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

Chapter 20

TWENTY

Cyprian

Cyprian blinked. Soft, muted light from an unfamiliar room surrounded him. He shifted in the soft bed he lay in, then stiffened with a wince. Everything ached, from the tips of his wings to his feet and everything in between.

His senses slowly adjusted. The air was thick with an unfamiliar scent—something floral yet earthy. Massive metal walls surrounded him. The room bore the unmistakable mark of elegance. Its architecture was a blend of strength and warmth, and was familiar to him in a way that made his chest ache. A slow unease crept through him.

He tried to sit up, but a wave of fatigue washed over him and a gentle hand splayed on his chest, pressing him back into the plush bedding. “Easy, now,” said a soft feminine voice. “You’ve been through a lot, my love.”

“Fivra?” His voice came out hoarse and raw, as if he hadn’t used it in ages. He turned his head to see Fivra nestled against him. Her pink hair spilled over the pillow. The sight of her brought a rush of relief but also a painful reminder of everything that had transpired. “Where the fek are we?”

This was a far cry from his office, and certainly not Erovik. His mind flickered with fragmented memories of battles fought, dragon fire unleashed in a chaotic rage. And then she appeared beside him.

A slow smile spread across her face. “We’re glad you’re awake.” She shifted closer, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “You’re safe now.”

A frantic rush of memories collided within him—shouts, the screeching of ships, the taste of ash and flame. “What happened?” he rasped, blinking at her as he forced his mind to clear. “Where are we?” he asked again.

Fivra sat up straighter. “We’re in Ellion’s fortress ship, on our way to Kaelen’s outpost,” she explained. “After you… Well, after you fell, we made it to his ship. He carried you here to his home, and we took off before more Axis ships could arrive.”

Cyprian’s brow furrowed as he took in her words. “Who is Ellion?”

“Ellion is the overseer of my old settlement. The other Zaruxian I told you about. He found us and helped you defeat the Axis ship.” She raised her brows. “You wouldn’t have survived without his help.”

Cyprian’s scales shivered with unease. He didn’t like the idea of being indebted to anyone, even if it was one of his own kind. And this was not the kind of debt that was easily repaid. “What does he want?”

“He wants to offer you his protection,” Fivra said. “The Axis will send agents after us.”

The implications lodged like ice in Cyprian’s chest. “Of course they are. And they know I’m here protecting you.”

Cyprian noticed Fivra’s gaze drift past him and a look of communication in her expression, as if addressing someone unspoken. His instincts roared to life. His wings twitched beneath the layers of blanket and fatigue weighed him down. Slowly—cautiously—he turned his head toward the shadows pooling in the corner of the room.

There, partially obscured by the warm amber light, a figure sat in a high-backed chair. The outline was unmistakable: broad shoulders layered with deep, shimmering purple scales. Massive wings were folded neatly behind him, their intricate membrane glowing faintly in the dim light. The figure sat with a calm yet unerring presence, statuesque and impossible to ignore. The overseer—Ellion. Another Zaruxian.

For a precarious moment, the room tilted. Cyprian’s chest tightened as an ancient, primal jolt surged through him. He’d never seen another of his kind, not in his entire existence under the Axis, not once in the cycles he’d been confined to Erovik. And now, before him, sat another Zaruxian—a mirror image of what he was, but also something very different.

“You…” Cyprian’s voice was strained, gravelly with the force of suppressed emotion. His silver eyes locked onto Ellion’s, sharp and molten, as if to peel apart every layer of the male without a single word. “You’re real.”

Ellion inclined his head ever so slightly—as if acknowledging a truth neither of them knew how to articulate. His silver gaze was steady, but bright with curiosity and barely concealed awe. “And so are you, Cyprian.”

