Table of Contents
Prologue
Blurb
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Exclusive preview: Night of the Dragons
Dragon’s Desire
Red Planet Dragons of Tajss Book Eight
Miranda Martin
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Contents
Blurb
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Exclusive preview: Night of the Dragons
Blurb
I'm a warrior with the soul of a dragon.
To protect my female, I’ll kidnap her…
The devastation killed most of our population. Since then, Zmaj men have lived isolated and without females. That changed when a ship with human passengers crashed on our planet. For the first time in many years, we have females in our midst.
But some of the new humans fear our species. One of them, a quiet, dark-haired beauty with a fierce spirit, awakens my dragon. When I catch her scent, lust heats my blood.
Tajss is fraught with danger, not only from the scorching desert and blood-thirsty animals, but the battles among its peoples. Sarah doesn’t see the threats that lurk in the shadows, but I do.
As second in command of the Tajss tribe, I face the choice of fulfilling my duty, or protecting Sarah. She’s become my world. My mate. I’ll keep her safe.
Even if it means kidnapping her...
Copyright © 2018 by Miranda Martin
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Prologue
Sarah
Seven Days after Gershom’s Exile
“One more step, one more,” Jackson mutters, struggling next to me.
Sweat pours down his bright red, blistering face, brow furrowed in concentration as he pushes forward. Two others struggle along with us, Tessa and Caleb, together the four of us forming the tail of Gershom’s exiles.
It’s been seven days since we left the safety of the city of Draconov and its dome. Seven days without epis, without a safe place to sleep, without hope.
Tessa stumbles and falls, crying out, arms pinwheeling. Jackson dives for her, but the sand holds him back, causing him to also fall. Caleb and I struggle over and help them to their feet.
“Thanks,” Tessa says, shaking her head.
“No problem,” I say, forcing a smile.
She dusts herself off, shakes her head, then her shoulders slump.
“Shit,” Caleb exhales.
“What are we doing?” Jackson asks, raising and dropping his arms.
“Surviving,” I answer.
“We shouldn’t have followed him,” Tessa says, desperation in her voice.
If she weren’t dehydrated, I know tears would be streaming. Her soft brown hair is limp, heavy with sweat. Her once-pale face is burned and peeling, her lips cracked.
“We can’t go on like this,” Caleb says. “It’s too…”
He trails off and I wait, hoping he’ll say he wants to turn back. Please say it, Rosalind would welcome us back to the City.
“We need to move,” Jackson says, filling the void before the words come.
“Yeah,” Caleb sighs. “Yeah.”
For the hundredth time, I swallow my disappointment, which feels like a mouthful of sand. We resume marching, but now we’re sticking closer to one another. Short rations, lack of water, no epis, and sleeping fitfully on the sand with one eye open, sure that one of the many Tajss threats is going to kill me at any moment, all are taking their toll. Somewhere there’s a limit, and I’m sure I’m going to reach it.
Ahead of us, hazy from the waves of heat rising from the sand, is the blurry outline of the rest of the exiles, marching on towards the horizon. Two days ago, Gershom gave a rousing speech about leading us back to our roots. We’re returning to the wreckage of the generation ship. Our home, or what’s left of it.
No matter how rousing his speech was, I knew it wasn’t a good idea. The wreckage is exactly that, wreckage. The systems that made the ship a home are broken. There are no environmental controls. Because I secretly work for Rosalind, I know that there is power to parts of it still, but the things that made life on the ship normal are gone. The only good thing is that there were supplies left. Since we don’t have any hunters, food and water are a first concern and the ship answers that.
It’s a temporary fix, and I’m sure Gershom knows it.
It’s not like I have a better idea.
March, Sarah. Keep up the pace, one foot then another.
“I miss vid sticks,” Tessa pants.
“Did you see that rock thing Rosalind brought with her?” Caleb asks. “What the hell was that? It looked like something out of a superhero movie. Like one of those Marvel movies.”
“Those monsters she brought with her are the only reason we’re in this mess,” Jackson huffs. “Everything was fine before she screwed it up, again.”
“We were starving,” I point out.
“So?” Jackson counters. “We had water! Food was being figured out. Gershom said he had a plan.”
Of course he did. Gershom always has a plan, and you idiots believe him.
“Maybe,” Tessa says, glancing quickly in my direction. Was that doubt in her eyes?
“New Doctor Who, or original?” Caleb asks, pointedly changing the conversation.
“New,” I answer.
“Original,” Jackson says.
“I prefer romances,” Tessa says.
Jackson, walking slightly behind Tessa, opens his eyes wider at her comment and cracks a smile. “Yeah?” he prompts.
“Yeah,” she says, but doesn’t elaborate.
