by Lili Zander
Ignoring the disappointment that floods through me, I scan the file, disbelief growing with each page I flip through. “Aliens? Are you joking?”
An eyebrow rises, and I wince inwardly. That was a stupid question. Roman never jokes. “Sorry, Sir. How do I fit in?”
“The aliens—they call themselves the Zorahn—are looking to barter. They’re offering a cure for leukemia, and in exchange, they want women.”
“Women? How many? Why?” Every bad 80s sci-fi movie flashes before my eyes. “To repopulate their world?”
“A hundred. According to the aliens, there’s a disease ravaging their people, and their scientists believe that human genetic material might offer a path to a cure.” He lifts his head from the desk and surveys me with cool eyes. “They want to take the women to their planet for six months. They promise everyone will be returned safe and unharmed.”
“And you believe this?”
“I don’t know what I believe.”
“We accepted the offer, I assume?”
He tilts his head to one side. “Why did you reach that conclusion?”
“It’s only logical. Thousands of people die every year from blood cancers. Compared to that, a hundred lives are a drop in the bucket.” I bite my lower lip and consider the wisdom of my next words. “There are rumors that the president’s daughter has sought treatment at the Mayo Clinic.”
“Indeed.” Roman doesn’t seem surprised that I know, neither does he seem perturbed. “The president was highly motivated to accept the Zorahn offer. This will go public in the next week. We’re looking for volunteers.”
Now it’s my turn to raise an eyebrow. “You think women are going to volunteer to travel to an alien planet from which they might or might not return?”
“They will.” His tone is implacable. “And so will you.”
My head snaps up. Of course. Why else would Roman call me in? “Me?”
“Of all the DNA samples we submitted, yours was the one they picked,” he says. “We think the Zorahn are picking women without family ties.” He leans back. “Pity. You wouldn’t have been my first choice for this assignment.”
My entire body goes cold. “I wouldn’t have been your first choice?” I try to keep my voice calm and steady. I succeed, but Roman’s grey eyes rake over me, seeing too much, like he always does.
“Olivia.” He steeples his fingers together. “You’re an excellent agent. Logical. Consistent. You’ll do well at the agency.”
“But?”
“There’s a critical difference between a good agent and a great one. A great agent listens to her instincts.”
I clamp my lips shut, biting back the protest that rises to my lips. Fuck this shit. There’s only one reason I didn’t get Stone Mountain. Because I’m a woman. I’ve fought to be the best at my job for eight long years, but even now, people can’t look past the boobs to see the agent.
But I don’t need to listen to my instincts to hear what Roman has left unsaid. I can go on this alien mission, or I can kiss my career at the agency goodbye.
I’m not ready to give up.
I lift my chin. “I look forward to proving you wrong,” I say evenly.
He inclines his head in a nod. “So do I, Olivia.”
1
Olivia:
We’re less than a week out of Earth, and already, things are a complete, total disaster. Let’s count all the ways Roman’s assignment has gone wrong so far, shall we?
1. Go to Zoraht.
Sorry, boss. I appear to have crash-landed on a different planet altogether, one the Zorahn scientists accompanying us are referring to as the prison planet.
2. Stay out of trouble.
My left leg is badly broken. My left fibula, if I’m remembering my high-school biology lectures correctly. It tore open my flesh as it broke, and if I undo the bandage that Sofia wrapped around the wound, I know I’ll see the white gleam of bone.
On Earth, in a hospital, such a break would be fixable. But as far as I know, there are no medical facilities here. Even worse, the planet outside is hot and humid, ideal breeding grounds for all kinds of nasty bacteria. If I don’t get help, I could lose the leg.
Stay calm, Liv. Panicking isn’t going to help the situation.
3. Keep the other women safe.
Death toll so far: One. Janet Cane. Two, if we’re counting the dead alien, Mannix.
