STONE DRAGON: A Prison Moon Series Romance Novel

by Marell, Alexandra

  Was she doomed to listen to his curses as he died a slow death down there?

  Claudia.

  The voice of command now, demanding she return to that chamber and complete what she started. Claudia lifted her hood, huddling into her cloak against the battering rain. The thunder here on this moon boomed louder than any thunder on Earth, rattling stones so they lifted and danced from the stone terrace. White light arced across the sky, blinding her with its flashing glare. Powdered mortar, loosened by the thunder, fell in a fine mist from the lintel over the temple entrance.

  She swayed and blinked, willing herself to stay upright and not fall in an undignified, low-sugar heap at millions of viewers’ feet. Her determination fascinated them, but the moment they grew bored and switched to other, more interesting feeds, the Corporation ceased to have a reason to aid her escape.

  Claudia, where…you?

  The dragon’s voice grew stronger, cutting through the rumble of the storm.

  I’m here, on the terrace. Can you hear me, Tharius? Give me a sign that you can hear me, understand me.

  Female, Claudia. Not leave...order.

  I won’t leave you, okay? I think you can hear my thoughts, but you still don’t understand me. It’s so frustrating. How do I get through to you?

  They were communicating, at least. Claudia wiped rain from her face and pressed her moccasins into the stone slabs. Water squeezed from the soft hide, making tiny squelching noises, barely audible above the storm. Tremors ran over her skin.

  Tharius, if you can hear me, does that mean you can feel me, too?

  The orb dipped into the doorway, disappearing for a few moments, before returning to hang under the dripping lintel.

  Claudia. Voice. Hear, cannot decode.

  I’ll teach you my tongue. She fought to stop his desperate anguish showing in her face.

  Listen, Tharius. I don’t have much left to give, but I’m sending it all to you. If I can get you free, send you healing, then it’s your turn to save me.

  With the right subject, remote healing worked as well as the laying on of hands. That wasn’t the problem. Claudia visualised his name, written large in her mind, the huge, mighty bulk of him lying in repose on the cold floor. The feel of stone softening into hard, leathery skin, and the beat of that heart, so vital beneath her fingers.

  The tiniest spark flared bright. So small it immediately fizzled and extinguished, leaching her of precious energy. The spark inside of Tharius needed the force of a flamethrower to ignite and bring it to life. And all she had left was a puny little match that mocked her when it spat and immediately went out.

  “What are you doing, Claudia?” A voice crackled from the orb, curious, a little impatient as if it had noticed some minute change in her demeanour or expression. She couldn’t hide it. Too much effort needed to communicate with Tharius, to send him energy. Claudia folded her hands in her lap, locking her energy in a loop, grounding herself to the wall, the terrace and mountain beneath.

  She thought about running, making a dash for the soaring arch fronting the path she used to get here.

  A sudden force locked on the centre of her chest, like a hand punching through her lungs and yanking them free. She swayed sharply, forward and back, reeling from the pull. The connection broke, making her jerk like a possessed puppet.

  It was Tharius, sucking mercilessly at her energy, latching onto her with huge determined bursts, with no thought to the consequences for her.

  He’s going to kill me this time. The dragon wants freedom at any cost.

  Tharius, calm down. You’re taking too much. Fall back, general.

  She was leaning sideways on the wall, propped on one elbow, fighting to draw in breath. Fall back, general. Words in his own tongue, a command she picked from his head. Words Tharius ignored in the wars when spoken by a higher authority than she.

  Too stubborn. He wouldn’t listen.

  The temple stones wavered, then reformed as she fought a losing battle to keep focus. Her heart beat like the giant piston of the old steam engines she’d seen in museums, her blood bursting through her veins. And the box camera crowded in, not because it needed to be closer, they were more sophisticated than that. It moved closer to intimidate her with the weight of the watching audience.

  She should flap it away, tell it to fuck off and go to hell, but why waste the energy?

  Tharius, slow down and I’ll help you. If only I had time to learn your tongue. Speak to you in words you understand.

