by Lili Zander
I’d been frozen with fear that day. It had been Ryanna who’d aimed her gun at one of them, and calmly fired the trigger.
Not me. I’d been too afraid. In an emergency room, I know how to stay calm while everyone else is falling to pieces around me. But when I was confronted with a predator that seemed intent on killing me, I’d been paralyzed.
And I’m paralyzed now. Those spiders are not hurrying. It’s almost like they’re savoring this moment, feasting on my fear. They clack along the floor, and I can’t move, not even to scramble to my feet. I grip Rorix’s hand hard, and I hold my breath, and I brace myself for the end.
Then something miraculous happens. Rorix squeezes my hand back.
Before I can really begin to process what’s going on, both Rorix and Ferix swing to their feet. Moving faster than deadly cats, they grab the spiders and fling them against the wall, shattering them to pieces.
Then they turn to me. Ferix looks at me with his chocolate brown eyes, and his expression is puzzled.
He doesn’t recognize me.
The price of the cure. To save their lives, I must lose them.
And I have.
I fight back the sob in my throat. We need to get out of here. The lost city isn’t our concern, and neither is Raiht’vi, who is more than capable of taking care of herself.
I’m worried about my friends. We need to figure out how to get back to them, and how to fight off the Zoraken who are so intent on getting us back to Earth.
“Sofia?” Ferix says, his voice hesitant.
My pulse starts to race.
28
Ferix
The last thing I remember, we were in the Lowlands. We’d just rescued Sofia, Harper, and Ryanna from the dwals. Rorix was planning to set out to look for their missing friend, Viola Lewis. I’d gone after him, wanting to make sure he had a full set of knives in his throwing belt, when Sofia had followed us.
“Please be careful,” she’d said, her dark eyes swimming with worry.
Something had happened then, something significant. But when I try to remember what it was, there’s a haze where my memories should be.
I don’t know where we are. We’re not in the Lowlands anymore. We’re in a room that’s filled to the brim with tech, and Rorix and I have just destroyed two skrath, the High Empire’s favorite drone weapon. Sofia’s with us, but I don’t know what she’s doing here.
Then I look into her beautiful, luminous eyes, and something happens. The noise of the battle fades, and the air grows hushed. For an infinitely long instant, the world outside ceases to exist.
A gong sounds in my soul, deep and resonant. Ours, a voice inside me says. Our mate.
“Sofia,” I say again, but before I can continue, pain sears my body.
Run, that same inner voice warns me. Outside.
I barely have the presence of mind to obey. I barely register that Rorix is running too, racing for a clearing. Then I can’t run anymore; the pain is too great. I sink to my knees, every muscle screaming with agony. My nails lengthen into claws. My bones shatter and reform. I can feel myself drawing energy from everything around me and using that energy to fuel my transformation. I can feel myself growing. I’m bigger. Tougher. More powerful.
I’m a soldier bred for war, forged for battle. I was created for this moment. I know what I need to do.
The skrath are energy seekers. They will infiltrate the tech and shut it down, and then the Zoraken can attack with impunity. Jets roar overhead, dropping crate after crate of the cyberweapons.
My dragon emerges with a roar. My wings unfurl, and I jump into the sky.
Step One: Destroy the jets.
There are seven of them, locked in a tight vee formation. As I climb higher, I watch them carefully. They fly down the length of the mountain range, dropping their bombs and their crates of skrath, and then, when they’ve reached the end of their run, they do a tight somersault and do another run.
The jets are large, each one twice, maybe three times as long as my body. They’re bombers, built explicitly for this purpose. Everything has been stripped to maximize their payload, but that leads to a crucial weakness.
They have no weapons. Against an aerial attack, they can’t defend themselves.
Rorix wheels to the right and I bank to the left. I fly as fast as I can, and when I’m within range of one of the jets, I open my mouth and roar a stream of fire at the tail of the craft.
It works. Flames lick the side of the bomber. Within seconds, it starts to lose height, tumbling out of control, hurtling toward the ground.
I don’t stay to watch the crash. I have six more jets to deal with.
Rorix, his powerful wings beating up and down, his long body undulating with the wind, catches up with a jet. His claws rip into one of the craft’s wings, ripping it from the fuselage. It goes into a spin, and this time, the pilot bails almost instantly, ejecting before his ship crashes into the rocky, unforgiving ground.
The jets are no longer flying in formation. They scatter in panic, each one streaking away in a different direction. It’s not about dropping bombs or the skrath anymore. It’s about survival.
Having dispatched one of the jets, Rorix moves onto another. With a swish of his powerful tail, he sends one of the bombers careening into another that’s flying too close. The jets collide in a burst of fire, one that crisps my scales.
Ignoring the momentary pain, I chase down the fleeing crafts. I won’t allow them to escape.
The High Empire has exiled us. It has ripped us from our families and left us here to die on the prison planet. And now, when we’ve found our mate, the Navy dares to attack us?
No. Never. Rorix and I will teach them that attacking us comes at a price. That we will not cower, afraid. We will fight.