Missing and possibly dead: Four. Viola Lewis, Harper Boyd, Ryanna Dickson, and Sofia Menendez. Before I passed out, the women had been talking about setting out to find food and water. How long have they been gone? I can’t tell. My thoughts are cloudy, and every nerve ending in my body screams with agony.
Hang on. My brain slowly starts working. The four women had stuck me in my pod before they set out. I’m in stasis. I should be out like a light. What woke me up?
Then I hear it. Noises outside. Two male voices, harsh and guttural. There’s someone here. I can hear the hiss of the air seal breaking as a stasis pod door opens. “What’s going on?”
That’s Paige’s voice. She sounds nervous. “Are we on Zoraht?”
The voices growl something at her. Why can’t I understand them? I feel in my ear for the small golden disk that Hector Schultz had stuck in my ear, his eyes glued to my boobs the entire time. It’s not there. Shit. That’s not good.
I had my translator when I got into my stasis pod on Earth. Did I have it when we first crashed? Ignoring the waves of burning pain that radiate from my leg through my entire body, I search my memories. Yes. I did. Which means it must have fallen out somewhere in this pod.
It’s dark. I can’t see. I run my hands over the small chamber, groping for the gadget. There’s more activity now. Raiht’vi, the female scientist, is awake. She snarls something at the two men, her voice angry and fearful. One of them replies, his tone laced with contempt. What’s going on? My pulse races. The door to my pod can’t be opened from the inside. They have to let me out.
My finger closes over something cold and metallic. The translator. Heaving a sigh of relief, I insert it into my ear, barely registering the jolt of electricity it produces as it connects.
It does its magic. The guttural sounds resolve into words. “Of all the people I thought I’d see on the prison planet…” The man—alien—sounds coldly amused. “So Brunox finally revealed the existence of his daughter to the High Empire.”
Raiht’vi inhales sharply. “Who are you? How do you know who I am?”
The man chuckles. “I’m Draekon, Scientist. That’s all you need to know. Lio, search the ship. Grab everything that might be useful.”
Ooh. Alien intrigue. This is exactly the kind of stuff I’m supposed to be recording. I commit the conversation to memory—despite what Roman said about me not being his first choice for this mission, I scored in the ninety-ninth percentile in the agency’s memory tests. His words still rankle, and I’m determined to prove him wrong. I’m going to ace this mission, and when I get back home, the CIA’s best eggheads can figure out what the information I’ve collected means. Who the Draekons are, and why Raiht’vi seems so antagonistic toward them.
If I get back home.
More doors open, and the other women are removed from the stasis chamber. I hear expressions of dismay, probably when they realize there’s a giant, gaping hole in the ship. “Where are we?” one of them asks. That’s Bryce McFarland, if I’m not mistaken. The bed-and-breakfast owner from Vermont sounds less nervous that I’d have expected. Good for her.
“You are on the prison planet,” one of the aliens replies. “Specifically, you are in the Lowlands, and any day now, the rains will fall, and your ship will be flooded. We must get you to safety.”
He sounds calm. Competent. But somehow, cold.
“I will go nowhere with you,” Raiht’vi snaps. “I would rather drown.”
Footsteps draw closer. My ear is pressed against the door, and I hastily move back, trying to pretend I’m fast asleep. According to my cover, Olivia B
uckner is a bimbo, uninterested in anything past the tip of her nose. Until I know what’s going on and who I can trust and who I cannot, I’m going to stick to it.
Light floods into my little pod. Two sets of hands reach for me and pull me out, and the movement sends a fresh jolt of agony through my body. They set me on my feet, and I crumple, blood leaking from the open wound, soaking the bandage in red. “She’s hurt,” May squeals, too late to do any good. “She broke her leg.”
Gee. Thanks, May. Your warning would have been a bit more useful before I’d collapsed.
I look up at my two rescuers, wondering if they’re going to look like the Zorahn or if they’re going to look more ‘alien.’ You know. Horns and tails and glowing green eyes. Like Hollywood’s been promising us for decades.
