Page 38 of Possessed by the Dragon Alien (Zarux Dragon Brides #6)

TWENTY-SEVEN

Madrian dove through the shattered remains of the energy dome.

His dragon form cut through the air with much more power and agility than his two-legged form.

Around him, his brothers flew in loose formation—six ancient weapons of destruction reclaiming what had always been theirs.

Below, Axis Central sprawled across the surface of Zarux.

Its gleaming towers were exposed and vulnerable.

The sight filled him with a mixture of rage and grief so powerful it threatened to overwhelm even his dragon consciousness. This had been his world, once. His people’s world. Where his family had ruled before the Axis murdered them and stole their children.

Home , his dragon-self rumbled deep in his chest. Stolen. Defiled. But home.

Madrian glanced up. Through the gap in the dome, the rebel fleet poured into the atmosphere like an avenging storm.

Ships of every size and design descended toward the surface.

Their weapons blazed as they engaged the scattered Axis defenders.

From his aerial vantage point, Madrian could see the battle unfolding across the planet’s surface.

The fortress ship was up there, carrying his Nena. He yearned for her even now.

The Axis had never planned for an assault from within their own shields.

Their defensive positions were designed to repel external threats, not an invasion that had already breached their primary barrier.

Ground-based weapons turned desperately skyward, but they were too few and too scattered to stop the massive rebel force now descending upon them.

Burn them , his dragon instincts whispered. Burn them all.

But even in dragon form, Madrian retained enough of his strategic mind to recognize the larger picture. There were prisoners in those towers, in the gardens, in the barracks. Innocents who had been brought here against their will, just as Nena had been.

He couldn’t speak in words, but there was an emotion and intent that he shared with his dragon brothers.

Concepts their minds could grasp. His purple-scaled brother seemed the most controlled of them, and that control extended even to their dragon forms. When Ellion descended to the surface, the others followed.

His massive wings catching the wind as he angled toward one of the Central command towers. This one he knew well. He’d spent countless cycles in its sterile chambers, making decisions that had shaped the fate of entire star systems. Now he would tear it down with fire and claw.

The tower’s defensive systems came online as he approached, energy cannons tracking his movement.

But the weapons had been designed to target ships, not creatures that could twist and dive with the agility of living wind.

Madrian rolled beneath a plasma blast, feeling the heat wash over his scales harmlessly, then opened his jaws and unleashed his fire.

The stream of dragon flame that poured from his throat was nothing like the torrent they’d used to break the dome.

This was just his, and the accumulated fury of a lifetime spent serving his parents’ killers.

The fire struck the tower’s defensive grid and melted through the energy barriers like they were made of ice.

Secondary explosions rippled up the tower’s length as power conduits overloaded and fusion cells ruptured. But Madrian pulled back his fire before the structure could collapse completely. There might be prisoners inside. There might be information they needed.

Around the planet’s surface, his brothers were conducting similar strikes.

Razion’s golden form swooped low over a military complex, his fire precisely targeted to destroy weapon arrays while leaving the main structures intact.

Cyprian and Stavian worked in tandem, one creating chaos while the other struck at strategic targets.

Takkian, scarred by his time in the arena, seemed to take particular pleasure in destroying the private hangars that housed luxury transports.

He’d watched too many wealthy arena attendees gain amusement and profit from the suffering that went on there, to not seek some revenge.

The rebel fleet had reached the surface now, and ground battles erupted across the planet.

But these weren’t the desperate, bloody sieges Madrian had expected.

The Axis forces were demoralized. Their command structure was now in disarray by the loss of their primary defenses.

The emissaries and chancellors were either hiding deep in the towers’ lowest levels or trying to escape, even as most guards threw down their weapons and surrendered.

Few were loyal enough to face the combined might of dragons and rebels.

A new target caught his attention—a sleek transport ship lifting off from one of the government complexes. It belonged to one of the Twelve, trying to escape justice.

And it wasn’t just any member of the Twelve. It was High Chancellor Taghi’s transport.

No , he decided. Not this time.

Madrian flew to it before it could slip quietly through the open dome. The transport’s pilot saw him coming and tried to evade, but no mechanical craft could match the agility of a dragon in flight. Madrian overtook the ship easily, his claws raking across its hull.

He could have destroyed it then and there.

It would have been so easy to burn it from the sky with a single breath.

But something made him pull back at the last moment.

A quick death was too good for Taghi. She deserved to be held accountable, but not by him.

He’d let the rebels decide her fate. It wouldn’t be pleasant, he was sure of that.

The transport crashed into one of Central’s plazas. Its emergency systems kept the passengers alive but prevented their escape. He landed beside it and let out a roar that Taghi was sure to not only hear, but feel shaking the hull of her disabled ship.

The battle was winding down faster than anyone had expected.

Without their defensive dome and with their command structure in chaos, the Axis simply couldn’t mount an effective resistance.

Surrender broadcasts were already coming from multiple sectors as local commanders chose survival over futile defiance.

Some warships were cutting their losses and taking off, leaving the Axis behind.

Madrian’s brothers circled the main government complex one final time before they came to rest on the ground.

The towers that had housed the Twelve were burning, but not collapsing.

The symbols of oppression were being torn down.

His dragon senses took in the damage and the people streaming out with their hands raised. It was over .

For so long, this moment had seemed impossible. The Axis had appeared eternal, unshakeable, too powerful to ever fall. But here he was, standing on the ruins of their capital while rebel forces secured the planet.

His brothers came to him in the plaza, where he would not be leaving the smoking transport vehicle until its primary passenger had been removed and imprisoned.

He lowered his head over the hull and let out a growl.

The dragons’ massive forms touched down with surprising grace.

Their claws scarred the smooth stone as they tucked their wings and shook their heads.

It was time to return to their more common form.

He could feel this within himself. It was like a contraction of his body and a weakness that made his limbs heavier.

He needed to see Nena.

The massive fortress ship descended like a dark mountain, its shadow falling across the ruined plaza. Steam vented from its hull as it settled onto its landing struts, the ground trembling beneath its weight. As Madrian watched, still in dragon form, the main bay doors began to open.

The Terian females emerged in a tight group, their unique, brilliant hair gleamed in Zarux’s sun. These weren’t the broken captives the Axis had tried to make them. They were warriors who had helped bring down an empire.

Nena saw him and broke into a run. Her green eyes locked on his.

Even in his massive dragon form, he could see the slight smile that curved her lips.

She knew him, recognized him despite his altered shape.

Madrian had a moment of fear that she would be afraid of him, that he might accidentally hurt her, that he would be stuck as a dragon for good.

Smoke wafted from his nostrils. He began to pace back, away from her approach.

Nena wasn’t having any of that. She reached him and placed one delicate hand on his scaled snout. Her touch sent something like an electrical charge through him.

“I knew you would come back to me,” she said softly. “Even if you had to tear down the sky to do it.”

He wanted to reply. Wanted to speak to her, but his mouth wasn’t made for words.

Instead he closed his eyes and lowered his head, pressing gently into her hand with a sound like a purr.

Around them, the other Terian females were reuniting with their mates.

The sound of their voices filled the air.

It was a counterpoint to the deeper rumble of the males’ responses.

But Madrian had eyes only for Nena, drinking in the sight of her like a male dying of thirst.

His transformation began with a whole-body shudder. He wished he could say the process was easier in reverse—less painful, more natural, but it wasn’t. His dragon consciousness folded back into the deeper parts of his mind, ready to emerge again when needed, but no longer driving his actions.