Page 41 of Fated to the Drakarn Commander (Drakarn Mates 4)

“Alright,” I breathed, the word barely audible. But his sharp intake of breath, the slight flare of his nostrils, told me he’d heard the surrender beneath it.

He moved behind me. Close. Too close. His presence enveloped me, overwhelming my senses. I lifted my arms stiffly, allowing him to slide the harness over my head, settling it onto my shoulders. His claws, usually weapons, moved with shocking precision, adjusting straps, securing buckles. Each touch was careful. Electric. The backs of his scaled fingers brushed my ribs as he tightened a side strap. A violent shiver wracked my frame.

“Too tight?” The question was a low growl, missing the cause entirely.

I shook my head, unable to trust my voice. His hands paused at my waist, fingers splayed, heat searing through my shirt. Lingering. Branding me. When he finally moved around to face me, checking the front fastenings, the look in his eyes gutted me.

Hunger. Stark. Unfiltered. A predator’s assessment barely leashed by iron control. But beneath it, something deeper, more terrifying. A profound vulnerability mirrored in raw possessiveness.

“It fits,” he murmured, his gaze sweeping down the harness, then locking onto mine.

His knuckles brushed the sensitive skin just above my collarbone as he adjusted one last strap. Sparks ignited along my nerve pathways. I sucked in a shaky breath, hyperaware of the scant inches separating us, the furnace of his body, the way my own pulsed in response.

“Thank you.” The whisper was rough, inadequate. My heart hammered against the confines of the harness, a frantic drumbeat of warning and anticipation. “It’s … intricate work.”

He rumbled low and deep. It was satisfaction. Possession. Power. “There is more I would give you,” he stated, the words a low promise, heavy with unspoken meaning. “So much more,vrakasha.”

I exhaled, the sound ragged. Each step deeper into this—into him—shredded the careful defenses I’d rebuilt stone by painful stone.

But when his hand lifted, calloused thumb tracing a feather-light path along my cheekbone, the jolt short-circuited thought. Only this moment. Only the searing heat of what burned between us, consuming everything else.

“I heard them,” I blurted, the words escaping before I could cage them. “In the training pit. The Elder. About the Council. That you’re …” The words caught. Risking everything. For me.

His expression tightened, a flicker of granite, then softened fractionally as he searched my face. “Always,” he confirmed. The single word resonated like a vow hammered into stone. “Without reservation.”

The weight of it—the political firestorm, the danger he courted—threatened to suffocate me.

“They’re right,” I whispered, the fear raw, exposed. “This is dangerous. What we … this connection. It’s changing things.”

“Yes.” The agreement was a deep growl, felt more than heard, vibrating against my bones. “It is.”

His hand slid from my cheek, cupping the back of my neck, fingers tangling in the short strands of my hair. The immense strength held in check, the careful restraint costing him visible effort—that was more seductive, more terrifying, than any overt force.

“I don’t know how,” I admitted, the vulnerability ripped from me, leaving me exposed. “How to navigate this. Be what you need. What your people demand.”

“I require only you,” he countered, leaning closer, his breath a hot caress against my lips. The scent of him filled my head. “As you are. Fierce. Defiant.” His eyes burned into mine. “Mine.”

Mine.

It slammed into me, a brand seared onto my soul. Every instinct screamed danger, flight. But a deeper, traitorous pulse flared low in my belly, a hunger answering his own.

The harness seemed to tighten as I dragged in another shaky breath, a physical reminder of his claim. Tentatively, I reached up, fingers tracing the hard, unyielding line of his jaw. Cool, smooth scales under my touch. Alien. Intoxicating.

The chasm between our worlds felt vast, insurmountable. Yet the current arcing between us ignored it all, raw and undeniable. Living lightning.

I surrendered. Not softly. But like yielding to a gravity too strong to fight. Whatever this was, wherever it dragged us—down into fire or up into the lethal beauty of his sky—there was no turning back now.

For tonight, I would fall.

14

KHORLAR

The harness sattight on her body. Leather and steel. A claim. I'd spent hours measuring, cutting, stitching it just for her. It was my mark on her skin. Her fingers traced the buckles, eyes wide. Was it gratitude? Maybe. Uncertainty? Sure. But something else pulsed under it all.

"It's good work," she murmured, her voice almost lost to the wind whistling outside. Those dark eyes met mine. They were questioning, but defiant too. "I've never had anything made just for me. Not like this."

Pride surged hot. It was primal. Fierce. "The first," I said, my voice rough. My tail swept the stone floor behind me, restless. I couldn't keep it still.

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