by Celeste Raye
Gandadirth had sat with me that night, after Jadirel’s collar came off. His eyes shook something in me that made me listen to him, even though I was fully expecting to die. To be some martyr. All I wanted to do was cause the yellow shifter pain, and I didn’t care if he took my life for it.
Until Gandadirth looked at me. That look.
He said he liked me. He slept with me.
But I felt nothing for him. Sleeping with him was a matter of convenience: a way to grab the key and free my friends. Maybe get some special treatment if we had to stay prisoners. It was everything we were taught about hostile kidnappings during foreign relation missions: work with what you’ve got.
But then he gave me that look.
I fumed. Why did he have to look at me like that?
Gandadirth walked into my cell after what felt like hours of my being awake, and my heart skipped; my face exploded into a radiant smile.
“Good morning, husband,” I said in our familiar tease.
The blue-and-yellow shifter handed me a bottle of water and a plate of bread, which I began picking at immediately.
He gave a distant nod, and I looked up at him, stuffing my face with soggy bread and swallowing it down.
“What’s wrong?”
The shifter sighed and looked up at the ceiling, where I could hear footsteps scrambling above. I tried to place the layout of the space station in my head and could only conclude that they were in the medic bay. Medic bay was above the prison.
“Wait,” I said, and my brows narrowed until I knew wrinkles would have formed. I dropped my plate onto my bed and rushed toward the bars, looking at the shifter grimly.
“What’s happening?” I demanded.
With a grave sigh, Gandadirth opened the cell and grabbed my arm, rushing my up the stairs uncomfortably.
I walked into the medic bay and saw two dead shifters: both collared and then shot through. My eyes went wide, and I tried not to look excited as I made eye-contact with Gandadirth. The final shifter, a pink female with white wings, was laid out across two gurneys.
“What happened?” I repeated.
“She was shot,” he said slowly and then narrowed his eyes at me. “By one of you.”
“Did she kill them?” I asked, frantic.
He needled his brows and stuck out his bottom lip; a lecture forthcoming. “She is my family,” he said slowly: carefully.
“And they are like mine,” I repeated just as careful.
We stared at each other then, the pink shifter gurgling in pain as she clutched her side.
“No,” he finally said with a glare.
“No, she didn’t kill them?” I said, waiting for confirmation. “Didn’t you do anything?”
“Anything?” he scoffed. “Like what? Write a strongly worded letter? Have a grumpy sit? No! Usually when one has a gaping, burning hole in their side they usually don’t have the gusto left to do a sprint after their attackers.”
I swallowed. I went to argue with him but thought better of it, walking up to the shifter and watching the horror cross her weak face as she saw me coming. This was the first time I’d ever seen any shifter aside from Gandadirth look vulnerable. She actually looked afraid.
“Then I’m sorry,” I said to Gandadirth and then looked at the girl with some sympathy. “Do you know what you were shot with?”
“A laser rifle,” Gandadirth said, speaking for her.
“Blue or green?” I asked and then clarified, “The laser.”
“Blue,” the girl said, her voice shivering and light.
I looked back to the blue-and-yellow shifter and confirmed, “Then it was just a stun gun.”
He glanced down at the vast hole in her side, the skin peeling back and burning under the laser fire. There was no blood, but you could nearly hear the sizzle of her pink-scaled flesh. It thumped and oozed pus, pulsing with adrenaline.
“That’s some stunner,” Gandadirth said with a disbelieving brow.
“It’s going to keep burning her until it seers even deeper. She needs to put something on it.”
He scoffed. “Yeah, you think?”
“Get me that,” I instructed, pointing toward a med pack that was bolted to the wall.
Gandadirth ran to it and tried to grab it, realizing it was stuck to the wall. With a strong force, he ripped it from the wall and handed it to me triumphantly.
“You know the front just comes unlatched,” I explained with a laugh and tore the kit open, reaching for the burn lotion. It was designed for these weapons specifically.
I opened the salve, and its aroma immediately filled the room, earthy and sweet like chamomile. I spread the mixture across my finger and started swirling it around the burn.
“It won't close the hole, but it should stop the burning,” I said, and Gandadirth nodded.
“There’s not enough,” he said, looking down at the wound. He sighed inwardly and began rummaging through drawers and boxes in the med bay. “No bandages? Nothing to patch it with?”
I blinked. “I can go get some,” I said and handed him what was left of the salve.
His eyes flitted around the room, and he blinked unsurely.
“Don’t be stupid,” I said, pointing to the woman groaning on the table. “Finish putting it on her, and I’ll grab the rest. It’s just down the hall,” I instructed as reassuringly as I could. Still, I knew he felt trepidation letting me roam around the halls.
“Where am I going to go, Gandadirth?” I scoffed with a wry smile.
“Something tells me you’d find a way out,” he flirted. “Here,” he said, against his better judgment, tossing me a security clearance card. “You’re seen by anyone, you’re–”
“–Dragon meat,” I nodded. “Got it.”
