Page 1 of Pursued by the Dragon Alien (Zarux Dragon Brides #4)

ONE

Lilas

Lilas could still feel the rough weave of the grasses between her fingers, the warm afternoon light on her skin, and could hear the somber voices of her five closest (only) friends as they prepared for Turi’s bondmate ceremony, as grim as it was. Despite the fact that they’d be saying goodbye to their friend forever— no one wanted to be sent to a different settlement to be bonded to a male they’d never met—it had been an ordinary day. A pleasant one, even—until the sky darkened. An off-world ship descended and it wasn’t an Axis ship. This one was alien, and hostile, they immediately learned when raiders emerged, weapons drawn.

Panic had seized them. Lilas’ heart had slammed against her ribs, which was saying something since she considered herself to have a strong hold on her emotions. Tall and headstrong Sevas had shouted curses at them and struggled to break free. Fivra, who was the sweetest of them by far, trembled, while Nena endured—as she usually did—with silence and her chin held high and defiant. Cerani’s hands had been fists at her sides, her fury restrained.

The great winged overseer of their farming settlement had yanked Turi away from the group and spared her from being taken. This didn’t surprise Lilas. She’d have bet her right arm that he’d been obsessed with her for a long time. And Lilas…well, after that initial hit of panic, she’d gone numb. Like she was watching the whole thing happen to someone else.

She’d known that no amount of fighting or yelling would change their fate. It never did. As documents were presented to the overseer, it became clear that the Axis, which ruled over and controlled Settlement 112-1 and the other three settlements in the region, had given permission for the five of them to be taken, and that meant resistance was pointless. The Axis—whether it was a single entity or a group, no one knew—was a cruel force, compelling them to farm until they dropped from exhaustion and hunger, then taking the food they produced. It boggled her mind that some among her people actually worshipped the Axis like a deity.

The raiders moved quickly, efficiently. Before she knew it, they were in the alien ship, and Settlement 112-1 was a memory, the last of which was of Turi screaming their names, rage and desperation twisting her voice. Even if Lilas had wanted to scream back, her throat had tightened up as though squeezed by an invisible band.

Cycles blurred together. The ship’s hold had reeked of sweat and metal. The air had been thick with fear, but that was nothing compared to the space auction they were brought to. The cacophony of sounds made her head swim. The lights made her stomach churn. The five Terian females who had never left their farming settlement were products now, lined up, inspected, and transported without care until they were separated and, one by one, shoved onto an auction platform in a clear tube beneath lights. Vicious alien eyes scanned her like she was livestock. An announcer’s voice shouted prices in credits, using terms she barely understood.

And still, Lilas said nothing. She stood motionlessly in the tube, dressed in a transparent shift, as bids were placed on her. As her value was debated and her future determined. Finally, a foul-looking creature with big, watery eyes and a massive boil on his lip placed the winning bid. He grinned lustfully and rubbed a hand over his distended midsection. Her stomach lurched as an auction guard grabbed her arm and pulled her from the tube and into the unknown.

What is wrong with me? she asked herself over and over. Lilas, who always managed to have a snide remark or sarcastic observation for nearly any situation, had nothing. Said nothing. Did nothing. Her mind was as blank as the fields after a harvest. As blank as her face had been when her father told her he’d been in the process of choosing a bondmate for her. But then, her rage had been a hot, molten thing churning under the surface. “Oh, thank you, Father,” she’d said with a deceptively sweet smile. “I’ll work hard to make his life as unbearable as I possibly can.”

As per usual, her father had darkened with rage. “You will serve your bondmate and do what he tells you to do. And if you don’t…” Her father’s eyes had narrowed darkly. “You’ll get what punishment you deserve.”

Lilas was quite sure she didn’t deserve any punishment for failing to “serve” a male she didn’t know and who hadn’t earned her respect. She was a terrible subordinate, and during her twenty-six cycles of life so far, she’d been punished plenty for it. Other than her farming duties, which she took seriously, she had little use for authority figures. They were—especially in her family’s case—dumber than rocks.