The silence between them crackled, heavy and profound. For a moment, Cyprian’s breath hitched. His shoulders felt heavy under the weight of something he couldn’t name. It wasn’t just the shock of seeing another like himself—it was the soul-deep recognition that he wasn’t alone. For cycles, he’d believed himself to be the only one of his kind, but now another male with Zaruxian fire in his veins looked back at him—not as a stranger, but as kin.

“You… You were from Fivra’s settlement,” Cyprian said finally, his voice low but certain. “The overseer of their colony.”

Ellion’s gaze didn’t waver, though there was the faintest flicker of something in his silver eyes—remorse, perhaps, or understanding. “I was,” he said simply, the weight of the admission sinking into the room. “I oversaw the settlement for generations, bound by the will of the Axis. But I was as much a prisoner as the Terians I governed.”

Cyprian’s wings twitched against the bedding, and he couldn’t stop himself from sitting up. Fatigue be damned. “Bound?” he echoed, his voice sharp, laced with skepticism. “You were on a mountain, in a fortress they revered. You held their lives in your hands. And you call it bondage ?”

Ellion’s shoulders tensed, his wings shifting slightly. “I do,” he said evenly, though his baritone carried an edge that Cyprian recognized all too well—the sting of shame buried beneath pride. “The Axis controlled my mind, my instincts—my very fire. Like you, I served them without question, not knowing what or who I truly was. My choices were theirs. My freedom stolen before I even understood what it meant to have it.”

Disbelief warred with the anger surging in Cyprian’s chest. He clenched his fists, his claws digging into the mattress. He couldn’t reconcile the careful, watchful male before him with the overseer Fivra had described—the distant figure who had enforced the Axis’ laws with cold efficiency.

Ellion leaned forward. “When we brought you into the fortress, you were depleted and wounded. Do you know why the Axis found you so easily?”

Cyprian stiffened as he recalled Xryvos’ words on the moon’s surface. “I was tracked.” He shook his head sharply, frustration curling through him as the lingering fatigue tugged at his mind. “An implant, that Axis inspector said.”

Ellion rose from his seat and stepped closer, moving with the careful grace of a predator who knew the strength of his presence. Slowly, he reached out, palm upwards. In the center of it was a small, metal cylindrical object. “Before you woke, we found this and disabled it.”

Cyprian stared at the thing with dread. “That was in my head?”

“Yes,” Ellion began, his voice low but resonant. “These are small, easily concealed, and not detectable without specific tools. It allowed the Axis to track you. Every movement, every breath you took, they knew where you were.”

Cyprian’s silver eyes narrowed, his breathing deepening as the weight of Ellion’s words bore down on him. His claws flexed again, digging into his thighs as a low rumble stirred within his chest. “You removed it?” he rasped, his mind racing at the thought of something so invasive—so violating—within his own body.

Ellion nodded, his wings folding tighter against his back. “These devices are their leash, their chain. Without it, they lose their ability to find you, to summon you back into their fold. You’re free from their watch now, Cyprian.”

The words should have brought him relief, but instead, a deep rage burned in his chest. Free? Was he ever free? He raised a hand to the base of his own neck, fingers trembling as they traced the scales there and felt a raised line where an incision was healing. The idea that such an implant had been in his body. That his movements, his very existence, had been monitored—ignited a fire as hot as his dragon flames.

Ellion turned slightly, exposing the back of his neck with a deliberate motion. He brushed back his hair and exposed a scar etched into the flesh. The mark pulsed faintly, a reminder of something both invasive and insidious. “I had an implant, too, but it did far more than track me.”

Cyprian’s mouth went dry. “What did it do?”

Ellion’s voice was calm but weighted, as if the truth were hard even for him to share. “For those of us the Axis deem unruly, the implants do more than simple tracking. They are a means of control. A way of ensuring obedience.”

Cyprian’s silver eyes snapped up, a growl rumbling low in his throat. “Control? How?”

