Dragon's Desire: A SciFi Alien Romance (Red Planet Dragons of Tajss Book 8)

by Miranda Martin

  My head hurts, not bad, but a constant throbbing. My lips are chapped, mouth dry, and throat scratchy. I’m past due for epis, but not far enough to suffer withdrawal yet. Keeping myself in epis is the trickiest part of being a plant in Gershom’s camp. I can’t be seen taking it. That’s a sure giveaway that I’m a Zmaj sympathizer. Not seeing Drosdan last night has left me with a low level of anger. It pulses inside me, dancing at the edge of my thoughts, threatening to explode at the slightest provocation.

  It’s ridiculous, but behind it there is fear. What if something happened to him? Is he okay? I can’t imagine he would miss our meeting for anything. The fact that he did means something happened. What? It’s nothing, he’s fine. He has to be fine. Has to be. What would I do if he isn’t? No, don’t go there. I’m not going to entertain that as a thought. He’s fine. He has his responsibility to the Tribe as much as I do to Rosalind. They don’t know he’s coming to see me anymore than I’ve let Rosalind know. It’s our secret. Some things she doesn’t need to know.

  If he’s okay. He has to be. Damn it, my thoughts are circling. You better be okay, Drosdan, damn it.

  Tessa and Jackson are giggling as they help each other across the sand. Brian is sulking, keeping himself off to one side, which is fine with me. I don’t want to hear him grumping anyway. Stopping for water and watching Tessa and Jackson, a pain shoots deep into my chest. It takes me a moment to recognize it, but I envy them. They’re making eyes at each other, laughing, and just happy.

  Being envious is stupid. I’m happy for them in truth, but it does make me miss Drosdan even more. Not that any of these three would understand that. How could I be interested in an alien? He’s not like us, he’s different, he has scales, wings, and oh god, he has a tail. Blah, blah, blah. He’s also kind, with a fierce loyalty that I can’t help but admire. His persistence is admirable. So many qualities about him that are… perfect. He’s what I’ve always wanted, everything I dreamed of in a man when I was a little girl.

  So what if he has scales and horns? I think they’re sexy.

  “We should get moving,” Brian grouses.

  “Right,” I agree.

  The suns rise to midday by the time we get close to the rock. My heart is pounding in my chest. If there’s no meat here, it’s worse than no food, which is bad enough, it means that something is really wrong. It would mean he didn’t make it at all. I keep biting my dry, chapped lip as the distance to the rock closes. It will be there. Drosdan is fine. Nothing happened.

  Please, please be there.

  “Are you okay?” Tessa asks, startling me.

  Trying to compose my face, I look quickly away then realize that alone makes me look guilty of something. Damn it.

  “Yes, why?” I ask, turning back and meeting her gaze.

  Face it head on, I hear Rosalind say in my mind.

  “Nothing, I guess, you just seem… distracted,” she says.

  Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath then let it out slowly.

  “Right,” I say, Tessa puts a hand on my shoulder, dipping her head down so she’s looking into my eyes despite her being taller. “It’s nothing. I’m tired, hungry, dehydrated, and…”

  She leans in closer, expectant as I trail off talking. And what? What do I say to her? I glance around. Brian and Jackson are a short distance away and apparently not paying attention.

  “What is it?” she prompts.

  “I’m worried,” I admit, the truth if only part of it.

  “Aren’t we all?” she asks.

  “Yeah,” I agree, hoping she’ll leave it at that, but I’m not so lucky, she leans in closer, confidential.

  “What worries you the most?” she asks.

  My stomach knots into a hard ball and bile rises in my throat. I’m on thin ice. Mind racing, sifting through possible answers. What do I say?

  “The future,” I blurt out.

  “Me too,” she says, gripping my shoulder tight. “We can’t stay at the ship. We won’t make it.”

  “Right,” I agree, too quick maybe, but latching onto the lifeline she’s throwing me. “We need water and a food supply.”

  “Exactly!” she says, voice rising.

  The two men look over at us before resuming their own conversation. The hair on back of my neck is standing on end, catching the beads of sweat dripping.

  “Shhh,” I admonish, glancing over at them.

