ChapterOne
ELANA
Ididn’t think when I woke up today, I’d be chased by an alien dragon-slaver, but here I am.
My breath comes in panicked gasps as I sprint down the foreign hallways. My sneakers pound against the cold metal flooring, echoing in the narrow passage.
“Stop running away!” roars the hulking dragon behind me, his voice reverberating off the smooth walls. “You’re not supposed to do that!”
I risk a terrified glance back. He’s a freaking giant, at least seven feet tall. His muscular frame is covered in shimmering green scales, catching the light with each of his thundering steps. This looks far too real to be a costume or makeup. He’s dressed in a fitted silver suit. As in, an actual suit! Like what my dad would wear to some formal event. All he’s missing is a bow tie to complete the look. Enormous leathery wings flare out behind him as he pursues me, somehow not knocking into anything despite their impressive span.
Unlike me.
I slam hard into a brown, splotch-covered wall. My breath is knocked out of me as my body rebounds onto the cold, hard floor.
If I had time, I’d kick myself for not watching where I was going.
A door ahead swings open and another dragon-man steps out, this one’s scales a shocking bubblegum pink. He glances around in confusion.
Despite the situation, or perhaps because of it, I have to stifle an incredulous laugh. With his bright colors, he looks absolutely ridiculous. This whole thing is just too impossible.
At first, I thought maybe I got punked, some elaborate prank show gone wrong. But none of my friends could afford something this elaborate. The only one who could is my ex-boyfriend, and honestly, he seemed far more interested in the girl I caught him in the bedroom with than me.
“What is going on out here?” The newcomer rumbles.
I wince as a series of inhuman growls and clicks reach my ears, somehow translating to words in my mind. Given the throbbing ache in my left ear, my captor must have implanted some sort of translator device while I was knocked out. It’s the only logical conclusion.
Well, it’s pretty damn clear I’m not on Earth anymore.
“My slave keeps trying to escape,” Greenie explains to his friend, a distinct whine in his voice. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he’s pouting.
Greenie holds up a taloned finger like he’s chastising a naughty child, “You are my slave. You should do what I tell you to.” Like, does he seriously expect me to just hang around and do everything he says just like that?
For the first time I notice that Greenie’s eyes are orange. He’s definitely got a kind of creepy, villain-style appearance going for him. His brow lowers dramatically. He doesn’t have eyebrows but a series of knobs like tiny spikes across his forehead.
Pinkie shakes his head in exasperation. “Tried to escape? From the looks of it, she succeeded. I told you that you shouldn’t play with the cargo if you can’t keep it contained, but you insisted. You had one job—keep hold of the human!”
“Hey, it’s not my fault!” Greenie protests, crossing his arms. “This one is tricky. She keeps squirming out of my grasp. Maybe I should just get another one out.”
I scramble backward like a crab as Greenie keeps approaching me with carefully measured steps. Maybe he’s like a T-Rex; if I remain motionless, he won’t be able to see me? A girl can hope.
“Maybe if you laid off the Treeds Treats and worked out more, you’d be fast enough to catch a tiny human,” Pinkie retorts as he leans heavily against the door jamb. He actually pinches the wide bridge of his nose in a rather classical human-like gesture.
Greenie gasps. “How dare you! I’ll have you know my physique is in peak physical form.” He flexes his bicep. Just who is he showing off to right now? Me? The human staring at him in disbelief?
“Yeah right, the only thing at peak capacity is your ego,” Pinkie snorts. “Get a hold of your slave already. She’s such a rarity that she’s going to fetch a high price at home. You can’t afford for her to injure herself in her panic.”
The idea of being sold like some pet, no, like a slave, jolts me out of my daze. Nope. Not happening. I refuse to be sold! What I really need right about now is a weapon. Something to hit this guy over the head with.
New plan. I’m going to find a weapon then prove to this guy that I’m not easy pickings. He’s going to regret abducting me.
While the two aliens bicker and trade barbs, I edge away, poised to sprint at the first chance. Just a little more distraction...
“At least I don’t have a flamboyant pink for my scales! Talk about garish,” Greenie sneers at his companion, furious for being called out on his apparently lazy lifestyle.
“Excuse me? Pink is sophisticated and stylish. Better than the puke color you’re sporting,” Pinkie shoots back. Both of them are getting pretty heated right about now, standing chest to chest as they huff and puff.
They are both wrapped in their own version of racism—species-ism?—to care about me. Taking my chance, I leap to my feet and dash away while the aliens are absorbed in their petty argument.
