Dragon's Hope (Red Planet Dragons of Tajss Book 4) Page 13

  "Your female, Lana, will help us. We will learn to communicate. They will each find willing and happy mates among the Tribe. Visidion has told us."

  He speaks with such conviction it's clear there is no arguing with him. These are just facts waiting to happen.

  "No one will force themselves on the human females?" I ask.

  Visidion frowns, shaking his head. "Of course not, we are Zmaj," he says.

  I nod my agreement. If they're not intending to force the females, then I have no argument.

  "Good," I say.

  "They will become treasures. Already they call to their mates though they may not yet know it. They will, it's only a matter of time. Look how Lana came to us in our time of need."

  I can't argue his logic even if it is unrealistic. I need to talk with Lana, somewhere quiet. I don't intend to stay here forever and before her mother I was sure she didn't either. That changes things.

  No matter, we have to get back to Drakonov, they need us. The Zzlo are growing bolder that much is obvious. As well there is an entire new camp of humans and the Tribe to talk with them about. The future of Tajss is changing.

  "The suns are setting, I should get Lana and rest," I say.

  "You'll have shelter," he says. He motions with his staff and the smaller Zmaj that I saw groveling before Padraig earlier runs up from somewhere. "Samil, show our new friend to his quarters."

  "Yes, Commander," the small Zmaj says, his head bowed the entire time.

  He leads me to an opening in the rock and inside I find a small sleeping area. There are unlit candles, furs for a bed, and a small storage shelf.

  "Thank you," I say, turning towards him in time to see him flinch as I move.

  "Yes," he says, bowing his way out of the room.

  Civilized? Perhaps, but they are still slaves to the bijass. I light candles then go to find Lana and bring her home for the night.

  18

  Lana

  "I can't believe she's alive," I say, following Astarot into the cave-room they've given us for the night.

  It's small but functional and gives us some privacy. Candles push back the darkness. Astarot grabs one of our packs and pulls out food for us, I sit down on the pallet of furs and leather. My head is pounding and I feel like I can't get enough air. A cold sweat forms on my arms although the room is hot with dry, still air.

  Astarot kneels, offering me some of our dried guster meat. Chewing it eases the pain in my body. Guster use the epis caves as their hatching grounds and the babies feed on epis, infusing their meat with some of its properties. It's trace amounts but enough to fool my body into thinking it might get its 'fix'. Leaning my back against the cool, stone wall I chew and contemplate the day.

  Mom is alive. It's a miracle. Something I hadn't dared hope or think of. She's here and there are other survivors on the planet. This changes everything!

  "I'm glad," Astarot says, sitting down next to me.

  "It's so… strange," I observe. "I'd just not thought about it, you know? I'd accepted the loss, that's the way it was."

  Astarot shrugs, chewing his food. He places an arm across my shoulders, so I rest my head on his chest. The relief that comes with the guster meat is growing less. If I don't get epis soon, I'll be in trouble.

  "None of this is expected," he says.

  "Did you talk with the Commander more? Will he help us to get epis?"

  "I'm not sure," he says. "These males are… strange. I don't understand them or their ways."

  "What do you mean? Is it all that different from what Tajss was like before the war?"

  "Very much, yes," he says.

  "How?"

  Astarot chews thoughtfully and silently for several minutes.

  "They don't use epis," he says. "Or so he claims."

  "They don't?"

  "No," he says. "Visidion says they're cleansed of it. Epis was the lifeblood of Tajss. It was our product, we traded epis across the galaxy. Everyone took it. Epis was life, it infused every part of our society."

  "Yeah?"

  He shakes his head hunching forward. "I don't know," he says. "It's different."

  "Well, one way or another the other women won't make it without epis. The section of ship they crashed in had a hospital so they have supplies, but that will run out. Our bodies won't hold up to this heat without epis."

  "Then we'll get epis," he says, straightening. "One way, or another."

  I touch the cool scales of his finely muscled arm, flooded with warmth and there's a fluttering in my chest. Leaning closer I strain for his lips and he obliges, turning and moving in until our lips meet.