Ellion’s jaw tightened. “They tamper with memory. Every act of defiance, every flicker of our will, is erased. They wipe away the fire before it can roar. I lost years—many cycles—to their…adjustments. They turned me into their puppet, stripped me of any autonomy. I’d wake knowing only what they wanted me to know. Believing their lies about loyalty, purpose, and obligation.”

The words hit Cyprian like a boulder crushing his chest. A memory flickered unbidden to the surface—one he hadn’t considered in centuries. The strange fog he often felt during his early days in Erovik, periods of blankness where moments escaped him, where he’d awaken unsure of what time had passed or why certain orders felt ingrained, unshakable. He’d brushed them off as the price of efficiency, the strange ways of the Axis’ rigorous structure. But now…

“They did that to me,” he whispered, his voice raw. His hand clenched at the base of his neck, searching, desperate to find something—anything—that explained the blank spaces and his loyalty to an empire he hated. “All this time…”

Ellion’s gaze softened, a flicker of recognition sparking in his silver eyes. “Perhaps not as severely as they did to me,” he said, stepping closer again. “You were valued differently. You weren’t seen as a risk until now. Perhaps they allowed you more freedom because you had a role they believed demanded civility—a director, civilized and polished. A Zaruxian mirage they could use to appease their elite clients. But make no mistake, Cyprian, they left you just enough leash to fulfill their needs. You were never free. None of us were.”

Cyprian’s pulse thundered in his veins as Ellion’s words crawled through him like venomous spiders. His wings twitched against the bedding. Fivra was quiet and watchful beside him. Her hand was a soft reminder of what was important. Of what he would do anything to protect.

“It’s okay, Cyprian,” she said. “You didn’t have a choice. None of us did.”

But they had taken his life—his choices—and molded it to their whims. Every sharp-edged memory that didn’t quite fit, every unexplained pause in his mind—they weren’t design flaws in his memory or character. They were deliberate manipulations.

And he had allowed it by obeying. Fek .

“Why didn’t I—why couldn’t I realize?” Cyprian growled. The weight of it all pressed down on his chest. “The…loyalty to a place I never questioned. If I’d known—”

“They insured you didn’t,” Ellion said softly. His hand rested briefly on Cyprian’s arm, a gesture that was surprisingly grounding. “I believe the only reason you saw the cracks—felt the edges of your cage—is because of her.” He lifted his head to glance at Fivra.

Cyprian turned his head to meet Fivra’s gaze. Her aqua eyes were soft and unwavering under the weight of what Ellion was suggesting. Even with all the chaos that had led them here—with the revelations hanging in the air like a charged cloud—she hadn’t faltered. She held his gaze like a lifeline.

Fivra pressed her lips together. She crouched closer, her body barely brushing against his side as though hoping her touch alone could anchor him. “Ellion and Turi told me that bonds like ours ignite something even the Axis can’t control. They didn’t account for love.”

Cyprian’s chest tightened as Ellion stepped back, giving him the space to process his words. The room seemed to press inward. Fivra’s hand was still warm against his arm—a touch that tethered to reality.

Ellion’s silver eyes glinted sharply. He clasped his hands behind his back, his wings folding with smooth precision as he spoke. “Cyprian, I believe we are not alone. You and I are only two. There are more Zaruxians still under Axis control, and Terian females who were sold in that auction. They’re scattered across penal colonies, stations, or other cloaked operations, but they are out there—trapped in the same chains that once bound us.”

Cyprian inhaled sharply. His fire surged at the idea of others like him, others unaware of what had been stolen from them. The Axis had molded those like him into instruments of power, but what would happen if those instruments ripped apart the hand that wielded them?

“You’re certain?” he asked, his voice calmer now but edged with skepticism. “How many others are there? And what makes you think they’re not broken beyond saving?”

“If we are not broken, they are not broken,” Ellion said firmly. His tone was soft but unyielding, as though he, too, wrestled with the weight of his resolve. “I lived it, Cyprian. I did things…unspeakable things because of the Axis’ grip on me. And yet here I stand, scarred but whole. The Zaruxian fire is more resilient than you know. It burns even when doused, waiting for the spark to reignite.”

