by Lili Zander
“We wait until dark. Then, we fly back. We need to join up with the others.”
And then, there will be war.
Ryanna:
We wait until the sun sets. Rocked by the gentle movement, I fall asleep on the raft while Zorux and Thrax keep watch. Finally, it’s time to leave. The moons are bright, and there’s far less cloud cover than the guys would prefer, but we can’t afford to wait any longer. We have to let the others know what happened to Arax and Nyx, and we have to mount a rescue operation as soon as we can.
My eyes wide, I watch Zorux shift into a Draekon.
The transformation is always painful. My heart aches in sympathy for him, but I’m also in awe of how beautiful both my dragons are. Way hotter than the others.
I’ve flown on dragonback a few times. My stomach clenches automatically as I clamber up Zorux’s spikes and settle myself in the space between his neck and back, but I’m so worried for the others that I don’t dwell on it. Thrax climbs behind me and wraps his arms around me. “I’ve got you, Ryanna.”
I know. They both do. I trust them completely.
It’s easier to fly at night. I can’t see the ground, so the butterflies in my stomach decide to take a nap, instead of dancing around. Good butterflies.
We stop briefly in our caves in the Sa’Lung Range to pick up the remainder of our stuff and erase any trace that we were there, and then we take off again. This time, our flight is three hours long.
My head hurts. The skin around my eyes throbs. The cuts have knit together, but I ache all over. I can’t wait to curl up in bed between my two Draekons and fall asleep. I lean against Thrax’s chest and close my eyes, trying to ignore the waves of pain that wash over me.
It’s the middle of the night by the time we return to camp. We’ve only been away a few days, but so much has happened that I feel like I’ve been away on a much longer journey. As much as I liked the caves in the mountains, and despite the grim news we bring with us, I feel like I’m returning home.
As soon as we land, Thrax scoops me into his arms once again. Zorux shifts back, and sprints ahead, shouting for the others. In a minute, Vulrux and Dennox appear, as do Rorix and Ferix.
“What are you doing here?” Vulrux asks as soon as he sees us. Uzzan’s light falls on him, illuminating his tense expression.
Dennox’s gaze moves from Zorux to Thrax, and his lips twitch as he puts two and two together. “You flew here,” he says, his grin widening. “So it finally happened. Congratulations.” His smile fades when he sees me. “Ryanna, what happened to you?”
Vulrux looks at my face, and he inhales sharply. “Explanations can wait,” he snaps. “Get Ryanna to my house. I need to see to her injuries.”
Thrax strides forward, still carrying me like I’m some kind of fairy-tale princess. It’s unreal. I’m just a cashier from Georgia. Except this cashier got really lucky and found her princes. Two of them. I want to pinch myself to see if it’s all a dream, but if it is, I don’t want to wake up.
Zorux follows us to Vulrux’s small house. “I have bad news,” he says. “Can you send for Viola? She’ll need to hear this too.”
Both Vulrux and Dennox stop dead in their tracks. “Bast,” Dennox swears harshly. “What happened to the Firstborn and the thief?”
“Viola needs to hear this too,” I speak for the first time. “She’s their mate. We should wait for her.”
“I’ll get her.” Dennox hurries off. Vulrux gives Zorux a troubled look and then turns to Rorix and Ferix, who wear identical expressions of concern. “Can you give us some privacy?” he asks, as polite as ever. “Don’t wake Sofia; let her rest. We’ll talk in the morning.”
“Of course, Thirdborn,” Ferix replies. The two Draekons melt away into the darkness.
We enter Vulrux’s house, and Thrax sets me down gently on a bed. Vulrux shines a torch on my face, and his breath catches. “Who did this?” His voice is dangerous. Vulrux is so calm and easy-going most of the time that I tend to forget that Vulrux, as Thirdborn, was trained to rule all his life. Though his manner seldom shows it, he has a spine of steel, and a vein of ruthlessness runs through him.
Awakened by the noise, Harper appears in the doorway, wearing a long t-shirt, her legs bare. Though it’s been less than a week, she’s already showing. Arax was right. Draekon pregnancies are shorter than human ones. This one seems to be moving quite fast.
