Dragon's Capture Page 8

  “How so?” I ask.

  “Epis,” he says, shaking his head. “Always epis.”

  Frowning and wiping sweat away from my eyes I wait for him to explain. Silence sits heavy between us.

  “What do you mean?” I ask, prompting him to continue at last.

  He sighs heavily.

  “Epis was our rise and our fall,” he says. “Our entire planet, my race, served a single purpose. Harvest, prepare, and ship epis. The galaxy ran on epis. Whoever controlled epis controlled everything.”

  “But epis doesn’t last long after being harvested, how?”

  He stops, looking over his shoulder at me, sadness in his eyes.

  “Technology,” he says. “We stored it, shipped it—it was our export.”

  “Oh,” I say. “But it’s addictive…”

  “Yes,” he nods. “Yes it is.”

  “So they became dependent on it,” I observe following the chain of logic.

  “Just so,” he says. “It was fine for years, lifetimes passed. No one dared disrupt the system. Everyone knew they depended on Tajss and we were protected. Occasional raids by the Zzlo but nothing that couldn’t be handled.”

  “So what did happen?” I ask.

  “One man, driven insane by his lust for power,” he says, helping me climb yet another dune. “Prince Astirian decided he could take control of Tajss. He was a Krikian, a violent race barely civilized. He made his bid for control at a time my people were vulnerable from within, weakened by the Rebellion, Zmaj who claimed we were all slaves because of Epis. It started a war among the Twelve.”

  “It sounds awful,” I say.

  “Yes,” he says, shaking his head, voice heavy with loss and grief. “Tell me of your ship. How did you come to be on it?”

  “That’s a big question,” I laugh, grabbing the water bottle off my side and taking a swig. I offer it to him but he passes.

  “Yes, but our journey is long,” he replies.

  “Right,” I agree. “Those of us here are of the third generation on the ship. When it left Earth, our home, the situation was bad. Overpopulation, food shortages . . . the world was divided into the super-rich and everyone else.”

  “Your planet was overpopulated?” he asks.

  “Yes,” I nod. “Badly. They had started building into the ground it was so heavily populated. Many people never saw the sky in their lives.”

  “That is terrible,” he observes.

  “I guess it was,” I agree. “It became bad enough that there were class riots. The inequality was too much, and the poor were rising up. So the very rich built the generation ships to off-load the population. Our ship was the twelfth. I don’t know how many they built after ours or what happened. We lost contact with Earth before the first generation were gone.”

  “So they joined the generation ship in hopes of a brighter future, not for themselves but their children?” he asks.

  “More or less, yes,” I agree.

  “That is a very bold move,” he says. “What was it like, living your entire life on an enclosed space?”

  “The ships are designed so you don’t notice,” I say.

  “How?” he asks.

  “Artificial gravity, artificial night and day. Everyone has a job. There were entertainment districts, shopping districts, apartments, it was all designed to keep your mind off of the fact we were on a ship.”

  “Interesting, did that work?” he asks.

  “Yes,” I say. “Especially by my generation. We never knew anything but the ship. Oh there were things to complain about, of course. There always are.”

  Visidion nods. “Humans are not so different than Zmaj.”

  “No, we’re not,” I agree.

  The dune we’re climbing is particularly steep. I’m struggling to make the climb more than with any other dune so far. Visidion wraps an arm around my chest, lifting me so my feet are barely touching the sand. His forearm under my breasts lifts them, causing them to rub against him as we move. Warmth spreads from that point of contact, and the tightness in my core pulses with pent-up need. I lean into him, letting him take my weight.

  Suddenly he stops.

  “What?” I ask, nerves causing the hairs on back of my arms to stand up.

  He shakes his head, tilting it to one side and listening. Straining my senses I pick up a vibration, faint but growing louder.

  Tightening his grip around me he leaps forward, sweeping me off my feet and carrying me along as if I weigh nothing. He squeezes so tightly it’s hard to catch my breath. Reaching the top of the dune he sets me down and stares straight ahead.