Nope. These aliens are hot. As tall as Beirax, and just as sculpted. They’re wearing black pants and nothing else. Their bare chests glisten with sweat, throwing each muscle into sharp relief. One of them has black, shoulder-length hair that flies away from his face in wild curls. The other alien’s hair is cut ruthlessly short. His gaze rests on me, concerned.
For a change, a man isn’t looking at my boobs. Nope. This alien’s green-brown eyes are glued to my leg.
It’s only because I’m watching him watch me that I notice the shudder that runs through his body as our eyes lock. Alien #1 sinks to his knees as well, only for a second. Raiht’vi stiffens in alarm as the Alien #2 takes a step back, before grabbing his buddy and shoving him toward the big hole in the ship.
A loud howl cuts through the air.
“What’s going on?” Paige asks haltingly, her face white with fear.
Bryce, braver than the others, climbs on a piece of twisted metal and sticks her head outside. “You’ve got to be kidding.” She sounds a little freaked out. “You’re not going to believe this. Those two guys that were just here? They’ve turned into dragons.”
Raiht’vi is suddenly next to me. “Olivia Buckner,” she whispers into my ear. “I know who you are. You work for your government.”
So much for fooling the Zorahn.
Deny, deny, always deny. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She makes a scoffing sound in her throat. “Your identity isn’t important now. Only one thing matters. If you ever want to leave this planet, you must remember one thing. Trust no one. Especially the Draekons.”
A massive hand—paw?—pokes through the hole. Claws curl over Felicity—huge talon-tipped claws, shiny green and scaly like a lizard’s. She screams in terror as she’s lifted out. Paige, May, and Bryce meet the same fate, each of them carefully picked up by gleaming, razor-sharp claws. My heart beats in my throat as I watch their faces go slack with fear and shock, but there’s nothing I can do to stop it. Nothing I can do to protect them.
When it’s Raiht’vi’s turn, she scrambles backward. Out of nowhere, she produces a gun and aims it at the dragon that’s groping toward her, and presses the trigger. The creature outside howls, sounding more angry than hurt. Another paw replaces the first, and five sharp claws, each one six-feet long, close over me.
Then, mercifully, everything goes dark.
2
Zunix:
On the homeworld, the Draekons are shadowy monsters, exiled by the Zorahn to keep their citizens safe from harm.
However, when you are being groomed to be the next Spymaster of the High Empire, you’re privy to secrets hidden from the rest of the population, hidden even from the High Emperor and his children.
The first fact: There are only four known species that can mate with Draekons. Zorahn, of course. In addition, women from Maarish and from the lost planet of Joram are capable of forming a mating bond with the soldier race.
The fourth species? Humans, from the primitive planet of Earth, located in the heart of the neutral zone.
The second fact: Contact with a neutral zone planet is strictly forbidden. The Triumvirate polices the area with ruthless competence, and they shoot on sight.
The third fact: Human genes were used in the creation of the Draekons.
All of which leads to one inescapable conclusion. These women are important. So important that they’re being accompanied by one of the White Ones, the only daughter of Brunox, head of the Council of Scientists. Raiht’vi.
I make these connections as Liorax and I open the stasis pods and free their inhabitants. The ship has obviously crashed. Brunox’s daughter is bleeding, and one of the human women is cradling her right hand in her left, her face etched with pain.
Then we pull another woman out, one whose hair is the color of a warm fire on a cold winter night. One who collapses on the floor as soon as her feet touch the ground, red blood soaking through her clothing.
When I see her, the noise of the jungle mutes to a hush. The air becomes thick and heavy with possibility. A golden thread appears to connect her to me, and to Liorax, and the dragon inside me, long dormant, roars to life.
Our mate.
So the records are true. When a pair of Draekons sights their mate, they transform for the first time.
“Outside!” I barely have time to grab Liorax and clamber out of the spaceship before the transformation takes over. The dragon trapped inside me breaks the bindings that keep him leashed with a roar of joy.