Her face pales when she sees me. “Ryanna, what the fuck?” She glares at my two Draekons. “Did they do this to you?” she demands.
“No, of course not.” It feels like someone’s taking a jackhammer to my head. My right eye doesn’t seem to be listening to me, so I settle for glaring at Harper from my left one. As if Thrax and Zorux would ever hurt me. “They saved me.”
“Sip this.” Vulrux hands me a greenish drink. “It’ll help your head.”
I do as he says, grimacing as I sip. It tastes like feet. Still, it seems to work. A cooling sensation fills me, numbing the pain.
I barely have time to finish the drink when Dennox enters the room with Viola at his heels. Her eyes dart around the room, and when she sees us, she goes white. “Something’s gone wrong with Arax and Nyx,” she whispers. “Tell me. Are they dead?”
She’s holding it together, but barely. Anguish and despair radiate from her.
“No. They’re alive.” We quickly tell them everything. Our suspicion that the other exile batch has all seven unique containers, and therefore all the pieces necessary to build a cloakship. Raiht’vi’s cryptic conversation with me right before both of us were kidnapped. How I managed to escape, but lose Raiht’vi in the process. Killing the rogue Draekon. Finally, the six dragons ambushing Arax and Nyx.
When we get to that part, Viola groans and buries her face in her hands. “This is my fault,” she says, her voice muffled. “I should have stopped them.”
“Viola.” It’s Harper who addresses the distraught botanist. “Listen to me. I can feel Dennox and Vulrux inside me.” She places a hand over her heart. “You can feel Arax and Nyx the same way, can’t you?”
Viola turns to Harper, her eyes brimming with tears. “Yes,” she whispers. “I can. They’re alive.”
“And we’re going to get them,” Vulrux says, his voice determined. He stops tending to me and goes over to Viola, and takes her hands between his. “My cousin is tough,” he says. “And Nyx knows more about surviving than any of us. They’re going to be fine, Viola Lewis. We’re going to get them back.”
She takes a deep, shuddering breath and nods.
Vulrux turns back to me. He smooths pink salve over my cuts and scrapes, and a blessed numbness falls over my wounds. “They’ll heal quickly,” he says to me, his voice low. “I’m going to make sure your eye is okay, and then give you a sleeping draught.”
He checks my eye and dabs a medicine-soaked cloth over the cut, then puts another glass in my hand, this time with a red sludgy liquid. This must be the knockout potion. I’m about to drink it when Zorux clears his throat. “Thirdborn,” he says, his voice strained. “There’s something I need to tell you. Alone.”
Vulrux looks up. “Alone? Everyone in this room can be trusted.”
“This is private. If we could just step outside…”
No. Hell no. If Zorux thinks he’s going to tell Vulrux his deep, dark secret without backup, he’s totally mistaken. I’m not going anywhere, and not only because I can’t seem to find any energy to move. “Ladies, can you give us five minutes?” I ask Harper and Viola.
“I’ll go with them,” Dennox says.
Zorux gives Thrax a ‘get the hell out of here’ look; Thrax ignores it. “I’m not going anywhere either,” he says. “You’re my pair-bond. You’re not doing this alone.”
“Damn right you aren’t.” Wow, that feet drink really did clear up my throat, just in time for me to chew Vulrux out if he gives my mate a hard time about something his father did. I appreciate the Draekons, but this blood-line purity stuff is complete BS,
and it’s about time someone told them that.
Zorux looks exasperated. I return his gaze blandly. Don’t care, honey. Get used to it.
“What is it?” Vulrux asks, looking at the three of us with curiosity.
I see my mate’s hands clench into fists. “Ninety-five years ago,” he says, his voice flat, “my father killed Lord Saarex ab Rykiel, hired a calligrapher to sear off his lowborn tattoos and replace them with those of the House of Rykiel.” He looks directly at Vulrux. “I am guilty of the Highest of High crimes, Thirdborn. I’ve kept this secret my whole life, but if we’re going to war, I want my conscience clear before I die.” He swallows. “I ask only that my mate Ryanna and my pair-bond Thrax be spared the consequences of my father’s crime.”
