Primal Planet Dragon: A Science Fiction Alien Romance (Ice Dragon Shifters of Veloria Book 2)

by Skylar Clarke

  Perhaps they have heard of it, perhaps they have not, but I have adapted the tone one takes on when telling frightening stories, a tone that evokes thoughts of crimson and the distant memory of screams. One of the aliens shudders as though he can smell the blood. I deactivate the top half of the military suit, releasing the necessary clasps and allowing it to open down to my waist. The scars there are horrific to most people’s eyes. A few are longer, wrapped intricately around my torso, but most are short lines made from stab wounds or messy round shapes of scar tissue created by bullets. There is one particularly gruesome patch just above my left hip, where I had been burned by the explosive blast of a fire grenade.

  “All this,” I say, their eyes following my hand as I gesture, “happened when I let my dragon out. I don’t remember anything. The other Velorians with me barely escaped to tell the story. Without them, I wouldn’t have come back at all. They say I took down hundreds of Xzerg, but it came at a cost—I couldn’t shift back for months. I lived among my victims as a dragon for all that time, shaking with bloodlust long after there were any enemies remaining to sate it. I finally regained control and reversed the transformation. But ever since then, I’ve barely been able to keep it at bay. When I’m angry, it feels like holding back the whole of the sea.” I hesitate a long moment, waiting for the silence to settle, before speaking again. “This is not a threat; it’s barely a warning,” I say. “I am pleading with you—there are innocents on this planet. Let me pass. I’m only barely keeping the transformation at bay.”

  Anna turns away from the wall of aliens she is supposed to be watching, to stare at me with wide, perplexed eyes. I smell a hint of fear, the sweat released when humanoid creatures feel terror, but have no way of knowing if the emotion is from the dire nature of our situation or from the truth of my story beginning to show.

  The lead alien still looks incredulous, and the others slowly follow, expressions evolving from worry from to skepticism, back to the same menace as before. A few still look far more likely to run than to fight, but it is not enough. The lead alien raises his blaster, pointedly switches the setting from stun to kill. Though the others do not do raise their guns, they switch their settings in mimicry.

  I set free the growl that has been rising inside me and allow my claws to extend to their full, deadly length. The air in the alley turns ice cold, to the point that I would not be surprised if snow began to fall around us. Crystals of ice slowly begin to grow on the ground beneath me, expanding slowly to the walls of the alley, the dumpster to Anna’s side, and the gun pointed at my exposed, unarmored chest. The aliens on Anna’s side of the alley turn tail immediately at the easily detectable change. The ground hardens further beneath me as another two aliens exchange a look and sprint out of the alley as well.

  Their leader snarls, cuts a look at them angrily, but does not call out a warning for them to return. One by one they leave their chosen field of ambush, until only the leader remains standing out of sheer stubbornness, until the grip of his gun ices as well, freezing to his hand so completely that he cannot drop it. When this happens, he backs slowly out of the alley, muscles too frozen with fear for real running, and disappears.

  I drop to my knees, relieved only momentarily, as I realize that it is far too late. The transformation has been allowed to advance so far that pulling myself back from the precipice is nearly impossible. It feels like falling, like disintegrating. Each time it happens, I am sure I lose small pieces of myself that cannot be recovered.

  “Anna.”

  Her eyes widen. Too late, I realize that I haven’t said her name before now, but neither has she introduced herself. This will only confuse her further, and perhaps even make her think that I have targeted her with some horrific plan in mind. I keep speaking, regardless, hoping she can see from the look in my eyes that I mean her no harm.

  “You’re going to need to run to my ship. It’s blue and silver, Velorian model, no cannons. If you hear screams … lock the doors, override the security on the controls, and get off planet.” I rattle off the string of numbers, thankfully short, and watch her lips repeat them silently in memorization. She nods once. My claws grow longer, and I feel the bones in my spine begin to lengthen, making the needed modifications. The sharpness of my thoughts begins to decrease as the more animal, impulsive side of my nature takes over.

  Anna does not run.

