Dragon's Capture Page 23

  Pulling her head back, I kiss the hollow of her neck, along her shoulder, lifting her and slamming her up and down on my dick all the while. Reckless abandon takes over. All control is gone. I have to have more of her. Balls tightening, stomach a hard knot, slamming her on and off my dick, I’m edging closer and closer to an orgasm.

  “Visidion,” she groans as I slam into her again.

  “Rosssss-lind,” it comes out in a long hiss, breathing hard, holding the orgasm at bay to enjoy her longer.

  “Yes,” she grunts, pulling herself up then dropping, over and over.

  My entire body stiffens, my cock swells, then explodes inside her. Pumping load after load into her welcoming womb. Giving myself to her fully, her sweet pussy claiming my cock as its own. She is my treasure; I will protect her. She is mine.

  29

  Rosalind

  “Is that all of it?” I ask.

  “Yes,” Ragnar says, stepping back.

  The makeshift sleds are loaded with meat and some vegetables from the gardens. There’s enough food to feed everyone left in the city for a month at least. The Tribe and the Exiles look on in a loose group. It’s too easy to see the division among them. The Tribe are almost all to the right, the City Exiles to the left, and in the middle of the two groups are those Zmaj and human females who have paired off. If only I could get them all to see that the middle is where our future lies. If only Gershom would see it. Instead, he’s too busy scrounging after power and control.

  “What now?” Todd asks, scratching his belly. “It’s hot.”

  “Ha!” Mesto exclaims.

  Our fellow gladiators stand with Visidion and me next to the sleds. Cenar is the only one who doesn’t seem to mind the heat. Is a creature made of rock even aware of the temperature? I should ask him sometime. Everyone is looking at me, including Visidion. We haven’t spoken about my plan or what comes next, nor have we decided how to broach the subject of our relationship to those gathered before us. Looking at the divided groups, an impulse takes hold of me.

  “Everyone,” I say, pitching my voice to carry. The murmur of conversation stops as they all look at me.

  “I know this isn’t the home we set out for,” I say, looking at the humans on the left.

  “And I know we aren’t the easiest to understand or get along with,” I turn my attention to the Zmaj of the Tribe.

  There are murmurs of assent on both sides.

  “But here is what else I know. We need each other. More than any of you realize, we need each other. Our future, the future of our races depends on us.”

  “DADDY!” Illadon screams at the top of his lungs, leaping out of Calista’s arms, tiny wings flapping hard, arms out stretched as he lunges for Ladon.

  The crowd laughs as Calista turns bright red with embarrassment. She looks at me, shrugging, sheepish. I nod to her. The timing couldn’t have been better. Ladon lifts Illadon into the air, tossing and catching him, then brings him down into a tight embrace, kissing his head.

  “It’s up to us,” I continue. “What the future of this world looks like. Humans, you followed me into exile. Now I’m leading you home, but it’s not going to be the home your families left Earth for, or the home you thought you knew before this happened. It’s time for us to all come together, to become one people. No matter if we look different on the outside.”

  I motion to the Zmaj, then to the gladiators standing in a semi-circle around Visidion and me.

  “No matter what form they take, friendship, cooperation, and yes, even love can be had. We have to open our minds and hearts to it. The future, our children, are depending on us. What we do, right now, will determine the future of this planet and both our races.”

  They look at each other nervously. Soft murmurs between each other. Calista and Ladon, Jolie and Sverre, Amara and Astarot and their children. Lana and Shidan, Olivia and Ragnar look at each other then move together, coming closer, physically showing the bond between them. Padraig steps out of the group of Zmaj and walks over to the humans, and it’s like a dam breaks. The two groups mingle together, conversations strike up, and in moments it’s a completely different view.

  Visidion takes my hand, squeezing it tight. I glance down at it, my heart racing, cold sweat running down my back. The swell of feelings in my chest is too much to be contained. I rise on my toes so that our lips meet. His arms encircle me, welcoming me in, and I melt against him. Distantly at first, then growing, a cheer erupts. Breaking the kiss, I turn, cheeks burning hot, to everyone fist pumping the air and shouting their approval.

