Dragon's Capture Page 9

  After an hour, the desire has tamped down, but the anger is still there.

  If only he would open his damn mind. Everything is there, if only he would see it! The Tribe could go in a new direction, a better one. One that would help ensure the survival of all our people.

  “How much further,” I ask, stopping for a drink.

  “We should arrive tonight,” he says. “At our current pace.”

  I cap my water bottle then start forward again. The suns beat down mercilessly, relentless, as harsh as anything else on this desert planet. This is so far from the ideal world for which we were bound. That empty rock will be halfway done with its terra-forming now. Two more generations and it would be ready for our arrival, which wouldn’t have been for another generation after that.

  It doesn’t matter. This is where we are.

  “Rosalind,” Visidion says.

  “What?” I ask, not bothering to look at him.

  He doesn’t say anything for a long time. We continue walking, my curiosity growing as I wonder what he’s thinking. His strong arm hooks my hips as he helps me out of another bog in the sand. When I look up at him at last, he’s staring ahead, either not looking or avoiding looking at me.

  Curiosity gets the best of me.

  “What, Visidion?” I finally ask.

  He stops, rolls his shoulders, and at last meets my gaze.

  “Nothing,” he says.

  “It’s not nothing,” I snap. “Say what’s on your mind.”

  “Gershom could have hurt you,” he says.

  “Yes, he could have,” I agree. “But he didn’t.”

  Back to climbing the dune, we walk in continued silence.

  The sand shifts suddenly, pouring down from the top of the dune, burying my feet. I’m sliding backwards, even though I’m leaning forward as far as I can. There is no stopping my backwards motion.

  Visidion holds me by my waist, struggling to move forward too.

  “What is happening?” I ask.

  Visidion doesn’t answer, spreading his wings and using them to stop our retreat. The ground trembles beneath our feet, reminiscent of the transport’s approach. Visidion stiffens, his wings snapping shut. He looks around, eyes wide, frown on his face.

  “Damn,” he exhales. “Zemlja, hold still.”

  My heart pounds in my chest as we both stop struggling. The sifting sand carries us backwards until we’re at the bottom of the dune. I’m afraid to breathe. Zemlja, the giant worms that crisscross Tajss beneath the surface, are the most dangerous thing on the planet. This on a planet where even the plant life is trying to kill you.

  They’re massive. Even the babies are over a hundred feet in length and twenty to thirty feet in diameter. Relentless hunters, they travel constantly, hunting and eating, never stopping.

  The best encounter with one is the encounter you avoid.

  I focus on controlling my heartbeat. Zemlja hunt by vibrations. The slightest sound can attract one if it’s close. The sand continues shifting but slows.

  Visidion is turning his head around looking for something. Following his gaze, I try to figure out what it is he’s watching. When he stops turning and stares at a spot for an extended period, I figure it out. The ground where he’s staring is jumping. The sand shifts like the waves of an ocean. That is where the zemlja is passing by. I start counting, trying to estimate the size of the beast, guessing that each second is about one foot. By the time the last of it passes us by I’m up over four hundred.

  A massive worm, definitely not one we want to confront with just the two of us. We stand silent a while longer, letting the minutes tick past while the double red suns beat down on us. The warm breeze does nothing to cool my burning skin. My mouth is dry and my throat raw, but I don’t want to risk getting my water bottle. Not until I’m sure it’s passed us by.

  Visidion relaxes and I take my first deep breath, letting it out in a sharp exhale of relief.

  “That was close,” he says.

  “Too close,” I agree.

  We resume traveling, silence still hanging heavy between us.

  Why is he being stubborn?

  He’s right, I should have dealt with Gershom sooner. It was a mistake but it doesn’t change the facts. Gershom has followers, too many for me to lose. If I took action against him it would solidify the divide among the survivors. What would that gain us?

  My people are scared and how can I blame them for that? There are only a handful of us left. The ship housed almost quarter of a million souls. Now there are so few of us left I’m worried about the gene pool. No one else thinks that far into the future, but I have to. It’s my duty, entrusted to me, no matter that everything has changed.

