’t exile. This is a prison.”

  I’ve never thought about it, but Zorux is right. The Zorahn placed fourteen men on a primitive world with no ability to communicate with anyone and left them to fend for themselves. They’ve been here for sixty years. They’ll die here. It’s an impossibly cruel punishment.

  “Why do they do it?”

  “Fear. Control.” He shrugs. “The scientists created the Draekons. To them, we’re still a slave race, theirs to possess, theirs to control. The
irs to kill.”

  “That’s not true.” Raiht’vi’s voice cuts in. I look up, startled. I hadn’t realized she was eavesdropping on our quiet conversation. “Not all scientists think that.”

  “Isn’t it?” Zorux challenges. “Beirax thought to breed us like animals so that he could create an army for his own purposes. You held Dennox in your laboratories and experimented on him. You don’t think of us as people, scientist. We’re your tools.”

  She can’t meet his eyes. “We’re all trapped, Zorux und Saarex ab Rykiel. Your prison is just more obvious.”

  Thrax clears his throat warningly. “And we’re fighting again.” His lips curl into a grin. “We are going on a dangerous journey to parts of the planet we’ve never seen. I will not have us bickering like children. Our lives depend on us acting as a team.”

  I burst out laughing at Thrax’s pitch-perfect imitation of Vulrux’s serious tone. Zorux chuckles, and even Raiht’vi cracks a smile. For the moment, the tension is broken.

  The sun sets, and the moons rise. It’s a clear, cloudless night, and here, away from the Lowlands, the air is cool and crisp. I’m fighting to keep my eyes open. Last night, bad dreams had prevented me from sleeping well, and the day’s activity has exhausted me. “I’m going to bed,” I murmur. “Can I have a torch? I need to wash up first.”

  Thrax gets to his feet. “I’ll come with you.”

  No way. In the camp, there were bathrooms, with cleverly constructed indoor plumbing draining into a septic tank. Out here in the wilderness, there are no such creature comforts. Thrax does not need to follow me and watch me do my business. “I’ll be fine.”

  His lips lift in a cheeky grin. “Don’t worry, Ryanna. I promise I’ll close my eyes.”

  Hell, no. I shake my head violently. “I can take care of myself,” I insist. “I’m just going as far as the stream.”