Page 19 of Fated to the Drakarn Commander (Drakarn Mates 4)

The word was a rasp in my throat. I circled back. My limbs trembled, overworked, but the movements stayed sharp. Precise. I needed this. Needed the ache, the sting blooming across my knuckles. Needed the proof my body could still obey, could still fight.

Not just wait. Not just be … kept.

Across the hall, Vega and Kira flowed through sparring forms, a blur of controlled violence. Lexa wrestled with a Drakarn guard twice her size, finding leverage. These sessions were small comforts. Brief moments where we were still a unit, not scattered pawns.

Not confined. Not watched.

Not dealing with the heat that flared in Khorlar’s eyes. That damned heat.

Another punch. Harder. A grunt tore loose. The leather was my frustration. The stone walls were my cage. Khorlar’s constant presence, his suffocating vigilance … the way my traitorous body hummed when he was near.

This. Was. Better. Pain I understood.

“Hitting like that, you’ll break something.” It was Selene. I hadn’t heard her approach. Her medic’s gaze was already cataloging the damage.

“I know what I’m doing.” I flexed my stinging fingers. They still worked. Good. The sharp throb grounded me.

An eyebrow lifted. She knew better than to push. Smart. “I'm heading back soon. Vyne’s sending guards.”

“Babysitters.” The word was spat out, bitter. Another punch jarred my arm to the shoulder. Drown it out. Drownhimout.

Selene’s face softened. Was it pity? Understanding? I hated both. “Terra’s trying, Hawk. Trying to keep us safe without?—”

“Caging us? Treating us like property?” My words were too sharp. Shit. “Sorry. I know she is.”

She nodded. She got it. “Vyne says the Ignarath are still holed up in the diplomatic guest quarters. No sign of their ‘witnesses’ at the Temple.”

Lying bastards. They were stalling. Waiting. For what?

I straightened, wiping sweat from my brow. I felt gritty. Real. “Waiting for backup? Or an opportunity?”

“Vyne thinks so too,” she murmured, her voice low.

Vega’s whistle cut the air. Time was up. Figured. The others gathered their gear, reluctance in every line of their bodies. Back to stony cages.

The timekeeper pulsed—crystal water shifting behind carved stone. Twenty minutes. Twenty minutes until he arrived to escort me.

My escort. My guard. My … whatever he was.

Twenty minutes of my own.

“I’m cleaning up,” I called to Vega, nodding to the water channels flowing in a side alcove. “I'll be fine.”

Vega frowned, her warrior instincts screaming. “We should stick together.”

“Khorlar’s meeting me here anyway.”

She hesitated. Then gave a tight nod. “Don’t make me come looking.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

I watched them leave. Two young Drakarn flanked them. Faceless guards. The moment they turned the corner—blessed silence. A slow exhale.

Just me.

Cool water sluiced over my face, my arms, shockingly cold against my flushed skin. My reflection stared back—dark skin, damp hair clinging to my temples, eyes too bright, restless. Wild.

A predator pacing its cage. That’s what I saw.

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