  If I don’t care for them, no one will. If I don’t guide them, they won’t survive.

  What I need him to see is that I need the Tribe too. Bringing our two races together increases our odds of survival exponentially. Together we can survive.

  “Why can’t you see that we need everyone?” I ask, exasperation pushing me to break the silence.

  Visidion glances over, arching an eyebrow.

  “Why can’t you see that we can’t include those who aren’t strong enough to add to the group?” he asks in return.

  “Because in the end that doesn’t matter! Human decency if nothing else?”

  “What is ‘human decency’? An excuse for the weak?” he asks.

  “No, damn it, it’s being human.”

  “But I’m not human, Rosalind,” he says. “I’m a Zmaj male. Our duty is to be strong, to claim and protect our treasures. This is my home—do you see softness here? Do you see this ‘decency’ anywhere in my world?”

  “Just because it’s not here now doesn’t mean you can’t embrace it,” I respond.

  “To what end?”

  “To the end of the survival of all of us,” I answer.

  “You keep saying that, but what would then survive? A weak group without the strength to survive the planet. You would breed us down to nothing.”

  “That is not true, and you know it,” I snap.

  “Isn’t it?” he asks. “How do you know this? This is not your home. You do not comprehend what it takes to survive here. Weakness and divisiveness cannot be tolerated. Survival of the group matters. It overrides the rest of the Edicts. You’re a leader, as am I. We are the ones who must make the hard choices, the ones who dictate survival for the many versus the needs or wants of the few.” His eyes drill into me before he goes on.

  “That is where you went wrong with Gershom. You should have stopped him in the beginning. Look where it has gotten you.”

  The truth in his words cut deep. Icy rage consumes my thoughts, but I cannot give in to it. A lifetime of controlling my emotions, pushing them aside, remaining rational in the face of impossible odds keeps me in control. It doesn’t matter how much his words hurt.

  “Fine,” I say, marching away from him.

  I won’t argue further. If he doesn’t want to see the truth then so be it. I’ll continue without him.

  “Rosalind,” he calls after me.

  Ignoring him, I continue walking. There is nothing more to say. His mind is set and so is mine. Anger pounding through my thoughts drives me to walk faster. Focus on the mission to hand. I need to know if there are more survivors. That’s what’s important. I’ll deal with Visidion when the time comes. If he won’t come along of his own free will, then I’ll find another way. Our races will survive.

  A hand grips my arm with the power of a vise, forcing me to turn around. Pulling me into his arms, smashing me into his broad, muscled chest, he wraps his arms around me and lifts me off my feet. Desire pushes away anger. I’m wet, ready, muscles trembling as he crushes me against him. His lips find mine and his tongue invades my mouth. Resisting, I push back with mine.

  Hands on my ass, squeezing, pulling me even closer. Hard to breathe, heart pounding, core tight and ready to explode. Wetness pours out of me, feeling his erection pressing h
ard against my silk tunnel.

  Wrapping my legs around his waist, I grind against his erection; arms around his neck, I push his tongue out of my mouth and drive mine into his. Pushing back against his dominance, I take control from him. He groans, his cock spasms between us, encouraging me. His tail rises up behind him, swaying in the air, his wings open as our tongues wrestle, neither of us submitting.

  Nipples hard as diamonds shoot thrilling jolts through me as they rub against the scales of his chest through the thin cloth of my blouse. Grinding harder, faster, he’s groaning, his body relaxes into me, his cock harder, pulsing.

  Breaking the kiss, I pull back, look into his eyes. We gaze into each other, looking deeper than our mere physical bodies. Our connection and desire for each other are deep and strong, but I won’t give in to him. Not yet.

  “Put me down,” I say, unhooking my legs and dangling in his arms.

  He jerks me tighter to him, thrusting his hips up, driving his cock hard against the cloth that separates us. He’s hissing, grunting with desire, but I shake my head.

  “No, Visidion,” I say, controlling my own need and desire.