Me too, Tessa. Except my own romance is being screwed by your leader. I found my man. He’s perfect, everything a girl could ever want. No romance book-cover model could compare. Huge, bulging arms, massive, muscled chest and abs, so tall, and strong, and forbidding, but so soft on the inside. A warmth I could cuddle in forever, wrapped in his arms. I didn’t get to tell him goodbye or even talk to him about this whole jacked-up situation.
Thanks, Gershom. Dick.
An ache in my chest throbs with the beating of my heart. It’s an emptiness with no way to fill it. All I can do is avoid it, focus on each moment, and push it aside. My only hope is that Calista was able to make him understand. I couldn’t trust it with one of the Zmaj. He
wouldn’t have listened to any of the men. All the other Zmaj—the handful of natives to this desert planet who are literally dragon-men, complete with scales, horns, tails, and wings while still humanoid—have difficulty getting along. One of them telling another that his chosen has been exiled on a special mission wouldn’t go over well.
Especially with Drosdan. All the Zmaj are big, huge in comparison to a human, and Drosdan is big in comparison to them. Six inches taller than any other Zmaj I’ve seen and twice as wide. He’s so strong…
“But not romantic comedies?” Jackson is asking.
I’ve missed a chunk of conversation while lost in my thoughts.
“Not really,” Tessa shakes her head.
“Hey, guys,” Caleb says.
“So only, like, serious ones?” Jackson asks.
Tessa shrugs. “Sure, I guess, I don’t know. What difference does it make? There aren’t any anymore. All the vid sticks and players were destroyed in the crash.”
“Guys,” Caleb says again.
“I heard a rumor that there’re still some working,” Jackson says.
“Guys!” Caleb says, his voice cracking.
Three of us stop struggling forward and look at him.
“What?” three of us ask at once.
He’s pointing back behind us, his arms shaking, his red face pale.
“What is that?” he asks, entire body trembling now.
Following his pointing arm, my stomach drops to the ground. It can’t be…
Jackson shields his eyes with his hands, straining to see. I don’t have to, I know, with absolute certainty, what that is.
Drosdan.
Elation mixes with fear. He’s coming for me! My heart swells until it has to burst out of my chest, but it’s tempered by the cold knot in my stomach. They can’t see this. If they see me talking to him, they’ll know I’m a spy. It will ruin everything. All of this will have been for nothing.
Drosdan is a blur. It looks like he’s flying across the desert. Wings spread wide, arms pumping at his sides, racing with an ease and speed no human could ever hope to achieve. Every other step he leaps, gliding through the air, then hitting the ground running a few steps and repeating the motion.
“Run!” I scream.
I have to get them out of here.
Tessa and Jackson, eyes wide, spin and burst into a run. But Caleb is frozen in place. Fighting my way to him I slap him across the face.
“CALEB!” I scream, inches from him. “RUN!”
He jerks back, eyes clearing, shaking his head, mouth moving but no sounds emerging. I grab his shoulders, spin him around, and push. He stumbles, but it gets him moving. They crest the dune we were climbing and drop down the other side without looking back. Once they’re out of sight I move towards Drosdan, closing the distance between us quickly, wholly thanks to him, my contribution is negligible.
“No,” he says, sliding to a stop, sand spraying up.
“Drosdan—”
“NO!” he yells, raising his massive fists in the air. “No. No way. This can’t be. They can’t demand this, anything but this.”
Overwhelming emotions war inside my body, too many to express. He’s shaking, tail lashing back and forth throwing sand up. I can’t form words, can’t breathe, or move. Fighting past it, I move closer and place a hand on his chest. His arms wrap around me, pulling me tight.
All I want is to stay in his arms. Conforming my body to the hard muscles of his chest, resting my fingertips on his cool scales—this is where I belong.
Except for duty.
I owe Rosalind everything. She’s right: we need these people. It’s so much bigger than me, than Drosdan, bigger than us.
When she asked me to do this, my stomach hit the floor. All I could think about was Drosdan and what this would do to our budding relationship.
I didn’t have a choice though, not really. Sure, Rosalind made it a choice, but she knew I would agree. I’d follow her into hell, and in a way, I almost literally have. Who else could do this? Gershom wouldn’t let someone in his camp if he was sure they were tied to Rosalind. He probably suspects me, but I’ve always been helpful. So I said yes.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I have to.”
Rising onto my toes I kiss him and pull away, fingertips lingering on his chest. I don’t think Zmaj can cry, but the hurt on his face is a knife driving into my heart. The ache throbbing deep in my chest is too much. Stumbling back, breaking contact, I’m shaking, struggling to find words.
“Okay,” he says, barely opening his mouth.
