Page 29 of Fated to the Drakarn Commander (Drakarn Mates 4)

No. I couldn't allow my thoughts to linger there. That path led toward a madness I couldn't afford.

"Efficient," came Zarvash's cool voice from the entrance. It was calm. Approving. "If somewhat … intense."

I turned, my chest still heaving, the metallic tang of blood—his and mine—sharp in the air. It cooled quickly on my scales in the cavern's depths. "He deserved far worse."

"No argument," Zarvash replied, moving forward to examine the corpse with detached, clinical interest. "I will arrange for this … disposal. Quietly." A pause, then those assessing copper eyes fixed on me again. "Your human must be truly … remarkable."

Something in his tone snagged my attention. It was not mockery. Not judgment. A flicker of something akin to … understanding? Or perhaps merely strategic curiosity. Strange, considering Zarvash's feeling on human mates only a few months ago.

"She is," I stated simply. Denying it now, after this, would be pointless. Futile.

That flicker of teeth again, the not-quite smile. "Interesting times lie ahead, Khorlar." He gestured with his snout toward the gash across my shoulder, where blood still welled sluggishly. "You should have that tended to."

I grunted. The wound was shallow. Nothing. Already clotting against the cool air. "I need to return to her."

His expression shifted minutely, a subtle acknowledgment. "Of course." A knowing look that, coming from anyone else, would have ignited my fury anew. From Zarvash … it felt merely perceptive. "The Ignarath will not attempt this again. Not directly. Not after this message has been … received."

"They had better not." The growl rumbled, low and menacing.

"No." His gaze flicked briefly to the corpse. "I believe the point has been made quite clearly."

I left him there to manage the aftermath, trusting his discretion, his strategic mind. Trusting him to ensure this act of necessary justice wouldn't create inconvenient political ripples for Darrokar or the Council.

The killing rage had subsided, leaving behind something just as powerful, but colder, sharper. A bone-deep certainty. A fierce, unwavering protectiveness that resonated beyond duty, beyond honor, beyond even the primal claiming-fever of the bond.

She wasmine. And I would eradicate anyone, anything, that dared threaten her.

My steps quickened as I ascended, heading back toward our quarters, towardher. The drying blood—his and mine—caked on my scales would need cleansing before I faced her. She couldn't see me like this. Not yet. The warrior unleashed was not something she was ready for.

But soon … soon we would have to confront what simmered between us. What had been undeniable from that first shared glance across a field of wreckage, that first intoxicating brush of her scent. Soon, she would need to understand the truth.

She wasn't merely under my protection.

She was under my skin. In my blood.

9

HAWK

I saton the edge of the sleeping platform, my fingers tracing the cool, smooth silk beneath me. I stared at nothing. My lips still felt … bruised. Not painful, exactly. Just thoroughly kissed. The memory—Khorlar’s heat, the scrape of fang against my lip—played on a loop behind my eyes. Heat bloomed low in my belly just thinking about it.

The door scraped open. A slice of corridor light appeared, then shadow filled the frame. Khorlar.

His shoulders were rigid. The way he held his weight was wrong. Even silhouetted, I knew.

“You’re hurt,” I said, the words sharp. I was on my feet before the thought finished forming.

His nostrils flared, a subtle shift in the dim light as he stepped fully inside, and the door hissed closed. The air shifted with him, carrying a scent sharper than his usual smoke and scorched metal—ozone, maybe? And underneath, faint but undeniable, copper. Blood.

“It is insignificant,” he said, his voice rougher than usual, like stones grinding together.

Liar. My gaze snagged on the dark, wet patch dulling the scales of his left forearm. It was a gash. And I noticed the almost imperceptible favoring of his right leg.

“The Ignarath?” My throat tightened.

His eyes, molten gold in the gloom, found mine. Something dangerous flared there—old, predatory, deeply satisfied. “He poses no further threat.”

The finality of it hung in the air. Cold. Efficient. A shiver traced my spine, but it wasn’t fear. More like … resonance. A dark chord struck deep inside. He’d dealt with a danger. To me.Becauseof me.

---