One of the jets is speeding toward Rorix from behind, trying to ram into him. I snarl in rage and exhale red-hot fire at the cockpit. Thick clouds of smoke envelop the craft. The engines sputter and fail, and the bomber falls out of the sky in a spin.
Five down, two to go.
I’m winging my way to the closest of the two when I hear a thin whine. I look down in the direction of the noise and see two missiles streak toward us.
Why does this feel familiar? Why do I get the sense that this has happened before?
I dive away instinctively, and so does Rorix, but we’re not the targets.
The Zorahn jets are.
The missiles make unerring contact. The bombers explode in a fury of light and sound, and then the battle is over.
The easy part is done.
Now, we face the real challenge.
29
Sofia
For one terrifying instant, when the soldiers roll out the guns, I think their targets are Rorix and Ferix.
Then the final two planes explode, and I can breathe again. My Draekons are safe.
Silu marches up to me. “It worked?” she asks in a low undertone. “Your mates are well?”
Your mates. Those words send a stab of pain through my heart, and for a second, I can’t speak. I nod.
“Good.”
For the duration of Rorix and Ferix’s short battle with the fighter jets, my eyes were glued to the sky. Now, for the first time since I ran outside, I look around and take in the extensive damage to the tower I was in. “What happened?” I ask quietly. “How were they able to attack so easily? I thought you had the situation under control, and then…” I wave my hand at the rubble, at the small fires that still burn everywhere, at the thick coating of dust and debris that covers the plants. “This.”
Her eyes gleam with hidden excitement, but it’s gone so quickly that I’m not sure if I imagined it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We responded to the threat as quickly as we were able.”
A Draekon soldier runs up. “Lieutenant Commander,” he says in Zor, saluting Silu respectfully. “Senator Ulle is demanding an update on the situation.”
“Is she?” Silu sounds bored. Also wei
rd is the fact that she’s speaking in English. “Please remind the senator that according to Article Four Section Seven of Ashara’s charter, the Senate is suspended in times of war.” Her lips bare in a satisfied smile, and her feathers wave softly in the breeze. “Commander Cax is in charge now.”
Hang on. Was this all planned? My head spins, and I can’t make any sense of what’s going on. Olivia’s good with this kind of intrigue. I’m not.
And then none of that matters, because Rorix and Ferix land, and transform back to men.
Naked men.
Not going to lie; I’m checking out their, umm, tools. They might have lost their memories, but I haven’t lost mine, and I have a healthy appreciation for their, umm, genitalia. Their very erect genitalia.
They’re walking toward me.
It’s a lot easier to ogle their junk than to look at them. A lot less heartbreak if I can keep my thoughts on sex. If I can forget the love we shared.
They’re standing in front of me.
I don’t know what to say. I look at my toes to avoid looking into Rorix’s green-gold eyes, to avoid drowning in Ferix’s chocolate brown gaze. “Hi,” I manage.
So lame.
“Sofia,” Rorix says. “Where are we? The last thing I remember, we were in the Lowlands.” He shakes his head. “Never mind, that’s not important right now.”
Oh. “It’s not?” I whisper.
He clears his throat and exchanges a glance with Ferix. “It’s not,” he repeats. “Among my people, there is a legend about the Draekons, one I have never believed.”
“A legend?”
Ferix answers. “When a Draekon sees his mate for the first time, he transforms into the dragon.” He looks at me, his expression serious. “There’s a voice inside me, Sofia Menendez, that insists that you are our mate, and there is not the slightest bit of doubt in me that this voice is right.”
I stop breathing.
Ferix takes my hand in his. “You are from another world,” he says. “Our customs will appear strange to you. But Sofia Menendez, you would make us the happiest men in the galaxy if you would allow us to court you.”
I’m laughing, and I’m crying, and I’m laughing again. Because sometimes, when you least expect it, miracles do happen. “Yes,” I reply, tears rolling unchecked down my cheeks. “Yes, you can.”
Epilogue
Bryce
Maybe running away wasn’t the smartest idea in the world.
Okay, okay. I’m not stupid. It was the dumbest idea of all time, okay? I’ll admit it.
But Fluffy McCutie, my pet karvil escaped through a tunnel, and come on. What was I supposed to do? Let her roam the Lowlands on her own? Let her run into some dwals, who would be happy to eat her as a pre-lunch appetizer? I don’t think so.
Obviously, I didn’t ask for permission. Sofia and Dariux hadn’t come back, and everyone was afraid the Zoraken had imprisoned them, along with Rorix and Ferix. Every Draekon in camp was on high alert. The women were just as tense.
Given how grim everyone was, I couldn’t make a fuss about my missing pet.
So I just left.
The thing is, I know the prison planet better than the other women. Better than a lot of the Draekons, even. I’ve roamed far and wide, foraging for interesting plants to bring back for Viola to study. I know how to give the dwals a wide berth. I know how to steep the watlich leaves in water to make the paste that repels the hairus. I know where the orange fungus grows that got Harper—pro tip: they really like humidity, and they grow near running water—and I know how to hide my tracks.
