by Cara Bristol
Alas, environmentalist extremists eschewed all petroleum products—even though not a single blade of Earth’s grassy surface would need to be disturbed to drill on Elementa.
If Biggs had been on Earth, he could have manipulated the markets and recreated a need for petroleum. Unfortunately, he’d become persona non grata. Or, another way of looking at it, persona grata. Bounty hunters were clamoring to cash in on the enormous reward the government had placed on his head.
So, he’d pivoted and had chosen to lie low. Since ore came from underground anyway, mining operations proceeded normally. But because of the threat the dragons posed and the general inhospitable atmosphere and terrain, surface jaunts were a rarity, and occasionally the isolation and situational captivity caused a worker to lose his shit. Fortunately, before Earth had vacated the premises, he’d had the foresight to import some whores as a mitigation measure. Allowing the men to get some ass provided a release valve and helped to contain the craziness.
The only real challenge going forward would be hauling the ore to the surface and loading it onto a cargo ship without the lizards noticing. However, the scheduled ship wouldn’t arrive for another year, and by then, Biggs intended to have the dragon problem permanently solved. He hadn’t earned a rep as the fixer for nothing.
“And the other thing you wanted to talk about?” he asked Hicks.
“There’s been activity in sector twenty-four.”
“All the way out there? What kind of activity?” Keeping tabs on the entire surface 24/7 was impossible. They had a limited number of cameras, so they had to be utilized where they could do the most good. There was no sense wasting equipment and manpower to watch black rock, lava worms, or tetrapods.
The ops manager scooted to the console and tapped on a keyboard. “The guys heard commotion topside, so we sent in a drone. Here’s the footage.”
Biggs rolled his chair closer. Acres and acres, perhaps a section of ground, had been flattened, the rocky spires and jagged hills blasted away.
“I think they’ve got another city going up,” Hicks said.
Biggs pressed his lips together grimly and shook his head. “No. It’s a spacecraft landing pad—they’re planning to occupy the city they’ve already built. Judging from the size of the pad, we can expect a huge ship with a shitload of dragons.”
Construction on Dragon Town had commenced as soon as Earth had ceded the planet. However, he had no intention of conceding anything to the filthy lizards. Elementa belonged to him. He would defeat the Draconians. He didn’t have a plan yet, but the answer would come.
It always did.
Chapter Four
Henry approached the food replicator where a demiforma dragon punched a lunch code into the machine. “What do you recommend?” he asked amiably.
The Draconian’s neck frill flared, along with the nostrils of his snout. As soon as the machine spit a quivering mass onto a tray, the dragon grabbed it and lumbered toward his comrades at a nearby table. “That you go back to the planet you came from,” he growled over his shoulder.
“That was more pleasant than usual,” he muttered as his order produced a pepperoni pizza—or as close to it as alien tech could mimic. That he could get even a facsimile owed to Helena and Rhianna’s positions in Draconian society. If not for their pull, he’d be eating reconstituted lava worms—or worse. He gave a little shudder, recalling the blob on the Draconian’s tray. It had seemed to be alive.
He carried his pizza through the sea of occupied tables, stirring a wake of grunted insults. He half regretted having been fitted with a translator. It might have been better to be ignorant of what they thought of him.
No. Rule one for staying alive: know thy enemy.
Hands full, he resisted the urge to scrub his nose against his shoulder. Something in the dining room smelled rank. He hoped it wasn’t the food. He sniffed the tray. Smelled like pizza.
He found a table away from the others and sat, pretending not to notice the scowls. Better get used to it. Don’t expect things will change much on Elementa.
His plans, however, had changed. He’d been gung ho to return to Earth until the president had contacted him and vetoed the idea. “Helena tells me you wish to return home. I advise against it. We’ve arrested and interrogated one of Biggs’s enforcers, who has confirmed there’s a hit on you.”
