Page 20 of Fated to the Drakarn Commander (Drakarn Mates 4)

I dried off and gathered my things. Ten minutes left. Too long. Too damn long to stand there waiting.

The thought sparked—hot, defiant. I could get back alone. I knew the way. Main corridor. Past the gathering space. Narrow passage. Siege quarters. His quarters. Where he’d put me.

Simple.

And if I ran into him? So what.

I needed this. Needed to walk my own path. Just once. To control something.

It had been days since our flight. Since that … whatever that was. Heaven in the skies. Then temptation when we landed. I'd woken up on a moan more than once, imagining what might happen if I invited the hulking granite alien into my bed.

His bed.

Whoever's bed.

It was fucking madness, and I needed to get a damned grip.

I slipped out. My footsteps were ghosts on the stone. Dim light came from the heat crystals. Warm. Secretive. A few Drakarn passed. Their eyes lingered—they saw a human, female, alone—but they moved on. We were novelties, not quite threats anymore. One day maybe they would look at us like we belonged.

I snorted out a laugh. Yeah, right.

I found the main corridor. It was wider there. Ceiling soaring, carved with ancient battles. I stayed near the wall. Moving fast, purposeful. Nothing to see. Just a human.

Halfway there.

The air shifted wrong. A pressure change. The scrape of scale on stone—too quiet, too deliberate. Not the usual rhythm.

My hand twitched for my knife. It should have been there. Wasn’t.

I slowed. Every nerve was singing. Scanning the shadows, the deep alcoves lining the passage. Too empty. Too quiet. The mountain was holding its breath.

And then—him.

He slid from a side passage I hadn’t seen. Poison-yellow scales. Gleaming sickly in the low light. Not Khorlar’s deep gray. He was smaller. Leaner. But still huge.

Ignarath clan-bands were on his arms. Cold dread coiled low in my gut.

This was the wrong place. Far from the diplomatic suites. Terra said they were confined. He definitely wasn't supposed to be there.

“Human.” It was a hiss. His tongue flicked out. Tasting the air. Tasting me. Obscene. Predatory. My skin crawled. “Alone. How … convenient.”

My body locked into a combat stance before thought. Low center. Hands loose. Ready. “Exactly where I’m supposed to be.” Voice level. Calm. Liar. My eyes scrambled for escape routes. None good.

And this spot was secluded. No one would hear me scream.

A smile. Fangs. Sharper than Khorlar’s. Needle-thin. Vicious. “I think not.”

He moved. A blur. Faster than anything that big should be. Lunging. Claws reaching for my arm.

I sidestepped—barely. I felt the air stir where my flesh had been. I pivoted. Elbow strike—hard—into the softer scales under his ribs. I aimed to break.

A grunt. Surprise more than pain. It bought me a second. Back up. Assess.

Bad.

Oh, fuck, this was bad.

“It still fights,” he hissed. Was there appreciation in the sound? Twisted. It made my stomach clench. “Good. The claiming … sweeter. I get to show you your place.”

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