  “Oh, Jackson knows,” she assures me.

  “Brian?”

  Her mouth opens, about to speak, when she glances over at him, and it snaps shut. Pursing her lips, she nods.

  “Sorry,” she says, shaking her head.

  “It’s fine,” I say. “I don’t want any trouble. You know how these things go.”

  Frowning, she grips my shoulder then releases. Giving her a tight smile, I turn and start walking, trusting the others to fall in with me. Or not. I’m not sure I care. All I can think about is Drosdan. Focusing all my attention on one foot in front of the other helps. No room for other thoughts. That tightness in my stomach? Nothing, only that next step. Pulling my foot out of the sand, placing it down, sinking in, and repeating with the other foot.

  Head down, focus, step, step, step. Muscles aching, thighs trembling, it overrides the sick feeling. Jackson curses from behind me but I ignore it. There is going to be food waiting for us. Something lying dead, waiting. There is going to be because that means Drosdan is okay. Everything else will work out fine. He’s okay, he was late, no big deal.

  The shadow of the rock outcropping falls across me, easing the suns’ stabbing rays in my eyes. Looking up and blinking away sweat to clear my vision, I see it. A bivo lying on its side, throat ripped out as if some monster killed it, then left it. Cool relief rushes through me, and I shudder with the force of it. Tears well unbidden in my eyes. Wiping them away furiously I stumble forward.

  “Son of a bitch,” Brian exclaims.

  “Yay!” Jackson shouts. “We get to eat. That will be at least a week of food.”

  I walk over to the carcass and rest my hand on it. It’s warm from the double suns beating on it. Fly-like insects buzz up from it, making a dark cloud in the air, some of them nibbling at me to see if I’m edible, too. I don’t care. He’s okay. Taking a deep breath, I brace myself, getting my emotions under control before I face the others. Exhaling slowly, pushing out the relief and the fear, I turn.

  “We have work to do,” I order.

  “How can this be?” Brian asks, eyes narrowing, mouth forming a hard line of suspicion.

  “Does it matter?” Tessa asks. “Seriously? You want to look a gift in the mouth? Are you stupid?”

  “There’s no way that we can keep finding food in the same area. Are you all crazy? This can’t be a coincidence,” he argues.

  “And what, you’d rather be hungry?” Jackson asks, pulling his pack off his back.

  “No,” Brian grouses, glaring at me. “But it’s not right. Something is off.”

  “What do you want me to say?” I ask. Attack, always attack, Rosalind whispers in my head. “I don’t know how or why, but I’m thankful. You have some better idea? Or do you have some grand conspiracy you’d like to share with the rest of us?”

  “Maybe,” he says, doubt in his voice.

  “Oh, yeah?” I ask, stepping towards him, leaning in to his space. “Tell us about it. What? You think maybe I have some secret pact with… what? Who?”

  “Well, it could be,” he says, unconsciously stepping back.

  “Oh? With who? Or is it a what?” I press.

  “I don’t know,” he says. “It’s doesn’t make sense, that’s what I’m saying. How many times have we found something like this in the same area? What are the odds?”

  “Who cares?!” Jackson interjects. “I’m hungry. Let’s butcher this thing and get home. It sucks out here.”

  “Right?” Tessa agrees.

  Brian and I glare at each other, neither of us willing to break our gaze but I see the doubt in his
eyes. His mouth turns down, his hand trembles, then his eyes dart towards Jackson. I’ve got him.

  “If you have something to add, do it,” I say through gritted teeth. “Accuse me of whatever the hell it is you’re thinking.”

  His eyes dart back to me widening.

  “I…”

  “You what?” I ask, stepping closer.

  He’s bigger than me by at least six inches and has probably close to a hundred pounds on me but he’s wavering. Rosalind always said size doesn’t matter in the face of confidence. Hold your position and don’t back down. He wavers, not meeting my eyes. The tension between us builds until his shoulders slump, and he shakes his head.

  “Nothing,” he says. “Let’s get this done.”

  I don’t say anything. I watch him slide the pack off his back and move towards the carcass. The three of them set to work harvesting the meat and preparing it for the journey home.

