Page 17 of Fated to the Drakarn Commander (Drakarn Mates 4)

I moved to the very edge of the platform, letting my wings extend to their full, vast span now, catching wind as it battered them. Turning to face her, I held out my arms.

"You'll need to hold on tightly." My voice sounded strange to my own ears—rougher, deeper than usual. Thicker. "Arms around my neck. I'll secure you with one arm around your waist, but I need the other free for balance."

She approached slowly, her eyes never leaving mine, that fierce determination written in every line of her body. She stepped inside my guard, into my space. She was close enough that her scent enveloped me, a wave threatening to drown me. Making my fangs pulse with white-hot need.

"Like this?" Her arms slid around my neck, warm and tentative against the cool scales.

Not tentative enough. The touch burned. Not nearly enough space between us.

"Higher," I managed, my voice a strained rumble from deep in my chest. "And tighter."

She adjusted her grip, pressing herself against me, her slight weight warm and solid against my chest plates. My arm encircled her waist, claws carefully angled away, retracted, from her fragile human skin, holding her securely against me.

I wrapped my tail around her thigh, and she gasped.

"Only an anchor," I assured her.

Too close.Her heartbeat hammered against my scales, a frantic rhythm echoing my own. Her breath, warm and quick against the sensitive ridge of my throat. I could feel every tense line of her body, the subtle tremor of anticipation—or fear?—running through her.

"Ready?" I asked, the word choked, barely intelligible through the sudden tightness in my throat.

She nodded, her face turned up to mine, those remarkable eyes wide with something caught between terror and raw exhilaration.

I stepped off the edge.

Wings spread wide, catching the updraft. We didn't fall. Weplummeted.

Just for a terrible second. Her grip tightened convulsively, a small, choked sound torn from her throat—not quite a scream, more a gasp of pure shock. Then my wings bit the air, found purchase, and the plummet became a powerful glide, a surge that carried us away from the mountain face and out over the vast, terrifying expanse of Volcaryth.

Her face buried itself against the hardened scales of my neck ridge, her arms clinging with desperate strength. I could feel her rapid heart-hammer against my ribs, her quickened breath misting against my skin. Beneath the sharp tang of fear rising from her, something else bloomed—pure, unadulterated excitement. Wonder.

"Open your eyes, Hawk," I murmured, my voice a low vibration that hummed between us. "See what I see."

Slowly, tentatively, she lifted her head. I watched her expression transform—fear melting away, replaced by stark awe as she took in the world spread beneath us like a wrathful god's tapestry. The city of Scalvaris fell away behind, a sprawling monument of dark stone and flickering crystal carved into the mountain's bleeding heart. Before us stretched the endless crimson deserts, the distant shimmer of lava flows etching fiery, incandescent veins across the tortured landscape.

"Oh my god," she breathed, the words catching on the wind, ripped away. "It's … it's incredible."

I banked, riding the thermal currents higher, giving her a broader, more devastating view. She laughed—a sound so unexpected, so pure and unrestrained, that it struck something deep within me, cracking it open. Her body relaxed fractionally against mine, fear forgotten, burned away in the raw rush of flight.

For a precious, stolen moment, nothing else existed. Not the looming Ignarath threat, not the corrosive lie festering between us, not the burning, consuming need that gnawed at me day and night. There was only the wind whistling past, the immense sky arching above, and Hawk secure in my arms, her face alight with a joy so radiant, so fierce, it defied the desolation below.

Mine.

The word echoed through the chambers of my mind, inescapable and absolute. It was a truth branded onto my soul.

All too soon, inevitably, I banked again, beginning our reluctant return arc toward the Overlook. Her grip tightened instantly, a silent, desperate protest against our descent.

"Not yet," she said, the words half-lost, whipped away by the wind. "Please."

I shouldn't. Every second with her pressed against me like this was torture—exquisite, brutal torture. My control was fraying, shredded thin by her scent, her warmth, the terrifying, unconscious trust she'd placed in me. A blade twisting deeper with every beat of my wings.

But I couldn't deny her. Not this. Not when flight had returned something essential to her spirit, something the grounding had stolen.

"Hold on," I rumbled, the sound deep, resonant. I felt her arms tighten around my neck again, her body molding closer still as I caught another powerful thermal and soared higher, carrying us in a wide, sweeping arc that revealed the distant Crystal Mountains, their faceted peaks glittering like cruel diamonds in the harsh sunlight.

Her laugh pealed out again, wilder this time. It was freedom itself given voice. The sound burrowed into me, taking root somewhere deep and vital, somewhere I couldn't reach, couldn't protect.

Eventually, inevitably, gravity and duty pulled us back. I landed with precision honed over the years. But I was frozen. I couldn't let her go. She remained in my arms, her face flushed with exhilaration, her eyes bright, shining with an emotion I couldn't decipher but felt reflected in my own turbulent core. Potent. Dangerous.

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