Chosen by the Dragon Alien (Zarux Dragon Brides #2)

Chapter 14

FOURTEEN

Fivra

The silence that followed was deafening. The oppressive tension eased only slightly as the ship stabilized and Fivra felt the change in weightlessness. If not for the belt and the gravity field it projected around her, she’d be weightless. She let her muscles relax and uncurled her fingers from the armrests. Her nails had left imprints in the soft material.

“That,” Kaelen drawled, unfastening his safety straps and leaning back in his seat with an infuriatingly relaxed grin, “is how you fly out of an Axis lockdown.”

“We barely made it,” Fivra whispered, her voice shaky. Her hands twitched involuntarily. Adrenaline still thrummed through her veins.

Kaelen’s golden gaze slid toward her, sharp and predatory and quite amused. “Barely is still making it. I’ve been in much tighter spots.” He gestured toward the viewport, where the dark shapes of Axis ships hovered. Their scanning beams shifted to the ships remaining in the station as they searched for their prey.

Cyprian, who had remained stone-still throughout the ordeal, finally released his grip on his own armrests. His claws retracted as he exhaled slowly. “If you ever do that again,” he said darkly, his voice like a growl rolling through gravel, “I will personally ensure your next flight is without wings, Kaelen.”

The smuggler’s grin widened, unbothered by the Zaruxian’s threat. “You wound me, old friend,” he replied, his tone dripping with mock offense. “Where’s the trust? I got you out, didn’t I? Not a scratch.”

Fivra’s heart still raced. She turned to Cyprian, her trembling voice barely above a whisper. “Are they going to follow us?”

Kaelen chuckled as he began flipping switches and preparing some sort of autopilot system. “Not a chance,” he said confidently. “By the time those Axis clunkers figure out what happened, we’ll be halfway to my outpost.”

Cyprian didn’t appear ready to relax entirely. His sharp silver eyes cut toward Kaelen. “You’re sure your ship’s cloaking signature held? Any trace of us, and they’ll be on our tails.”

Kaelen spun his chair around lazily, resting his hands behind his head as though they weren’t discussing life-and-death stakes. “Cyprian.” He dragged out the syllables like he was speaking to a particularly dense child. “I’ve been doing this longer than I care to admit. My love here—” he patted the side of the control panel affectionately, “—is a ghost in space. No radiation signature, no thruster trails, not even a fekking sneeze will give us away. The re-sequencer showed the Axis a ship with full cargo and no passengers that wanted to get out fast to avoid a delay.”

Fivra’s brows furrowed as she glanced suspiciously at Kaelen. “But what about the energy sparks when we passed the barrier? Won’t that leave some kind of evidence?”

Kaelen’s golden gaze flicked to her, and his grin softened just slightly. “Clever female,” he said. “You’ve got a good eye. But what you saw was static discharge—a byproduct of the barrier’s energy signature reacting to the hull. It happens so often in traffic jams, the Axis won’t give it a second thought.”

Cyprian’s eyes narrowed, but he finally settled into the seat next to Fivra, his wings folding tightly against his back as though to keep himself grounded. “Let’s hope your confidence isn’t misplaced,” he muttered. His gaze shifted to Fivra, softening. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Fivra said, her voice quieter now, the adrenaline ebbing. “So, how do you two know each other?” She glanced between Cyprian and Kaelen.

Kaelen’s grin widened, flashing those sharp teeth. “Ah, the Director and I go way back, little one.”

“Too far back,” Cyprian muttered, leaning into his seat and crossing his arms.

Fivra tilted her head, curious. “You were a client?”

Kaelen winked. “Occasionally. Back when Erovik was new to me and your Zaruxian protector, here, introduced me to a courtia who captured my heart.”

“You fell in love?” Her brows furrowed. She couldn’t imagine this male having soft feelings for anything but his ship, which he’d called “my love.”

“Utterly.” Kaelen propped his boots on the edge of the console. “Did Cyprian, here, tell you I ran his deliveries, too? I was a purveyor of everything refined. Rare liquors, obscure delicacies, other things we shall not mention—”

“Thank you,” Cyprian cut in.

“Anything the Axis couldn’t supply,” Kaelen continued. “It’s not uncommon for stations like Hevatica to attract generals, diplomats, and trade lords. Erovik kept their tastes satisfied.”