  “I’m going to the bathroom,” I call out, making my way towards the protruding rock and walking around it for a semblance of privacy.

  Tessa looks over and smiles, then returns to working. On the far side of the rock, I go to the spot where I left the sign for Drosdan. I know he was here, there’s no way a bivo decided to randomly die right there. My heart rate increases on spotting the scattered stones I left in a circle. The heart I drew in the sand inside is still there, but now there’s an arrow piercing through it. Our secret sign. A smile spreads across my face to the point it hurts. Kicking at the sand I cover over the sign. Happiness expands in me until I feel like I’m walking on air. Turning a circle, something in the rock itself catches my eye. A glint flashes as my gaze passes over it.

  Inside a crevasse is a glass vial. When I work it free I’m holding a small bottle inside of which is a piece of paper. My stomach sinks. Rosalind. Does she know Drosdan has been helping?

  Working the paper out of the glass I glance around for prying eyes before unrolling it.

  Received. Good work.

  She got my last report. Heaviness falls on my shoulders as the enormity of my task is thrust forward. It’s all on me, survival of this group, and making sure Rosalind is aware of Gershom’s plans. No pressure, Sarah. The fate of humanity and the surviving Zmaj, that’s all. No big deal. You got this.

  I crumple the paper in my fist, pop it in my mouth, and swallow it. After checking for watchers again, I put my own piece of paper back in the vial and replace it in the crevasse, then go to help with the butchering.

  6

  Drosdan

  “Visidion wants you to come to the City,” Samil repeats.

  “Why?” I snarl.

  Samil shrinks away, ducking and shaking his head.

  “I don’t know,” he whines, holding his hands up.

  “If you’re lying to me,” I say, letting the threat hang.

  “I’m not!” he exclaims.

  This is bad. If Visidion wants me in the City, that means something is up. I’m supposed to be here, running the Tribe. My hands are automatically balling into fists, and I’m itching to hit something. Samil cowers before me, whimpering.

  “Bah!” I exclaim, dropping my fists and shaking my head in frustration. “Fine. Ragnar!”

  Ragnar walks over with a slow saunter. Olivia comes with him, a smile on her face, her hair fluttering in the warm breeze. Her face blurs in my vision, and I’m looking at Sarah. They don’t look anything alike but my chest aches. Emptiness swells from deep inside, and my hearts skip a beat. Red rage roars, burning thought away. Clenching my fist, closing my eyes, struggling to remain in control.

  “What’s going on?” Ragnar asks.

  Opening my eyes, his arm around Olivia holding her close, I see her now as her. The ache pounding in my chest doesn’t ease, but the anger recedes.

  “I have to go to the City,” I say.

  “Why?” Olivia asks.

  “Visidion wants me there,” I say.

  “Sure. You need anything?” Ragnar asks.

  “No,” I respond. “Watch over things here. I’m leaving now.”

  “I’ll handle things,” he says.

  “Keep an eye on Padraig and see if we can get Errol some help repairing the damage to the wall.”

  “Melchior and Bashir will help,” he says.

  Olivia’s hand rests on his chest, her head leaning against him. Pain stabs into my chest so I turn away.

  “I’ll be back,” I say, throat tight.

  I walk away before I do something I’ll regret. An itch forms between my wings where I can feel their eyes boring into me. Rolling my shoulders, I try to ignore the feeling.

  Errol is hammering on a stone, trying to knock it back into line with the rest of the wall. Even though he’s swinging the hammer as hard as he can, it’s ineffective. As his arm swings again, I reach out and grab the hammer before it makes contact. His head snaps toward me, mouth turning down.

  “What the-” he stops, seeing me, then lets the hammer go.

  Looking the stone over, I turn sideways, positioning the hammer. Swinging with all I’ve got, pouring all my frustration and anger into the blow, I take aim and the hammer makes contact with the stone. It slams into alignment with the rest of the wall.

  “Damn…” Errol hisses.

  The humans’ swear words have worked their way into our language. Errol stares at me, mouth agape, shaking his head. I hold the hammer out to him and he takes it without a word. Feeling slightly better, I pass through the opening in the wall and head across the desert towards the City.

