Dragon's Kiss (Red Planet Dragons of Tajss Book 5)

by Miranda Martin

  Glancing over my shoulder, my hearts skip a beat as she pushes herself off the transport to her feet. She looks over at me and smiles, tentative, unsure, before joining the line that is forming to haul what supplies we can carry.

  The suns are hanging low on the horizon by the time we finish. Depending on Lana to translate orders to the females isn't helping speed things up. Lana asks too many questions. My men listen, they do what they're ordered without all the need for asking why.

  At last we're ready to move out. Two long sticks with leathers woven between them form a traveling travois. Arawn rigged straps that loop over Padraig's shoulders. Even with dividing the supplies amongst the Zmaj, we're leaving behind a lot but there isn't any other option. Survival will be hard but with luck we'll make it.

  "I'm not an animal," Padraig grouses as I walk by.

  "I know," I say, stopping to face him.

  He glowers. He's tall enough it cranes my neck to look at him. He rolls his shoulders, shakes his head, then huffs.

  "Fine," he agrees.

  "Move out!" I call.

  Bashir takes the lead as instructed. Melchior wanders far off to the left, just keeping our line in sight. They're my eyes and ears, skilled hunters who know the signs of danger giving us the best chance of being prepared for what might come.

  The Zmaj men form a loose, protective circle around the females but it doesn't last long. The humans can't move well on the sand. Lana has her strange looking shoes that allow her to move easier, but the rest sink in with every step, struggling for each forward motion. We're traveling at less than a third of the speed I estimated.

  I don't have to say a word. The males move in and help the females which speeds things up but is still slower than I want. We can't carry them and the supplies. The best we can do is offer them some help, pulling them out when they sink in too deep to move on their own.

  Olivia is having the hardest time. Her luscious curves and full chest cause her to sink deep. Every step is torture on her face. Staying by her side, the line of the others draws further and further ahead. She talks, often, and I wish I knew what she was saying.

  I will not leave her side. Olivia's determination is stunning. She's panting, moisture drips off her bright red face, her equally bright red hair is plastered to her head. Yet she still pushes forward.

  Stopping, she drinks water from her container, then offers it. Holding up my hand I decline. Water will be our most precious resource on this journey and she needs it far more than I do.

  The suns are low on the horizon and dropping fast. Shadows encroach, making it difficult to see the line of the others ahead. They'll be setting up camp soon, we'll catch up then. Olivia looks ahead, shields her eyes, takes several deep breaths then leans in and resumes walking.

  As we climb a dune, circumventing a large rock formation, twinkling fire lights dot the landscape ahead. Her arms tremble and she's moving slower, but she's still pushing forward. We're close enough now, I can help more. Shifting the pack on my back I put an arm around her. She looks up at me with wide-eyes and an open mouth, pushing me away but I don't let her stop me.

  Swinging my other arm under her waist I sweep her off her feet and into my arms. Spreading my wings I bound across the desert to camp. I wish I could have carried her like this entire way but even my strength has its limits. She wraps her arms around my neck, holding herself close. A soft, tingling sensation crawls across my scales. It's almost enough to make me shiver.

  As we enter the camp, the smell of cooking bivo reaches my nostrils and brings a smile. We didn't bring shelters, but I made sure there are blankets for the females. They've set them up in concentric circles around small fires. Olivia pushes against my chest, speaking fast, making me wish yet again that I could understand what she's saying. She struggles so I put her down.

  She straightens her clothes while making quick glances around. Her skin is flushed pink even though the suns have dropped below the horizon. I don't understand why she would still be this color. Reaching to touch her face she pulls back.

  Anger flashes white hot. I don't understand why she's acting this way.

  Edicts, the edicts bring us together.

  Closing my eyes, I recite them. I'd never hurt her, no matter how much of me the bijass might claim, but it still reacts to the stabbing pain in my hearts when she withdraws.

  She frowns, touches my face, then shakes her head. If only we could speak.

