Page 4 of Pursued By the Dragon Alien

His smirk deepened. “I could ask you the same.”

She crossed her arms, making the silver cuffs catch the dim light. “I asked first.”

Razion chuckled, amused by her contrariness. “Razion. Captain of this ship now, since the previous owner won’t be needing it anymore.” He jerked his chin toward the corridor, where down the hall, Gribna’s corpse still lay cooling.

Her gaze flicked past him, and for a fraction of a second, something unreadable crossed her face. Not shock. Not fear. Just cold calculation. Then she looked back at him and lifted her chin higher. “Good. Couldn’t stand thefekker.”

Razion arched a brow, thoroughly amused. Far more charmed than he should have been. “You knew him long?”

“Long enough.”

Her gaze flicked over him, sharp and assessing. Then her eyes narrowed slightly. “You’re one ofthem.”

Razion stilled, his amusement cooling into curiosity. “One of who?”

She tilted her head, as if weighing whether to answer. “Your kind. I’ve seen one before.”

That caught him off guard. There weren’t many of his “kind” roaming this side of the galaxy, although there had been a few rumored sightings in recent cycles. He took a step closer, watching her carefully. “You’ve seen a Zaruxian?”

Her brow furrowed. “I didn’t know that’s what you’re called. But there was one at my settlement—the overseer who kept us all in line under the Axis’ control.”

Razion’s jaw tightened. His wings shifted instinctively. The mention of another Zaruxian in a position of power over a farming settlement set him on edge. “Your overseer was Zaruxian?”

She nodded. “Yeah. Your scales are gold, but his were purple. Still, wings and eyes are the same. Unpleasant asfek.” Her gaze sharpened. “You know him?”

Razion’s mind churned. A Zaruxian working with the Axis, ruling over settlements? That was an unsettling piece of information. His people weren’t known for subjugation—but if the Axis had their claws in a Zaruxian…

“No,” he said, his voice measured. “But I intend to.”

His gaze trailed over the cuffs on her wrists, then back to her impossible eyes. It was then that he remembered hearing a description of a species that looked just like this one—mature females with colorful hair and eyes, and gold spots that, if the account was accurate, went all the way down their back, through their legs, and framed their… “Are you a Terian, by chance?”

Surprise flashed in her expression before it was quickly masked. “Yeah. So?”

Razion’s jaw tightened.Thatconfirmed it. She was one of the five females auctioned off. It had created a bit of a stir, as they were a rare species indeed. “Gribna just purchased you at the Falmic-5 auction,” he said, watching her closely.

Her brow furrowed. “Thanks for the reminder.” She shook her head sharply. “I have no idea what Falmic-5 is, but yes. It was clearly an auction.”

Razion exhaled through his nose.Right. If she had been taken straight from her settlement, she probably didn’t know the name of the place they’d hauled her to.

Didn’t matter. It was through that auction that he had tracked Gribna’s movements and been led here, to a less-monitored sector of Axis space where he could attack the trade master’s ship. His sources had flagged the auction as suspicious, one of many indicators pointing to Gribna’s deep dealings with the Axis. He’d followed the trail, expecting to find stolen goods and a direct line to the warlord Gribna supplied. He wasn’t sure if finding this Terian female was a bonus or a burden.

“You have a name?” he asked.

She hesitated for only a second before tilting her chin up even higher. “Lilas.”

He rolled the name over in his mind. Short, strong. Like her. “Well, Lilas, you’re free now.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “Am I?”

Razion frowned. He didn’t like the doubt in her voice. He glanced at the silver cuffs still locked around her wrists, saw the tension in her shoulders and the rigid way she held herself. She looked braced for another fight. A survivor, through and through.

He took a step closer, slow enough that she could see him coming, and reached for one of her wrists. She stiffened, but didn’t yank away. “Hold still,” he said, quieter now, steadier. Her wrist was narrow, but the skin on her palm was tough, calloused. The hands of a farmer, but still small and fragile. Then he grabbed the small multi-tool from his belt, pressed it to the latch mechanism, and with a sharp click, the cuff released.

She stared as it dropped onto the floor. “You had a key for those?”

“I have a key for everything,” he said simply.

Another click, and the second cuff fell away. Lilas flexed her fingers, rubbing at the red marks left behind.

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