I had Dariux’s skimmer, and Fluffy was a creature of habit. She had her favorite grazing spots, and she always made a beeline for them. I thought I had a good chance of finding my pet and bringing her back before anyone even noticed I was gone.
Except that’s not how it’s worked out.
Seven hours into the search for my damn karvil, I’m convinced I’m being followed by one of the Zoraken. A few times, I stop the skimmer and double back on foot, but I can’t spot them. Still, the prickly feeling in the back of my neck doesn’t go away.
You’re being paranoid, Bryce. There are fewer than two hundred people on the entire prison planet. Nobody is following you.
The sun is beginning to set. I pitch my watlich-coated tent and get a fire going. There’s a river not too far away, and I’m hoping to catch a nice, juicy fish for dinner. I keep an eye out for trouble, but mostly, I’m moving on auto-pilot. I’ve fished in this exact river many times before. It’s not new to me.
But when I get to the river edge, there’s a man there, one I’ve never seen before.
A Draekon.
He’s tall. His hair is dark and falls to his shoulders. He’s naked to the waist, and every muscle in his abs is clearly defined. Forget six-pack. This is an eight-pack. A ten pack, if that’s even a thing.
I’m used to good looking guys. Every single Draekon in camp is, without exception, really hot. Genetic engineering at its finest.
But this guy is different. It’s not that he’s any better looking than any of the others; he isn’t, not really. It’s something else. It’s the way he carries himself. With self-assurance. With a certain, effortless air of command.
“You know,” he says conversationally. “This is a really stupid idea. Commander Hurux is on your trail. If he catches up with you, you’re going back to Earth.”
Hang on. He’s not wearing a translator. He’s speaking English.
My mouth falls open. “Who are you?”
There’s an amused gleam in his eyes. “My name is Cax.”
Well, that’s a maddening half-answer. A Draekon that I’ve never seen before shows up in the middle of nowhere. Who is he, and where did he come from? “And?” I prompt. “Are you an exile? Are you one of the Zoraken hunting me?”
He chuckles. “Caeron, no. I’m here to help you, Bryce MacFarland.”
Grr. I clench my hands into fists. I’m about to demand an actual, not half-assed answer from him when another man appears from behind a tree trunk.
Zoraken. I recognize the uniform.
I brace to flee, but it’s too late.
“What in the name of Caeron?” Cax’s voice is low and laced with shock as he sinks to his knees. “How is this possible?”
And then both men transform into dragons.
Well, fuck. Things just got really interesting.
Thank you for reading Draekon Fever!
The prison planet adventures continue in Draekon Rogue, Bryce, Cax and Hurux’s story. Click to keep reading!
Draekon Rogue
Draekon Rogue
I'm caught between two alien warriors, sworn enemies intent on destroying each other. The one thing they agree on: I’m their mate.
The prison planet is a dumpster fire. War is coming.
The Draekons are on high-alert. I’m freaking out. The Zorahn soldiers are looking for the nine human women that crash-landed on the prison planet, and whether we like it or not, they intend to send us back home.
Then I get captured by two hot hunky alien warriors…
Cax, leader of the fabled lost city of the Draekons.
Hurux, the commander who wants to send me back to Earth.
And they’re my new mates.
This isn’t a fairy tale romance. This is a disaster.
Draekon Rogue is the seventh book in the Dragons in Exile series. It’s a full-length, standalone science fiction dragon-shifter MFM menage romance story featuring a very spunky human, and two sexy aliens who try their hardest to resist her. No M/M) Happily-ever-after guaranteed!
1
Bryce
Dear Diary,
I’m about to do something pretty damn stupid.
Fluffy is missing. Viola thinks she saw her last night sleeping near the greenhouse doors, one eye half-open, ever hopeful that someone would wander by and let her in. “But I can’t be sure,” she adds. “I was busy hurling my brains out. Morning sickness my ass. I�
�m sick twenty-four hours a day.”
It’s oddly refreshing to hear Viola talk about something as normal as puke. For the past week, the only topic of conversation has been the Zoraken outside our mountain home, and the mysterious shield that prevents them from entering, and as a fun side-effect, prevents us from leaving.
War is on our doorstep, and we’re trapped.
The shield seems to interfere with the communicator.
The Draekons are on high-alert. The women are freaking out. It’s clear by now that the soldiers are not only looking for Raiht’vi, they’re also looking for us. The nine human women that crash-landed on the prison planet.
Six months ago, if you’d told us that the possibility of rescue was imminent, we’d have cheered from the rooftops.
Six months later, things are very, very, different.
Eight of us have Draekon mates. Two guys for every girl, in fact, because that’s Draekon biology for you. Or is it physiology? Don’t ask me, I’m not a science major.
Two of us are pregnant. Felicity’s about to give birth any minute now, judging from the size of her belly—I’ve seen smaller whales off the coast of Maine. And Harper’s already given birth to an adorable baby girl, Kaida.
(You’re probably doing the math right now and wondering how she could have already popped one out if we’ve only been here for six months. Evidently, Draekon babies come quick.)
Guess who the only person without mates is? Me. Yup. On a planet filled with men—almost fifty of them—everyone’s managed to find a pair of partners.