  She slowly kneels in front of me, far too close to be safe. My vision is narrowing, the sides of it blackening until I am looking through a tunnel. It makes the human woman seem far away, but I can still see the awed, curious look on her face. She seems wholly unafraid, and to my lasting shock, reaches out slowly to touch the exposed spines on my back. I can feel them lengthening, growing sharper, stronger, and all the more deadly, but their growth seems to halt at her gentle touch.

  “Sometimes,” Anna says, “I scare myself too.”

  Her voice gives my fevered brain something to hold onto.

  “I’ve done some pretty awful things to survive. I’ve stolen food, cash, a few spaceships—all sorts of things. Those are easy enough to rationalize, but I’ve done other things too. Things that, when I look back, I wish I hadn’t done. I never hurt anyone that I didn’t have to, but still, there’s something about chaos that’s satisfying to cause. I told myself I was just following orders, just doing what I needed to do to stay in my leader’s good graces, but the truth is that sometimes I enjoyed myself. It started out as a necessity, as my only means of survival, and when I look back, I really don’t see another way out. But the truth is, when anyone’s backed into a corner, they become a different person.”

  Her voice quiets, but her hand keeps stroking carefully along my spines. I am perplexed by her words, left wondering, even as I shake with the effort of holding back the change. Battle changes people; that much I know. It wasn’t exactly battle she had faced, but it altered her all the same. She is stuck, trying to claw her way back to normalcy in the same manner that I am.

  “The differences are just a bit more obvious with you, I guess,” she says, smiling at me carefully.

  There is a pause, but Anna does not stop talking. She sits close to me, her legs brushing my own, her back against the freezing alley wall, and continues to trace her fingers in soothing patterns along the slope of my back. She chats away about her life, telling me about the ship she has lived on for the past six years, describing the personalities of the other people with whom she shared her space. She does not use the words ‘Red Nova,’ or detail the atrocities they commit. Instead, she speaks of them like they are particularly irritating roommates and nothing more. Mostly though, she speaks of her brother.

  “He’s sixteen. He wants to be a pilot. But Mitchell—our pilot—has never let him so much as steer. I think he should be a chef, honestly. Give that kid an oven and he can bake anything.” She swallows, throat working hard, as though around a lump. “I can’t believe how badly I miss him already. We’ve barely been apart.”

  “The things you did,” I ask. “You did them to protect him?”

  “Of course,” she says.

  “I don’t think I can relate to that,” I reply.

  “Then you must not know what it’s like to have a family. I’d do anything for Jackson.”

  That much I can agree with. Family is not something I am well versed in, nor are many Velorians, what with the vast numbers we lost during the war and the attacks the Xzerg launched on our civilian population. I realize that at some point during all this, my breathing has slowed without me trying to control it, to measure it with careful counting. My body has stopped shaking and my teeth and claws seem to have retreated to their normal length. My change has stopped. I am going to be fine.

  When I stand up without announcing it first, Anna simply smiles at me and follows. As we make our way back to the ship, I cannot stop myself from staring at her. Even when looking ahead of us, plotting a course through the crowd of the landing zone, my eyes drift back to her every few steps,
ensuring that she is still safe and following. Whatever I am feeling right now, I have never felt before. It is a disconcerting emotion, but not unpleasant; it is akin to feeling the warmth of a temperate planet’s sun on one’s face after a long voyage in space.

  When an alien approaches, blatantly eyeing up the human woman by my side, I cannot stop the growl that rises in my chest and bursts outward. The other creature bolts immediately, cutting away toward the docks and disappearing into the crowd. I feel immensely satisfied with this result, and when Anna gives me an amused nod of acknowledgement in thanks, the tug in my chest returns.

  Interesting.

  7

  Anna

  My heart is pounding. I cannot say why I didn’t run when he told me to, but something inside of me told me not to, even though I have no reason not to believe all the things he said to those aliens.