  He pulls me closer, my body melds to his as a fire inside roars to life. Trembling as I kiss his sweet lips, his strong hands move down my back, drawing me in. Lifting he turns us both, lying me down on the furs. I'm engulfed in him, running my hands across his delightfully chiseled chest. The muscles flex as he moves, my skin tingles anticipating his touch.

  I pierce his lips with my tongue, seeking his. Our mouths move as one, his cock pushes hard into my core, trying to drive past the thin fabric separating us from our desires. My fingers trail across his folded wings. His weight presses me into the floor, solid and real.

  The edges of his scales have red and green tints that pulsate with his desire. His chest warms under my touch, taking my warmth in as I will take him.

  The coolness of his touch slides along my skin, making its way under my shirt as he pulls it up and over my head. Pleasure so intense it's painful explodes as my nipples harden to diamond tips. A low growl escapes his throat when he looks down, then his hot mouth is on me and I cry out my pleasure, biting down and trying to keep quiet.

  Can the others hear us?

  The thought flees before the circling of his tongue. Let them. I don't care, he feels too good, I need him too much.

  The pressure of his restrained cock pressing between my thighs is making my legs quiver. I can't wait any longer. I need him in me and now. Trailing fingers across his hard stomach, I loosen his pants, pushing them down. His cock bounces free, the hard ridges along the top like a series of waves on an ocean, leaned back and ready for my pleasure.

  I slide my pants off, awkward while we continue kissing and touching. My lips burn, desire is all consuming. The head of his cock is at my opening, I grasp his ass and pull but he doesn't come forward, holding himself over me.

  "Astarot," I pant.

  His beautiful lavender eyes stare into mine, he kisses, soft, fast kisses across my cheek, up to my lips, down the other side. Holding himself up with one arm, his free hand strokes my face, down my neck. His lips meet mine with butterfly kisses, repeating as his hand grasps my breast. Taking my nipple between his thumb and forefinger he pinches and I cry out, a wordless sound of pleasure.

  Jerking in response it forces his cock into my pussy. The first ridge stops further entry. My body adjusts, growing wetter, then he lowers himself into me, one ridge at a time as my pussy adjusts to his girth. No matter how many times we do this each time is like the first. His girth, the ridges on the top of his cock, are the limits of what my body can handle.

  It expands me, exposes nerve endings never stimulated. I'm breathing in ragged gasps, my heart pounds at a hard gallop, butterflies fill my stomach. I'm alive. He pushes in until the ridge at the base of his cock powers through my soft folds and finds my clitoris.

  As that hard protrusion makes contact, my body explodes into a thousand stars shooting through the night. A gasp escapes, wordless sound that doesn't express the sensations rocking my body. That contact on my most sensitive nub is pleasure beyond belief or experience.

  He grinds his hips into me, moving deep inside and against my clit. Fire burns through every nerve followed by freezing cold. Sensations too many, too fast, its electric running across all my skin. I'm burning with it. Consumed in the fires of our passion. He pulls back leaving an emptiness behind he fills with a single thrust forward.

  "More!" I cry out and h
e obliges.

  He takes me. Pounding hard into my pussy, filling me over and over, the exotic scent of him fills my nostrils as his cock fills my pussy. The weight of his thrust satisfies on a deep primal level. He grunts, panting hard with exertion and desire.

  His grunts become my name and that is enough to push me over the edge. I fall into the molten sensations of all consuming desire as I'm taken. I become one with him as he thrusts in and unloads his seed. Holding himself deep inside, his throbbing cock pulses in my pussy, we kiss.

  Collapsing back onto the mat my legs feel like jelly. My heart is pounding like a thousand horses in my chest. I concentrate on breathing, slowing my heart as I return to awareness. When he pulls out it's a loss, leaving an emptiness behind. His second cock is hard and ready but I'm not. Somehow, no words are necessary for him to know this. He rolls off of me, lying down, and I scoot in close' resting my head on his chest.

  His heart has a double rhythm beat. It's calming and relaxing as we lie, entangled with each other, soft touches. I'm enamored with him. No one has ever made me feel the way he does but how do I balance that with what I want? I can't be 'his' and be a hunter too.