My body changes. Green-gold scales cover my skin. Spikes erupt from my back, as do two graceful, close-set wings. My tail swishes around my body, uprooting small bushes as it lashes to and fro.
Our mate is hurt. Badly.
But you don’t rise to be one of Surax’s hand-picked assistants by taking anything at face value. Everyone I meet is a potential enemy. I trust nobody. Especially not this ship of human women.
Take her to safety, my dragon roars, its anger blanketing my suspicions.
Back at camp, Dariux has a med-kit. Its use will come at a cost—Dariux never does anything without extracting a price—but it’s one I have to pay.
I reach inside the ship, marveling at the agility of my dragon’s paw, and pluck out one woman after another. Brunox’s daughter fights my attempt to rescue her, as I knew she would.
Liorax, also in dragon-form, bellows in irritation. Leave her. Dariux can come back for her.
I look at the small company of human women, huddled together, fear etched into their faces. My mate is on the ground again, her hands curled into fists, her knuckles white. I feel her agony as if it were mine, and it forces me to act.
At any moment, the transformation will snap back. We will become men again, and we will remain in that form until the mating bond is complete. I can’t risk that happening. It will take us many days of hard walking to reach our camp, and the woman is in no condition to walk.
Lio is right. Dariux has a skimmer. He can rescue the two scientists.
I pick one of the women up and place her on Liorax’s back. The woman immediately settles herself between two spikes, calling out something to her companions. They’re taking this very well, I think approvingly. Only a few screams and a little panic. Maybe they’re in shock.
Once the women are loaded—the three uninjured women on Liorax’s back, my mate and the human with a broken arm on mine—we take flight.
We’re headed to the treacherous lorithian-pit that is our camp. And when we get there, the exiles of our batch will fall on the women like rabid animals.
I am not looking forward to it.
Liorax:
I do not want a mate.
As my midnight-blue wings flap steadily over the mountain range that separates the Lowlands from the desert on the other side, my thoughts return to her.
Kat’vi. My once-bondmate from the homeworld. The woman who betrayed me by bedding my father instead, who made a laughing stock of me when she dissolved our union, too impatient to be the ruling Lady of Laris to wait for my father’s death.
For months, I was the subject of mockery and derision among the Highborn of the Empire. I endured sly jabs at my manhood, scornful questions about
my failure to keep my bondmate satisfied, laughing taunts about my inability to sire the next Laris heir.
After sixty-five years in exile, the memories have faded, but the woman’s appearance dregs it back to the surface, and it is as if I feel that pain, that humiliation, that shame all over again.
No matter how insistent my dragon is that this red-haired woman slumped between Zunix’s spikes is our mate, I will not yield.
I’ve experienced the fickleness of women once. Never again.
3
Olivia:
I fade in and out of consciousness. I’m vaguely aware that I’m flying on the back of a fearsome dragon with scales the color of antique brass. The thought should fill me with alarm, but though I wait for panic to lance through me, it doesn’t come.
May’s sitting in front of me. Her right arm is broken, but she’s gripping the spikes of the dragon with her left hand, her knuckles white. There’s no need to be afraid, I want to assure her. The dragon’s flight is smooth. There are no sudden turns, no stomach-churning drops. The green-gold wings flap through the sky, and we ride the air currents with effortless ease.
It’s exhilarating.
The pain in my leg makes it hard to track time, but we fly for what seems like hours. We pass over lush jungle, a rocky mountain range, and then a sandy desert. The desert, in particular, seems to stretch on forever, but finally, the terrain changes, the sands giving way to a grassy plain.
Purple grass. I’m definitely not on Earth.
The dragon starts its descent. A small clearing grows larger and larger, and then, before I have a chance to wonder if this landing will be as smooth as a commercial jet, we’re on the ground.
A midnight dragon touches down next to us. Bryce, Felicity, and Paige slide from its back. Bryce’s eyes are shining with excitement, but Paige looks shaken, and Felicity retches violently. I’m so busy watching her that I barely notice the shimmer in the air.