Bride of the Savage Alien (Survivor Brides of Tajss #2)

Chapter 1

LIA

The vine shouldn’t be this color.

Tajss plants come in greens, golds, rust-reds, even pale blues when the suns hit them right, but never this. The underside of the leaves is mottled black, like something had eaten it from the inside—the damage spreading outward, consuming veins and cells long before I ever touched it.

I crouch lower, brushing sand from my knee as the heat soaks into me. Two red suns beat down overhead—one high, the other drifting lower—and the air smells dry and mineral-dense, a scent I’ve loved since I was old enough to walk the dunes.

But this smell… is wrong. This isn’t Tajss at all.

I lower my face toward the fruit. It’s swollen, but too heavy, sagging on the vine as if it’s filled with sludge instead of juice. Its skin gives under my fingers, soft as bruised flesh.

“Don’t tell me you’re dying,” I whisper, brushing my thumb over its surface.

Food is the second-most scarce resource we have, after water. Hunters have returned empty-handed four days in a row. The Urr’ki are restless, the Cavern Zmaj tense, and the Surface Zmaj pretend everything is fine because pretending is easier than panicking.

We survived the caverns collapsing—lava pouring like rivers through what used to be home.

We survived fleeing to the far side of the mountain range, into unknown terrain.

The Zmaj survived the Devastation years ago, and the radiation that killed the Zmaj females slowly and painfully.

We humans even survived the crash of our generation ship onto the planet.

Compared to all that, a dying plant shouldn’t shake me.

But it does.

This is what I came to find. The mission Calista and Jolie gave me after Kara and that scarred Zmaj brought in the spoiled fruit.

The scarred Zmaj was… terrifying. Grim, damaged, but the gentle way he was with Kara belied his appearance.

It was heartwarming. And, if I’m being honest, there is a hint of jealousy.

All that as it may be, I was tasked with getting more samples. And this is exactly what I was looking for. I’ll harvest this fruit, add it to my pack with the soil and leaf samples I’ve already gathered, and then head home.

I fit my pruning knife under the stem, finding the perfect spot to cut. Close enough to give Calista and Jolie the best sample, far enough to avoid harming the vine’s growth.

Those two women are geniuses—my mentors, my role models, my everything.

Calista taught me to look at the world like it was a puzzle asking to be solved. Jolie taught me to trust my instincts—that the plants will speak, if you know to listen—and I hear this one screaming.

I take a slow breath, steady my hand, and—

“What are you doing?”

I jump so hard my knife nearly slices through the pod.

“Damn it!” I spin around. “Brook, seriously?”

The suns are behind her, turning her into a blinding silhouette, but I don’t need to see her face to know that smug little shrug.

“Sorry,” she says, tone absolutely not sorry.

I exhale through my teeth. “I was about to harvest before you scared the shit out of me.”

“Oh.”

She steps closer and crouches at my side. Her naturally pale-blonde hair has gone nearly white under the twin suns, and her freckles light up like constellations across her nose and cheeks. She leans forward, sniffing once before recoiling fast.

“Ugh. That smells awful.”

“Exactly.” I angle the fruit toward her. “It’s rotten. From the inside. Not from heat exposure. Look—see the fibers?”

I gently turn the fruit and show the blackened threads. She shudders.

“That’s not normal.”

“Not remotely.”

Brook isn’t a botanist, or a scientist, or even remotely curious about plants, but she knows the basics. Tajss flora doesn’t rot unless it has a reason—parasites or blight, usually—but none of those cause this. I shift back, wiping sweat from my brow.

“We need to get this to Calista and Jolie,” I say.

Brook nods, but she’s distracted.

“Yeah… well… the hunters came back.”

I freeze. “Already? That was fast.”

She bites her lip, uneasy. “Lia… some of them are sick.”

A cold knot forms at the base of my spine.

“Sick how?”

“They’re throwing up. Dizzy. Some can’t stand.” She swallows. “It’s not just Urr’ki. Two Cavern Zmaj too.”

That knot tightens until it hurts.

Zmaj don’t get sick. They heal faster, get hurt harder, fight longer. A Cavern Zmaj being ill is like watching a mountain crumble.

“Come on,” Brook says, voice cracking a little. “Calista sent me to find you. Said you’d know what to look for.”

My stomach flips. Praise and pressure roll together unpleasantly. I’m the youngest botanist, the least experienced, and the least impressive compared to Calista and Jolie, but they trust me. They gave me this chance, and I won’t screw it up. I quickly cut the pod and tuck it into my basket.

“Let’s go.”