  “Okay, okay,” I say, shushing the crowd. “We have work to do.”

  The gladiators take up the ropes attached to the sleds. The Zmaj who are coming with us kiss their mates goodbye, then join them on the ropes. Visidion and I lead the way towards the City.

  The glimmer of the dome on the horizon calls us home. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen it and a lot has happened but still, in my heart, this is home. We pull the sleds into place a hundred yards in front of the airlock to the dome. The armed guards inside stare out at us, rifles held before them.

  Now we wait.

  The hot suns beat down on us. Gershom makes us wait until they’re dipping down to the horizon, but I expected as much. As the day drags on, more and more people appear behind the armed guards. Any fool can see they’re malnourished, thin to the point of being gaunt. They look out at us with hungry eyes, so we make a show of eating. Todd enjoys this the most, holding a huge hunk of meat and ripping bites off it. He holds it out towards the dome as if offering it between each bite.

  The crowd in the dome parts as an armed escort pushes through them. They open the airlock and march in. In the middle of them is Gershom. Once they exit the dome, they march not quite to the halfway point and stop. Forming a line in front of him, they kneel and bring their rifles to bear on our group.

  “Rosalind, what is the meaning of this?” Gershom asks.

  “Meaning?” I ask, feigning confusion at his question.

  “Yes, this,” he glares motioning at the sleds piled with food. “And what have you brought with you? Even more aliens to steal our women from us?”

  Glancing at the gladiators I shrug.

  “No, they’re my friends,” I say. “You should try having some. It’s nice.”

  His face turns purple with anger.

  “Cut to the chase. What are you doing here? You were exiled, do you not understand what that means?”

  “Oh I get it,” I say. “But I heard my people were starving. I can’t stand by and let that happen, not when I have plenty to share.”

  The guards kneeling before him look at each other, and I can almost see their mouths watering from here.

  “No one in the City is starving,” Gershom says. “We’re doing just fine, but since you brought all this here, we’ll be happy to relieve you of it.”

  The whine of guns powering up echoes from behind us. Turning on my heel I’m surprised to see that another line of men, all well-armed and wearing armor, have come up behind us. Visidion’s tail straightens as his hands ball into fists. Cenar shifts, rock rubbing rock echoing as he grumbles, turning to the new threat. All of us close into a circle with our backs to each other.

  The armed men close around us. Gershom’s guard stand and join the group encircling us.

  “Rosalind,” Visidion hisses.

  “Yeah, didn’t expect this,” I say.

  “Have all your aliens stand down,” Gershom’s voice echoes over the empty dunes. “We want the food. No one needs to get hurt.”

  The guards stop just out of reach, rifles unwavering, their high-pitched whine letting us know the guns are charged and ready to fire.

  “Ha! Plan you have?” Mesto barks.

  “Gershom,” I shout. “Order your men to lower their weapons. This doesn’t have to happen.”

  “What are you talking about?” he returns. “I’m in control here. How can you be so blind? The City is mine! You and yo
ur plans within plans. You didn’t see this coming. I’m in charge. I’ve earned it, damn it. I brought water, I kicked the aliens out. I took what is ours!”

  “No,” I shake my head. “You didn’t.”

  Gershom rushes forward, beet red, balled fists waving in the air.

  “Yes I did! Now I’m taking this too,” he screams. “All of it, it all belongs to me. I’m finally getting what I deserve! None of you can stand against me. This is what I was born for. It’s my destiny!”

  He steps forward, too close. Visidion hisses and leans forward. Gershom stumbles backwards, almost falling over himself in his hurry to get away.

  In that moment I see Gershom more clearly than I ever have. I’ve always known he was power hungry, but I never understood why before. He’s scared. Underneath all the bravado and the scheming is a scared little man. If he wasn’t so dangerous, it would be sad.

  “Get your hands up!” one of the guards screams, thrusting his rifle at Visidion.