  No matter how much I want him, I can’t. Survival of our people is foremost. Giving in to him now puts everything in jeopardy. I can’t, I won’t.

  He sets me down on my feet.

  “How many times?” he asks, breathless.

  “Until it’s right,” I answer, not needing him to clarify the question.

  I want him every bit as much as he wants me, but the greater good overrides personal desire.

  He shakes his head. His cock is sticking straight out, tenting his pants. An impressive member. I’ve heard about the Zmaj cocks, and I can’t say I’m not curious for the experience. I’m so wet my panties are soaked and uncomfortable. Nothing would be better than to give myself to him and take our pleasure of each other.

  No, it can’t be. Our mission is first, then the survival of our groups. Somehow, we have to come to an agreement. Somehow, some way.

  Until then, no.

  12

  Visidion

  My balls ache. My first cock keeps twitching, stirring every time I glance at the sway of her ass, the swell of her chest, the curve of her hips. Even the moisture dripping down her face is erotic and arousing.

  When she tilts her head back to drink water, the way her throat works stiffens my cock. It’s distracting, clouding my thoughts. Desire, need, every moment is a reminder of how much I want her. She is my treasure. The most primal part of me wants to claim her fully. Consummate my desires.

  There are no words between us, and we travel in silence. Heavy quiet, full of unspoken thoughts and desire. Her body responds to me, so she wants me as much as I want her—that much is obvious. How she maintains control in the face of our mutual attraction and rising needs is beyond my comprehension.

  My thoughts won’t quit circling around her. Desire, need, pulse pounding, cock stiffening, time passes by unnoticed. Rosalind stops, hip cocked to one side making her ass the most enticing, desirable thing I’ve ever seen. My palms itch with desire to touch her, to feel her bare skin under my fingertips.

  “What is that?” she asks.

  It’s an effort of will to tear my gaze away and follow her pointing finger. Even so my gaze traces the perfect line from her shoulder to the tip of her finger before I can focus my eyes on her target.

  “That’s the camp,” I say.

  Sticking above a not-so-distant sand dune is the tip of a spaceship, barely visible from our current position.

  “We need to get closer,” she says.

  Smoke drifts up into the red tinted sky. I catch the scent of it on the wind. Fuel, burning fuel.

  “We have a problem,” I say. “That ship is preparing to leave.”

  “How do you know that?” she asks.

  “I don’t, for sure, but there is the scent of fuel in the air,” I tell her.

  She nods, frowning.

  “Let’s move,” I say, leading the way forward.

  Rosalind falls in with me. We move slowly, stopping often to listen and look. The suns are low, sinking fast below the horizon as we make our final approach towards the Zzlo camp. The shadows give us some cover. The Zzlo chose their location well, an especially barren area where even the surrounding sand dunes are relatively low.

  After crawling on our bellies to the top of one of the dunes, we look down on their camp.

  It’s a flat area, a rare feature on Tajss, with an oasis close to hand. The camp is surrounded by a temporary fence marking their area. Well-armed guards patrol along the fence. We watch in silence and I count three guards working the perimeter. There is a gap in their coverage where we might be able to penetrate past them if we time it well.

  The ship dominates the landscape, towering over even the highest dunes. I know from experience it’s only a shuttle, but it’s been long years since I’ve seen its like. Once, before the Devastation, such ships were common, and the memory of them, vague under the fog of the bijass, is still with me if only as a concept. The ship has a ramp open leading to the ground. A Zzlo stands guard at the base of the ramp too.

  The engines of the transport are warming up. Smoke drifts from them at regular intervals as they heat the fuel for takeoff. So many of my memories from before are dim and hazy because of the bijass. The origins of this memory are lost to me, but I know it’s true.

  “There,” Rosalind whispers, pointing.

  Following her finger I see what she spotted. A pop-up shelter with two guards in front of it, located close to the fence on the far side of the compound. A Zzlo emerges from inside, pulling a struggling figure along with him. A human, male. Hands bound behind him, still he fights against his captor. Kicking and screaming, trying to break free.