Vulrux straightens. “I know what your father did,” he says calmly. “And so does Arax.”
My mouth falls open. “What?”
Vulrux’s lips turn up in a small smile. “A few years after the death of your parents,” he says to Zorux, “the same calligrapher who did your father’s tattoos was arrested for another crime. He demanded an audience with the High Emperor Dravex, and in a bid for clemency, he confessed his role in Lord Saarex’s death. I was there in the room, and so was Arax.”
“And?” Zorux whispers.
“Lord Saarex had no heirs. The Rykiel land would have reverted back to the High Empire upon his death.” His eyes are sad. “My uncle was a good man. A visionary.” He sighs. “His own sister, my mother, was removed from the line of succession of the Crystal Throne because she married an offworlder. Dravex wanted the homeworld to change. You were a child; your brothers and sisters were even younger than you. Enough blood had been spilled.”
“You knew all along.”
“And we don’t care. You kept to yourself on the prison planet, but Arax thought it was because of the way your parents had died. We didn’t realize you knew what your father did. Had we known, we would have told you much earlier. I don’t care about your father’s crimes, Zorux. You are not him.” He claps him on the back. “None of the others know,” he says. “Not even Dennox or Nyx. It is your secret to keep.”
Zorux looks like a profound weight has been lifted off his shoulders. “Thank you, Thirdborn.”
Vulrux nods but doesn’t smile. He’s worried about Arax and Nyx, as am I. Even though I want to celebrate with my mates about Zorux’s reprieve, now’s not the time. “Take your mate to bed,” he says to the two Draekons, giving them a stern look. “And let her rest. Now is not the time for more strenuous activity.”
No sex. Damn it.
I gulp down the red sludge, wincing at the taste, and Zorux scoops me in his arms. We head to Thrax’s house. My two Draekons undress me but heeding Vulrux’s instructions, they don’t touch me. I lie on the bed, sighing with pleasure at the soft mattress, especially welcome after days of hard rock and thin sleeping rolls. Thrax and Zorux settle on either side of me.
Tomorrow, there will be battle plans and preparations for war.
I can’t dwell on the past, and I can’t worry about the future. Right now, I’m curled up between my two mates. I’m exactly where I want to be.
Epilogue
Olivia:
Testosterone. Testosterone everywhere.
For fuck’s sake. These Draekon idiots have managed to ambush two other Draekons. It never occurred to the fools that anyone on the prison planet was more likely to be an ally than an enemy?
As if my life wasn’t complicated enough.
I walk to the central hall where the two unknown Draekons are being held. Even though my leg is bothering me a little, my stride is long and hurried, but as I approach the others, I snap back in character. Pasting a simpering smile on my face, I mince my way to the door, guarded by Bolox and Narix. Balls and Nuts. “Are the prisoners inside?” I widen my eyes and flutter my eyelashes at them, throwing up a little in my mouth as Balls preens at me. “Can I peek?”
“What’ll you give me if I let you?” Narix gives me what he thinks is a roguish wink.
You want to see the boobs, buddy? Knock yourself out. (Ha, ha, see what I did there?)
I bend over, giving him a peek of the good-old-cleavage. It works like magic because both men have dazed expressions on their faces as they step aside.
All men have brains the size of peas.
I’m a trained CIA operative. My mission was simple enough. Go to Zoraht, gather as much intelligence as I can. See what the Zorahn really want with the women they’re taking. Figure out their strengths and weaknesses.
Except I crash-landed on a prison planet.
Until I know what’s going on, I’m sticking to the cover story. The other women think I’m a ditzy fool, but I’ve never let things like that bother me before, and I’m not going to start now. It’s a little harder to sit back and watch Felicity and May squabble to see who’s going to be the unofficial leader of the women, but I’m not interested in lording it over the four of them, so I bite my tongue and leave them to it.
Instead, I focus on doing what I left Earth to do. I gather intelligence.
Pushing open the door, I enter the hall, expecting to find the two prisoners alone.
Unfortunately, I’ve miscalculated. There are two other Draekons in with them, and when I see who they are, I swallow the lump in my throat. It’s fear you’re feeling, I tell myself. Not desire.