“And Kaelen got paid handsomely,” Cyprian said.

Kaelen shrugged. “My trades kept Cyprian ahead of his competitors.”

“And the Axis didn’t interfere?” Fivra asked.

“They didn’t notice,” Cyprian explained. “Kaelen was sneaky.”

“I prefer discreet,” Kaelen said.

“And yet, here you are.” Cyprian’s wings flexed slightly.

Kaelen laughed.

Cyprian sighed. “We had a mutually beneficial arrangement. Although I did lose one of my best courtias to you. How is Xentia, anyway?”

“Still profoundly beautiful,” Kaelen replied with a sigh and a smile. “And she still has my heart.”

Fivra blinked. How interesting . “May I ask why you’re in hiding now?”

“Cyprian may tell you that I’m a nosy, meddlesome individual who cannot leave well enough alone.” Kaelen chuckled. “I found out too much about the Axis’ dealings and landed on their enemy list.”

“An accurate description,” Cyprian quipped. “If vague. You took Xentia without paying off her contract, dug into the Axis’ data systems and stole an obscene amount of information, and liberated one of their prison colonies.” He looked to Fivra. “Not yours. A different one.”

“I’d do it again.” Kaelen’s jaw raised. “I have, in fact.”

Cyprian rubbed his knuckles along his jaw. “And this is why he cannot travel openly.”

“Which is your fate now, too.” Kaelen’s expression sobered. “At least, for a time. We’ll talk more when we reach my home. I have some interesting information to share with you. For now, why don’t we find you two quarters?” Kaelen rose.

Cyprian looked as if he wanted this “interesting information” now, but unclipped himself from the seat and stood up. Fivra did the same, noticing how different it felt to be here than on the station, and certainly different from on her home planet. The gravity belt worked, but she felt lighter, less attached to the floor than she was used to.

Still, she had no difficulty following Kaelen to the quarters he’d set aside for her. The room was small but serviceable. It lacked any of the luxury Fivra had grown used to at Erovik, but was a welcome sight and had everything she needed. The walls were a steely gray, interrupted only by storage compartments and a small bathroom. A single light strip cast a soft, yellowish glow over the room’s one defining feature—a wide bed set against the far wall.

“Perfect for a pair of runaway lovers, wouldn’t you say?” Kaelen asked. “We have little space on this ship, but I imagine you two won’t mind keeping close.”

Fivra blinked. These weren’t her quarters. They were hers and Cyprian’s quarters. Her face warmed. “Um,” she began, but her voice faltered as Cyprian stepped forward to address Kaelen, his voice steady and low.

“Thank you, Kaelen. We appreciate the accommodations.” His silver eyes flickered briefly to Fivra before settling back on the smuggler. “When do we reach this outpost of yours?”

“It’ll be a few cycles, assuming we don’t run into any patrols or unwelcome surprises along the way.” He stepped away from the door. “I’ll leave you two to clean up, rest. There’s a replicator over there for when you’re hungry. Call for me if you need anything. And don’t hesitate to explore the ship, though I’d avoid the cargo hold if I were you. The less you know…” He winked, and with that, Kaelen gave them a sharp-toothed grin and disappeared down the corridor, the door sliding shut behind him with a soft hiss.

The silence that followed was thick and taut, like a tightly stretched wire humming with energy. Fivra swallowed hard, her eyes flicking back to the single bed as her belly fluttered with a mix of nerves and anticipation. Her fingers played anxiously with the hem of her borrowed cloak before she finally dared to glance at Cyprian. His tall, imposing frame nearly filled the small space. His crimson wings cast faint, shadowy shapes on the walls. He stood motionless for a beat, his silver eyes focused on the bed with an intensity that made her heart race.

She took a tentative breath, trying to ground herself, and then spoke before second-guessing herself. “There’s only one bed,” she said.

“So there is.” Cyprian’s gaze fixed on hers. His wings twitched like embers waiting for a spark. Then, he moved closer—a single, purposeful step into her space that sent a dizzying mix of warmth and electricity surging through her. She tilted her chin to meet his gaze. Her breath caught as he towered over her, all coiled power and restraint.