I’m not sure I heard him speak, or if I imagined it. A few feet separate us, but it might as well be miles. His wings droop, and his tail lies still on the sand. His eyes lock to mine, but neither of us can speak. I can’t. It’s too much. It hurts so bad.
I take one step backwards. Then another. He doesn’t move, letting me go.
His shoulders drop further, his head lowers.
Another step. Muscles tremble with more than effort. Duty pushes but my heart is pushing back. We haven’t had our chance yet. It’s not fair!
Drosdan and I are still getting to know each other. There’s been no time for us. No chance for anything—a few stolen kisses, a walk in the moonlight. I’m no Zmaj with some primal instinct for a treasure! I want to get to know him better, to make sure these feelings are real, that they’re more than physical. This ache in my heart is more than infatuation. It’s not right.
Rosalind has Visidion, why can’t I have mine?
Responsibility. The survival of both our races.
He knows it as well as I do.
We do what we have to do.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“I’m sorry too,” he says, shaking his head.
“We’re going to the wreckage,” I say. “Can you let them know?”
He nods slowly, head hanging low.
“There’s a rock,” he says. “Maybe half an hour’s walk from there,” he says. “It’s big. Follow the second sun in the morning—you’ll find it.”
“Okay?” I ask, climbing the dune backwards still.
“I’ll leave messages there,” he says. “And food. I’ll get food for you. Epis.”
Relief floods through me. Epis withdrawal has been my biggest concern in this endeavor. I can’t get caught taking it, even though I’m certain Gershom is himself. It would be another sign I’m a plant, and I have no idea what they would do then.
“Thank you,” I say, another tear falling.
Drosdan nods, still as a rock watching my retreat. When I reach the top of the dune and turn, he’s still standing, watching. My body locks. Emptiness aches inside. I can’t do this. It hurts too much. A tremor starts in my left thigh, expanding until both legs are shaking. Tears fall, wasting precious water, and I raise an arm, stretching my hand towards him.
They won’t survive without me. Tessa, Jackson, Caleb, all the other followers. Sad and misguided, yes, but they’re not bad people. They follow Gershom out of fear, even if they don’t see it yet. I’m their only hope of surviving. Follow my heart and they’ll die. Certainty fills the emptiness, and I do what I have to do. Forcing myself, I turn away from Drosdan.
There will be time, a time for us. There has to be.
1
Sarah
“You can’t be serious!” I exclaim, snapping my jaw shut to avoid getting sand in my mouth.
“What?” Jackson says.
The confusion on his face causes a pain deep inside my head. He doesn’t get it. How, I can’t begin to fathom, but he doesn’t. Rubbing my temples, I close my eyes and focus on controlling the raging ball of fire inside me. The urge to scream at him until he gets it is so strong I can’t speak. I know if I do it will all come ripping out and I will fillet him. No matter how nice that would be it won’t accomplish anything.
“Sarah, it’s an idea,” Tessa interjects, shaking her head, brown hair floating around it like a halo. “How bad could it be?”
The throbbing pain in my head pulses, and I move my fingers to my eyes in hopes of keeping them from exploding.
“Look,” I say, continuing to massage my forehead while holding my eyes in. “It is a bad idea. No, it’s not bad, it’s terrible, or… whatever is worse than that!”
My voice cracks at the end from the strain of not screaming at them. Why did I agree to do this? Rosalind be damned, I don’t want to be here. I’m burning up, tired, and hungry, none of which is making it easier to deal with these people.
“But if we do that we’d have food for a month, maybe two!” Jackson exclaims.
Shaking my head, I sigh and open my eyes. Jackson stares at me, earnest. He’s not a bad guy, topping six feet with an average build, and he has a nice face. I know he’s doing his best, but he’s not a survivor. On the generation ship, before we crashed here on Tajss, he was an office worker. Did something with data input, a specialist in computer stuff.
None of us were prepared to face life on Tajss. How do you prepare to survive on a barren desert planet? We were supposed to live our lives on the ship. It wasn’t supposed to reach its destination until long after we were gone. My great grandkids or their grandkids, I don’t even remember. It wasn’t important then and it’s less so now. We’re not on the nicely terra-formed planet that was sitting out there ready for us, which would have been a small transition from life on the ship.
Tajss is a beast of its own. Two red suns beat down on it, and everything is out to kill you. Literally everything, even the damn plants will try to kill you if you don’t know what you’re dealing with. Rolling sand dunes for as far as the eye can see, broken only by occasional rocky protrusions. A lot of my friends like to debate if it’s more like Tatooine or Vulcan, except Jolie. She thinks it’s more like Gallifrey, but she’s the main Whovian survivor and an outlier in her opinion.
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