  We back up further as a group, our backs touching each other now.

  “You got a plan here Rosalind?” K’sara asks.

  “I can take them,” Cenar says.

  “Todd will win,” Todd adds.

  Moving my hand slowly, casually, I touch the sphere attached to my belt. Arcan’s ball, my secret weapon. The whine of the guns goes up in pitch. One or more of them are about to fire.

  “Do it!” Gershom screams. “Take that monster out!”

  I grab the sphere, raise it over my head, and jab my thumb down on the trigger. A pulse blasts out of it, pushing sand ahead of it, and the whining of the guns evaporates. The guards look at their weapons, at each other, then back at their guns. The Zmaj and the gladiators take a step forward, then another. The guards rattle their guns and bring them to bear. The air is filled with the clicking of triggers, but none of them fire.

  “Uh,” the guard in front of me says, shaking his gun again.

  He looks up and up until his eyes meet Visidion towering over him.

  “Shit,” the guard says, throwing his gun to the ground and falling over onto his ass.

  All the guards throw their useless weapons to the ground and almost as one they drop to their knees, hands behind their heads. Cowering before their opponents, several of them have tears running down their cheeks.

  “No!” Gershom screams. “No, no, no!”

  He’s stomping the ground, fists shaking in the air.

  “Enough,” I say.

  He glares at me. Visidion moves up beside me and Gershom pales.

  “What now?” he asks, his voice quavering.

  “You’ve left me no choice,” I say.

  “So this is it? You’re going to kill me?” he asks.

  “No,” I say. “You’ll get a trial.”

  Shock drops his jaw for a moment, but then a smile spreads across his face. “Fine.”

  30

  Visidion

  “You know how this has to end,” Ragnar says.

  “If she won’t do it, you have to,” Drosdan adds. “I’ll take care of it. Give me the word.”

  The sound of running water accents their words. We’re standing in front of the fountain, by what used to be City Hall but is now the humans’ headquarters. Being here calls through the fog of my memories, trying to pull them into the light. I can’t give my attention to reminiscing. There are too many things to consider in the present to have time for the past. Humans eye us as they walk past, talking softly with each other, hurrying their steps if their path leads them close to us.

  I turn my back on them and watch the water bubbling in the fountain. Once, I dimly recall, water would have been shooting up and splashing down, creating beautiful rainbows. The octagon base is full of water with bubbles around the base of the statue but no streams shooting up. Touching the stone of the containing wall, smooth and cool, it strikes me that I’m at a crossroads.

  Rosalind is my treasure. I will do anything to protect her, but what if it’s herself she needs protection from?

  Her heart is too big. She loves unconditionally. I don’t think anyone else sees that in her, but I do. She talks about survival and the necessity for the gene pool and such but that’s her cover. The truth is she loves people and doesn’t put a distinction on them. Zmaj to humans, Cenar to Todd, she loves them all.

  And it blinds her.

  Gershom is a snake, a sismis, hiding in the sand waiting to strike when you least expect. He not only has to be dealt with, it needs to be done with finality. The members of the Tribe see it clearly. Their distrust of him is deep and will keep a wall between them and the City until he is gone.

  Rosalind can’t do it, and if she did, she wouldn’t be able to live with herself.

  “We could do it quietly,” Ragnar says, his voice barely above a whisper. “She need never know.”

  Ragnar places a hand on my shoulder, compassionate for my feelings. Feelings a Commander cannot show. Straightening up, I step aside, letting his hand drop off me. Meeting his gaze, then Drosdan’s, I make the only decision I can. The one that will protect her from herself.

  “No one can ever know,” I say. “This must remain our secret, for the good of the Tribe and the humans.”

  Ragnar nods and Drosdan harumphs his agreement.

  “I can do it,” Ragnar says.

  “Drosdan, you do it,” I say walking away.

  Tension clamps my shoulder muscles, making my wings ache. If Rosalind ever finds out, she might never forgive me. I don’t have a choice. This decision is tearing her apart. I have to make it for her.

