Chapter 6
Brivul
The night shift dragged on at the clinic. Brivul coiled his tail beneath him, his scales scraping against the polished floor as he adjusted his position. The scent of antiseptic filled his nostrils, but underneath it lingered something sweeter—a phantom trace of jasmine and vanilla on his skin from the market.
“Sir?” One of the clinic workers approached. “Everything all right?”
“Fine.” His jaw clenched. The memory of her green eyes flickered through his mind, the way they’d sparked with defiance when that vendor tried to cheat her.
The worker scurried away. Brivul rolled his shoulders, trying to shake off the tension that had built since their encounter.
“You’re being ridiculous,” he muttered to himself. “One conversation doesn’t make her your mate.”
But his primal instincts suggested otherwise. The brush of her fingers against his at the market had sent electricity through his entire body.
Yet she was a slave. His mate was a slave, and he had no way to find her.
He pushed away from the wall. The corridor stretched empty before him as he began his rounds. Each slither brought fresh torment—imagining her smile, the way her black hair had fallen across her face, how she’d lifted her chin when speaking to him. No meek slave, that one. A fighter.
His tail lashed in frustration. Even if he did find her, what then? He couldn’t claim her while she belonged to another.
A flash of movement caught Brivul’s eye. Through the clinic’s windows, a convoy of sleek black vehicles pulled up, their engines purring like predatory beasts. His scales bristled at the sight of the Jorvlen kingpin’s crest emblazoned on their sides.
“Here comes trouble.” Brivul’s tail coiled tighter beneath him as he watched guards pour out of the vehicles.
The clinic’s glass doors slid open with a hiss. The kingpin strutted in, his bulk taking up most of the doorway. Gold chains draped his neck, clinking with each step.
“Kingpin Kurg.” The receptionist’s voice wavered. “We weren’t expecting—”
“A man of my status doesn’t need appointments,” Kurg snarled. “I’ve brought fresh merchandise for your facility.”
Brivul’s claws dug into his palms. The word “merchandise” made his stomach turn. Through the windows, he spotted guards yanking women from the cargo holds like cattle.
“Of course, sir. How many surrogates this time?”
“Seven.” Kurg’s lips curved into an oily smile. “All prime breeding stock.”
Blood roared in Brivul’s ears. His warrior instincts urged him to intervene, to tear the smug look off Kurg’s face. But the vow of noninterference burned in his mind like a brand.
“Just sign here.” The receptionist pushed forward a datapad.
Kurg’s jeweled fingers tapped the screen. “Have them processed quickly. My clients are eager.”
Brivul forced his breathing to steady as he watched the exchange between the receptionist and Kurg.
“Security.” Kurg’s eyes suddenly landed on Brivul. “Ensure my property is handled with care.”
Brivul stepped closer to Kurg, towering over the kingpin. “That’s not my job.”
“Everything in this clinic is your job,” Kurg hissed. “Or should I speak with your superiors about your attitude?”
The former general in Brivul wanted to show this pompous slimeball what real attitude looked like. Instead, he gave a curt nod and eased aside.
The line of women shuffled through the doors with their heads bowed. Then Brivul’s heart stopped. That familiar scent of jasmine and vanilla cut through the antiseptic air.
Finally, he spotted her. Her black hair hung loose, partially obscuring her face. But those fierce green eyes, now rimmed with purple bruises, were unmistakable. His claws extended involuntarily.
“Move faster.” Kurg’s hand shot out, catching Mila across the face.
Red filled Brivul’s vision. His tail whipped forward, inserting itself between Kurg and Mila before another blow could land.
“These women are meant to carry children,” Brivul said, his voice steady despite his rage. “Damage them, and your investment becomes worthless.”
Mila’s head lifted slightly. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. Fresh rage surged through Brivul as he cataloged her injuries—fingerprint bruises on her throat, welts visible beneath her torn sleeve.
“The security guard has opinions now?” Kurg’s laugh echoed off the clinic walls. “Perhaps you’d like to purchase her services yourself?”