  Pointing, I lead the way through the fires towards the one Bashir and Melchior have set up, knowing they will have made a space for me. Bashir grabs one rod holding meat over the fire and pulls several chunks off it, lying them on a piece of oiled cloth. He holds it out as I take my seat.

  Olivia sits down next to me and I offer her some. She takes a piece, handling it delicately as she blows on it to cool it. While we eat, Bashir updates me on our progress. We made more headway than I expected after seeing the speed the females could manage, which is good. Olivia chats with the other two women sitting at our circle. She seems happy and they do too. I hope, with some luck, that our journey will remain good for them.

  "Did you hear that?" Melchior asks, cocking his head to one side and reaching for the spear at his side.

  It's the only warning we have before loud screeches cut through the night. The females scream as one rising, warbling voice that echoes through the night.

  5

  Olivia

  Ragnar carried me the last little bit to the camp and it was so damn romantic and embarrassing at the same time.

  Like admitting I couldn't do it on my own, but also the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me.

  Now we're having dinner and I chat with Astrid and Delilah. The two Zmaj that are always close to Ragnar, I can't keep their names straight, share our fire.

  "This sucks," Astrid sighs, wiping grease from her fingers on her pants.

  "What does?" I ask.

  "All of it."

  "Yeah."

  "What the hell are we doing? What's next?" she asks. "We get something of a life put together, then I'm kidnapped by these alien dragon men. That all works out okay and I think things will be alright, then we find out that the stupid space pirates have taken all our friends?"

  She shakes her head, hunching her shoulders over.

  "It's a total shit show," Delilah pipes in.

  One of the hunters tilts his head and says something to Ragnar. Melchior, I think his name is, maybe? Or is that the other one?

  All three Zmaj grab their spears and leap to their feet. The girls and I look at each other. I don't hear anything but it's obvious they do. Jumping to my feet, I look around trying to spot anything.

  A moment later something dives out of the sky making a screeching sound that sends cold chills racing up and down my spine. My guts lock tight as I drop to the sand, throwing my arms up to protect my head.

  Ragnar steps backwards, almost trampling me.

  Realizing this is a terrible and stupid position, I stand back up. Every nerve of my body screams that I should curl into a ball and pray for it to pass. My instincts suck.

  Ragnar whirls his spear around, driving it up into the air and then spins it the other way. He moves with a stunning, beautiful fluidity and skill. Like watching a dancer. My core tightens. The way his muscles flex is an impressive display of strength that makes me clench my thighs.

  They Zmaj warriors are effective, driving back the diving balls of teeth and death.

  Penelope screams from behind a Zmaj at the fire next to us. Three of the creatures are attacking him. In a display of his own skill he blocks two, driving them back, but the third slips past.

  It's almost to my friend. Ragnar leaps, his wings spreading wide, the spear tip glinting in the moonlight as he whirls it into position. He lands and drives it into the body of the beast just before it reaches Penelope.

  He spins his spear off to one side then flicks it, sending a dead monster flying. I get my first good look at our attackers as it l
eaves his spear. It looks like a furry body with wide, leathery wings, rows of sharp teeth and talons that could tear flesh.

  It's horrifying, filling me with cold dread knowing more of these flying balls of death are still attacking us.

  Ragnar and the Zmaj continue their defensive dance, protecting us. His spear flashes, muscles flex, and I watch in utter fascination.

  My body responds to his controlled power, my nipples are so hard the cloth of my shirt scrapes against them sending violent, jolting thrills through me.

  The monsters apparently give up, the screeching and faint leathery sounds recede.

  Ragnar spins on his heel, stopping to face me. He leaps into the air, his wings spread, then descends to land before me. Beautiful.

  He touches my face, looks up and down my body. It takes only a moment to realize he's inspecting me for wounds.

  "I'm fine," I say, but he doesn't comprehend.

  "Is anyone hurt?" Lana yells.

  Responses come back from around the encampment while Ragnar finishes his inspection. His attention does nothing to ease the tension between my thighs, in fact it makes it worse. A pulse-pounding, clit-throbbing need threatens all my sense of propriety.

