Draekon Rescue Read online

  As expected. I’ve infiltrated and destroyed seven of these cells in my search for Zlatin.

  Nevvi continues to speak. “A drone ship landed yesterday. You should wait for the next one. It’s the safest way.”

  Wait another month. I don’t think so. My instincts tell me to hurry, and I’ve learned to trust them. “No.”

  She doesn’t look surprised. “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m Draekon, Nevvi. There’s an easy way in.” A smile grows on my face. Ten guards? No problem. If Zlatin is in there, the two of us can handle them with ease. “I’m going to get captured.”

  Dorothy

  I wake to bright lights and shield my face. I can move again. No straps tie me down, but I’m still naked, surrounded by four blank walls and a glowing floor. One of the walls shimmers a little. If I stare at it, I can almost glimpse figures walking behind it.

  Slowly, I move and stretch, until a flutter of movement catches the corner of my eye. With a start, I scramble to face the occupied portion of my cell.

  I’m not alone.

  A large figure sits on the floor, his dark eyes resting on me. Humanoid, but not human. My cellmate has a bald head, deep bronze skin, large muscles covered in swirling black tattoos and best of all, nipple piercings. Whoa.

  I’m trapped in a cell with an alien. A very big, very male Zorahn.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” he says in a deep voice. Slowly, he spreads his hands as if proving he’s no threat.

  I’m not reassured. This guy could snap me like a twig. I tuck my legs in and wrap my arms around my knees. “What is this place? Where am I?”

  “I’m not sure. Somewhere on the homeworld. From the stars in the sky, I’d guess we’re in the Northern Wilds.”

  That’s a whole lot of gobbledygook. “The homeworld?”

  He raises an eyebrow. “We are on Zoraht. And if you don’t know what the homeworld is, you’re a very long way from home.”

  No kidding.

  “Why am I here?” My voice has a distinct quaver to it. Don’t cry, Dor.

  At my question, my alien cellmate’s expression turns bleak. “You are a prisoner of the Zorahn scientists,” he replies tersely. “They are testing you.”

  What the…? “Testing me for what?”

  His jaw clenches, and he doesn’t reply. I try a different tack. “You’re Zorahn. Are they testing you too?”

  “You could say that.” His eyes run over me, and I suddenly remember I’m naked. As is he, though from the way he’s sitting, I can’t see his junk. “I was watching as they brought you in. Are you feeling better?”

  “Um...” I do a quick inventory. Head: Clear. Body: Feeling much stronger after my purple energy cocktail. “Apart from the fact that I appear to be imprisoned by mad scientists, yes.”

  My alien buddy smiles in relief. “Good.”

  He’s got a surprisingly sexy smile. Now that I think about it, he looks a little like the Rock. Well, a bigger, more-muscled version of the Rock.

  Focus, Dor.

  I rise carefully and walk to the wall with shadows moving behind it. I lean close to peer through. People-shaped objects come in and out of focus. I imagine a lab and an observatory room. I put my hand against the wall, but a soft buzzing grows in intensity until I snatch away my stinging palm.

  So. They’re watching me, but don’t want me watching them.

  I pad back into the empty room. My cell. And I thought the arcade sucked.

  “What are they going to do to me?” I ask the alien. “Are they going to run experiments on me?”

  “They already are,” he replies. “You might call this a test.”

  I lift my head and stare at him. The floor seems to pulse with latent light. “What?”

  “They want to know how well we get along.”

  “What?” I ask again, though I have an awful suspicion I know exactly what he’s talking about. He’s naked. I’m naked. I don’t have to be a rocket scientist to see how this is going to play out. But why?

  He doesn’t meet my eyes. “I won’t hurt you.”

  I survey him silently. He’s pretty hot, for an alien. Ripped abs and high cheekbones like a model, but his bald head and square jaw makes him a little too masculine to be pretty. He’s so big that the total effect is intimidating, versus just handsome.

  “Look, um… what’s your name?”

  He eyes me carefully and says something that sounds like ‘Ztin.’

  “Ztin?” I ask, wincing. I’m mangling his name horribly. Hardly the best way to make friends and influence people.

