Hunted by the Dragon Alien (Zarux Dragon Brides #3)

Chapter 11

ELEVEN

Takkian

Takkian awoke to the dull hum of fluorescent lights flooding the cell. Sevas lay beside him, still peacefully asleep, her hair a shimmering gold across the mattress. He took a moment to watch her. Her cheeks, although marked by fading bruises, had a soft glow that made him feel the warmth of a fresh start. They’d shared a closeness last sleep cycle, and it had changed something within him. He found himself reluctant to rise, dreading the day ahead.

But the routine of the cycle wouldn’t wait. Soon enough, everyone awoke. Just as it usually was, mechs arrived and herded them down the corridor to washroom stalls, then to the feed line, then back to their cell. Indeed, the cycle began as most did, normally enough.

Takkian began to relax, thinking none of them would have matches, when he heard the unmistakable sound of mechs opening their door.

Two of them waited on the other side. A mechanical voice said, “Takkian, designation 752-X. Sevas, designation 78-S. Report for match preparation. Immediately.”

He looked at Sevas in alarm. She wasn’t fully healed. Usually they were given a spate of rest between matches, especially when they were new, and especially when injured. Apparently, the handlers felt she’d healed enough.

“Both of us?” she whispered.

He pushed himself off the wall and stretched his wings. The ache of muscles and the warmth of her presence still clung to him, but the urgency of the moment chased those thoughts away. “Yes.”

Sevas swallowed hard. “Fine. I won once. I’ll win again.”

“You must.” He stepped toward the door. An unsettling feeling churned in his gut. “No matter what, come back to me.”

“Same to you.” Sevas’ gaze moved over the mech with clear loathing. “What do you think they have planned for us today?”

“Whatever it is, it won’t be kind.” He sensed an undercurrent of danger vibrating through the air. There had been something about the last match that unsettled him. He had a bad feeling that the crowd wasn’t going to be satisfied with normal entertainment today.

Takkian forced himself to focus. He couldn’t afford to slip up, not when Sevas needed him alive and healthy. He cast a quick glance back at Sevas, who stood beside him, chin raised. Her dark eyes gleamed with tough determination, but uncertainty tightened the skin around her eyes. He reached out briefly, brushing her shoulder in a gesture of support. “Stay strong,” he advised, and saw her nod.

They stepped out into the corridor together. The air was heavy and Takkian felt the pulse of dread settle in his stomach. Something about the morning felt off, charged with a dark energy he couldn’t quite name. Maybe it was the way the mech moved, or perhaps a lingering unease about what awaited them in the arena.

As they walked, the mech led them through the familiar twisting hallways. The scent of sweat and metal mixed with the sharp tang of fear that clung to the walls. Takkian noticed the eyes of the other fighters as they passed—some filled with apprehension, others dimmed by resignation. Would those expressions soon be theirs? He gritted his teeth, pushing away the thought.

Sevas’ lips pressed into a thin line as the mechs led her away, presumably to the waiting area where she’d have to stand until his match ended. She’d have to listen to the sounds that came through the door until her turn.

Takkian shook out his limbs and stretched for the long moments until the heavy door leading to the pit slowly opened. Sounds—cheers, shouts, wild howls—exploded into a cacophony that filled the air, pressing down like a physical force. Takkian stepped through.

The announcer’s voice boomed across the arena, dragging his attention forward. “Welcome, fighters!” It echoed through the grand expanse, bouncing off the cold walls, instilling a rising tension in the air. “Prepare for today’s first match!”

Takkian’s breath caught. Sand shifted under his feet. Blood and sweat from the previous cycle’s matches had been cleared away, leaving the walls clean and the sand white. Weapons piled in the center of the pit, but none of that mattered. All of it faded to nothing.

Across the pit was Sevas. She stood on the other side, so small. Her bright hair whipped around her shoulders, catching the light, a dazzling color against the grim backdrop of the arena. Then, she saw him.

She dropped to her knees on a cry.

The crowd roared with excitement. Takkian’s heart raced and his stomach dropped as everything suddenly made sense.

They were to fight each other.

That meant only one thing in his mind—somehow, the officials, or the handlers, or the fekking mechs had learned about their plans to escape.

His gaze met hers. Everything slowed down to a panicked smear. The roar of the crowd, the scent of blood and sweat—it was nothing. Nothing.

He could not fight her. He would cut off his own hand before he raised it to her. A wave of protectiveness surged through him.

“Takkian, 752-X versus Sevas, 78-S!” the announcer shouted, his voice resonating through the grand expanse of the arena.

They wanted him to kill her. They wanted to break him. To punish him for considering escape. How they found out, he’d probably never know. The cell must have been monitored, even though he and Bruil had searched every bit of it, looking for listening devices. Fury swelled, hot and poisonous. He wouldn’t fight her. He wouldn’t unleash his strength against a soul as brave and fierce as hers.