I raced down the hall, my heart thumping with adrenaline as I heard my boots slamming down against the cement floors. I raced into the storage room just left of the hall outside the med bay. My hands shook wildly as I grabbed the mixture of ingredients that would make up a new burn salve, tossing them into a canvas bag and tossing them over my shoulder.
A thick spit formed in the back of my throat and I swallowed it down hard, nervously making my way back to the med bed.
And then I stopped in the middle of the hall.
I could run, I thought. This could be my only chance to get out.
I felt a nervous energy surge through me, suddenly shifting on the balls of my feet and twiddling my fingers against the bag I was carrying. I felt my whole body begin to shake. Then I spun on my heel and ran up the staircase to my right, my breath coming out so loud I knew that if there were any shifters around, they would have heard me right away.
The hall at the top of the stairs was humming with life; shifters were moving about from room to room. They were dragging bodies and moving weapons from one armory to another.
I waited until the hall cleared out and ran down to the end. If I could just reach the end of the hall, I would be in the clear.
Then I felt a hand grip my leg as I ran past. I jumped at the contact and turned to see a gray-haired man in a colonel’s uniform draped against the wall, gushing blood.
“Did they hurt you?” he asked me.
“No,” I said and knelt down, grabbing both his hands and feeling the intensity of the moment rise. All I wanted to do was get away from him.
“But you’re with 202?” he asked, looking at my uniform.
“I’m…” My heart beat so loud I could hear it; feel it reverberating through my whole body. Without warning, my eyes filled with tears that spilled furiously as I warmed his hands with mine. “I am a communications officer for the Zendra branch. Making contact with the Weredragons of Udora.”
“My God…” the man said with a slow recognition, looking me over like he was trying to piece me together. “Fiona Hall,” he finally said.
A tear spilled down my cheek, and I nodded: smiled. “Yes.”
He pointed to the communications room at the end of the hall, my desti
nation. “It’s 406012,” he said breathily. “The code.”
I squeezed his hand. “I know. Thank you.” I breathed slowly, and my eyes darted toward the two open doors from the hall that led to the outside. “I have to go. I’m sorry.”
“Decus pro,” he said with a salute.
“For glory,” I repeated and let his hand fall, rushing forward to the communications room.
I slipped in, cracking the door open just enough to get my body through and then turned the knob as I shut it to avoid making any noise. I crawled over to one of the computers, grabbing the phone that connected to it and inputting the security code given to me in haste.
My fingers tapped wildly against the side of the phone as I waited for it to connect. I knew I’d already been gone too long to just be grabbing a salve.
“Transponder 202; what is your standing?” said the solider on the other line.
“Transfer me to Marina Livingstone, immediately,” I demanded and waited even longer for the call to go through.
Marina was the first to make contact with the Weredragons and had become the expert in their culture. She used to be a research assistant back in the day but had since been transferred to a higher position in the space military program, advising on how to better help the race.
“Fiona, what the hell’s going on?” she asked as my face came into view. She looked around the room I was in and then lowered her voice, catching the look of fright that consumed my expression.
“Shifters stole our ship,” I said with a quick swallow. “Ship Vetorphia has been compromised. I repeat, Vetorphia has been compromised by the Weredragons. Current position is at base 202; please send reinforcements.”
Her eyes went wide, and she looked as though she wanted to reach through the phone.
“Why are you at 202?” she asked in a whisper, which I was thankful for.
“I was brought here by one of the shifters. They’ve been on Earth almost a year, setting up bases. They want to take over, and they’ve started with 202.”
“We got a distress call from there over a week ago. I thought they were all dead. We sent reinforcements already,” she quickened. “What happened?”
I turned to look out the hall before grabbing the communication equipment and crawling to the corner of the room behind a large desk. “Base is compromised,” I said. “I’ve only run into one of the soldiers, and he was…” I paused, and suddenly it seemed unreal to be finishing that sentence. “Deceased. Dying,” I corrected irritably. “Please advise.”
She took a breath: a quiet moment to collect herself. Her blue eyes darted downward and then she looked up at me, tossing her blonde curls out of her face.
“How comfortable are you staying put?” she asked suddenly.
I widened my eyes. “Not entirely?”
She swallowed. “How many bases?”
“Ten,” I warned. “I’ve got intel saying they’ll be here within…” I paused; I heard a crack of footsteps coming up the staircase outside the door. “Within a few weeks,” I whispered in a panic. “Please advise.”
“Do you have a contact?”
I nodded.
“Can you lure them to Feruvia?” she asked quickly. “DET?”
“Yes. Alright. When?”
She looked off screen, consulting something or someone else. Focusing back on me she said, “As soon as possible. I’ll have everything set up when they get there. We’ll be waiting.”
I gave another nod and relished the contact I was having with my people, if only for a minute.
“Stay safe,” she said, and then the screen went black.
Chapter 12:
Fiona
Tick, tick, tick.
Thank heaven for my tiny fingers.
Tick, tick, tick.
It was the noise the lock of my cell made as I tried to wheedle my way out of captivity, yet again. I was nothing if not resilient. Except this time, I wasn’t bent on escaping. Cajoling, yes. But mostly, I really did want to see Gandadirth. See what this feeling really meant.
