Page 6 of Fated to the Drakarn Commander (Drakarn Mates 4)

Forher.

"You will takenothing." I snarled the words, fangs bared, the world narrowing to him, to the threat.

Plaktish’s gaze didn't waver, but a flicker of calculation showed. He saw it. Saw the crack in my control.

Dangerous. I'd shown too much.

"Careful, Stone Fist." His voice dropped, laced with menace. "We wouldn't want hostilities."

2

HAWK

Bad.This was volcanic eruption inside a crashing spaceship bad.

The air didn’t just crackle—it felt thick enough to choke on, heavy with the heat rolling off the cracked earth and the sudden, predatory weight that slammed down with Plaktish’s words.

We'll take your humans as payment.

Audacity wasn’t a strong enough word. It was a physical blow, stealing the air from my lungs, leaving a ringing silence behind the raw demand.

Beside me, Vega was a live wire. I didn’t just see her rage; I felt it humming off her skin, a dangerous vibration that tightened the knot already forming low in my gut. Her knuckles were bone-white on the hilt of the knife she gripped, her whole body coiled so tight I swear I could hear the scream building in her throat.

She was going to launch herself—her stupid, loyal, suicidal self—straight into those Ignarath claws. And then some of us were going to die. Including me, since my stupid ass was going to have to defend her.

But before the thought fully formed, before Vega could explode, something shifted. A pressure change. A wall of granite-gray muscle didn’t just move—itmaterializedbetween us and the sneering Ignarath leader.

Khorlar.

A blur of shadow and scale, faster than anything that massive had a right to be, planting himself like a mountain. His wings flared—a ripple of dark membrane—but it was enough. Enough to cast a shadow that felt suddenly cold despite the twin suns beating down.

My own hand spasmed, fingers brushing the familiar hardness of the knife at my thigh. What I wouldn't do for a blaster. Or a gun.

Around us, the air vibrated. Drakarn trainees shifted, the scrape of claws on scorched rock impossibly loud in the sudden quiet, weapons half-drawn despite Plaktish’s flimsy negotiation flag. Across the clearing, Terra’s eyes met mine—a grim, silent warning:hold.

My gaze locked on Khorlar, narrowed, dissecting. Every survival instinct screameddanger. The Drakarn were powerful. Alien. In the months since we'd crashed on Scalvaris, I kept thinking I was used to them. And then …

Yeah, there was no getting used to seven-foot-tall dragon men. And Khorlar was taller than most. Bigger than most. I tried to tell my body that was scary and not sexy.

And now wasnotthe time for that argument.

What had he thought when he overheard Vega's plans? What would hedo? She was getting more reckless, desperate. I was afraid she was going to act alone if one of us didn't find a way to make her see sense. And if it came down to the Drakarn knocking that sense into her?

She was screwed.

But watching him now … immovable, radiating a fury so contained it felt like it might crack the air around him … something else stirred. Not trust. But a grudging … acknowledgment? Recognition? The sheer, overwhelming force was, for once, pointedawayfrom us.

And that growl. The one that had ripped from his chest when Plaktish made his demand. It hadn't been calculated. It had been torn from somewhere deep, somewhere primal. Possessive. The sound had vibrated low, not just in the air, but somewhere deep inmyown bones.

And, well, other places. Places that had no right to be acknowledged on the battlefield.

Khorlar wanted to protect us. Me—Plaktish’s gaze had snagged on me, oily and appraising, right before he spoke. The realization sent a bizarre, cold trickle down my spine, chased by an unwanted flush of heat.

“You will takenothing,” Khorlar snarled again, the words less spoken, more carved into the charged air. Low. Menacing. His fangs were fully bared now, wickedly sharp. The heat radiating off him wasn't just the planet; it was focused rage.

Plaktish didn’t flinch, but his greasy smile stretched tighter, thinning his lips. I saw it—the flicker of calculation in those yellow eyes. He’d prodded the stone beast and gotten a tremor he hadn’t banked on. He saw the crack in the granite control.

“Careful, Stone Fist,” Plaktish purred, the sound like oil sliding over gravel, meant to unnerve. “Hostilities would be … unfortunate. I am proposing a simple solution.”

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