  Cold spreads through my chest, running through my veins. When the door opens, I catch a glimpse of several other humans in there. One female with red hair and pale skin stares out the open door. Her eyes are sunken, skin red and peeling, and now moisture pours down her face from her eyes. My stomach tightens into a hard ball, and I can’t swallow. Her despair drives into me across the distance. I’m shaking with pent-up anger. It’s clear that they have found a lot of slaves and they’re shipping them off-world.

  I tap Rosalind on the shoulder, nod, then point back down the dune. Together we slide towards the base.

  “We don’t have time to go back to the Tribe,” I say, keeping my voice low.

  “Why not?” she asks.

  “That ship is preparing to leave, a day, two at the outside. It would be gone before we can get help and return.”

  “Shit,” she exhales. “We have to save them.”

  Mind racing through the possibilities I try to find a way to say no. Images of that forlorn female drift through all my thoughts. No one will rescue her, no one but us. We are their only hope.

  “Yes,” I agree.

  “How many of them did you count?”

  “Fourteen,” I say.

  “Same,” she says. “Damn it.”

  Her lips purse as her brow furrows. Touching her face before I think about it, my fingertips trail along her jaw, smoothing the tension away. When I stare into her eyes, the ache in my chest and stomach yawn wide, emptiness that only she can fill. I want to say something, find words that will set things right between us but nothing comes. She places her hand over mine then the moment passes.

  “We’ll have to be smart about this,” I observe.

  “We need a distraction, something that can pull most of them away,” she says.

  “The oasis,” I say, an idea coming to me.

  “What about it?”

  “Majmun,” I say, a smile breaking across my face. “We can use them!”

  “How?” she asks.

  “Come with me, I’ll show you an old trick,” I grin.

  Crouching low, we make our way out and around the dunes. Full dark falls as we slowly skirt the Zzlo camp. As the temperature drops, my body slows,
aching with the cold. Rosalind doesn’t seem to be affected by it, but the cold always bothers me, and tonight seems particularly cold. We’re moving, still in a crouch, around what should be the southern-most dune when I hear something.

  Grabbing Rosalind, I jerk her close and drop flat to the ground, covering her with my body. An initial gasp comes from her, but then she doesn’t resist as I cover us with sand using my tail and wings.

  A Zzlo appears at the top of the dune. He holds something up to his eyes and looks out with it. Only my eyes are watching him. My thoughts are consumed again with her. I’m not sure how long I can resist the lure of her soft flesh. My first cock digs into her, relentless, wanting more, needing to take her. My hearts pound against the soft mounds pressed against me.

  Her heart beats against my chest, rapid and strong. Her hands rest on my shoulders, burning points where her bare skin contacts mine. Unbidden my hips shift, thrusting into her, instinct and desire controlling my body without conscious thought. I want to bury myself inside her, giving her both of my cocks and leaving my seed to grow. Together we could create the future we both dream of. Our children could be numerous.

  The Zzlo turns and makes his way back down the far side of the dune. I count to one hundred, making sure he’s had time to be a good distance away before I roll off her. We both rise, and her gaze lingers on my erection holding my pants out. All my will is consumed in not grabbing her and taking her, even breathing is held off as I struggle to maintain control.

  She signals that we should move and I agree, if for no other reason than if we stay here any longer, I’m going to claim her, risk of capture or no.

  Crouching, we continue towards the oasis. The moons are dim tonight, and long shadows creep across the dunes that we dart between. Coming around the edge of a dune, we see the oasis lying before us. Now to implement my plan.

  “Be careful,” I whisper. “Follow in my footsteps only.”

  Rosalind nods understanding, not risking more words. The imminent threat of the Zzlo is too close for comfort.

  Leading the way into the oasis, I avoid the most dangerous plants that grow along the edges, ready to capture unwary visitors. As we move deeper, there is the soft sound of water moving. This oasis must have a small waterfall. The baoba trees grow closer together until we have to squeeze between the massive trunks, easier for Rosalind than me by far.