  “No,” he says. “Two syllables. Zla-tin.”

  “Zlatin. Got it.” That’s a lie; it sounds nothing like when he said it.

  His lip twitches. “The first syllable is shorter,” he says patiently. “The emphasis is on Tin, not Zla.”

  We play a few more rounds of ‘pronounce the alien name,’ and finally, Zlatin gives up. “Call me Tin.”

  “Phew. Tin I can manage. And I’m Dorothy Pitts, but you can call me Dor. Everyone does.” The full force of the predicament I’m in comes crashing down. “I didn’t ask for any of this.”

  “I know.”

  “They took me. Just beamed me up into their spaceship and… why the hell did they pick me anyway?” I pace the floor, feeling helpless and trapped.

  My cellmate watches me, an inscrutable look on his face. To his credit, he hasn’t done anything remotely threatening, and he’s done a great job keeping his eyes on my face, not on my breasts, which jiggle with each step I take. Finally, he opens his mouth. “What do you know of the High Empire?

  “Absolutely nothing. Well, that’s not true. I know the Zorahn exist. They showed up on Earth five months ago.”

  He looks shocked. “You’re from Earth?”

  “Yeah, why? Is that a problem?”

  “Earth’s in the neutral zone,” he says tensely. He’s silent for a few minutes, and then he seems to gather his wits. “Hundreds of years ago, Zorahn scientists created a race of sentient soldiers called the Draekon. The Draekon fought many battles and conquered many worlds. And then, one day, they rebelled. Ever since then, every male Zorahn is tested from birth for the Draekon gene. If you test positive, you are killed, exiled, or imprisoned.”

  “You failed the test,” I guess, rubbing at my itchy wrist.

  “Yes and no. I escaped before the scientists could test me, and I became a mercenary in the far reaches of the galaxy, where being Draekon isn’t an automatic death sentence.”

  “How did you end up here?”

  He grimaces. “A battle gone wrong.”

  “Why is this Draekon thing a death sentence? It’s not your fault. You’re born with it.”

  “The Zorahn believe Draekon are dangerous.”

  Oh boy. Should I be scared of him? I tuck my knees tighter into my chest and wish I’d taken a self-defense class back on Earth, instead of spending all my time playing StarShip Wars.

  “I swear I will not hurt you,” he repeats his promise. His head falls back against the wall, and he closes his eyes. “You have nothing to fear from me.”

  For some reason, I believe him.

  * * *

  I’m jerked awake when the floor lights up under us. My cellmate rises to his feet.

  “Dor. Stand here.” He points to a square on the floor that isn’t lit up.

  “Why? What’s—” The glowing floor buzzes under my feet, a tingling that turns to a painful shock. I scuttle to the unlit square next to him, my pulse racing in my chest.

  “Just stay calm,” he advises tensely. “They’re not going to hurt you.”

  A female Zorahn enters, the scientist that spoke to me earlier. She’s tall with long blonde hair that’s worn in a single braid down her back. She gives us a searching glance. “You two seem to be settling in nicely,” she smirks. We don’t answer, and she doesn’t seem to care. She fiddles with a silver tube, twisting it until it turns into a vial of fluid attached to a vicious loo
king needle. Looking up at Tin, she snaps her fingers and points to the square beside her. The light on a few squares dies, leaving a path to her side.

  My cellmate lumbers slowly to her. He stands silent, as she stabs the needle into his arm. The slight tightening around his eyes tells me it hurts, but he doesn’t fight back.

  When she’s done with him, she waves him back and beckons to me. My fists clench, and I contemplate making a run for it, but I’m naked, the floors are designed to shock me, and I’m on an alien world.

  Worst. Day. Ever.

  Zlatin sees me hesitate, and he pats my shoulder reassuringly. “It will be fine.”

  I trust him more than creepy scientist lady. Even if he could pick me up and break me over his knee. I move closer to him. Without thinking, I grab his hand, and his fingers close around mine. The Wicked Witch of the Lab, as I’ve mentally dubbed her, takes in the two of us. “Well, well,” she says, smiling widely. “This should be interesting.” Her voice sharpens. “Human. Come here now.”