He’d never seen Sevas cry. Not once. But now, tears fell from her eyes. “No,” she whimpered. “This can’t be—”

“The match is set for a final match, fighters. A fight to the death!” The announcer’s excitement was palpable. The crowd shifted like a tide, roaring and chanting for blood.

A final match? A low growl rumbled in Takkian’s throat as ancient, savage instincts roared to life. “No.”

The mech remained impassive, its eye barely flickering. “Orders are final. Compliance required,” it said as it exited the pit and sealed the doors.

Takkian’s pulse thundered in his ears, drowning out the cheers of the crowd as his gaze remained locked on Sevas. She frowned with confusion and fear. No . This wasn’t right. The officials of the Axis who owned this cursed arena had chosen to make him kill the one person who mattered most to him.

“Sevas,” he growled, his voice low and jagged like granite. “Get up.”

She held his gaze as he strode toward her, but she stayed down on her knees. Her eyes were enormous as she stared up at him. “Make it quick, Takkian.” Her voice was a trembling thread. “Please.”

They had promised each other survival, not death. Something primal awoke within the dark corners of his mind. He reached down, took her upper arms in his hands and guided her upward until she stood before him. Her lips were colorless. Her face, streaked with tears.

“Do you truly think I could ever hurt you?” he murmured.

“It’s a f-final match.” She dragged in a ragged breath. “One of us won’t leave here alive.”

The crowd didn’t like this touching display. Stones, knives, and rotten fruit rained down on them. He spread his wings and curved them around her, protecting her against the barrage. “Perhaps. But it won’t be you.”

Her eyes widened. “I can’t kill you, Takkian. I—I love you.”

Peace settled over him for one moment. Pure, simple, overwhelming peace as his heart swelled with something that felt like completeness. “I love you, too, Sevas.” He ran his fingers down her cheek, testing the softness. “But I think you’re going to need to step back.”

Her brows furrowed. “Why?”

Takkian stepped away from her as his breathing turned ragged and fire clawed up his throat. Smoke leaked from his nose and mouth. His body didn’t feel quite like his anymore. Something inside him was changing.

“Fight to the death! Fight to the death!” the crowd chanted.

But a burning rage ignited deep within his core. Takkian’s world narrowed to Sevas. Her eyes stayed wide with uncertainty as she tried to gauge his intentions.

He wasn’t even sure what they were, but his body shifted. Muscles tightened and expanded. A primitive force coursed through him as his body changed. The scales on his skin thickened into a protective armor. Takkian felt the dragon clawing against his mind. The urge to defend, to assert dominance, rose like a tide. He wanted to keep control, to not lose himself. He was a warrior, not a monster—a fighter who had grown stronger through sheer necessity, but whatever this was could not be stopped. The dragon form, which Bruil had spoken to him about but Takkian had never achieved, was taking over.

A beast within stirred awake, hungry. Vengeful.

“Get back,” he snarled at Sevas. He felt as though the transformation would soon rob him of the ability to speak. It reverberated through the arena, causing an immediate hush. Sevas scrambled backward, pressing to the wall as her expression shifted to fear.

The crowd stilled, unsure how to react, but the fear rising in them was palpable. Heat surged through him. His form grew larger and more imposing. Commanding. Powerful. A sound like crackling fire escaped him, a warning to all.

With effort, he steadied himself, muscles clenching. Each breath was a battle. Each crack of bone and snap of tendon was an omen of massive change.

But the crowd didn’t know that. They watched with rapt attention as he wrestled with himself. A quiet unease moved over them as their champion changed right before their eyes. There was energy thrumming in the air, charged, electrified, poised to erupt.

He was inches away from losing control—his dragon side awakening with ferocity—and all he could think about was her . Protecting her. If this was the only way to do it, so be it.

With a last surge, he surrendered to the beast within. His form expanded, muscles swirling with power as wings unfurled, reaching wide and imposing. He felt every node in him thrum with energy. The shift from warrior to dragon ignited a feral instinct he had only sensed before.

Heat coiled in his gut, spreading outward like fire racing across dry grass. Pain laced through his muscles as they contorted. He breathed through it, teeth gritted as the sensations exploded within him. His fingers curled into claws, sharp and unforgiving, biting into the stone floor beneath him. Every cell in his body sang with the growing energy, an overwhelming power that sparked on the verge of chaos, threatening to release at any moment.

He was a dragon—huge and filled with lethal fire.

Heat built like a firestorm, roaring to life with every pulse of adrenaline spiking his heart. In an instant, the world around him narrowed. The bright lights of the arena cast harsh shadows that revealed what he was.