Liorax gets to his feet, his blue eyes amused. “Olivia,” he purrs. “I thought I might find you here.” His gaze sweeps over me, slow and thorough, and a frisson of heat runs through me. God, he’s hot.
Ditz it up, Liv.
I peek at the Draekon through my eyelashes. So far, I’ve pouted when I’ve broken a nail. I’ve thrown a hissy fit because I couldn’t find my eyelash curler. I squealed like a little girl when I found an insect in my bedroom. (That part might have been real. Seriously. It was blue and covered with fuzz and the size of my forearm.)
Everyone in the camp has bought my cover. Except these two.
“I heard there were prisoners,” I say to Liorax and Zunix in a hushed whisper, giving them a good peek at the girls while I’m at it. Zunix’s lips twitch as if he knows exactly what I’m doing. “I thought I’d peek at them.”
“Of course you did.” Zunix rises and takes my elbow. A shiver of lust runs through me, and he’s close enough that I can’t hide it. Damn it. “They’re asleep. You can peek tomorrow. Until then,” he says into my ear, “I believe it’s our turn to court you.”
Right. Did I forget to mention that? Evidently, the Draekons turn into dragons when they sight their mate. Only problem? When they set eyes on me, two sets of Draekons transformed.
Forget love triangles. I’m in the middle of a love polygon.
I can picture the conversation with my oh-so-sarcastic boss already. Olivia, what did you learn about the Zorahn’s dirty little secret prison planet?
Oh, sorry Roman. I was too busy being wooed by four men.
Like I said. As if my life wasn’t complicated enough.
Thank you for reading Draekon Heart!
The prison planet adventures continue in Draekon Abduction, where we catch up with Olivia, and find out what happened to the other exiles. Keep reading for her story!
Draekon Abduction
Draekon Abduction
How to Fail as an Intergalactic Spy:
Crash spaceship on wrong planet.
Break leg.
Get abducted by rogue prisoners.
End up with two pairs of dragon-shifters claiming I’m their mate.
Here’s a report for the CIA: The aliens are freaking good kissers.
The mission was simple: Go to the Zorahn planet. Spy on the aliens.
One space ship crash later, we’re the ‘guests’ of a scary bunch of exiles. My cover as a bombshell bimbo is too good... because now four alien dragons are fighting over me.
They intend to court me until I choose between them. Secret mission or not, I’m gonna end up with two Draekon mates.
Draekon Abduction is the fourth book in the Dragons in Exile series. It’s a full-length, standalone science fiction dragon-shifter MFM menage romance story featuring a wary CIA operative and two sexy aliens that are determined to win her as mate. (No M/M) Happily-ever-after guaranteed!
Prologue
CIA Headquarters, Langley, Virginia.
When Roman Saint-Germain tells you to jump, there’s only one appropriate response. How high.
I’m outside my boss’s office fifteen minutes before my three-o'clock meeting. Smoothing my damp palms against my skirt, I inch up to his assistant. “Do you know what the summons is about?” Please let this be about Stone Mountain.
Laura Keys shakes her head. “You were on vacation, weren’t you?” she asks sympathetically. “Sorry, Liv.”
The door opens, and Roman stands in the doorway. I stiffen to attention as my boss’ slate-grey eyes run over me. I’ve worked at the agency for eight years, spending the last six of them in Roman’s department—Global Issues—and still my pulse speeds up when he nods in my direction. “Thanks for making it,” he says politely.
As if I had a choice in the matter. I follow him into his corner office and take a seat opposite him. For a few minutes, neither of us breaks the silence. Roman surveys me thoughtfully, and I fight the impulse to blurt out the first thing on my mind.
I lose. “This isn’t about Stone Mountain, is it?” I applied almost a month ago to work on the group’s marquee project, but I don’t need to use my agency-honed analytical skills to realize that Roman’s hardly going to call me back in the middle of my vacation for a routine assignment.
“Stone Mountain? No. I’m sending Johansen to Marrakesh.” He pushes a red folder across the desk. “This is something else.”