Page 27 of Claimed By the Drakarn Warrior Lord

I had to fix this.

Somehow.

TWELVE

TERRA

Everyone made sacrifices for survival—sometimes it was dignity, sometimes it was trust. I wasn't sure which I was losing more of lately. The echo of my team's words from earlier still rang in my ears, sharp as a combat knife.

It didn’t matter that I understood their frustrations or that some part of me even agreed with them. Hearing the doubt in their voices—their doubt in me—was like having skin carved away piece by piece.

Could I lead when my own team barely trusted me anymore?

My fingers traced the leather cords of my vambrace absently as I waited in Darrokar’s chambers, the faint orange glow of heat crystals reflecting off the volcanicglass walls. The space felt unbearably stifling today, every minute a reminder that I had a million unanswered questions and no sense of where to even begin.

The groan of the chamber doors sliding open made me tense, though the familiar scent that accompanied it eased some of the tautness from my shoulders. Darrokar strode in like a storm contained, wings folding neatly behind him.

“Luvae,” he greeted, his deep voice wrapping around me in a comfort it felt almost wrong to accept.

“Darrokar,” I replied, straightening where I stood.

I had to start standing up for my people, and that was going to start now. But before I could say anything, he stopped in front of me, holding out a bundle wrapped in dark material. “For you,” he said simply.

I blinked, then took it from him carefully. It was heavier than I expected, the texture pliable but sturdy beneath my fingers. A closer look revealed that it wasn’t just any material—they were Drakarn warrior leathers. But there were no slits for wings in the back. These were custom.

For a human.

“For me?” I asked, even though the evidence wasstaring me in the face. The design wasn’t purely Drakarn; it had elements of my Earth uniform woven through it—the reinforced plates, the utilitarian cut meant for ease of motion. More importantly, it was unmistakably mine, from the precise tailoring to the weight beneath the shoulder straps.

Darrokar stepped closer, his golden eyes shimmering. “You cannot fight as one of us if you are not dressed as one of us. Does it not please you?”

I ran my fingers over the intricate detailing along the neckline. “I—no, I mean yes.” I shook my head, struggling to find the words. Whatever confidence I’d bolstered before his arrival was unraveling rapidly under his focused attention. “It’s perfect.”

And nothing I expected.

Before I could muster more than that, Darrokar’s claws brushed my hand. It wasn’t a gesture I would’ve noticed before meeting him, but now I couldn’t miss it—not the faint scrape of his black scales against my skin, nor the way his touch sent an illicit ripple of something unbearably warm up my arm.

“Let me help you,” he said, his voice quieter now, more intimate.

It wasn’t a question; it wasn’t entirely an order either. My throat tightened as I nodded.

He lifted the armored chest plate, stepping in closer to secure it over my torso. I could feel the heat of him radiating outward even before his claws brushed my sides, buckling a strap here, adjusting a fastening there. There was nothing casual about his movements—they were deliberate and precise.

“You were unhappy when you returned today,” he murmured, resting his hands against my shoulders as he adjusted the pauldrons.

I tensed, tilting my head up at him. “How do you?—?”

His golden eyes flashed with that knowing look that drove me insane, a faint glimmer of amusement curling at the edge of his mouth. His claws ghosted along my collarbone as he stepped back, admiring his handiwork like a craftsman inspecting their masterpiece. “Luvae,I see too much to remain ignorant, even when you keep it silent.”

“They need better quarters.” My voice was sharper than I intended, but I was too raw to smooth it out.

He heard what I wasn't saying. “Whatever mistrust your people hold, it will not endure.”

I stared at him, crossing my arms protectively over the newly donned armor. His unwavering confidence—his ability to justdecidesomethingwould be fixed—was still something I couldn’t entirely reconcile. “They've been locked up for weeks while I've?—”

He arched an obsidian brow at that, the smirk softening into something irritatingly tender. “Shall I invite them all here into our bed?”

Our bed.

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