Page 9 of Echoes of Fire

I locked eyes with Karyseth, letting flames lick across my teeth. “Challenge the bond, Priestess. I’ll burn this sanctum to ash before she bleeds.”

Silence.

Darrokar stepped forward, his own recent mating scar glinting. “Enough. This is done.” His gaze cut to me, unreadable. “The council will discuss this further.”

The crowd erupted—outrage, awe, the hungry buzz of scandal. Karyseth’s shriek pierced the din, but the warriors were already dispersing, casting wary glances at Orla.

At my mate.

I didn’t move. Couldn’t.

Orla’s whisper tickled my jaw. “Your pulse is racing.”

“So it is,” I breathed. I couldn’t look away from her.

Fuck. I’m doomed.

THREE

ORLA

The big hulking alien who claimed me as his mate had his claws on my arm the whole way back to his chambers. I stumbled once before he slowed his pace, silently adjusting for my shorter legs.

We practically crossed all of Scalvaris until we entered a building I’d never seen before and he took me down a winding staircase, the air growing warmer with each step.

Frankly, I’d had enough of unfamiliar buildings for one day, or for a lifetime. Every time I closed my eyes, I imagined those Drakarn, their claws slashing at me as they called for my blood, my life.

I shivered, despite the heat.

My shirt was in tatters, and I could use a month-long soak in a tub, but I needed to know what the hell was going on. “Where?—”

“Hush,” he said. “Wait.”

I bristled, but there were other Drakarn watching us, hungry eyes taking in the scene. Questions had to wait until we were behind closed doors.

And what mighty doors they were.

The stone door sealed behind us with a resonant thud, and suddenly it was just the two of us in a chamber that smelled of smoldering embers and something darker—smoke and aged leather. Rath released my arm like I’d scalded him. I pressed my back against the door, its engraved runes biting into my shoulder blades as I cataloged the room with frantic precision.

The air tasted like licking a battery. I cataloged the chamber’s dimensions through shaky breaths—twenty by thirty paces, hexagonal basalt walls striated with bands of volcanic rock. Heat crystals pulsed yellowish light from recessed niches, their fractal patterns mirroring the city’s cooling system I’d observed earlier. It felt like a lifetime ago. Had it been more than an hour? A bed platform dominated the far wall, hewn from a single slab of stone and layered with shimmery silks.

Rath moved to an alcove, his tail trailing behind him. My traitorous eyes tracked the play of firelight across his scaled shoulders—ruby plates shifting from blood-black to fiery crimson with each breath.

“You’ll stay here.” He tossed a clay pitcher onto the table. Water sloshed, beading instantly on the heated surface. “I do not trust Karyseth to respect my claim.”

I pressed harder against the door, its carvings mapping constellations against my spine. “Your claim? What does that make me exactly? A prisoner? A pet?” The words came out sharper than intended. Adrenaline still sang in my veins, mixing dangerously with the tang of his proximity.

I knew what he’d said in the moment, and a desperate need for survival had me following his lead. But now? When there weren’t angry Drakarn breathing down my neck? Things didn’t feel so clear.

The pitcher’s glaze caught the light as it settled—a ceramic so glassy it could’ve been forged in Volcaryth’s core. My fingers twitched with the urge to test its thermal conductivity.

Anything to anchor myself in data instead of this … thisthingcoiling under my ribs.

Rath’s wings flexed. “You are neither prisoner nor pet.” He didn’t turn as he spoke, claws methodically stripping off his battle harness. Each piece hit the table with a clatter that made my pulse skip. “The claim grants protection.” He paused. “It was the only thing I could think to do in the moment.”

The laugh scraped my throat. I gestured to the bed’s silks—translucent layers in scarlet. “Andthat? Part of the protection package?”

His spine stiffened. Scales along his shoulders flared, revealing the softer, opalescent hide beneath. My traitorous brain noted the biological purpose—perhaps thermoregulation during threatening displays.

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