“On me?” Of all the people who’d thwarted Biggs, Henry had been a minor impediment. Far be it for him to tell an assassin how to do his job, but if he was the target, Biggs ought to prioritize a little better.
“He’s targeted my administration and family. Right now, Earth is not the safest place to be.”
“Then maybe it’s where I should be.” His entire career, he’d served as a protector, not a protectee, and it went against his nature to hide. He avoided trouble if he could, but he didn’t run if it found him.
“Biggs is not a man to trifle with.”
“If I came back, I could help locate him,” Henry had persisted. Hunting down the fixer would give him a goal to strive for, help him forget how he’d embarrassed himself by acting like a teenager crushing on a hopeless fantasy.
“I haven’t been clear. This isn’t a suggestion; it’s an order. Stay away,” the president had said. “For the time being,” he’d softened the command. “Until we apprehend Biggs, the fewer targets he has, the better off we’ll all be. If you return, you’d require a security detail, and that would endanger more agents’ lives.”
Put in those terms, what option did he have?
He bit into his pizza and chewed. It wasn’t bad, even if the cheese had an odd texture, the sauce tasted overly tangy, and the pepperoni seemed rubbery. Still, he’d love a thick, juicy real beef cheeseburger, or a bucket of hot wings with ranch dressing, an ice-cold beer—or hell, even a crepe or quiche. His mouth watered, and his stomach growled. Don’t think about food. Think about something else.
How about his fellow diners? They had resumed eating and were ignoring him, their guttural Dragonish conversations melding into white noise.
That was the typical reaction he’d gotten as he’d wandered about the ship. After muttered insults and scowls, the Draconians left him alone. In contrast to the trip from Earth in which he, Helena, and Patsy had been virtual prisoners, this time he wasn’t confined to his cabin and was free to explore. Other than the sheer size of passages, cabins, and chambers, there wasn’t much to see. Solid gray-green without even doors to break the monotony, decks and passages were indistinguishable from one another.
Henry gnawed off another bite of his now-cold pizza and wondered what it really was. He was examining a circle of “pepperoni” when the background chatter cut out, as if someone had flipped a switch to silent. Almost in sync, heads turned.
The last person he expected to see had entered the dining room. What is she doing here? Sharp dismay and heated elation roiled.
O’ne’s long colorless tresses flowed into her white dress, her gown and hair half in the chamber, half out. A massive amber diamond pendant flashed around her neck, the hue matching the color of her exotic eyes.
He forced down the half-chewed artificial pizza.
Heavy chairs scraped the floor as dragons dashed out, as if a fire alarm had been tripped. Entire groups sprang to their feet and fled, not bothering to clear their lunch dishes.
The priestess moved deeper into the mess hall, motivating the diners to greater haste.
Within seconds, they were alone.
And the tugging sensation increased exponentially. Or maybe it was a pushing sensation. Whatever, it was hot, and it curled and twisted inside him, growing, burgeoning, reaching for her. Bemused, confused, he rose to his feet, wondering if he should clear out like the others. Why had they fled? Wasn’t the priestess their most revered being?
Her yellow eyes flashed blue for a split second.
“Was it something I said?” he joked.
Chapter Five
This is how you avoid him, by seeking h
im out? the dragoness scolded. Dallying with a human is beneath us! The others run in fear, but he stands in brazen ignorant arrogance. He should pay for his disrespect. A kiss of fire would teach him.
He is friends with my daughter, who is the mate of Prince T’mar. As such, he is under the king’s protection.
The king’s business is the king’s. Ours is ours.
I do not wish to talk to you about this.
You planned to seek him out! came the accusation. You knew he would be on this ship.
Yes, but she’d managed to convince herself she’d keep her distance until she’d boarded and H’ry’s smell, his human masculine musk like deep woods, leather, like Earth itself, had washed over her. Exotic, unDraconian. Alluring. What would be the harm in seeing him? With the Draconian temple decommissioned, and the Elemental one not yet consecrated, she’d been granted a respite from her duties. It wouldn’t hurt to speak to him.