I reached down my bra and pulled out one of three laser collars I’d managed to swipe on my way back to the med bay.
My fingers latched around the tiny hoop and stuck it into the hole in the titanium lock. I pressed my finger against the trigger and quickly pulled my hand back. I watched as the pink laser fired out and melted the lock around it, causing it to crash to the ground with a loud clang.
I pushed my door open and undid my shirt by a button before stepping out into the hallway, bare feet on cement.
I licked my lips and crossed the long hall and out the doors into the fresh air. It felt good to be outside again, the stars illuminating our dark base, my view only disturbed by the immense walls.
Finding my way to the barracks was easy, and I knew from stories he’d told that Gandadirth had the first dorm to the left. I knew this because he said he was able to see the door to the prison from his room. I tensed my jaw and opened his door as slowly as I could, hoping this wouldn’t go south on me.
Suddenly, I had visions of myself roasted to a crisp by a startled Gandadirth.
For whatever reason, the visual made me smile, even though it was fiercely real.
I slipped into his room and watched him sleep, undisturbed. The sight was kind of adorable: his black hair a mess and his scales humming and glowing under his vulnerable sleep.
My eyes shot up then, and I realized I could very well sneak into a couple of rooms tonight. I still had those collars handy; I could go piss off some more Weredragons and call it a day.
But then, I wouldn’t get my time with this one.
I crawled into his bed and saddled up next to him, finding my way into the crook of his arm.
His eyes shot open like a puppet: a wild, controlled movement. Eyes open.
His black irises shot to me, and he looked startled and confused, but pleased. As though it were a dream.
The way he looked at me made me feel alive; I wanted to giggle. His brows drew together, and his eyes flicked back and forth from mine, examining me. Wondering if I might be real.
He reached out and ran his hand through my hair and then set his fingers against my jawline and smiled.
“Hello,” he said.
“Hello,” I smiled back.
He blinked and cupped my cheek in his hand, pulling me closer. “What are you doing here?”
“I had to be with you,” I said, pressing my body closer to him.
Then I was sure.
His heat against me definitely made me feeling something: some strange bond that I couldn’t place. Some emotions stirred up in me that I’d buried for a long time.
“How’s your soldier?” I said, syrupy, honey-sweet.
“Fine. The salve worked,” he said and paused awkwardly, still tracing his fingers up my cheek. “Thank you.”
“Wow,” I giggled. “I didn’t know you knew how to say those words.
“It comes and goes,” he snorted. “I don’t say them for just anyone, you know.”
I pressed my fingers against my lips, pushing them into my teeth absent-mindedly, and then nuzzled into him. I breathed him in and felt safe there, curled up in his strong body. We said nothing then, both taking in the moment before the inevitable questioning: how’d you get out? Why are you here? Followed by drawing me back to my cell happened.
It was all a bad idea, I knew. Coming here.
But I couldn’t help myself. He had this invisible pull that kept drawing me to him and making me forgive him or feel sorry for him.
“Look…” I breathed and then petered out.
I wasn’t sure what to say.
‘I like you?’
It seemed so childish to even think it. But I was fairly certain it was accurate.
“What?” he asked, looking at me gravely due to my silence.
“I know we’re just… passing time,” I said, now grinding against him and reaching up for a sweaty, sticky kiss. “But I’ve liked passing time.”
/>
I felt a tingling that cascaded across my tongue as our lips moved in unison, danced together with a vibration of sweet anticipation that was just for the two of us.
He reached down and began undressing me, pulling my shirt over my small, firm breasts and kissing them as they bounded out from behind the fabric, pillowy and soft.
I reached down to feel him, hard, and we disposed of our clothes, tossing them to the ground. I lay with my back to his chest, him slipping easily inside me. I’d been wet and ready for him as soon as I hit the hallway of his corridor.
The girth of him filled me up, and I moaned against the sensation, the pulsing heat of our bodies, and the sounds they made slapping together.
His hands raced up my body and his fingers spread out over my breasts, squeezing them; kissing my neck and using my body as leverage for his thrusts.
“I’m not passing time,” he whispered; his lips dangerously close to my ear.
“Oh no?” I gave a hushed laugh.
He stared at me. “No.”
I turned my profile to him, locking eyes as much as we could. His contact was so intense that I had to turn away, my face flushing.
We didn’t stay in our position for long before he had me on all fours with my head down to the mattress. He entered me from behind, going deep and hard.
My breath sped up at the angle, and I let out a deep moan as I felt the burning sensations drip down from my stomach and between my legs, a fire building that was ready to explode.
He reached forward to touch me, to make sure I was glazed over with lust and pleasure, but I pushed his hands back so that he grabbed my hips, using my body as a catalyst for his own pleasure. He bucked against me wildly; his rhythm was intensifying so I knew he was about to orgasm.
Sensual breaths sped from his lips, and soon our moans and grunts were matching up, timing one another perfectly so that the noises could build my ecstasy.
He bucked and ground up against my backside, his fingers digging into my sides as he slid me on and off of him, back and forth until my body trembled with a wash of orgasm; a heat was rising to my face and forcing my eyes shut.