Cyprian’s hands flexed. His joints ached from the trauma of his recent transformation. “And this spark—you’re convinced it has something to do with…mates.”

Ellion inclined his head slightly. “I am.” His eyes flicked briefly to Fivra before settling back on Cyprian. “In all my cycles under the Axis, I was conditioned to be a hunter, a guardian, an enforcer—but not a partner. The bond I share with Turi was surprising. It fractured the Axis’ hold on me. Something deep within us responds to our mate’s presence in a way the Axis cannot suppress.” He paused, his voice growing softer, touched with regret. “It was Turi’s courage, her unwavering fire, that reignited my own.”

Cyprian turned to Fivra, his gaze softening. His mate. Every word Ellion spoke struck a chord so resonant it almost physically hurt. “You’re saying…they can’t control us, as long as we’re bonded?”

Ellion nodded, stepping closer again. “We’re stronger when we’re bonded. It weakens their ability to manipulate us. Through our mates, we reclaim pieces stolen from us—our autonomy, our instincts, even our memories. The Axis fears this bond because it disrupts their control more effectively than any weapon. They’ve underestimated it, declaring it a biological anomaly rather than a rebellion born from the soul.” His voice lowered. “The fire we carry is ours to share. It strengthens not just us, but those we’re bound to.”

Cyprian’s gaze returned to Fivra. Her beautiful eyes watched him with a mixture of hope and worry. His heart swelled with gratitude—and no small amount of terror. Everything Ellion said made sense when he looked at her. She hadn’t just saved him from loneliness or given him a reason to fight. She had shattered the darkness within him, redefined the very core of his existence.

He took her hand in his. “You saved me, Fivra,” he murmured. “Not just today, not just now—always.”

Her lips quivered with a faint smile, eyes glistening, though she said nothing. She didn’t need to.

Ellion cleared his throat, giving them a moment before continuing, his purple wings shifting ever so slightly. “I’ve made it my mission to find the others. To free them. To share what we’ve uncovered. But I cannot do this alone. You, Cyprian, and your mate—you have both seen the depths of the Axis’ cruelty. You have felt it.” His gaze intensified. “Help me find them, and together, we could learn what happened to our people. We could be the spark that sets others free.”

Cyprian stared at Ellion. The weight of the request pressed heavy against his chest. Part of him just wanted to hide away in a corner of the galaxy with Fivra, put everything behind them, and just be together. But Ellion’s words offered a path Cyprian hadn’t considered—one fraught with danger, sacrifice, and uncertainty. And yet, it also held something he hadn’t dared to hope for: purpose. The idea of finding others, of shattering the Axis’ control over his kind, was a worthy goal. It was certainly more meaningful than anything he’d done in his life thus far.

But there was Fivra. His mate, his heart. She had already endured so much because of him. How could he ask her to do this? His hand tightened around hers as he turned to her, searching her face. “Fivra…this isn’t just about me. This fight would be ours, and I won’t choose it for you. What do you want?”

“I want to find my missing friends.” Her voice was steady. “What the Axis did to me, to you, to all of us—it’s wrong. And if joining Ellion means stopping them from doing to others what they’ve done to us, then…I’m in, Cyprian. Always.”

Her words brought a fierce warmth to his chest. She had always been strong, but this was a new side of Fivra. He turned back to Ellion, his jaw set. His dragon fire rippled just below the surface. “We’ll join you,” he said firmly. “But this isn’t blind loyalty. We make decisions together.”

Ellion’s lips tightened into something that almost resembled a smile. It wasn’t broad, but it carried with it a weight of gratitude, as though he had expected resistance but found an ally instead. “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he replied. “You are not soldiers, Cyprian. Neither you nor your mate. But you are a force the Axis cannot comprehend. And that’s why we will win.”