With a diffidence she didn’t feel and her dragoness yammering, she approached. She foundered for something to say. “You must be excited to be returning to Earth.”
“Well, there’s been a change in plans.” A bemused smile curved his full mouth, entrancing her with the movement of his lips, the flash of blunt white teeth. “The president told me I can’t go home yet.” He canted his head. “I got the impression you’d be remaining on Draco for a while.”
“Last-minute decision.”
He hesitated. “I went to the temple to see you. Several times.”
“I know.”
The undressed admission hung there, seemingly another rebuff of his interest.
She caught a whiff of peppery embarrassment, and redness crept into his cheeks.
“Well, that’s that. I’ll stay out of your way on Elementa.” He pushed his chair in and strode away like everyone else.
They all left. She was the most revered dragon in all of Draco, and humans were the most despised species in the galaxy, but Draconians would prefer to eat lunch with a human rather than her. It was the way it needed to be. Nothing should distract her from her service. Not companionship, nor love, nor selfish desires.
Muscles rippled as his long-legged gait carried him away.
“What were you eating?” she called.
“It was supposed to be pizza.” He kept walking.
Eons ago, she’d eaten Earth food, various animals hunted and trapped then charred over fire. Roots and nuts, berries and other fruits. An interesting diet that took getting used to but that wasn’t unpalatable once you did.
The exit opened in the wall.
“Is pizza good?”
He spun around. His eyes blazed, and she caught the sour odor of anger. “What do you want from me, Priestess?” His emphasis on her title sounded like a curse
She dropped her head and twisted her hands. “Conversation.”
He sighed and then returned to stand before her. “What do you want to talk about?” he asked, his rough voice gentle.
She looked up into eyes as blue as the Earth sky. A lock of hair fell across his forehead, begging to be brushed away. She curled her hands into fists to avoid the temptation. Dragons did not find humans attractive, but oh, he was. To her, he was.
Her heart hammered, adding to the burning heaviness in her chest. She tore her gaze away from his and alighted on his uneaten meal. “Pizza maybe?”
He chuckled, twin dimples denting cheeks attractively shadowed by dark hair. Was it as prickly as it appeared? The humans she’d encountered eons ago had had full beards, thick and matted, tangled with twigs, leaves, and food.
“Have you eaten? Would you care to try it?” H’ry asked.
“Yes—I mean, no, I haven’t eaten, and yes, I’d like to try it.”
“I’ll get you a fresh slice. Mine has gone cold. Pizza is best served hot, although some people do eat cold pizza.”
“Are you not going to finish yours? You can reheat it in the replicator.”
“You can reheat?”
“I’ll show you.” She picked up his plate and carried it to the machine. “You push this button here to open the warmer then this one to reheat.” Ten seconds later, his steaming slice slid out. The food did exude a stronger smell when hot. The scent was…if not appetizing then interesting…
“And this is how you order it.” He keyed in a code so she could watch. After the machine produced a fresh slice, he took the plate and held it out to her. Her fyre exploded in a burst of heat shooting burning contrails throughout her body. Yearning collided into duty, innocence into lust, ignorance into import.
Do not touch that dish, the dragoness roared. Have you lost your mind? He knows not what he does, and neither apparently do you!
You said his fyre was inconsequential. That he was human, she taunted.
He is human!
Then we have no quibble. Defiantly, she took the dish.
The dragoness howled.
In accordance with tradition, when a Draconian male chose a mate, he offered her food. She signaled her willingness to merge fyres by accepting the token. The giving and acceptance of food was considered a binding betrothal.
Except the ritual did not apply to the priestess, who could not take a mate. She was bonded to the Eternal Fyre and would be until it consumed her. And to a human, food was just food.
“Shall we sit?” she invited.
They moved to the table he’d abandoned. “Would you care for a view?” she asked. If he took in the sights, she would be free to watch him. To commit his face, his manner, his bearing to memory. A personal treasure to covet later.