  Energy streamed from her to him, the channel open with no way to close it or turn it down.

  Okay, take it, Tharius. Take it. I’ll be the fuel for your fire, but you better get up here fast, general, and before you kill me stone dead. I want to live as much as you do.

  Stone dead. Did she just think that? Claudia laid her head on the wet stone, choking back a spluttering laugh. Fighting Tharius used too much energy. Let him take it and pray her fanciful notions of dragon chivalry proved correct.

  She’d never dreamed of martyrdom, and here she was giving her life for a beast more famous on her world for abducting and eating maidens for lunch than charging to their rescue like the shining knights of old. She gifted the cameras an enigmatic smile and thought of home, her piano, the music, her growing fame on the concert stage.

  Her thoughts slid to the horrors of her kidnapping by a crazy fan, followed by her escape, only to run straight into the alien hunters gathering females for the Chase.

  Were the watchers wondering about the smile? Human emotions, the abducted females’ ability to laugh in the face of danger, confused the hell out of them. Pressed to the wall, the connection to Tharius punched through each layer of the temple stone, flowing down steps and traversing chambers, like a needle-sharp electric current finding its ground.

  The world flickered around her and Claudia drifted away. The connection to her dragon dimmed and the camera moved in to record it all.

  Chapter Nine

  She left him. The female Claudia had staggered to the steps, barely able to walk after his greed. The incomprehensible babble of her reasoning rattled around Tharius’s brain. She paused, steeled herself for the climb and left him while he strained in vain to break free from his bonds and follow.

  He wanted to grab her by the arm, spin her around and roar, why? You took me this far, and now you’d leave me here to die? The air in the chamber grew thick with his rage, clogging up his lungs. His heart thumped with a staccato beat that must surely have shaken the mountain.

  Be calm, Tharius. Think, plan. Would she really do that to you? His former commander’s voice entered the conversation in his head. A wise and rational voice of reason, Tharius had greatly mourned the brilliant strategist killed so early in the war.

  Pray that he passed swiftly, finding peace.

  Tharius said a quick prayer and then his thoughts returned to Claudia.

  He nearly killed her. Why wouldn’t she run? Relief sparred with the disbelief that she might abandon him so easily. She lived. He didn’t kill her. Thank the gods!

  Stay calm. Nothing in the connection forged between them spoke of a female who would betray so negligently. The eye followed her out, so he must factor that into his thoughts and reactions. A general, used to planning every move with meticulous care, must look from all angles and then decide.

  He listened until the female Claudia’s footsteps grew faint, and the floating eye no longer disturbed the air. A rough laugh scratched his throat. General Tharius a meticulous planner? Never one for rational plans, his strength as a soldier and leader had been in decisive, sometimes reckless manoeuvres requiring a single thought followed by unquestioning action.

  The females had been under attack that terrible day. What need of discussion and the loss of crucial moments while their superiors debated this latest betrayal by their wyvern kin? If they’d moved earlier, spent less time on bombastic speeches and more on doing, they might have saved them.

  You think you’re the only drag
on in this army who cares, General Tharius?

  No, but I’m the only one who sees the need for action. Why did his superiors fail to understand?

  In Claudia, he saw a kindred soul who would never abandon an injured comrade to his fate. The connection between them stretched thin, threatening to snap, but was it he, or she, who held on to that remaining sliver of energy tying them together? He felt the chill wind buffeting her, the slick rain on her face. She was somewhere out on the terrace, now, unmoving.

  Leading the eye away from him before they divined that he lived? A laudable act, but to what purpose, when he was stuck here in place? A living, breathing statue the eye might discover at leisure.

  Don’t leave me here. Claudia, where are you?

  Again she sent him more words, signalling her proximity. Her heart beat far too fast for one who nearly died, like a soldier under stress about to throw himself into battle. If the eye had her trapped on the terrace, he rejoiced.

  Stay near me, Claudia.

  Near enough to touch minds, he might yet safely harness her powers to break free and save them both.