Everything blurred—the arena, the crowd, and even Sevas—washed away in a surge of intensity. The world turned white hot, and his senses heightened to an unbearable level. He could smell every metal, every drop of sweat, and every faint tremor emanating from the crowd.

His voice was gone. Heat built up in his throat with a need to unleash. He let out a thunderous roar that shook the very floor beneath him. The sound vibrated through the arena, sending shockwaves of fear rippling through the crowd. Finally, and too late, they realized their fate.

The mechs were no longer in control of this match. He was.

He unleashed a torrent of flame aimed at the arena doors, sending out a wave of heat that turned the arena’s sand into molten shadows and illuminating Sevas’ figure across the pit.

He could see the shock in her eyes, the way they widened, reflecting the brilliance of the flames.

Takkian spread his wings in an intimidating display. The crowd, once roaring with excitement, turned into a cacophony of panic as growing heat engulfed the arena.

His heart raced. He was here to protect Sevas, and even if that meant unleashing the fire within, he needed to do it wisely.

The mechs flooded inside, circuits buzzing nervously. They had moved too close, thinking to contain him, thinking he was just another beast to subjugate. But Takkian had tasted the power of freedom, and he wouldn’t surrender to them again. The fire grew, swirling around him, a protective aura that encased Sevas like a fortress against the chaos outside.

He then turned toward the mechs . The heat surged, pouring out of him in a stream of molten fire. He ignited them, turning them into smoking lumps of charred metal within moments.

The chaotic crowd had clotted at the exits as attendees pushed one another in an effort to escape. Takkian felt an electrifying surge as he unleashed his rage and his pain. He was no mere gladiator now—he was a predator, roaring to life in the arena. Every inch of his form was alive with purpose. He was reclaiming power, not just for himself but for Sevas, Bruil, Ulo, and every other doomed soul who suffered in this place.

As the molten remnants of machinery hissed and sizzled, Takkian stepped forward, muscles coiled and ready. He poured more fire onto the entryway and the high temperature of his flames did their job. The hinges melted. The partially fused doors fell forward, leaving a large opening for escape. He stepped back. He would not leave Sevas.

“Takkian, stop!” Sevas’ choked voice cut through the sounds of destruction. She had grabbed a weapon from the untouched pile—a stone hammer on a metal handle. But she huddled against the wall, face pinched in pain. It was so hot, the air wavered. Her long hair was burned off to the shoulder. The ends were blackened.

Panic stabbed him. He’d let it become too hot for the pit to be safe for her. With cool air pouring through the opening, he flapped his enormous wings and brought some of it further inside. He let out a roar, since he couldn’t speak words, and lowered his head.

She coughed but came to him without hesitation, carrying her heavy weapon with surprising ease. “It’s okay,” she whispered, touching his snout. “You didn’t know it was too hot. We have to get Bruil and Ulo and get out of here, now.” The urgency in her tone sliced through the chaos, snapping him back to the present. “Before they can react.”

Sevas’ words were a tether grounding him back to their shared reality. The arena was their prison—but today, it could also become their freedom. Takkian growled as the primal instinct surged within him. The incinerated wreckage of the previous mechs lay smoldering behind them. Their useless husks crumpled against the sand. The entrance loomed before Takkian. He lowered his massive head and one wing in a signal for Sevas to go climb onto him. She did so, hoisting herself onto his back. “Let’s go!” she cried, urging him forward.

Takkian thundered forward. The passageway lay ahead, twisting and turning. His dragon body was too big to fit through these corridors. He arched his wings up and back to protect Sevas, and smashed through the once-familiar hallways that had seemed destined to imprison them forever. He sent out fire as he crashed his way down the corridor. One by one, cells busted open to reveal other fighters, eyes wide with shock and hope, along with echoes of disbelief and confusion.

What the other fighters did was not his worry, but their escape would make it even more difficult for the mechs to regain control. With each ripped-open cell, the tide shifted. An undercurrent of rebellion rose among the fighters. He saw them move to grab makeshift weapons and spread out. Some shouted to others calling for cells to be opened on all the levels. The handlers and officials, who they never saw, were likely already fleeing the station.

But Takkian’s fury was fading. The transformation into his dragon form beginning to exhaust him. His body shuddered and his bones contracted with the early stages of the shift back to his warrior form. They reached their old cell.

Sevas jumped off his back and laid a hand on his neck. “We’re here,” she said, soothingly. “One last cell to open.”

He tore off the door. Ulo lumbered out. His small eyes were wide with both fear and exhilaration. Bruil emerged behind him, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Takkian!” Bruil exclaimed, turning to them with an incredulous stare. “The arena is going mad!”

“We’re escaping,” Sevas said. “We’ll explain later.”

And with that, his body contorted, and he fell into an unconscious heap on the floor.