  When he straightens to his full height I touch his cheek. His scales are cool and smooth under my fingertips. I wish, with everything I am, that we could talk.

  One of his hands is on my shoulder, the other on my waist. The world fades away until there is only the two of us. Distant sounds become little more than a buzz. My heart pounds in my chest as I rise onto my toes, leaning into Ragnar.

  "Are you okay?" Lana asks, cutting right into my moment.

  Falling back onto my heels as my attention jerks away from Ragnar, I bite my lower lip. Tears well in my eye at the sudden pain. Lana grabs me by my shoulders spinning me to face her. Before I can say a word, she's running her hands my arms, gripping me tight.

  "I'm fine!" I say, my voice cracking and much louder than it should be.

  Lana stops, looking up from the hunched position she was inspecting me from, her surprise obvious. She straightens as my cheeks burn hot. I can't meet her eyes. A crawling desire to find a rock to hide under almost overwhelms me.

  "Good," Lana says, looking between Ragnar and me.

  Great, just great. She purses her lips and looks like she's going to say something more then shakes her head.

  "Is anyone else hurt?" I ask, desperate to get her attention on something else, anything else.

  "No," she says. "Seems we came through this okay."

  She says something to Ragnar and the sharp, cold steel of jealousy drives into my heart as he answers. What is she saying to him? I want so badly to be able to talk to him, to listen to his voice and know what he's saying. They exchange more words then she snorts and shakes her head. My hands ball into fists as jealousy turns to anger. Is she flirting with him?

  Being jealous right now is just stupid. Insecurity is a weakness, one I don't have time for.

  Lana smiles at Ragnar then turns back. "I'm glad you're okay, we should all get some sleep," she says. "Tomorrow will be a long day."

  "Sure," I say.

  Delilah and Astrid are straightening out their blankets and getting ready to lie down so I do the same on my side of the small fire. It's died down to burning embers by the time I get everything straight and lie down. It's nighttime and the sun is down but it's still too hot. This planet sucks.

  I sigh, then Ragnar is pressing up against me. His body gives off an easy coolness that pulls me in. He's so much bigger than I. I'm enshrouded, comforted in his safety. I know he won't let anything bad happen.

  He touches my hip and I stiffen. Desire blooms fresh at his touch but we're not alone. Discomfort wars with need. How am I supposed to sleep with him so close? As he presses his body against mine, his cock digs into my back. He must be huge!

  How am I supposed to sleep now? He's so close, so big, so there, filling my thoughts. I can't relax, pulse pounding need roars through my body, a fire demanding my attention. No, not here and not now.

  His hand drifts across my hip, sliding, and damn it if my body doesn't betray me with its desires. I bite my lip as his hand slips under the hem of my pants moving across my folds. One large finger presses hard against my clit, causing me to shudder. A yelp catches in my throat as I'm soaked by my desire.

  I can't do this, not here. Grabbing his hand I pull up. He doesn't resist as I push his hand away and place it back on my hip. He lets it rest there, not trying anything else. Slowly my heart returns to a normal pace but by the time it does, his breathing is slow and even against my back.

  Great, at least one of us is getting sleep. Lying here, engulfed in his body, the exotic scent of him keeps me awake. At some point I finally drift off to sleep.

  Someone is pushing me. I jerk awake, awareness crashing in as adrenaline pumps into my body. Looking around, I'm lost, and it takes a moment to get my bearings. Ragnar is crouched close by, waiting patiently.

  Blinking, I stand up and stretch. Sore muscles scream their protest at being forced to move. Sleeping on the ground sucks.

  The suns haven't yet broke the horizon but there's enough light to see by, so it's close to dawn. Ragnar holds his hand out with a few chunks of meat. I take two, thank him though it does no good, and pop the cold, chewy meal in my mouth.

  It doesn't take long before we're on the move again.

  We start out the walk in a group but before the suns have cleared the horizon, the group has become a line and I'm at the back. Again.

