You can’t give me wings and tell me not to fly!
But that’s exactly what they did. Flying was taboo because it expanded reptilian desires, allowing the dragon to override the human, increasing dragon behavior—particularly dragon driven blood lust.
Blood lust, a term attached to Nate Givens, the one-time poster boy for Draco Station.
Givens had succumbed to the allure of flying and stirred his dragon brain to deadly repercussions. Free flying ultimately pushed the primal dragon drive to consume Nate’s human neurological system. He ended up killing two people to satisfy his blood lust. But in the end, his humanity reigned supreme and he’d killed himself out of human remorse.
While dead is better than Draco, I want to live!
Being a Draco dragon tied Arcadian to Draco Station legally, but that didn’t mean the station was where his heart yearned to be.
I’ll have another miracle. One will come.
He didn’t know how, but such was the way of miracles. All he had to do was let it happen. In the meantime …
Draco Station’s allure failed him. The sleek lines and the seductive colors and décor left him wanting. His luxurious apartment and his extravagant pay as a surface dragon seemed a pittance against the cost to him. The more he explored what Draco had to offer, the more he understood he’d been cheated.
Lied to and cheated. This isn’t where I belong.
Trapped on Draco with his disillusionment and discontent, he sought satisfaction with virtual reality games, simulation rooms, showgirls, and gambling tables. After a whirlwind of destructive behavior, he found himself returning repeatedly to the observation deck.
Somewhere out there is my place to be … where I belong.
This nagging and persistent lack of fulfillment dogged him even in his sleep as he dreamed of flying free with a purpose beyond mining vulkillium for the uber-rich.
A purpose I’m meant for—but what is that?
In his waking hours, he sought a vision of what his purpose might be, where his place might be, where he belonged. While he conjured images and scenarios, the core essence of his purpose evaded him. He only knew he wouldn’t find it on Draco.
Figuring out an escape became consumptive. First, as a dragon, he wasn’t allowed to leave. Second, the shuttle provided the only way off station for those scheduled to leave. Due to the tightly managed Fly Out list, his chances of getting onboard were slim to impossible. This one aspect defeated him, until …
One day he went down to the embarking platform. A drinking buddy from The End of the Line bar, Tom McNally, waited to board the shuttle. “Hey Arcadian, keep my spot warm at the bar. I’ll be back next year. Gotta have some Earth time, you know.”
Arcadian’s gut clenched with wanting, with longing, with a rabid, foaming at the mouth need to escape Draco Station. This longing marched into madness, to where he’d willingly tear down the walls of Draco Station if that would get him off Draco and on Earth.
His gut twisted and a sweat of desire slicked his palms. Shocked at the depth of his emotion, he gulped and wiped his hands on his pants. Just then, Tom thrust out his hand for a farewell shake. Arcadian fixed a smile on his face and extended his in return.
They shook, with Tom smiling and Arcadian grinding his teeth. All he could think was how much he wanted to be this man, how much he wanted to walk onto the shuttle and fly through space toward Earth, to never see Draco Station again. He wanted this as much as he wanted life.
As they shook, his hand tingled. He cocked his head, distracted by the sensation as he answered. “Sure. I’ll look for you then, Tom.”
Afterward, when the travel deck doors closed, he returned to his apartment with the desire to be Tom McNally still ripe in his heart. Once he got inside, a warmth rushed over him, much like when he transitioned into dragon. He watched his hand as it morphed, not into his familiar dragon flesh, but into human flesh … only not his human flesh.
Not possible.
In spite of his thought, morphing chemicals flowed through him and his full body shifted like a strike of lightning. But instead of his wings popping open, instead of the usual flash of scale forming across his torso and limbs, instead of what he expected, something else happened.
Not dragon, but human. Who, then?
He stepped slowly to the bathroom, heart pounding, armpits sweating, and turned on the light. The image reflected in his bathroom mirror stunned him.
Tom McNally, how are you here?
He glanced at his hand, remembering the tingling as they pressed flesh, and the depth of desire coming from his heart at that moment. The normal process to shift to dragon began with emotion, the desire to shift. Once the mind told the body it wanted to shift, the emotion triggered the morphing chemicals to flow.
I picked up his DNA—
He’d wanted to be Tom when they shook hands, and his body shifted into the DNA from Tom based on a new primal imperative. This thought slipped into his mind like smoke, firing the destruction of what he thought he could do. Followed by new possibilities.
How do I develop this ability? How far will it go?
His heart ramped up and swelled in his chest. Hot tears rushed to his eyes.
Is this my second miracle?
He grinned and touched his chest. “It was here inside me all along.”
The next day, he lingered in the cafeteria until Shelby came in. She had dark hair and sultry eyes, and he desired her. Unfortunately, she already had two dragon lovers. But he always liked to get a smile from her. “Hey, Shelby. How you doing today?”
She stopped and gave him a slanted glance, allowing him enough time to move beside her and brush her bare arm as he reached for the napkins.
“Hi, Arcadian, I’m good.”
Her gaze raked