  I've seen how the other Zmaj are. They can't stand to be apart from their mates. If I commit to him he'd never be okay with me leading a hunting party of my own. I'd never stand on my own. The other humans would never look and see they need me. I'm valuable, I keep them alive.

  Thoughts circle my mind as I trace my fingers along the muscles of his chest, feeling the cool, smoothness of his scales. I can't, even though I want to, I can't be his the way he wants me to. I have to prove myself and find my place in the world. My choice of mate can't define who I am.

  It would be nice… I think as the gray blanket of sleep pulls me into its embrace.

  19

  Astarot

  "We don't need it, why do they?" Ragnar asks, the same question he's been posing all morning.

  "Can you not see they're different?" I ask, frustration tightening my throat.

  The urge to punch him in his smirking mouth is almost too much. The bijass circles the edge of my awareness, ready to pounce, prodding at my control. Ragnar isn't making it easy. He's arrogant, condescending, and overall a jerk. He's also the main thing in my way of getting what I want.

  "I see," he says. "The females we saved were doing well and they've been here for a long time without epis."

  "Are they doing fine now?" I yell.

  He smiles as he steps back, rolling his shoulders.

  "We'll find a way," he says, shrugging, but his eyes watch my shoulders, ready for me to attack.

  If I didn't know better, I'd think he's trying to provoke me. Maybe he is. Is this part of the culture of the Tribe? They have a might makes right attitude. What's his game?

  "How long do you think you have?"

  "Kalessin will guide us," he says, like it's a matter-of-fact.

  He believes it, too. I've never seen anything like it. Zmaj don't act this way. His faith in the Seer irks me. I don't know how to deal with it. They're all this way too. How can they have such strong belief one male's vision?

  I've never even heard of a Seer before. I may not remember everything from before the Devastation but I'm sure I'd remember a Seer. There's never been such a thing on Tajss before. There was no belief, I remember. We worked, that's what we did. We harvested epis, shipped epis, epis was life. Everyone on Tajss worked to produce epis in some capacity.

  "How can you be so sure?" I ask, shaking my head.

  "Because he has and he will, he has the sight."

  His words shut the door. There is no arguing with his blind belief. Even if I could, how do I? Kalessin brought the Tribe together, through his 'vision' or just insight I don't know. There's no arguing with the results. Before the humans crashed, I and all the other Zmaj now in Drakonov were living alone and waiting to die. Surviving because that's what we did, having no contact with any others.

  "They need epis," I say, throwing my hands up. "Their bodies cannot take the heat of Tajss. There is no other way!"

  "We'll see," he says, laughing and shrugging.

  The bijass leaps forward, his smug face fills my vision. My fist swings faster than thought. He leans back, ready for it, blocking the blow.

  "Edicts are edicts," he hisses.

  Edicts. I don't care. Rage burns white hot. I'll wipe that smug smile off his face with my fists.

  Edicts. It cuts through my rage. Edicts are edicts. Edicts bring us together.

  "I apologize," I say, lowering my fist.

  Ragnar nods his acceptance. "Maybe it's just your female," he says.

  "What?" I hiss, the rage rising again.

  "Perhaps you're not man enough for her," he observes. "I might challenge you for her."

  Struggling to maintain control I have to force words past the tightness of my throat.

  "She would never…" I trail off, unable to force my words out.

  "Oh?" he says, glancing over his shoulder at me. "Females like strength. If I bested you, she'd see I was the better mate."

  I'm shaking I'm so angry. Red edges my vision as I turn away from him. Don't look at his face. It only makes it worse the way he smiles. He's goading me. I won't give in to his taunting.

  Lana needs epis. I need his help to get it.

  "Yes!" I hear Lana's voice.

  "Ah, there she is," Ragnar says. "What beauty!"

  We're walking past the part of the valley where the craftsmen are working. She's standing next to the leather worker, Arawn. They're both engrossed in something on the table before them. The leather worker laughs, pointing, then says something but I can't catch the words.