Her dragoness snarled.
“A view of what?”
“The stars.” She signaled the ship with a wave, and five good-sized portholes appeared in the hull.
His jaw dropped almost comically. “How did you do that?”
“The ship is constructed of intelligent material and responds to commands based on our DNA. What it will or won’t do depends on the programming.” She offered up what she hoped was an apologetic smile. “The ship will do very little for you. I have ultimate clearance and approval. If every other dragon on this ship expired, including the captain, the ship would get me to safety.”
“Because you’re the priestess.”
“Yes.”
“And protecting you protects the Eternal Fyre.”
“Yes.” She took a bite of the pizza. He did the same, and they chewed in silence. He wasn’t watching the view but staring at her.
“Well? What do you think?” he asked after she’d swallowed.
“It’s…interesting.”
It is disgusting! the dragoness said.
It was unappetizing, but the dragoness’s displeasure encouraged her to take a bigger bite.
“It’s different from the pizza back home, and I wasn’t sure I liked it, but it’s gotten better—or maybe it’s the company I’m with.”
At the implied compliment, her neglected fyre swelled.
“In the interest of avoiding a faux pas—what am I supposed to call you? Priestess or O’ne?” he asked.
Her name on his lips touched her like a caress. “O’ne will be acceptable.” When she’d met him and introduced herself, it had been the first time she’d spoken her former name in thousands of years.
He smiled. Her fyre danced. The dragoness growled. You are the priestess!
She blocked the rants from her consciousness. For today—for the rest of the voyage, she would be O’ne. Once the ship arrived on Elementa, she would consecrate the new temple and rebirth the Eternal Fyre. Until then, she would indulge herself. But it would not be fair to mislead him. He tried to hide his longing, but he exuded a fragrant hope.
“I must be honest,” she said. “When we land, I must consecrate the new temple. My duties will be, are…all consuming.”
“So this voyage is all the time we have?”
She nodded.
“Then we’d better make the most of it.”
A dragon would dismiss the warmth spre
ading through her as a pale imitation of their normally red-hot emotions, but oh, it was pleasurable, powerful. She’d expected to be rebuffed. Why wouldn’t he when she had nothing to offer, except a few seconds stolen from eternity?
He shifted his gaze to survey the vacant dining hall. “Why did everyone leave?”
“They fear me.” They worshiped at the temple, praying they did not encounter her. It would not be far from the truth to say she held their lives in the palm of her hand—not that they knew what she could do.
“Should I fear you?” His eyes twinkled, as if the idea were preposterous.
Yes, but she was loath to disabuse his ignorance, for ignorance was bliss. Hers. His lack of awareness was a gift. Others had fled; he had stayed. “Not if you don’t intend me harm.”
“Never.”
He meant it. She smelled the truth. Her powers outmatched the king’s, yet the sight of H’ry’s attractive face and warm gaze rendered her as awkward as a dragonling falling out of the nest. Her heart fluttered, adding to her light-headedness. Say something! “So, H’ry, tell me of your life on Earth.”
“H’ry?”
His mimic didn’t come close to the pronunciation. Amusement tugged at her lips. “Your name in Dragonish,” she explained. “Not all Earth names have cognates in our language, but yours does.”
“Ah.”
“Is it acceptable if I call you that?” she asked.
“Of course, O’ne.” His cheeks dimpled.
He teased. Her hands fluttered in the voluminous folds of her skirt. No one had ever teased her. “Your life…”
“On Earth. Right. I grew up in what would be considered an upper-middle-class traditional home. My dad retired from the military, ran for state assembly, and won. My mother was a dentist. I have an older sister who went into practice with my mom. I served in the military for eight years then the CIA recruited me.”
“What is that?”
“Central Intelligence Agency, a surveillance organization. My government sent me to spy on other countries. My cover got blown, and they pulled me out of the service, gave me a completely new identity”—he rubbed his nose and jaw—“a slightly different face and—”
