Draekon Destiny:Exiled to the Prison Planet(7)

By: Lili Zander & Lee Savino

Xan has already transformed into a bottle-green dragon when I carry my luggage to the clearing. When Lud sees me with it, he shakes his head and takes it from me. “You could have asked for help,” he says, his voice tinged with frustration. “I was right here, Felicity.”

For how long? Until Thrax manages to assemble the next Cloakship?

“Sorry,” I mutter under my breath, not meeting his eyes, convinced that if I do, I’m going to burst into tears.

Everyone crowds around as I climb on Xan’s back and settle myself between his spikes. “We’re going to start flying patrols,” Arax says grimly. “If there’s one ship, there might be more. Be careful, please. If the soldiers attack…” His voice trails off.

“Don’t worry.” Lud sounds far too calm. “Felicity is with us. We won’t take any chances, you know that. All we’re going to do is find Dariux and send him back.”

And hopefully, save our relationship.


Evidently, in this strange and frightening planet, where men turn into dragons, I have two mates of my own. To be honest, I’m not sure how to process that. I’m still trying to process that we’re stuck here for the rest of our lives.

No more Chloe, a small voice inside me whispers. No more Aunt Priscilla and Uncle Fred. No more Seascape Grill. This is your chance for a fresh start.

That’s true. This planet is primitive, but at least here, I’m free to be my own person.

We sleep the first night in a small, stiflingly-hot treehouse. The next morning, pairs of Draekons start arriving with packets of breakfast. First, Paige’s two Draekons arrive, and then May’s, and then, when I’m starting to wonder if the two men who became dragons last night when they saw me have changed their mind about wooing me, they show up.

Yesterday, the combination of coming out of stasis and flying through the air on dragon-back had left me sick to my stomach, and I barely had a chance to register them. This morning, after a good night’s sleep, I take them in, and they’re really hot.

Both of them are sleekly muscled and tattooed. Their bodies could grace the cover of swimsuit magazines. That’s not what draws me to them though. It’s their eyes. Both men, who introduce themselves as Xanthox and Luddux, are eying me with warm concern as they hand me my breakfast. They seem nice. Kind.

“Liorax and Zunix told us that your ship had crashed in the Lowlands,” one of them says quietly, drawing me aside so we can converse in private. “I’m sorry about yesterday.” His lips twist wryly. “Draekons are supposed to shift when they see their mate for the first time, but I’ll be honest, I thought it was a myth. I’m Xanthox.”

His hair is short, golden-brown in color. He’s much taller than me, but then again, almost everyone is. At five-foot-one, I’m used to being the shortest person in the room.

“I’m Felicity Rollins,” I reply, returning his smile. “I thought dragons were a myth too.”

“And yet,” the other man says, “Here we are.” His dark brown hair is curly and unruly, and his cheeks, like Xanthox’s, are covered with stubble. His sapphire blue eyes rest on me, and there’s a trace of resigned amusement in them. “I’m Luddux. Welcome to our camp. I promise you, we’re usually better behaved than yesterday.”

Pity. If they tore off their shirts and beat their chests, I’d appreciate the eye-candy.

Over the next fifteen minutes, I get a quick history lesson from two of the hottest men I’ve ever seen in real life. If Mr. George back in my old high school had been anything close to this handsome, I’d have paid a lot more attention in class. I learn that the Draekons have been here for sixty-five years, which makes them really old by human standards, but not by Zorahn standards. I find out that they live in treehouses because there are weird crab-like creatures that swarm at night, and they’ll eat anything in their way.

“So, what now?” I ask when breakfast is over. “Yesterday, Liorax and Zunix told us that you’d try to woo us.” Woo. It feels like such an old-fashioned word. Like I’m in the South, wearing some big-hooped skirt, ready to receive a gentleman caller.

“I’ve never done this before,” Luddux admits sheepishly. “Courted someone. It feels… intimidating.”

“Oh, thank heavens, it’s not just me.” I beam at them, grateful beyond measure that they’re not pressuring me to put out right now. I’m not a fool. Aunt Priscilla and Uncle Fred have taught me that nothing is ever free. I know that at some point, I’ll have to give them something in exchange for the food and shelter they’re providing, and sex is the only commodity I have to trade in this world, but at least they’re being nice about it.