Page 38 of Chosen By the Dragon Alien

Cyprian’s wings beat fiercely, propelling him toward the remaining Axis vessel—the one that had yet to engage. This ship, larger than its disabled twin, had been holding its fire, likely assessing the situation or waiting for its weapon systems to charge. But Cyprian would not give it the luxury of calculation. He was getting tired. His wings ached, but he dove toward the ship. His massive claws extended and his molten silver gaze locked on its shield projector array.

He opened his maw and unleashed a torrent of dragon fire. The blaze struck the shield and spread like liquid fury. He could see the edges of the shield flicker and fracture under his flames, each pulse of energy weaker than the last.

The new ship swooped in beside him, its energy weapons firing in calculated bursts that targeted the same points Cyprian had softened with his attacks. The coordinated assault was working. Together, they battered the Axis ship’s shields until, at last, they gave out. A shimmer, a pulse, and then the protective barrier collapsed entirely, leaving the vessel exposed.

Cyprian didn’t need further encouragement. With a roar that rattled his very core, he barreled toward the Axis ship. His massive form collided with its hull in a thunderous impact. Claws like blades tore through metal as though it were paper. He drove his talons into the exposed machinery, ripping apart weapon systems and communications arrays with ruthless precision. Fires erupted within the ship and fragments of its ripped hull fell to the ground below.

The Axis crew scrambled within their damaged vessel, their attempts to mount a defense growing increasingly erratic and desperate. But Cyprian was relentless. His molten scales deflected the few plasma bolts the crew managed to fire, but hisdragon fire reduced their weapons to slag before they could pose a real threat. He was a force of nature—a living inferno fueled by purpose—but his strength was waning. The effects of his injuries were taking their toll.

Cyprian held out, through sheer force of will, until the final Axis ship careened toward the moon’s surface, defeated. Finished. The last of his energy deserted him and he tumbled through the cold, thin air toward the hard ground below.

NINETEEN

Fivra

Fivra’s heart plummeted as Cyprian faltered in the air. The fight had been brutal, what she could see of it. The viewport hadn’t given them an unobstructed view, but as the final Axis ship spiraled downward in defeat, so did Cyprian. Her eyes locked onto his massive dragon form as his powerful wings—battered and torn—struggled to keep him aloft. And then it happened—a sharp jolt as his wings gave out entirely.

Fivra’s chest constricted. “No.” Her voice was a ragged whisper. She pressed her hands to the viewport, fingers splayed against the cold surface.

Fear gripped her. It was a visceral thing that wrapped her body in ice. He wasfalling. His large frame twisted and spiraled like a crimson meteor through the thin atmosphere. Time slowed. Every heartbeat thundered as she watched him hurtle toward the moon’s surface.

Kaelen’s voice was distant, sharp, but meaningless to her ears. He said something—something about staying put, aboutsafety, about waiting. His words were air. She didn’t care. Her world was falling out of the sky.

The impact was a deafening crack that echoed over the surface. The vibration shook her to her core. Dust and debris erupted in plumes, painting the air with gritty shadows. Her breath hitched. Her fingers pressed against the viewport so hard her nails ached.

“Fek,” came Kaelen’s hissed curse from behind her.

Fivra whipped around, eyes blazing with determination. “We’re getting him.” Her voice trembled but she was resolute. She turned her gaze toward Kaelen, who was standing at the console, his sharp gold eyes assessing the scene outside.

Kaelen blinked. “We can’t go out there without proper preparation. We are not Zaruxians, who apparently can endure this environment; the cold will snap you in half.”

“Then let’s get the proper preparation,” she snapped, her voice breaking with raw urgency. “He could be dying, Kaelen, and I’m not going to just sit here and do nothing while he’s out there alone.” Her hands clenched. “We’regettinghim.”

Kaelen exhaled sharply, muttering something under his breath, but nodded. “Fine.” He strode toward the storage compartment at the back of the ship and pulled it open. He removed envo-suits for both of them and gave one to her. Its thick, insulated fabric was dark gray, lined with luminescent strips that pulsed faintly. “Put this on. I don’t know how we’re going to move him, though. He’s much larger in this form.”

Fivra snatched the suit and pulled it on over her clothes. “We’ll find a way.” They would. And if he was alive—hehadto be alive—they’d get him well again. And, hopefully, back to his previous form.

Fivra sealed up her suit and donned a pair of boots and gloves designed to withstand extreme cold. She adjusted the integrated oxygen respirator over her face. Without anotherword, she crossed to the air lock and looked back at Kaelen. “Are you ready?”

Kaelen was at her side in moments. He took a weapon from a supply crate. “If the Axis left any stragglers, we’ll be wide open out there,” he warned her. His tone was sharp, but his movements were quick and efficient as he gripped the weapon. “Keep your head low, and for the love of the stars, don’t do anyth—”

Fivra didn’t wait for him to finish. She passed into the air lock. The outer hatch hissed open, and she stepped outside. She took one sharp inhale through the respirator as her boots crunched against the frosted surface. The stark, barren expanse stretched before her, but her gaze was locked on the spot where Cyprian had fallen.

“This way!” she shouted over her shoulder to Kaelen. Her voice was muffled and distorted by the respirator’s filter. Without waiting for his reply, she surged forward. Her legs pumped as she sprinted toward the wreckage.

Kaelen was hot on her heels. His longer stride quickly caught up. The roaring of her blood pumping through her veins drowned out everything. Craters and jagged rocks littered the icy terrain, making her footing precarious as she stumbled over uneven surfaces.

“Slow down,” Kaelen barked. A hand shot out to steady her as she nearly tripped over a shard of debris from one of the fallen Axis ships. “If you break your neck on the way there, he’ll definitely want to kill me.”

Fivra shook his hand off and pushed forward, and her heart froze at the sight before her. Cyprian’s dragon form lay crumpled on the ground. His crimson scales were marred by soot and cracks. His wings were battered and torn like a fallen banner in the wake of war. Steam rose from his massive body in tendrils, mingling with the dissipating dust.

“Cyprian.” Fivra’s voice was raw. She staggered toward him on shaking legs. Her breath came in uneven gasps through the respirator. Fear clawed at her throat, but she pressed on, her hands reaching out as she closed the distance between her and her mate.

Kaelen came to a halt behind her. His sharp gaze quickly sweeping their surroundings before falling to the massive figure sprawled before them. “Stars above, he’s still breathing,” he muttered, gripping his weapon tightly.

Fivra barely heard him as she collapsed to her knees beside Cyprian’s massive head. Her gloved hands trembled as they brushed against the edges of his scales. “Cyprian, it’s me. It’s Fivra.” Her voice cracked. Tears threatened to spill inside the envo-suit’s helmet. She pressed her hands firmly against his snout, feeling the faintest rise and fall of his slow, labored breaths.

“Come back to me,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Please. I love you.”

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