  The more time passes, the more relieved I am that I did not. He walks just a step in front of me, leading the way, looking back every few paces as though to confirm that I still haven’t chosen to run. I still don’t quite understand what is going on here, but I recognize his uniform as Velorian law enforcement—something that Lukas has always warned us to watch out for. The Velorian may have just bought me at an auction, but he knows my name without me saying so, and I am beginning to realize that there is some greater purpose involved. He did not just buy me to fulfill some sick fantasy of owning a human slave. I can’t say how I know this, except that I find myself trusting him implicitly, as though it is some instinctual reaction.

  That blaster, too—there was trouble, and he just handed me a gun and turned his back.

  His presence makes the constant stream of anxious thoughts that have bombarded me since I put on this stupid dress finally quiet.

  Each time I look at him for more than a second, study the lines of his body or the planes of his face, I find myself stumped by how familiar he feels. I cannot know him. I know I can’t. He’s the first Velorian I have ever met in person. Walking next to him, I feel impossibly safe on this planet full of dangerous creatures and criminals more evil than Lukas ever thought about being. I have never felt such utter security. I always thought Lukas protected me, but I am slowly realizing that his constant terrorizing of others to the point that they left us alone was not the same thing. There was no respect in their avoidance of him, only hatred.

  Even considering the auction stage it all led me to, I can’t regret the decision to leave him behind. What I told Jackson this morning was true—this was my one chance. Had I denied the urge to run then, I may never have gathered the courage to do so again.

  After what seems like an age of walking, we arrive at the Velorian’s ship. It’s as he described it, smaller than the one I shared with the other Red Novas, but in good shape. I follow him aboard, entering first when he steps aside at the door. Most ships are fairly cluttered, especially small ones, with the things that its inhabitants pick up on their travels. I think of the room scattered with the mementos of my brother and I with a slight pang. This looks like an apartment just moved into, and I find myself wondering how long he has owned it without making it his own.

  “The shower is that way,” he points, having closed and locked the outer doors. “There are towels inside, and I will leave a spacesuit for you in the room closest to it.”

  “That sounds great,” I say earnestly. “Thank you. We’ll talk after?”

  He dips his head in a nod. “I will explain everything.”

  I am about to turn away from him when I realize something else. “I don’t even know your name.”

  “It’s Mathios,” he answers easily.

  “Then thank you, Mathios,” I say.

  He nods again, eyes holding mine. I feel the beginnings of heat pool low in my belly, the fire growing hotter the longer our eyes are locked. I am the one who turns away, uncomfortable with the intensity.

  I head straight for the shower, relieved to find that it is the same basic model found on most small ships. I don’t have any trouble starting it once I have removed the dress. Taking it off, I feel like a snake shedding its skin. As it settles in a clump on the floor at my feet, I feel so light I could fly. I twist the water dial to nice and hot, and stay in far too long before I remember that ships only have water tanks with a finite supply. Once the long day has been scrubbed away, I feel eons better. I dry my dark hair as best I can, leaving it down as I wrap myself in a towel and slip from the bathroom to the bunk the Velorian—Mathios—indicated. The room is, if possible, even smaller than those on the Red Nova ship, with two bunks, a sink, and not much else. The spacesuit left out for me is similar in colors to the one Mathios wears, of the Velorian military.

  It looks huge enough to dwarf me, but to my shock, when I actually step into it and fasten the clasps, it snaps to fit my much smaller size. I examine myself in the mirror, finding that I like the look of the suit. I have always preferred clothing that favors practicality above looks, but this is somehow stylish enough and comfortable enough to check both boxes. The feel of it differs slightly at the front of the chest, making me think that there is armor of some sort woven into the fabric.

  As I examine my reflection carefully for second time today, I notice just how thin I have let myself become. My face is leaning toward gaunt, there is space visible between my thighs, and my collarbone is a bit too prominent. It shouldn’t surprise me as much as it does. I always insist that Jackson eats before I grab a plate myself, and though food is more plentiful with Lukas than it was during our time on Earth, we have lived through some truly lean months with the Red Novas.