  I hate needles. So much. Reluctantly, I inch forward, wincing in pain as she jabs at my arm. When she’s done, I shuffle back to Tin, and I hold his hand until she leaves.

  When we’re alone again, I turn to my cellmate. “What did she give me?”

  He shakes his head. “You’ll find out soon enough,” he says bleakly. He sits back down on an unlit square near the wall, leans back and closes his eyes.

  I do the same, taking the other half of his square. I don’t want to risk the floor lighting up and shocking me in my sleep. I peer at my fellow prisoner, but he doesn’t seem to mind my closeness. I’ve just gotten comfortable when the lights go down. Leaving me alone with six feet, seven inches of muscle man. Ho boy. It’s hard to convince my wired body there are no monsters in the dark.

  I scoot closer to him. He smells nice. Like the outdoors, a bit smoky. It reminds me of a campfire. Familiar, comforting. I almost forget he’s an alien.

  “Sleep,” he says quietly. “I will not let anything happen to you.”

  Zlatin

  Something’s different. I can sense it in my heart. I wanted to protect all the women the scientists kidnapped, but this feels like more. I can’t explain it very well, but I feel connected to this small woman with her brown hair and wide grey-green eyes.

  Ashl’vi has seen it too. The scientist’s expression was gloating when she injected the two of us with a serum designed to produce arousal. For a year, the three scientists that have imprisoned me have searched for a match, a woman that will trigger the Draekon mating bond.

  Now, they might have found her. Dor from Earth.

  I will not let anything happen to you.

  I’m a liar. Though I can shield her, I cannot save her from what is about to happen. The serum will obliterate free will. We will be drawn to each other, whether we want it or not. The scientists will watch us mate like beasts. They will take blood samples every hour, and run their tests on it, looking for whatever it is that they seek.

  And then, what happens?

  Nothing good. Earth is in the neutral zone. Dor’s abduction was clearly unsanctioned by the Triumvirate. The scientists cannot allow her to walk out of here alive.

  Resolve stiffens my spine. Though I don’t understand why, she is important to me, this woman from Earth. I cannot let her be harmed.

  We need to get out of here.

  Dorothy

  When I wake up, Tin sits one square over.

  “Hey,” I yawn, stretching to relieve the crick in my neck. “What’s new?”

  He doesn’t look at me, but one part of him is definitely glad to see me. It’s hard to miss his giant dick standing straight up. It doesn’t seem polite to point out that Tin has the biggest hard-on ever, but he must notice me staring because he says in a stiff voice, “They gave me a drug for arousal.”

  When I look closely, Tin’s face is a funny color. His skin has a green tint. I’m not an expert on alien anatomy, but that can’t be good.

  The dots connect. “Is that what she injected in me too?” I start to scoot away, and realize all the floor squares are lit up but the two we’re on. They want us close together. Shit.

  Sweat beads on Tin’s forehead and he nods tightly.

  The scientists are probably watching us from behind the glass. Any minute, the Wicked Witch of the Lab could come in and dose me with God-knows-what. I wish I’d worked in a dojo or MMA fighting gym. Less time for video games, but at least I’d know something useful. Like jujitsu.

  “Tin,” I whisper, leaning close to him, my nipples accidentally brushing against his chest, “I don’t think it’s working on me.”

  My insides tighten at the contact, and my skin tingles. His muscles are hard and smooth and surprisingly warm. A specimen of sheer masculine beauty, my cellmate. It’s hard to keep from touching him. Hmm. Maybe the horny-juice is doing its magic after all.

  “Pretend,” he says tensely. “Otherwise, they’ll increase the dosage.” An anguished expression fills his face. “In large quantities, the drug can be fatal.”

  My throat goes dry. Without looking at the glass wall, I lean into his side. He’s so warm, and when he puts his arms around me, I feel safe. I bury my head in his hard chest, breathing in his familiar musk. The smoky smell has gotten stronger. I shut my eyes and pretend we’re sitting around a campfire. “I don’t want to die here, Tin,” I whisper.

  “You won’t.”

  I shake my head, blinking back tears. Everything feels hopeless.

  “You won’t,” he repeats. “I swear it.”

