Page 34 of Echoes of Fire

And before I could stop her, she slid out of the bed and walked away.

TWELVE

ORLA

My mind was a fragmented mess, thoughts colliding like spent debris in orbit, falling and burning before anything meaningful could take shape. I stayed in Rath’s quarters just long enough to dress, my movements sharp and mechanical, as if forcing my body into motion could quiet the storm of my thoughts.

It didn’t.

Last night lingered as if it had physically etched itself into me—every touch, every growled vow and promise, every searing kiss. As thrilling as it had been, as natural as it had felt to succumb to the pull between us, the aftermath now beat with heavy uncertainty.

Fated mates.

Bonding.

His claim that I was his. The very idea bristled against every logical bone in my body. It should have felt ridiculous, laughable even.

How was I supposed to reconcile my concept of love and connection, something I’d always believed to be built slowly, steadily, with the Drakarn belief of an instant, primal bond dictated by pheromones and instincts?

Except it wasn’t ridiculous—not in the way his eyes had burned into mine last night, like I was all that mattered in his world. Not in the way his presence felt stitched into the air I breathed, as if some invisible string tethered us together whether I wanted it or not. Not in the way I’d felt that crushing pull in my chest when I saw him lock eyes with that bastard Krazath in the arena and knew that he’d stepped into that fight for me.

My hands shook as I laced up my boots. I forced myself to pause and focus, fingers gripping tightly to the leather straps.

What the hell was I doing?

Rath was emotionally … consuming, that much was obvious. But what shook me was how much of myself I’d already given over in return. Since crashing on this volcanic hellscape, my life had been a string of survival-based decisions: solve the next problem, fix the next broken thing, keep yourself and the team alive.

Somewhere along the way, Rath had become one of those problems—or perhaps he’d convinced me survival meant hiding myself in him like he was my armor.

But now? After last night—after talk of some crazy mating ritual, laid out so plainly this morning—none of this felt simple anymore. The problem wasn’t just Rath or me or the bond itself—it was all of it, twisting together in this impossible, dizzying knot of biology and circumstance that no Earth training manual could prepare me for.

“Shit.” My knees hurt from kneeling too long, the stone floor unforgiving even through the thin layer of fabric covering my skin. I pressed my palms against my thighs to ground myself, willing my frantic heartbeat to slow.

Rath had given me space. I had no idea when he would return to this room and, frankly, the thought of facing him right nowput a lump in my throat—not from fear, but from the unbearable pressure of how much he just … expected from me.

Not demanded, exactly, but Rath’s intensity didn’t leave space for half-measures or hesitation. If I stayed, if I said yes to him in every way that mattered, there would be no turning back.

And I wasn’t sure if I could live up to that.

I needed more space. I needed time to think—somewhere Rath wouldn’t follow. He had to sense my turmoil, I was sure of it, but if I left before he returned, maybe I could buy myself just enough distance to wrestle my thoughts into something coherent.

Outside, the whirr of distant voices and the rush of the river carried on, too ordinary to care about my internal conflict.

How could something so monumental happen, and the world just … keep turning?

The corridors twisted and opened, the spaces feeling labyrinthine and growingly familiar as I navigated them on autopilot. I wasn’t even sure where I was going until the faint sound of rushing water reached me, the humid air thickening as the path sloped downward. My chest ached with too many emotions to name, and instinct guided my steps more than reason.

The baths.

I didn’t know why the thought brought the promise of relief, but it was enough to pull me forward. I needed calm, clarity—anything to cut through the riot in my head and heart.

Not to mention, I was still a bit … sticky.

The baths were one of the few places I’d found since arriving here that still felt … soft. Even with steam hissing from the walls like the breath of unseen leviathans, and algae casting the water in ghostly hues of green and blue, the space was undeniably alive in a way that soothed the edges of my anxiety.

I stripped my clothes in the small changing area and chose a pool in an alcove where prying eyes were unlikely to watch. The warm air clung to my skin as I slipped into the water, the heat enveloping me immediately and drawing a groan from my throat.

It was hotter than I’d expected, almost scalding, but the sting soothed after a moment, replaced by a deep warmth that seeped into my muscles and began to soften the tension I’d been holding onto for so long.

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