“I’ll take the floor.” His voice was a low rumble.

Tension was as palpable as the recycled air moving through the ship’s ducts. Fivra breathed deep through her nose. “No,” she blurted. “You don’t need to do that.”

Cyprian’s gaze narrowed slightly as he tilted his head to study her more closely. “You need rest, Fivra. This isn’t about comfort for me. The floor will do just fine.”

She shook her head, her voice trembling but gaining strength. “We both need rest. And there’s only one bed. We’ll…share it.”

His sharp intake of breath sent a shudder through his broad shoulders. His wings flexed, casting longer shadows around them. For once, the unshakable director of Erovik looked uncertain. A flicker of vulnerability cracked through his smooth exterior.

“Fivra…” His voice was a mix of warning and restraint, but she cut him off with a hand to his chest. Her fingers spread over the muscles there.

“Cyprian.” Her voice was steadier now. Her momentarily fear faded against the quiet resolve building in her chest. “You will not sleep on the floor.”

His silver eyes searched hers. His wings lowered slightly, no longer poised with the tension that radiated off him like heat from a fire. “I will not sleep in that bed with you,” he said quietly, taking another step closer. The space between them was shrinking to nothing.

Fivra swallowed hard against the lump rising in her throat. Her pulse quickened, cheeks warm under the low glow of the light. The tension between them wrapped around her like a tether, pulling her closer to him. Her voice wavered, but when she spoke, a surprising steel undercut her words. “Cyprian.” She took a breath, gathering every ounce of courage left in her. “I don’t want you to take the floor. I want to share the bed with you. I want to be with you. Fully.”

His expression froze. She could see stoic resolve he was working to maintain crack around the edges. His silver eyes, which were usually so carefully guarded, melted into molten pools that burned with longing. “Fivra.” He breathed her name like a warning, a plea. The fragile thread of self-control threatened to unravel entirely. His wings shifted, flaring faintly before settling again, his fingers twitching at his sides. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I know exactly what I’m saying.” She pressed her shoulders back, spurred by the hunger burning in his gaze. “I’ve been afraid my whole life, Cyprian. Afraid of what’s coming, of what I couldn’t control. But out here, on this ship, with you… I’m not afraid anymore. Not of this. Not of us.”

Her own voice stunned her—it was steady, certain. For so long, her life had been shaped and defined by what she couldn’t choose. Taken from her settlement, thrust into the strange, glittering world of Erovik, she had grown used to feeling lost in the currents of much larger forces. But this— this she could choose.

Cyprian’s hands flexed again. His wings shifted as though struggling to stay tucked. His breathing was shallow as his chest rose and fell unevenly. “Do you know what it means for a Zaruxian to take a mate?” he murmured hoarsely. “Even I cannot grasp the depth of it. It feels impossibly big. Like a beast growing inside my chest. It would not just be an act, Fivra. It would be forever.”

The weight of his words reverberated in the small room. Fivra didn’t flinch. “I know what I feel, Cyprian,” she said, her voice unwavering. Her heart hammered, but she locked her gaze to his. “I’ve had my life controlled from the moment I was born. But you are my choice. If being with you means something bigger, something permanent, then so be it.”

For a moment, Cyprian looked as though he were holding his breath. His silver eyes widened slightly, then darkened. His wings flared fully now, the deep crimson of their membrane glowing against the sterile light of the chamber. He stepped closer and his broad frame blocked out everything else. It was just him, just her, and the air between them crackling with enough heat to incinerate them both.

“Fivra.” His voice rasped. “You do not know the power you hold. To be my mate means to accept all of me—my dragon, my fire, my life. There’s no going back. And if the Axis send agents for you, I will burn the universe to ash before I let them lay a single finger on you.”

His words resonated like a physical force. Fivra’s breath hitched. Her pulse hammered harder as the sheer intensity of the moment bore down on her. She couldn’t look away from him—his molten silver eyes, his flared wings that seemed to envelop the room, the raw emotion etched into every line of his handsome face.

She took a trembling step closer and brought both hands to his chest. The muscles beneath her fingertips were taut, trembling like they held back a storm. “I understand, Cyprian,” she whispered, her voice a soft but sure flame amid his roaring inferno. “And I accept you—all of you.”