  * * *

  We only get an hour of respite. Far too soon, the lights turn on, and the door opens, and the Wicked Witch walks in. “Come,” she orders. No please, no thank you. Her bedside manner leaves a lot to be desired.

  We both reluctantly follow her to the laboratory. She gestures to two examination tables. I don’t move, staying as close to Tin’s reassuring body as I can. No lie; this woman is scary.

  Another woman walks in with a man. They look vaguely familiar, and I think they were in the lab when I was first brought in. “What progress has been made?” the man asks. “Has the human woman mated with the Draekon?”

  The Wicked Witch looks annoyed. “She isn’t responding to the drug,” she snaps. “I’m about to increase the dosage.”

  My heart starts to race. I’m ready to make a break for it when a commotion at the end of the warehouse makes me lift my head. A troop of Zorahn guards marches in. They’re not dressed in robes, but in grey military-looking fatigues. They surround a tall man in the middle, who’s bare to the waist. Another prisoner. “We found this man outside, Highborn,” one of them calls out. “He wouldn’t tell us why he was here. We thought you might want to interrogate him.”

  The new prisoner stares at me. Blonde hair, strong jaw covered in sun-kissed scruff. Tall, leaner than Tin, but with the same wealth of muscles. Damn, they breed them tall, broad, and handsome on Zoraht.

  I stare back, and he grins and winks, as if we just met on the street. Friendly. Almost flirty. He doesn’t seem to care that he’s surrounded by guards, with his hands cuffed in front of him.

  When Tin sees the new guy, a wide smile breaks out on his face.

  Then, a few things happen at once.

  Tin’s expression fills with alarm. He crouches to his knees, clenching his fists and flexing his muscles. His skin turns green, and veins stand out on his neck, chest, and arms with the strain.

  The scientists cry out in alarm. The male scientist grabs a needle and rushes toward my alien friend, but goes down in a heap when the body of a guard flies across the lab to crash into him. The new guy is free, too, and going after the last of the soldiers. He fights, moving so fast he’s a blur. When he stops, his manacles dangle from one wrist.

  Come to think of it, the new guy’s skin looks kinda red.

  No, it’s definitely turning red. Like, fire engine red.

  The Wicked Witch turns to the guards in a panic. “Shoot th
em now,” she shouts.

  But by then it’s too late.

  Tin… transforms. His head flies back as he goes up on his tiptoes. His body goes rigid. Horns split his forehead, and his whole body grows, stretches. His skin changes, mottling green until he’s bright and shining with lizard scales. People are screaming. I’d scream too, if I could summon my voice. My mouth hangs open as the creature rears up over the gathering chaos.

  Tin is a dragon. Bright green and big as an eighteen-wheeler. Bigger. Good thing we’re in a warehouse or he’d have already busted through the roof.

  Cold air fills the place. My breath turns to frost. The scientists are scrambling, running, fleeing. All except the Wicked Witch, who points a gun at Dragon-Tin with shaking hands.

  “Look out!” I screech.

  The green dragon rears up and opens its jaws.

  “No,” she cries, diving for cover. Not fast enough. Flames blast from the dragon’s mouth. Heat ripples the air. The witch staggers back, her robes on fire. She turns and runs for the door, pushing her own guards out of the way. One of them stumbles and knocks her into a rack of test tubes. Glass breaks, liquid spatters. The blaze becomes an inferno. The head scientist’s screams fill the air. I cover my ears and cower behind the examination table.

  Finally, silence.

  Shaking, I gather my feet under me and peer out again. I think the dragon and I are alone in the lab. It stomps around, breaking things underfoot, it’s sinuous neck weaving over the carnage. It’s searching for something… someone.

  Me.

  A loud snuffing noise makes me whirl.

  There’s another dragon behind me. This one is red. A yellow eye, slitted like a cat’s, bigger than my torso, winks at me. Ten bonus points for guessing which dragon this is.

  Shouts echo from outside.

  The red dragon launches toward the ceiling, throwing his massive body against the barrier. It shatters; I cover my head with my arms as glass rains down on us. When I look up again, there’s a giant hole where the roof should be.