  Female Claudia, you will not leave me. That’s an order.

  Sittinginthisstormformyhealth!

  Ha, whatever that meant, his imperious tone had obviously ruffled her feathers. Good, anger gave strength. A small flame inside of him sputtered and sparked, flaring with hope then dying down to dim embers. Too much distance between them. If the eye took her away, he was surely doomed, and perhaps she, too.

  Another spluttering spark warmed his throat, reminding him of his first fire, the puny cinders of flame as an untried youngling.

  Hold the spark gently, his tutor said gravely. Nurture it, and one day you will command an inferno. And when you do, Tharius, you must have absolute control, or it will be your undoing.

  A lesson too easily forgotten in the full heat of battle. And this was the battle of his life.

  Channel the flame, fan it with a slow breath, and send the heat to every muscle, every cell. First he trembled, then so slowly came the first loosening. The tail wrapped around his body separated and slithered away over the stone floor.

  Again, Claudia, send me more. His tail lifted and drove into the ground on a mighty thwack. The force sent a ripple of vibration over his spine, down into his rear legs. The muscles twitched. More, he needed more. Tharius heaved in a long breath and sent his intent soaring, through chambers, climbing steps and out through the main entrance to where she was.

  Every one of his thoughts locked onto hers, with no other aim than to be free and get them both away from here. She spoke, he ignored the babble. She pleaded, and still his dragon took from her as, one by one, his bonds snapped and each leg broke free.

  So stiff, he creaked, and his skin cracked, as he flexed flesh lain rigid for two hundred years. The lightwing bugs danced in graceful waves around his head as he moved with ponderous steps, turning his great bulk in the restricting chamber and aiming for the cavernous opening hewn for dragons.

  He was moving again, and it felt glorious.

  Stay with me, Claudia. He sensed a resignation in her, an opening and letting go. Her life force faltered, but his dragon was responding too slowly. Tharius heaved his great body to the dragon door, dismayed to see a sheer drop requiring flight and considerable wing dexterity to negotiate the air currents and thermals flinging rain at the rock.

  Wing dexterity he didn’t have. Limping on his crushed foot, the broken wing, so long tucked into his back now dragging at his side. He might one day fly with it, but not without a period of nurturing the sinewy webs holding the wing muscles back to their supple flexibility. Only a foolish dragon would launch himself into that void with an untried, maimed wing.

  Or a stubborn, impatient one.

  Tharius glanced around the chamber, holding tight to the slender connection between him and the female Claudia. A female bearing too much power for her small body to contain. Though he meant her no harm, his dragon wanted life at any cost. A dangerous thing, with its own agenda. But now, fully conscious, his shifted male edged to the fore, tempering the dragon’s fury.

  “Enough,” it said. “Cut the connection. She’s done enough.”

  “No,” the dragon in him replied. “We need more. She would give her life for the greater cause of reclaiming what we lost.”

  “We would not ask it of her.” Tharius lumbered to the stone steps, noting the treads fashioned for lesser beings than a dragon. Each tread was narrower than his footprint and the opening at the top smaller than his front leg.

  His dragon and the shifted male it harboured did not always sit in easy camaraderie. They would bicker until the sun went down if they didn’t make a decision now.

  Shift to male form. Though he’d prefer to face the eye in full dragon, this way he’d fit the openings made for the original beings, the dragon worshippers who fared even worse than the dragons during the wars. A glimmer of light edged the tall, narrow opening at the top of the steps. His male form should fit through that.

  “For that we need more energy.” He was speaking aloud. As was his habit when debating a problem alone.

  “No, the connection with the female is closed. We will not ask more of her.”

  “You cannot shift in this weakened state.”

  Tharius ignored the dragon and sent the intent to transform. A usually fluid and seamless changing from dragon to upright male. Nothing happened. After so long, had he forgotten the subtle nuances required to execute the shift? Too late, he remembered that forcing the shift when so weak might well result in pain and injury.