  Lana has the shoes she designed for moving across the sand and that's great, for her. The rest of us fight for every step in the loose sand. I have to pull my foot out and up then sink down and it's tiring, wearing me down and working muscles I never use.

  Once more Ragnar stays close by and helps when I'm having a particularly hard time. The pulling sand is bad enough but it's also all rolling dunes. It seems like I'm always going uphill. Seriously, is there never a slope down? Wiping sweat away from my eyes I pull my water bottle and take a small sip.

  I'm trying to be conservative with my water because I don't know when we'll find more. My throat is so dry and parched it hurts to breathe. My body cries out to down the bottle then find more but I can't give in. My head is hurting and I know it will grow until it's a blinding pain.

  Resuming my walk I realize how much everything hurts. The suns are high overhead, beating down with relentless energy as they bake the sand and me. Walking through an oven couldn't be much more unpleasant than this.

  Ragnar takes my arm and lifts, helping me pull my feet free and forward.

  It's so much easier for him! He's so big you'd think it would be terrible for him but he spreads his wings and glides across the top of the sand like it's nothing. He's a testament to evolutionary theory, perfectly adapted to his environment.

  Cresting another dune, I shield my eyes to see how far behind I've fallen. Ragnar stops too. There's a large rock outcropping not very far ahead which casts a long shadow across the sand. That will be nice to walk in when we reach it. The rest of the group is already there. Damn I'm so far behind! Sighing I straighten, adjust my pack, then look further ahead.

  "What the hell is that?" I ask pointing into the distance.

  It looks like a red-brown wall cutting across the horizon for as far as the eye can see.

  Ragnar was watching me but when I point, he turns and looks. He yells, something, I wish to hell I knew what, then he bursts into motion. I'm swept off my feet and into his arms and we're bounding across the desert towards the large rocks. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I hang on for dear life, literally.

  He's moving so fast I'm bouncing in his arms like a rag doll. My heart is pounding but there's still a cold ball of ice in the pit of my stomach. I'm jostled hard and bite my tongue, crying out in pain.

  Ragnar looks down with concern in his eyes but he doesn't slow.

  Well maybe it wasn't concern? What does concern look
like on an alien dragon-man's face anyway? Blinking away tears, I strain to look over my shoulder and see the dark wall. It's coming closer, a lot closer, and when I look back ahead we're not gaining very fast on the others. We won't catch up before that wall reaches us.

  "Shit," I say, as the sand at my feet stirs in the breeze.

  6

  Ragnar

  The wind gusts so hard it pushes me to the side. Bits of sand and grit rip across my skin like glass. It tears at my scales and blinding dirt gets in my eyes. I close my protective lids, regaining my vision. Olivia clings tight, both her arms around my neck.

  Another gust of wind hits, this time so hard it spins us in a circle. The sand comes with the wind and then the gusts are coming faster and faster. It's whistling across the land, grinding with shredding force. The storm limits my vision, even with my protective lenses, to a few feet.

  Olivia shouts something, it sounds harsh and I assume its a curse. I get that. This is bad. We won't make it to the others. The storm is gaining distance.

  Changing directions I run, carrying Olivia, straight into the wind. The gale force pushes back, I strain against it, digging my feet in to gain each step forward while being pushed backwards. Leaning into it, I make headway, but slow, too slow. My neck and shoulders knot into hard balls as I push forward.

  I fold my wings in tight as the wind tries to catch and force them open. The sand tears at me, ripping at our clothes. Olivia has small cuts on all her exposed skin, her lack of scales leaves her unprotected. I have to get her to safety.

  Distant screams reach my ears. I yell too but the rush of the wind carries the sound of my voice away. The sandstorm is blinding. If I don't find shelter for us, Olivia might not survive.

  My hearts pound harder. Adrenaline pumping fuels my rage. The bijass pushes in, trying to claim my mind. I can't let it.

  The wind gusts and Olivia's cries of pain reach my ears over its gale force noise. Moisture streams from her tightly closed eyes. She turns and buries her face against my chest, seeking protection.