I stiffened, my head snapping up. Rath stood at the end of the corridor, his ruby-red scales darkened by the dim light, his golden eyes steady and unfaltering in their appraisal.

“Enough,” he said, his voice low, firm. “You’re not a feral beast to fight over scraps.”

Scraps?

I let out a snarl that vibrated through the floor beneath us. But behind the instinctual anger was the truth of his words cutting deep.

I shouldn’t be standing over this pathetic excuse for a warrior like an enraged adolescent. Every action, every blow, every breath I took had repercussions—ones that extended far beyond my own satisfaction. Rath was not just one of my trusted lieutenants; he was one of the few who dared speak sense to me when I needed it most.

Sucking in a breath, I reined in the fire still snarling at the edges of my control. My claws retracted slowly, the scent of blood cooling.

But it wasn’t over.

I snarled down at the crumpled pile beneath me. “You’ll answer for this.” The threat in my tone was marked not by an immediate promise of death, but by something colder—and far worse.

I straightened, chest heaving, and turned toward her.

Terra.

Her name branded itself in my mind even before my eyes found hers. She was on her feet now, leaning slightly against the wall for balance, but her stance was still as strong as before. Despite the reddening mark on her wrist, the tear in her robe, the undeniable evidence of her struggle, she didn’t cower.

Her eyes blazed, filled with an emotion I couldn’t quite place—fear? Fury? Something else entirely?

I closed the distance between us in two strides, folding my wings tight to keep from brushing against the jagged walls. My shadow spilled across her as I approached, and some treacherous part of me … paused.

What would I find? Gratitude? Hatred?

The beast inside me wanted her caged against my chest, nestled beneath my wings, breathing my scent until she knew without doubt that I would annihilate anyone who dared come near her.The man within me—the leader, the lord—hesitated. The expression in her eyes didn’t have a hint of submission.

It never had, not from the moment we’d first locked gazes back on the surface.

“Are you hurt?” The question left my lips before I’d meant it to, edged with more anger than worry. Not at her—at myself, for failing to stop this. She was still grasping my language, but she was learning almost unnaturally quickly. Perhaps a quirk of her alien species.

Her chin lifted. “Sivanae.”I'm fine.

Spirit.

Heat roared to life beneath my scales once more, but this time, it wasn’t anger. My claws curled slightly, the urge to soothe her quieting the violent edge lingering in my veins. I studied her wrist and stepped closer, my fingers grazing the images already burned into my mind—scents, textures, the heat that pulsed just below the surface of her human skin.

She didn’t pull away. Didn’t flinch. If anything, the awareness crackling between us deepened.

If Rath wasn't still somewhere nearby, I'd be tempted to take her against the stone wall.

“You shouldn’t have left my quarters,” I said, my voice low, restrained.

She arched a brow and opened her mouth, sucking in a breath. But she closed her lips and let the breath out without saying a word.

The tension between us was a living thing. Her gaze didn’t waver, defiant even in the face of the heat building between us.

My fangs ached again, my wings radiated heat from unused energy, and most unsettling of all, I could feel her—trulyfeel her—in a way that went beyond the physical. It was as if her bravery, her fire, was threading itself into me, entwining with instincts I’d thought I could control.

She wasn’t just a flame; she was an inferno, and I wanted to be consumed.

But now was not the time.

“Rath,” I growled without turning away from her. My voice carried through the corridor, echoing with the sliver of authority I’d fought to recapture after my outburst. “Take care of him.”

Rath stepped forward, his heavy claws clicking against the stone. The glow of his pupils shifted toward the crumpled warrior still struggling to rise from the floor. Rath didn’t need to say anything. His gaze alone promised the kind of reckoning that would leave both scars and stories.