Page 9 of Pursued by the Dragon Alien (Zarux Dragon Brides #4)

NINE

Lilas

Lilas was used to eating alone. Even after settling into life aboard the Darkslip, she still expected to navigate things on her own, but it seemed that when Razion said he wouldn’t be avoiding her any longer, he really meant it. When he, casual as anything, sat down across from her at the mess hall table early in the next wake cycle, she nearly choked on her bite of protein cake.

“Hello,” he said, sliding a tray near hers. His silver-gray eyes flicked up to meet hers, and just like that, warmth spread through her belly.

She schooled her features into mild surprise, hiding the fact that she’d spent cycles wondering if he’d ever willingly sit this close to her. “Hi,” she said, keeping her voice steady. It was infuriating how her senses were instantly attuned to him. She couldn’t decide if it was exciting or the most annoying thing she’d ever experienced. Her body still tingled with the memory of his hands on her skin. Her lips instantly parted as if wanting another kiss like the one he’d laid on her last cycle. She’d never forget that kiss. It was her first, so she had nothing to judge it on, but she suspected the kiss she’d shared with Razion was above average. Possibly even exceptional.

He didn’t say anything else right away. Just settled in with his meal and ate, slow and methodical, like this was normal. Like they hadn’t shared a scorching moment in the corridor the previous cycle. Like he hadn’t avoided her for twenty cycles before pinning her against a wall and telling her he couldn’t stay away. Well, fine then.

Lilas focused on her food, pretending her pulse wasn’t betraying her as she snuck glances at him between bites. His golden scales caught the low ship lighting, making him look like he belonged here, in the dim hum of the mess hall, like nothing out there could shake him. His massive wings acted like a wall behind him, blocking off her view of the room beyond.

It should have irritated her, how easily he slid back into her orbit. Instead, she found herself relaxing, her body loosening in sync with the easy silence between them.

When they finished, he didn’t leave first. He waited. For her . And when she pushed back from the table, he did the same, falling into step beside her as they made their way toward the cargo hold.

Lilas wasn’t sure what this meant. If this was an apology, an olive branch, or something else entirely. But she wasn’t about to question it, not when his presence steadied something restless inside her.

“You getting used to things down there?” he asked as they walked, their boots almost in sync against the floor.

“Yes,” she said. “Yig’s been helpful. The others don’t seem to dislike me anymore.”

Razion shot her a sidelong look. “They never disliked you.”

“Krask does,” she huffed.

Razion made a rumbling sound in his chest, something between a sigh and a laugh. “Krask worries about what he doesn’t understand.” He gave her a pointed look. “You’re something he doesn’t understand.”

Lilas blinked. That was…fair. She wasn’t exactly the kind of person who fit neatly into a box. But it still bugged her. Krask treated her like a problem he was just waiting to solve—or throw out of an air lock.

“Well,” she said, rolling her shoulders, “if he ever decides to resolve his personal crisis about my existence, let me know.”

She expected him to say something else about Krask, maybe reassure her that the surly first mate would come around. Instead, he shrugged. “Don’t worry about him. I don’t restrict crew members’ relationships. I don’t care at all, honestly, what they do with each other. He won’t bother you. I promise you that.”

The next ten cycles passed in a way Lilas hadn’t expected. At first, she hadn’t been sure what to make of Razion’s sudden commitment to spending time with her. But he was there in the early wake cycles when she ate, sitting across from her at a dining hall table, casual and steady, like it had always been their routine. He walked her to the cargo hold at the start of every shift, sometimes in silence, but more often than not, they talked.

And Lilas found that she liked talking to him.

He was sharp, observant, quick with dark humor and an occasional story about his crew’s past raids. He told her things about space that she’d never even thought to ask—how hyperspace folds worked, how trade routes were mapped, what kind of stars emitted unstable radiation. She soaked it all in, hungry for knowledge, relishing the way their easy conversations filled the gaps between them.