  The dome glitters as I come closer. I’ll be there soon and then I’ll see. The suns set low on the horizon, their final rays bouncing off the City’s dome, making rainbows of color shoot across the dunes. Feet pounding on the sand with each leap, accenting my thoughts with each impact. Anger pulses with each beat of my hearts. There’s only one reason Visidion would call me to the City. It can’t be that, but it has to be.

  If he orders me to stop helping Sarah…

  No, he can’t do that. I won’t. I can’t.

  Can I defy him?

  Technically I have been, but he never said not to help her. I know he believed it was understood. I should have killed Gershom. If Sarah hadn’t stopped me, none of this would be happening. The simplest answer was—and is—to take out Gershom.

  Damn it, that’s another circle. I can’t change the past, no matter how much I want to.

  The past. The swirling fog of my memories swells and recedes, throwing bits and pieces of flotsam out of the unknowing blankness from before the devastation. Things I don’t want to remember. Images that can’t be, that wasn’t me. It can’t have been me.

  Pictures of bodies spread around me, blood-splattered hands held up before my face. It can’t be real, nothing like that happened.

  Maybe Visidion wants something else. A new plan or an in-person report on the progress of the gardening. That could be all this is. Or the epis. In the last report I sent to him, I made it clear the epis supply is not going to last much longer. That’s a definite concern—the humans aren’t going to survive without it. We might be able to get red-leaved lychnara for them to break the addiction, but it wouldn’t help them survive the heat. Their bodies aren’t made for Tajss.

  That has to be what this is. It’s about the epis.

  Yes, epis. What will we do about epis?

  Cresting the final dune before the City, I pause. Staring at the dome causes the fog of the past to stir. Dim memories rise and fall. Before, Tajss was a different place. I was different then. Wasn’t I?

  Bursting into a run, I sprint, closing the distance between the City and me. The memories try to chase me, but I have no use for them. This, right now, this moment is all that matters. What came before is done. All that matters is what I do now. A deep, niggling thought, that if I run fast enough I’ll outrun the memories, that thought rises, but I push it aside too. There is nothing to run from because it’s nothing.

  When I reach the airlock, I punch in the code
and wait for the door to cycle open. A whoosh of air flushes out as it opens, and I step inside. When I enter the next code, the door behind me closes, air pours in from vents above, and then the inner door opens. The City lies before me.

  Stepping onto the processed stone of the street is strange. It doesn’t give to my weight like the sand outside. Empty streets ache with loneliness and what was. Decay weighs heavy on the buildings. Broken windows. Twisted steel. The aftermath of the Devastation. Shaking myself free of the sense of melancholy the City evokes in me, I jog ahead, passing by empty buildings as I make my way to the City center.

  As I get closer to the center, I see humans going about their day, male and female. They wave or smile as we pass one another, and I nod to them without slowing my pace. I want to get this over with. It isn’t long enough before I’m walking past the main fountain, where lots of people are gathered, visiting and collecting water. I enter the main building and work my way up to Rosalind’s offices and the Council meeting space.

  “Drosdan,” Ladon says, as I step out of the stairwell.

  Ladon isn’t as big as I am, but there’s a confidence about him. He’s a fighter, self-assured, and he’s in his home. The City was his alone when the humans crashed here, and he still considers it to be his. Everyone else lives here by his will alone, at least in his mind. I’m not sure Rosalind would agree with that assessment, but she lets him believe it.

  “Where are they?” I ask without preamble.

  Ladon nods towards a double set of doors that lead into the council chambers. Squaring my shoulders, I walk to the doors and throw them open. Inside Rosalind and Visidion sit at the far end of the long table, deep in a discussion. The doors bang against the walls, and I squeeze my large frame into the opening. They look up, faces serious, but neither of them speak. I have met their gaze, and now I wait for them. The silence stretches to the point of becoming uncomfortable. My scales itch and my hands twitch. I hate waiting.

  I sense more than hear Ladon behind me, but I continue waiting. It’s a matter of dominance. I won’t give first. Visidion and I lock eyes, and a contest of wills ensues. Rustling my wings, my tail still, I pour myself into the stare, willing him to give. The moment becomes a minute and stretches further. Neither of us willing to bend. The contest continues.