  Walking the streets of the city, I let myself dream of the future. The buildings are in disrepair, many too damaged for use, and the streets are littered with garbage and debris. If we make a concentrated effort, all of this could be fixed. The City could become what it once was. Draconov used to be a major trade center. One of the biggest cities on Tajss.

  Funny how memory works. Dim, hazy, but I recall some facts while others are lost to me. Picking one of the tallest buildings close to the center of town, I climb through a broken wall to the inside. Wreckage is strewn about, but I climb over all of it until I find a stairway leading up. It’s difficult to reach my goal. The stairway is collapsed at several points forcing me to leap across gaps. When I reach the roof, there’s a sense of accomplishment.

  The suns are dropping to the horizon, the final rays twinkling off the dome with dazzling sparkles. Gazing up through the dome, I spot the first visible stars. One of those bright lights is Krik. If Arcan can’t squash the rumors of Tajss’s survival, invaders from Krik will be here soon. If he does, they’ll be here later.

  If nothing else, Rosalind is right in worrying about the future, for that reason if no other. We’re not ready. We’re too few and too divided. It will be the end of both our races if they come. Rosalind and I have to get them ready. Getting Gershom dealt with is the only way forward. I know I did the right thing, for her and for all of us.

  Thinking of her makes an ache form deep in my core. I want to be with her. Tearing my eyes away from the stars, I head back to the street.

  The temperature drops when I step inside the building, increasing the tension in my muscles. Doubts try to assail me as I climb my way to Rosalind’s office, but I push them all aside. When I get to the hall outside the Council meeting room, a young human is emerging from Rosalind’s office. Water dripping from her eyes and streaking her cheeks, brow furrowed, frown on her face—something is wrong.

  “Hello,” I say. “Are you okay?”

  She startles, looking up at me and wiping the moisture from her face with two quick swipes.

  “Hello, yes, sorry,” she says trying to step past me.

  Shifting my weight, I block her passage. She looks up, arching an eyebrow.

  “What is the matter?” I ask.

  “Nothing,” she smiles. “Seriously, I have a lot to do—did you need something?”

  The pain and upset is gone from her eyes, hidden behind c
arefully schooled features. It’s clear I won’t be getting any more information from her, so I step out of her way.

  “Good roads,” I say.

  “Same,” she says, hurrying to the stairwell and disappearing into its dimness.

  I walk into Rosalind’s office. She’s sitting behind a large desk from which she looks up and smiles when I enter.

  “Visidion,” she says.

  The bags under her eyes and the weariness in her smile are all signs of what I already know. She’s not sleeping well. Last night she woke up in the middle of the night, rising and pacing the floor for hours. Certainty fills me that I’ve made the right decision. The weight of Gershom will be removed from her shoulders, and then we will find a new normal, a better one.

  “Hello,” I say. “Who was that?”

  She looks past me, smile faltering for an instant before locking firmly in place.

  “Oh, she had a problem and wanted my help,” she lies.

  I see it in her eyes. It crosses her face for an instant but her smile covers it.

  “I see,” I smile, letting it go. “So when will this trial be?”

  “Two days,” she says, shifting papers on her desk. “Gershom has picked someone to speak for him, which was the last piece to put in place.”

  “Why go to so much trouble?” I ask.

  She frowns deeply, shaking her head.

  “We’ve been over this,” she sighs. “I’ve explained it to you the best I can.”

  I hold my hands up before me. “Rosalind, this doesn’t make sense. Everyone knows what he has done. Everyone but you is ready for this to be over. Why drag it out? There is no need for such formality. You are their Commander; your word is law. Do what must be done.”

  Her cheeks flush a deep red. Rising to her feet, she places her fists on the desk in front of her, leaning over it towards me.

  “No, my word is not law,” she says. “The Tribe may work on a patriarchal hierarchy, but humans don’t. The future I envision for both our people doesn’t. Those who are ruled have to have a say in their futures. Those accused have to have the chance to prove themselves innocent.”