  “No,” he exhales.

  Shielding my eyes against the suns, I only take a moment to spot what he saw. A Zzlo transport, heading our way, fast. Before I can say a word he grabs me and drops with me to the ground, hitting so hard it knocks my wind out.

  10

  Visidion

  Pulling her down, I cover her with my body before she can react. She gasps as we hit the sand and I feel her struggling for air.

  The transport rumbles straight for us, growing louder.

  There is no time to explain.

  Pressing down on her, I use my tail and wings to shift the sand, burying us in a thin layer of it.

  Locking eyes with her, our lips barely apart, her body soft against me, her heart beats against my chest. My own hearts fall into time with hers. She wheezes, then her breathing smooths and becomes natural.

  Her fleshy mounds on her chest, pressing out as the human females do, smash against me, enticing. The ground beneath us tremors as the transport comes closer, and it is an effort to focus my attention on it.

  My body wants her, I want her.

  My first cock stiffens, digging into her, desperate for relief. She wriggles beneath me, for comfort or from arousal I don’t know.

  Her breath, soft and sweet, passes over my face, pulling me into the vacuum it leaves behind.

  Touching her lips with mine, soft, gentle, my hearts pounding in my chest, thumping so hard I know she feels them. My cock pulses in time with them, ready to explode.

  Her eyes widen, she stiffens, then returns the kiss.

  Her hips push up, into me, rubbing my cock through the fabric of my pants.

  Nothing has ever felt better.

  Staring into her eyes I give myself over to her, consequences be damned! She strokes my arms with her fingertips, light touches that entice me further, stroking, pulling me into her further.

  This is bad.

  I can’t.

  We can’t.

  I can’t stop. She has to be mine. Bijass surges forward, pushing rational thought away, leaving behind only primal desires.

  She is a treasure and I will make her mine.

  Any who would stand in my way, I will destroy. Mine. She has to be mine.

  Red fog, throbbing in my mind as my cock throbs between my legs with intense arousal. A treasure. My treasure. Give yourself to me Rosalind, be mine.

  “Rosalind,” I whisper.

  Her lips purse, tongue darts out moistening them, I steal a kiss, then impulsively force my tongue past her lips, seeking hers. When they meet, stars explode, my body rocks with spasms of delight. The response opens her to me, pulling us closer together.

  Warmth burns onto my back but I ignore it until the soft tremble in the ground becomes a rumble that cuts through primal needs.

  We’re exposed!

  The approaching transports vibrations have shifted the sand hiding us. Darting a quick look, I see that it’s close, close enough that we could be seen if anyone is looking.

  Rosalind lifts her head, coming in for a kiss, but I shake my head no, hissing softly. Working quickly, I shift the sand back over us, holding her still.

  “They’re close,” I whisper.

  Bijass retreats letting thought return, but not lessening the burning need in my loins, the tightness in my lower stomach, or my aching need for her to be my treasure.

  She is the one. H
ow, why, it doesn’t matter. Every Zmaj knows there is one for him, fated the day we are born, there will be one who opens a male’s inner soul, his treasure. When Ragnar found Olivia and they were mated, I wondered if perhaps he didn’t understand or had forgotten our ways. In loneliness, it seemed perhaps he only sought solace. That, perhaps, she was not truly his ‘treasure’ but merely a love.

  Meeting the pairs from the City did nothing to change my thoughts. The Zmaj males were lonely. We were a dying race—of course they wanted comfort. How easy it would be to confuse comfort for the connection of a treasure.

  I was wrong.

  How, why, these females from a planet so far away we could not reach each other in three lifetimes would be our treasures.

  Rosalind is mine.

  The vibrations increase, the transport comes closer. Peeking out, I see that it’s close but worse—it’s turning, coming towards us. Damn it.

  “Hold still,” I whisper.

  “Close?” she asks.

  “Yes,” I say.

