Page 22 of Fated to the Drakarn Commander (Drakarn Mates 4)

Ignarath eyes bulged. Khorlar’s grip was tightening. Millimeter by millimeter. This was an execution. Right here. Right now.

Then—abruptly—release. The Ignarath crumpled. Gasping. His hand clawing at his bruised throat.

“Run,” Khorlar commanded. The word was a low vibration. A deadly promise. “Run to Plaktish. Tell him what awaits those who touch my woman.”

The Ignarath scrambled up. Hatred blazing yellow. Spitting fury. “Not over,” he hissed, backing away. Vanishing into the shadows he came from. “We will collect. All of them.”

Gone.

Silence slammed back in. Khorlar stood rigid. Trembling. Barely contained fury radiating off him in waves. His wings still half-spread. Chest heaving. Rough, wild breaths. He didn't turn. Didn’t look at me.

Not for an eternity.

Then he turned. Slowly. The look on his face—rage, yes. But underneath … something raw. Exposed. Something that cracked my own defenses.

“Sarah.” My name. Rough. Unfamiliar on his tongue. Three strides. He closed the distance. His hands came up—huge, clawed—grasped my shoulders. Firm. Careful. Not the Ignarath’s violation. This was … different. Terrifyingly different. “Hurt?”

“It's Hawk,” I corrected. Automatic. Voice shaky. Damn it. “Fine.”

His nostrils flared. Scenting me? His gaze raked over me. Burning. Possessive. It made my skin flush hot, then cold. One hand moved. To my throat. Where the other had been. His touch was feather-light. Gentle. Examining.

“Bleeding.” It was a low growl. His fingers ghosted a scratch on my arm. I hadn’t felt it. “I will hunt him down.”

“Nothing,” I insisted. My heart was still trying to pound its way out of my chest. “I've had worse in training.”

His eyes narrowed. Pupils slitted. His predatory focus zeroed in. “Alone. You should not have been alone. Why leave without an escort? Without me?”

The accusation snapped me back. My spine stiffened. Defenses up. “I don’t need a babysitter, Khorlar. I can handle myself.” The defense felt weak given the bruises blooming on my throat.

“Clearly,” he snarled. He waved his hand toward the empty corridor. The ghost of the threat.

“I was handling it,” I shot back. Liar. Fool.

“He would have taken you.” His voice dropped. Low. Vibrating. Making me shiver in a way that was completely unrelated to fear. Not entirely. “To Ignarath. Do you know what they do? To females? To you?”

The raw terror in his voice. For me. It gutted me. Cut through the anger, the pride. Left me … adrift. Relief battling fury battling fear battling … this.

This thing that sparked between us. This unwanted, undeniable pull.

He was looking at me like I was … vital. Like losing me would break him.

My lips were dry. I was suddenly aware of how close he was. The heat pouring off him. The sheer size of him. “Sorry,” I managed. The word felt foreign. Thick. “I shouldn’t have left. I just needed … space.”

His expression shifted. Softened? It was hard to tell with the harsh planes of his face. “From me?”

“From everything,” I admitted, honesty tearing loose unexpectedly. “I was feeling trapped. Protected. From—” I cut off. Couldn’t say it.

From the fire you start just by looking.

I shook my head. Stepped back. Created distance. My legs wobbled. Ah, there it was. Adrenaline crash. It hit me like a physical blow. I stumbled as reality hit. What just happened. Whatalmosthappened.

Instantly, he caught me. His arm was like a steel band around my waist. Steadying. Solid. “Sarah?—”

“Hawk,” I whispered. No heat left. Just exhaustion.

“Hawk,” he amended. His voice was softer now. Gentler than I’d ever heard. Than I thought possible. “You're safe now. I have you.”

Something snapped. Some final defense crumbled. I didn’t think. Couldn’t. I leaned into him. My forehead pressed against the hard planes of his chest. Scaled, but warm. So warm.

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