The new ship she was delivered to was nothing like the raider vessel. Gone was the dank, metallic stench and cold, confined spaces. Here, the air was perfumed with something floral and sweet. The floors beneath her bare feet felt soft, almost plush. The walls gleamed, polished to a mirror shine, reflecting opulence in every direction. Cushioned benches lined the entry corridor, and intricate glowing patterns adorned the ceiling like constellations frozen mid-dance. If she ignored the way her stomach twisted, she could almost pretend she was walking through a lavish hall conjured by her imagination.

She didn’t have long to take it in. Two guards—both broad, scaled, and utterly unamused—hauled her forward until she was shoved into a chamber even more elaborate than the hall. Gold-lined pillows were strewn across a raised platform in the center, and translucent drapes wavered as air circulated through unseen vents. But Lilas’ attention immediately locked onto the grotesque alien who sat reclined amidst the cushions, smirking at her like a predator assessing its next meal. That boil on his mouth was weeping some yellow fluid. She noticed more on his body, which was more exposed, now, on his ship. He wore a thick, metal-linked belt with two pieces of leather hanging from it, to cover his genitals, presumably. She wondered if he had boils down there, too, then quickly wished she could wipe that visual from her mind.

“My prize,” he murmured, his voice thick and grotesquely giddy. “You’ll make a fine addition to my harem.”

Harem? Oh, fek. She was expected to touch this being. Lilas’ skin crawled, but she forced herself to lift her chin and straighten her spine. “Lucky me,” she said dryly. “You look like something I pulled from my settlement’s compost pit.”

Those damp eyes flared wide, then he snarled, baring yellowed, blunt teeth. “Insolent little mongrel,” he snapped, his jowls trembling with rage.

“Do all charming compliments make you twitch like that, or am I just special?” she asked, her eyes narrowing. But, oh yes . Words were flowing again. They were unwise, dangerous, provocative, but they were hers and as sharp as any blade.

His expression smoothed into something deceptively amused. “You will learn to hold your tongue, Terian. I am Gribna, trade master of sector 6T-11, and you are mine now.” He leaned forward. His thick fingers tapped against his belt, very close to whatever lay beneath those hanging leather pieces. “You’re number 057-L, are you?”

Her hand immediately went to her neck where blue symbols spelled out her designation. “My name is Lilas.”

“No, no. That won’t do. A name carries power, and that one belongs to another life—one that has ended. You will answer to Pirina from now on.”

Lilas’ lips curled in disgust. And she would call him “The Boil” in her head from now on. “I’d rather answer to ‘you there’ or ‘thing in the corner.’”

The Boil let out a sharp hiss, his amusement vanishing. With a sharp flick of his three fingers, he waved to the guards. “Take her to the preparation room. Make sure she looks presentable for our arrival to my palace.”

Lilas barely had a moment to brace before rough hands seized her arms and she was half-dragged from the chamber. She didn’t fight, didn’t resist. Not yet . She’d just found her voice again—the only real weapon she’d ever had—and while on this ship, there was nowhere to go. The time would hopefully come to fight—but not here. Not now. The guards shoved her through a gilded doorway into a smaller chamber, one no less extravagant but devoid of warmth. The walls glowed with soft, golden light, reflecting off the polished glass floor, while an ornate chair sat in a corner and a bed dominated the center. Two mechanical servants waited beside it. They were slender with silver pincers for hands, which held scraps of glittering fabric.

Lilas dragged in a breath as the guards departed and the robots descended on her. Those pincers were strong and gripped her arms, stripping away the transparent shift she’d been forced into for the auction. She yanked back, snarling, but one of them intoned in a flat voice, “To reduce injury to your body, cease all movement and await instruction.”

She gritted her teeth and let them work. Her muscles were rigid as they sprayed scented oil on her skin and combed her dark purple hair into silky waves. Finally, they forced her into the outfit—a skimpy, metallic silver piece that clung to her curves and barely covered anything. The transparent shift offered more skin coverage.