We’re not far outside the valley that houses all the refugees. I’m not stupid, and wandering into the desert alone would be about as dumb as you could get. Tajss is beautiful—amazing, even—but none of that lessens the fact that it’s also deadly.

Making our way up the final dune is exhausting.

My thighs burn long before we reach the top.

The loose sand is an absolute bitch. Every step forward is accompanied by a half-step slide backward.

And all the while my mind is a storm of thoughts, worried about all the things everyone is concerned with: food, water, and shelter.

But the worst is that I know things most don’t.

Something is poisoning every possible food supply we’ve found. The hunters have been coming back empty-handed because the creatures that would normally supply us with meat have moved on. Something has to change, and soon.

Coming down the opposite side of the dune is much easier since the sliding pushes us forward.

Then it’s a simple matter of traversing the edge of the canyon back to its entrance, and we’re home.

As soon as we pass through the canyon’s mouth, we hear the shouting.

I glance over and see Brook grimacing too.

The settlement is makeshift and meant to be temporary. Canvas tents, stretched hides, structures built from scavenged cavern metal. One massive tent holds the infirmary, and that’s where the shouting is coming from.

Zmaj shouting. Which means things are bad.

Brook and I hurry forward and duck inside the tent. The air hits me like a wall—hot and humid, heavy with sickness, thick with herbal steam meant to cool fevered bodies.

Two Urr’ki lie on pallets, limbs shaking, long talons gripping the earth as if anchoring themselves. Their green skin is a pale, sickly color, their features drawn tight with fever and pain.

Addison is kneeling between the two Urr’ki, tending to them. Standing over her is a Cavern Zmaj, distinguishable by his dark claws and the pale tint to his scales. That’s Tsi’tel. He’s a healer, and he looks troubled—eyes narrow, frown deep.

Three Cavern Zmaj are near them, talking low and tense. The Cavern Zmaj always huddle together, generally preferring to stick to themselves. The Surface Zmaj stand farther off, arms crossed, watching. Stiff and aloof. United in geography, divided in history. As usual.

One of the Urr’ki jolts, vomiting black fluid into a bucket, and the smell hits me like a blow. It’s the same shade of black as the vine. My stomach is so tight it hurts.

I spy Calista off to one side, her jaw clenched. Jolie is at her side, talking to Tsi’tel in Zmaj, not Common.

“Lia,” Calista says, spotting me, the tension on her face easing if only slightly. “Thank the suns.”

I rush to her side. “What’s happened?”

“They returned from a short-range hunt south of the ridge,” she says, voice brisk but strained. “Began vomiting within minutes of returning.”

“It’s not a fever,” Jolie adds, her tone softer but worried. “Not a stomach parasite. And their bodies aren’t only rejecting food—they’re rejecting everything.”

I swallow. “It looks like the plants?”

Jolie nods grimly. “Exactly.”

“They’re connected,” Calista says. “But we don’t know how.”

Brook steps back, uncomfortable. I don’t blame her—she’s not built for this.

A Cavern Zmaj approaches, face tight.

“Is this poison?” he asks, speaking Common but his accent is thick. “This was not happening before we moved here. Is it…” He looks pointedly at the Urr’ki.

One of the Surface Zmaj rolls his eyes.

“Everything bad that happens is because of them,” the Surface Zmaj says in a mocking tone.

The Cavern Zmaj bares his teeth, barely suppressing a growl.

“At least we did not destroy the planet,” one of the Cavern Zmaj snaps.

“Nor did w—” Addison slams a bowl down so hard it cracks, cutting the Surface Zmaj off.

“Enough!” she shouts.

Silence drops instantly. Even the sick seem to flinch.

“This is not the time for old conflicts,” she snaps. “People are dying. It does not matter who did what in the past. What matters is now!”

All eyes swing to the Urr’ki, who tremble violently, their throats swelling with black streaks. Their breathing is shallow. Panic crawls under my skin.

“What’s your theory?” I ask Calista.

She exhales slowly, her shoulders sinking slightly as she leans closer.

“We think something is contaminating the oasis vegetation,” she says. “Something like a synthetic chemical. It cannot be native to Tajss.”

My heart thuds.

“Something human?” I whisper.

The generation ship carrying us crashed a decade or so ago, scattering wreckage across the desert. Could a portion of it have crashed here too—be the source of the poisoning? Calista gives a sharp nod.

“Addison found metallic dust in their vomit.”

Metallic dust. From what? Jolie touches my arm gently.

“We need someone to go toward the south ridge. Someone trained. Someone quiet.”

Calista adds, “Someone who knows the land.”

Brook chokes. “You’re picking her?”

“It makes sense,” Jolie says. “Lia is observant, she’s learned fast. And, most of all, she’s careful.”