  She shifts her hips, and I almost explode. Surely, she did that for her own comfort, but it presses her against my cock in such a delightful way my thoughts disperse under the onslaught of pleasure.

  Edicts!

  Focus. I am myself.

  Yes, I am, and I want her. She is mine, my fated, my treasure.

  The press of her soft mounds against my chest, her hips against mine, sensations burning through my body.

  The Zzlo transport is coming closer, driving straight at us. Did they see something? Are they coming for us?

  Rage dances around the edge of my thoughts. I will destroy them. They will not harm her; she is mine.

  MINE!

  Chest tightening until it is hard to breathe, hearts pounding, desire warring with rationality and impending rage. Rosalind’s bright eyes dance, alight with sharp intelligence and strength. Her beautiful lips purse, and she blinks, breathing shallow. It focuses my thoughts, helps to push aside the pulsing need of my cock trying to control my mind.

  Two, together we are stronger.

  Yes, we are. Rosalind and I together, we would rule this planet. None could stand against us. My cock pressing into her throbs and involuntarily I shift my hips, rubbing it against her. There is no stopping the soft moan escaping my lips.

  Survival of the group matters, I think, reciting the final of the Edicts to myself.

  Cold races through me, damping both desire and rage.

  The group, the Tribe. I cannot betray the Tribe.

  My cock softens as thought clears. The transport adjusts its path, not much, but it puts them even more on track to pass right over us.

  Rosalind does not uphold the Edicts. Claiming her as my treasure would divide the Tribe. Some might follow me still but it would be under duress. She betrayed the Edicts by allowing Gershom to remain, and now he’s grabbed control. Her beating of Padraig, stopping him from establishing his dominance over Samil—no, the Tribe will not accept her.

  This cannot be.

  No matter how much I want her. She is my treasure but my duty is to the Tribe first, not myself. No matter how I wish it were not so, I cannot give myself over to primal instinct. It would be a betrayal of all I am. The Edicts are the fabric of the Tribe. Betraying them, I betray myself.

  An empty ache, an unfillable void opens in my stomach, spreading until it swallows my heart. A cold chill runs down my spine and I shiver.

  Concern passes over Rosalind’s face, an instant that I barely catch, but it’s there. A passing moment that she hides away. The gulf between us widens proportionate to the chasm between our beliefs. No matter how much I want her, I cannot take her as my treasure without destroying the Tribe. That I cannot do.

  Now is not the time, our mission and survival are at stake.

  The ground beneath us rumbles harder. The transport is so close now I can smell its exhaust. It’s climbing the very dune we’re on, heading straight for us but it’s not slowing.

  It adjusts direction, small shifts, making it difficult for me to judge whether it will pass us by or run us over.

  Tensing, ready to move if necessary, I inhale deeply and hold my breath. Rosalind’s eyes bore into me. She can’t see what’s happening; her trust is fully in me.

  Moving slowly so as not to disturb the sand hiding us, I get a grip on her sides, using my elbows to keep myself pressed up. If we have to move, I’ll need a good grip to pull her with me.

  Closer, it’s halfway up the dune.

  Too damn close.

  It’s going to hit us.

  Shifting my right leg, I press my knee down, finding purchase, ready to roll out of the way.

  The transport is so loud I can’t hear anything but its rumbling sound, coming closer. The sand of the dune vibrates, shifting under its approach.

  Tightening my grip, watching, waiting, the timing has to be perfect.

  Almost.

  Now!

  Gripping tightly, I tilt to the side, taking her with me as I roll. Sand flies into my face, my protective lids close so I see flashes of the transport passing over where we were a moment before.

  Clutching Rosalind to my breast, one leg hooked around her keeping her close, I don’t stop until we’re tumbling down the side of the dune, away from the transport and any possible sighting by those inside. We pick up momentum as we roll. There’s no way to control it. We’re bouncing down the dune, and all I can do is shield her with my body, absorbing the impacts the best I can.

  At last, we come to a stop at the bottom of the dune. My muscles ache, and there will be bruises, but none of that matters.