She glared at her reflection in the mirrored wall. “Perfect,” she muttered. “Now I really look like an object.”

One of the robotic servants came forward with a pair of delicate silver cuffs. “Put these on.”

Lilas didn’t move. “Why?”

“They’re control cuffs,” the other mechanized servant said. “They ensure compliance. Put them on your wrists or they will be forcibly applied.”

Lilas’ stomach twisted. The metal gleamed innocently, but she knew better. She lifted her arms slowly, took the cuffs, and…threw them across the room.

The crack of metal against glass was the only sound before the door slammed open. The Boil loomed in the doorway, his eyes dark with fury.

Lilas smiled sweetly. “Oops.”

The Boil’s nostrils flared. His mottled gray skin reddened in blotchy patches. He stomped forward, making the floor vibrate beneath her feet. “You are an ungrateful little wretch,” he hissed.

Lilas tilted her head, feigning thoughtfulness. “Ungrateful? Funny. I don’t recall signing up for this lavish experience.”

His face twisted with irritation, but then, just like before, his anger smoothed out into something worse—calculated amusement. “Defiant females are quickly broken in my harem.” He gestured sharply to the two servants. “Hold her. Let her see what happens when she refuses a gift.”

Lilas barely had time to lunge backward before pincers caught her arms and shoved her roughly toward the ornate chair. The silver cuffs, her so-called “gift,” glinted where they lay discarded, mocking her.

The Boil’s breath wheezed as he leaned in, bringing that seeping sore close enough for her to see it in vivid detail and notice it smelled like rotting sogfrut . His thick fingers plucked the cuffs from the floor. He examined them like treasured artifacts before gripping Lilas’ wrist and snapping one in place.

Fire shot through her veins. Lilas gasped. The pain was unlike anything she’d felt before. It wasn’t just burning—it was invasive, like something slithering beneath her skin, binding itself to her flesh. Her muscles locked as an unnatural stillness took hold of her limbs.

The Boil clucked his tongue. “These cuffs are quite special. They don’t just ensure compliance—they make rebellion excruciating.” He fastened the second cuff onto her other wrist and another wave of white-hot agony rolled through her.

Sweat beaded at her temples, but she refused to cry out. Instead, she met his gaze with a glare sharp enough to cut. “I’d say you’ll regret this,” she rasped, “but honestly, you probably don’t have enough functioning brain cells to feel regret.”

The back of his hand cracked against her cheek before she saw it coming. A burst of pain flared across her face, but she refused to flinch, refused to let him see that he’d gotten to her.

He chuckled darkly. “Oh, you’ll regret it soon enough, pet.”

Before she could spew yet another ill-advised comment, a violent jolt rocked the ship. Lilas’ head snapped back against the chair, and for the first time since she’d been dragged onto this nightmare of a vessel, hope sparked in her chest.

She smirked. “I really, really hope you’re being attacked right now.”

The Boil snarled. His bulbous face pinched with a mix of anger and worry. Another tremor sent pillows tumbling from the bed, and a shrill alarm blared through the chamber.

The Boil cursed in a language she didn’t recognize. With a rough gesture, he barked at the two robotic servants in the corner. “Lock her in and come with me.”

He turned and waddled toward the exit, obedient robots in tow. His stubby fingers pressed a panel on the wall and he left, taking with him his odd, sour smell. As the door slid shut with a hiss, a solid lock hummed into place.

Lilas was alone. Finally. Thank fek .

The ship lurched again, harder this time. The ornate chair skidded. A distant explosion vibrated through the floor, sending a pulse of unease through her.

Okay . Maybe she should’ve been more specific in her request. Because whoever was attacking The Boil’s ship clearly wasn’t here for a peaceful negotiation.

The alarm’s wail made her ears ring. Each tilt and shudder of the ship grew more violent. Her stomach flipped as if she were plummeting through open space. She scrambled onto the bed, gripping the bedding to steady herself against the chaos. A flicker of real fear crept in.

Then, without warning, the lights cut out.

Darkness swallowed the room.