In return, she told him about her life on Settlement 112-1—not just the harshness of it, but the small moments too. The way the soil smelled after the first rain of the season, the stories she and her friends had whispered late at night, the satisfaction of a good harvest, even when she knew the best of their crops would never be theirs to keep. Razion listened, really listened, and something in his expression shifted every time she talked about the Axis’ grip on her home.

During the sleep cycles, when she lay in her bunk, she found herself thinking about him more than she should have. About the way his smirk softened when he was truly interested in something she said. About the brief, fleeting moments when his hand would brush against hers in the hallway and neither of them pulled away. He never tried to kiss her again, but she wished he would.

Oh yes. She wished he would. She’d decided if he didn’t soon, she’d take matters into her own hands and kiss him herself.

At some point over the last ten cycles, Razion had gone from someone she tolerated to someone she trusted, maybe even relied on. She wasn’t sure how that had happened, only that she found herself looking forward to each wake cycle more than she had in a long time.

The realization unsettled her, and while part of her still bristled at the idea of getting comfortable, another part—one she refused to examine too closely—found a strange kind of peace in it.

One early cycle, as they walked from the dining hall to the cargo hold, Razion seemed agitated, or maybe excited. Sometimes, it was hard to tell the difference with him.

“We’ll be docking at Vexir Trade Station soon,” he said.

Lilas raised a brow. “Vexir?”

“It’s a neutral trade hub,” he said. “We’ll be selling Gribna’s empty ship and some salvage.” He glanced at her. “I want you to come with us.”

That got her attention. “Off the ship?”

“Yes.” Razion’s expression remained steady, but there was something intent in his gaze. “Spend the cycle with me.”

Lilas slowed a step, caught off guard. She hadn’t left the ship since Gribna’s nightmare of a vessel. Had barely thought about what stepping onto new ground would even feel like after being surrounded by the familiar walls of the Darkslip for so long.

And then there was the other thing. The part where Razion was asking her to be with him—for the entire cycle. Heat curled in her stomach, half anticipation, half uncertainty.

“That sounds like an invitation, Captain,” she teased.

Razion stopped walking. Not enough to block her path, but enough that she had to turn to look at him. “It is,” he said, his voice lower now.

Lilas inhaled slowly, her pulse ticking up a notch. This was definitely an invitation. And not just the kind that suggested he needed another set of hands while bartering for parts.

He was asking her to be with him. Just…be with him.

And for all the ways she could have said no, for all the ways instinct warned her to keep her distance, only one answer left her lips.

“Alright,” she said quietly.

The edges of Razion’s lips curved, relief flickering across his face for a split second before it was gone.

“Alright,” he echoed. Then, as if the matter was settled, he resumed walking, forcing her to catch up.

Lilas wasn’t sure what she’d just agreed to. Spending a cycle with Razion outside the ship? With no cargo hold duties, no crew hovering nearby, no reason to keep her guard up? That was dangerous. Maybe not in the life-threatening way, but in the way that made her insides twist with something warm and uncertain.

But when Razion walked beside her, his posture comfortable, like this was just another day—just another normal thing between them—she kept her doubts sealed behind her teeth.

She could handle this. It was one cycle. A chance to stretch her legs, breathe air that hadn’t passed through a thousand recycled filters, maybe even enjoy herself for once. Nothing more.

Right?

When they reached the cargo hold, Razion paused at the entrance. A few crew members were already busy sorting salvage, their casual chatter filling the space with easy familiarity.

“This won’t interfere with your duties. Consider it…shore leave.” Razion tilted his head, watching her. “Even castaways get shore leave.”

Lilas worked her jaw, not sure if she liked being compared to a castaway or if she appreciated the honesty of it.

Before she could think too hard about it, Yig called to her, holding up a scanner.

Razion took a step back, his wings shifting slightly. “I’ll find you later,” he said. The words weren’t a question—they were a certainty.

Lilas hesitated, then nodded.

Razion lingered for half a second, like he wanted to say something else. Then, with a small nod, he turned and strode away.

Lilas exhaled, shaking herself. One cycle. She could handle that.

She turned toward Yig, burying whatever strange anticipation twisted inside her under the weight of salvage work. Because whatever this was, whatever Razion was to her—she refused to let it consume her.