Page 47 of Fated to the Drakarn Commander (Drakarn Mates 4)

Vega surged forward, hope making her reckless. "Kira?" She rounded the blind corner before I could grab her.

"Vega, wait!" I hissed, lunging after her, the harness cinching tight across my ribs as I ran. Another bend and?—

Solid impact. It was Vega’s back. Rigid. Frozen.

She was staring into the dark filling the narrow passage. Filling it completely.

I didn't need to see to know who it was.

Khorlar.

Light flared around him, a portable heat crystal almost blinding for a moment.

His wings were folded impossibly tight in the confined space, gray scales absorbing the faint, distant light like a void. His heat radiated out, a physical wave washing over us, making the air shimmer. His eyes burned, molten gold embers in the gloom, locking onto me. Fixing on the gear. The barely concealed weapons. The intent was clear on my face.

His nostrils flared, sampling the air—our sweat, our fear, our purpose.

Something shifted behind those eyes. It was something cold. Terrible.

"Going somewhere,vrakasha?"

His voice. Oh gods. It wasn't loud. Low. A deep rumble that pulsed through the stone floor, up my legs, into my teeth. Eerily calm. Deadly calm.

The world compressed. Just us three. Vega was vibrating with desperate tension beside me. Khorlar was radiating barely leashed fury before us, a physical pressure against my skin. And me. I was impaled between them.

"Kira," I managed to say, lifting my chin, forcing the word out past the constriction in my throat. "She's missing." The words were all wrong, but nothing could be right, not right now.

His gaze flicked to Vega, dismissive, then snapped back to me. It was hard. Accusing. "And you chose not to inform me."

It was not a question. A blade twisting slow and deep.

“There was no time,” Vega spat, stepping forward instinctively, putting herself slightly between us. "She could be all the way to?—"

“And you intended to follow?” Khorlar cut her off, the calm cracking like ice under pressure. His voice dropped lower, harsher, scraping like stone on stone. Scales rippled along his neck and shoulders, catching faint highlights. "Into oblivion?"

"Just scouting," I tried, the lie pathetic and thin on my tongue. Useless.

His jaw clenched, the sound audible in the sudden, ringing silence. It was sharp. "Lies. Do. Not. Suit. You. Hawk."

My real name. Not the intimate vrakasha. A slap. It was harder than any physical blow. My breath hitched.

“You don't—” I started, desperate.

“No?” His tail slammed against the stone wall behind him.

CRACK.

The sound echoed like a gunshot in the tight space, making me flinch.

"Explain, then. Why my mate prepares to abandon our quarters? To flee into enemy territory? Without a word?"

Mate.

The word detonated in the space between us. Burning heat flooded my face. Vega’s sharp intake of breath beside me. Exposed. Raw. Laid bare under that burning gold stare.

“Your mate doesn't need permission," Vega snarled, moving fully in front of me now. Protective. Reckless. Facing down a storm. "She's not property."

“Vega—” My warning died in my throat.

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