Brivul’s scales bristled on his arms, every protective instinct screaming to snatch her away immediately. The mating bond thrummed between them, demanding action.
“I simply ensure the clinic’s interests.” He kept his voice steady despite the fury coursing through his veins.
Mila’s eyes met his for a fraction of a second. Recognition flickered there, along with something else. Hope? Fear? He couldn’t tell through the haze of his own rage.
Kurg’s laughter grew louder. Then his lips curled into a sneer. “Maybe I won’t rent this one out after all. Trash is where disobedient slaves belong.”
His fist connected with Mila’s jaw. The crack echoed through the clinic’s sterile halls as blood sprayed across the white tiles.
Brivul’s claws dug even deeper into his palms. The scent of her blood filled his nostrils, stoking the inferno building in him.
Another blow landed. Mila’s head snapped back, but she didn’t cry out. Her eyes flickered with defiance even as tears streaked down her bruised cheeks.
“Nothing to say?” Kurg grabbed her throat. “No more clever words?”
Blood dripped from Mila’s split lip now. Her gaze found Brivul’s, holding steady despite the pain. The mating bond pulsed between them, each beat of her heart echoing in his chest.
Kurg’s rings left fresh cuts across her face. “Worthless human filth.”
The beast inside Brivul roared. His scales rippled with barely contained rage as Mila stumbled backward. The vow of noninterference warred with every instinct demanding he tear Kurg limb from limb.
“Look at her trying to stay strong.” Kurg’s boot caught Mila’s ribs. “Proud little thing. Aren’t you?”
A whimper escaped Mila’s lips as she curled in on herself. The sound sent shockwaves through Brivul’s body. His vision flared bright red, his scales bristling as his tail coiled tighter.
“Should have learned your place.” Another kick. Another muffled cry of pain.
Brivul’s fangs extended fully. The general in him calculated exactly how many seconds it would take to end Kurg’s miserable existence. The mate in him demanded blood.
Something inside Brivul snapped. The sound of Mila’s cries shattered the last threads of his control. His tail whipped forward, catching Kurg across the chest and sending him flying into the clinic’s wall.
“Touch her again and die.” The words emerged as a guttural snarl.
Guards rushed forward. Brivul’s warrior instincts took over. His tail swept two off their feet while his fist connected with a third’s jaw. Bones crunched. The guard dropped.
“Kill him!” Kurg bellowed from the floor.
Brivul moved like liquid death, each strike precise and lethal. His claws raked across throats. His tail crushed windpipes. The scent of blood filled the air as bodies hit the floor.
A blade flashed. Brivul caught the wielder’s wrist, snapped it, and used the guard’s own knife to end him. More guards poured through the doors.
“Mine.” The word rumbled from deep in his chest as he scooped Mila into his arms. Her slight weight felt right against his scales, even as she trembled.
Glass shattered as Brivul crashed through the clinic’s window. His tail propelled them forward, carrying them into the neon-lit streets of Jorvla’s night. Shouts and footsteps echoed behind them.
“After them!” Kurg’s voice carried over the chaos.
Brivul wove through the crowded streets, his powerful tail launching them over vendor carts and through narrow alleys. Plasma bolts sizzled past his head. One scorched his scales, but he barely felt it. His entire world had narrowed to the precious bundle in his arms.
The sound of pursuing boots grew closer. Brivul ducked into a side street, his heart pounding. Mila’s breath came in short gasps against his chest. The bruises on her face made his blood boil anew.
“Hold tight.” He clutched her closer as he scaled the wall of a nearby building, claws finding purchase in the rough stone.
More shots rang out. Brivul’s tail lashed, knocking a shooter off balance as they reached the rooftop. He sprinted across it, leaping the small gap to the next building. The city spread out before them, a maze of shadows and artificial light.
The guards’ shouts grew fainter, but Brivul didn’t slow. He couldn’t. Not while his mate’s blood still stained his scales. Not while Kurg still breathed.
The mating bond thrummed stronger with each passing second. Every protective instinct roared at him to get her somewhere safe, to heal her, to kill anyone who dared harm her again.