  Thoughts of my brother make my eyes grow wet. I hope he’s eating well tonight. I hope that Lukas hasn’t blamed him for not stopping me. I hope he hasn’t hurt him. Throughout all the time I spent with Lukas, I promised myself that he was not capable of such a thing as actually harming my brother, but the truth is he would harm anyone given the right motivation.

  When I leave the room, the smell of food greets me. My stomach growls as I make my way down the hallway, and I am suddenly reminded of the fact that I haven’t eaten since the previous night. My stomach was too knotted with nerves when I awoke to even contemplate holding down breakfast, and by the time I’d actually put on the dress, there was no longer any time. There is a small table pushed to one side of the largest part of the ship and the entirety of it is filled with food. Two chairs sit ready on either side, and I see two more folded carefully up—everything folds on a spaceship this small—tucked into a corner behind the single couch that makes a nook on one side. “Help yourself,” Mathios says, appearing from the cockpit. I chance a look out the window and realize that he managed to get the ship safely off the ground without so much as jostling the interior, a trick that even seasoned pilots have trouble doing when exiting the rough atmosphere of X24. I can see the planet growing smaller in the distance, and I think, good riddance, in the privacy of my head. I won’t be disappointed if I never set foot there again.

  I sit down at the table, Mathios sitting across from me after another minute of checking the controls and making certain we are headed in the right direction, wherever that happens to be. I tuck into the food with little hesitation. Some of it is strange fare, but there are familiar human foods as well—bread, potatoes, chicken. There is also a small salad filled with unfamiliar herbs, but aside from a few bitter bites, it tastes good enough. There are plenty of alien foods that humans cannot stomach, but I am fairly certain at this point that Mathios wouldn’t poison me on purpose.

  We do not talk as we eat, and at first I find this strange. Communal meals on the Red Nova ship are always filled with jokes and swapped stories; a fair amount of bullshitting. Jackson always sits next to me and digs his elbow into my side as he shovels food in. I would always say that left handed Novas should be exiled to the end of the table, where they couldn’t do any harm, and Jackson always laughed like the joke was new.

  After a few minutes, the silence seems comfortable and I dine with
out worry of breaking it. There is a misplaced sense of guilt that comes with eating until my stomach is full, but it is soon replaced by actual happiness. Jackson would not want my worry for him to impede my appetite. The two of us have never let a meal go to waste, no matter what sort of mood we were in when it was offered. It is a behavior that never faded, even during our years of eating semi-regularly aboard Lukas’s ship. At last, I push my nearly empty plate away from me, lean back in the chair, and coax my throat into forming words again.

  “So,” I say. “Are you ready to elaborate? I’ve got some idea, and I really don’t think you’re a bad guy, but as far I know you still bought me at an auction. I’m going to need you to fill in the blanks.”

  Mathios abandons his own plate, sets down his utensils. He leans forward instead of back, elbows resting on the table.

  “I am Velorian law enforcement. You may have guessed from my uniform once it was revealed.”

  At the words, I nod. I had assumed as much, but thought I was being far too optimistic about what that meant. Cops and soldiers could still be shitty people.

  “You are a member of the Red Nova gang,” he says.

  My muscles tense, shoulders rising higher defensively. But then he continues, and his words drain some of the rising worry. “You aren’t one of them though, not really. From what I have seen of you, I think you are much better than that. You aren’t a common criminal. You were merely making do with what you were given. You were surviving. Perhaps you changed in some ways along the way, but your sense of morality is still intact. I don’t know your whole story, but if I were wrong, then I imagine you would still be there.” As he speaks, a smile spreads across my face. “I truly mean this,” he adds, and then seems to notice my expression.

  Mathios tilts his head just slightly to the side in asking.

  “I agree,” I say, answering the unspoken question. “That’s why I left. I was in that stupid dress because Lukas wanted me to marry him.” I shudder a bit at the thought of his hands on me. “The thought of being bound to him in such a way—I couldn’t stand it. I knew he’d never let me go if I went through with it. It was enough to wake me up. It was enough to make me leave.” I huff a short laugh. “Out of the frying pan and into the slaver fire.”