  “Are you okay?” I ask, as she gasps.

  “Yeah,” she exhales, shaking her head. “Hell of a ride.”

  “More than I expected,” I chuckle.

  She extricates herself from me, crouching on her hands and knees. Lying on my side, I let the dizziness pass before rising too.

  “Are we safe?” she asks, looking warily around.

  “For now,” I say, after listening a moment.

  “They’re heading for the City,” she says.

  “Gershom will deal with them,” I answer.

  Rosalind’s jaw tightens, her eyes narrow, and her brow furrows. It’s may not be the answer she wants to hear, but it is the truth. One she needs to come to terms with.

  “He’s a fool,” she growls, gritting her teeth.

  Anger comes off her in waves. She stands up, wavers once, then steady, she turns and walks a few feet away, keeping her back to me. Standing up myself, I stare at her back.

  “You should have dealt with him when I told you to,” I say.

  She whirls around. Her normally warm eyes are now cold and hard and locked on mine.

  “You don’t see the bigger picture, that’s your problem. All you worry about is your Tribe, but there’s no future. You’re too stubborn to see it.”

  “The Tribe is fine, and we won’t tolerate a traitor in our midst,” I respond, wings opening as my tail goes stiff.

  “No, they’re not fine,” she says. “None of us are fine. You need to listen to the words of your edicts, together we are stronger.”

  “Yes,” I answer, moving closer, looking down at her. “The Edicts bind us together but still only the strongest of us will survive. We all must contribute.”

  She stares up at me, cold, imperious, unshaken by my greater height or size. The lines of her face are regal. Touched by the red rays of the suns, her eyes flash. My first cock springs to life, hard and pounding with desire for her with every beat of my hearts.

  “Short-sighted,” she says. “We need all of them. There are not enough of us. We need every single one of us.”

  Her chest rises and falls in rapid succession, her soft mounds pushing out with each rise, and her perfect, beautiful skin glows. A light sheen of sweat covers her face. There is barely space between us.

  My core is so tight I’m about to explode. My cock strains, urging towards freedom, towards her.<
br />
  “At what cost, Rosalind? How far do you let your vision take you? Take us?”

  “As far as it takes,” she says.

  She inhales deeply and her breasts press against my stomach. Desire claims me. I can’t control it.

  Grabbing her in my arms, I lift her off her feet, bringing our lips together. The soft mounds of her breasts crush against me, kindling my desire. Her arms wrap around my neck, her legs hook across my hips, our tongues meet and dance together, and so I take what is mine. My treasure. Mine.

  She breaks the kiss, her legs drop, and she pushes away.

  “Put me down,” she says. When I set her back on her feet, she stares up at me, but then she turns away. “We need to keep moving.”

  She walks away. My throbbing cock softens, but my desire is only flamed higher. She will be mine.

  11

  Rosalind

  Fool, I admonish myself, walking away from him.

  Fool or not, the heat between my legs isn’t being denied. The fire burning low in my stomach is a raging inferno needing satisfaction. Satisfaction I won’t give it.

  The way he grabbed me, taking what he wanted—the nerve of it! Exactly why I can’t be his lover. A display like that in public? I’d lose every ounce of respect and all ability to lead.

  Tingles run through my body, remembering it. Damn if it didn’t feel good. Wrapped in his arms, his massive, hard cock digging into my stomach, begging for me. He may have been physically dominating me, but his desire for me was dominating him, giving me a degree of control still.

  If only he’d open his damn eyes!

  The ground rises and I start up another dune. Sand slides from beneath me with each step making it take three steps forward to gain the equivalent of one step. As I struggle, Visidion catches up to me and silently lends his aid.

  I stiffen at his touch, then push that instinct aside. I’m not a fool. I can’t navigate this world without him, no matter how angry I am with him. Or how much I want him, which is the deeper problem. My skin burns where he touches it, and visions of his touch in more intimate places dance at the edge of my thoughts.