  My stomach turns sour. Lana reaches in front of the leather worker, touching something on the table. He reaches forward, his hand resting on hers, moving it. My jaw hurts as the sickness in my stomach turns to a burning pain. My breath comes faster, my nails dig into the palms of my hands. She moves, then her hip is against him. His arms reaches around behind her.

  "Enough," I growl.

  "Hmm?" Ragnar asks. "Oh well, maybe I've already lost that one. She seems quite taken with Arawn."

  "ARGH!" I scream, pushing Ragnar out of my way and storming towards the table.

  Lana looks up, smiles, then her eyes widen.

  "Astarot, no!" she yells, holding her hands up in front of her.

  Arawn looks up, his eyes widen as his mouth drops. His wings open and he takes a step backwards. Grabbing the table between us I toss it to one side. Bits of leather and tools fly and there's a loud clatter as objects hit the ground. Swinging as I close, my fist takes him under the jaw.

  His head snaps back, clacking shut. He stumbles, falling backwards, coming up against the stone of the valley wall. I'm on him. Pounding, his head slams back and forth. He grunts and swings his tail but I block, then strike in a blow I know will numb the muscles making it useless. Strong hands grab my arms. Yelling. Sounds of struggle. Breaking free I hit him again, this time punching into his chest.

  He slides down the stone as I'm drug away. Hands are on me everywhere, grabbing my arms, my legs, someone has my tail. I fight them all. None of them will have her. She is mine! My treasure!

  Red fills my vision, laying over all the sights. I scream my rage.

  Lana's face. She's shaking her head. Her mouth moves, but I can't understand what she's saying. Tears, she calls the moisture from her eyes tears. I don't understand. Why the tears? I'm saving her.

  "Astarot," she says, putting a hand on my chest.

  The coolness of her touch is calming. Chill spreads from where her hand rests. My hearts slow, my breathing returns to normal, the red rage recedes. I stop fighting the ones holding me. Soon they ease their grip and I'm put back on my feet.

  Two Zmaj kneel next to Arawn, helping him to his feet. He stands bent in half, hands on his knees. When he looks up, wiping the blood from his mouth and panting, he shakes his head then straightens. He's hurt but doing his best to hide
it.

  We stare at each other then he looks over at Lana and back. He makes a slicing motion with his hand between us. The hands holding me let go.

  "Outsiders," they mutter, walking away.

  "Edicts," someone else hisses.

  I'm left standing alone. Lana looks horrified. Arawn is walking over to the table I threw, groaning as he bends to pick it up. I go to help him.

  "Let it go," he hisses as soon as I touch it.

  "I'm sorry, I want to-"

  "Go," he says, making that same cutting motion with his hand. "I don't need your help."

  Straightening, I look at Lana. She shakes her head then turns away. A stabbing pain drives into my chest and I can't breathe.

  I lost control and now I've lost everything.

  20

  Lana

  His eyes bore into my back but I refuse to turn around. I can't believe he did that. I'm mortified. Avoiding looking at Astarot, I help Arawn in picking things up and putting them back on the table. It's not long before I hear Astarot's footsteps as he walks away.

  "I'm sorry," I say, setting a stack of cured leathers down on the table next to Arawn. "I don't know what came over him."

  "It's fine," he says, rubbing his jaw.

  A drop of blood trickles from the corner of his mouth. Taking a cloth from the table I dab at it and see him wince at my touch.

  "No, it's not. I've never seen him like that before."

  "It's the bijass," Arawn shrugs. "We all struggle with it."

  "That doesn't make it acceptable!" I answer, my face flushing as I slam my hand down on the table. "He shouldn't have done that."

  Arawn places a hand on my fist, soft and gentle. When I look up at him he smiles.

  "You don't understand," he says. "The bijass, it's always there, waiting."

  "No, I don't understand. What is it? Why?"

  Muscles quiver as tears fall. My throat and mouth are dry, my head is pounding. I feel like shit, like I've been through a ringer and then tossed aside in a pile. Every muscle aches, each breath takes an effort because expanding my chest hurts. I don't need this crap. Astarot acting that way, it's just too much.