  Shift, by the gods, shift.

  “Ahhhh…” The agonised cry tore from his throat, and his vision dimmed. Too swift, his body had forgotten how to make the change without cracking bones and splitting skin. Without throwing him into a black void before bringing him back as a male, standing on two legs.

  He shrank with alarming speed, terrified he may not stop and end up disappearing completely. Too used to this giant dragon bulk around him, the male felt at first small, and then, as he settled into his skin, the most male part of him remembered the advantages brought by walking upright.

  A cock-stand on shifting from dragon to male form was a given. A gift to mitigate any pain from a badly managed transformation. Waves of intense pleasure radiated from his groin to his belly, filling his mind with thoughts of mating and ecstasy stretched out for so long, it threatened to consume him.

  In this form, the Draegon took their mates for procreation. If the gods had been particularly kind in the choosing, for pleasure too. It was every male’s duty to add to the Draegon lines, to make younglings to carry the family names.

  In this upright shape, their mates carried the Draegon young. It was how Ekala would have borne his legacy in her womb, had they been so blessed and the war not interrupted every Draegon warrior’s plans.

  Tharius snatched up Claudia’s discarded pack and leapt at the steps. The broken wing translated into an arm, hanging useless at his side, the crushed hand a curled fist of twisted fingers. Pounding the steps three at a time, he noticed the curved talons protruding from long, shifted fingers. Tough hide, glimmering with faint echoes of purples and blues, covering his hands, his arms, and legs.

  A stub of a tail, and his teeth felt too large for his shifted mouth. He barely fit the opening at the head of the steps. Squeezing through sideways, he raced on, dust flying in his wake, through the complicated warren of chambers and steps, leading him upward to open sky and fresh air.

  To Claudia, his unlikely saviour.

  He would be her saviour, too, if she still lived. He wouldn’t know that until he found her. Connecting with her now, when his body craved the sustenance only she could give, might prove fatal for her.

  Three levels up, his breath hissing in ragged gasps, Tharius slowed. Little energy to spare, he must conserve enough to get him out of this temple, familiar since his first Chatra trial. Somewhere, his image adorned these walls, proudly procl
aiming his ascendance to Exultant, the highest Chatra level. He almost expected to see Toren, his younger brother, watching with envy as he received his first marks.

  Did you survive the war, brother? So many questions.

  More levels than he remembered, but the ingenious shield lights still worked, and the lightwings lit his path to the surface. In the final chamber, resplendent with carved and painted images, muted now by faded colour, Tharius grounded himself with a flat palm to the wall, and listened for activity on the courtyard terrace where he once played hide with the other younglings, while they awaited their elders to emerge from their conferences with the priests.

  Stuck in this half-shift, he prayed he would not present Claudia with too hideous a sight. In times of normality, he regularly shifted on the run. Not so this time. The dragon seemed reluctant to give way to the male after so long in dominant form. Or, perhaps he did not yet possess the strength for a full shift. No time to worry about the female’s tender sensibilities. From the joining of their minds, he concluded that few things shocked this gifted female.

  As he stalked the entrance, sliding a palm along the wall, connecting with his past in the images and colours, his thoughts circled ever to Claudia. Similar to him physically and one of the many races and species existing outside of this moon, though few had come to trade, and even fewer to visit the realm of dragons. The Draegon race did not encourage visitors from beyond.

  Look what happened when they let the duplicitous wyverns in. To speak nothing of the invaders who forced their way through, seeking only to steal the hoards and strip this beautiful moon of its bounty.

  In Claudia’s memories, he’d seen a blue planet spinning in space a distance of stars from the system of Litharia. In her very essence, he’d sensed that ember, pointing to the great possibility that dragons had visited her planet at some time in the distant path and mated with her kind. How, he could not fathom, but where else would that marker have come from?

  Did it make her dragon enough for… No, he shook off the racing thoughts of mating and starting a glorious new dragon line. She’d never survive the searing, the heat, even if she was capable of carrying a dragon-spawn.