Chapter 22
The vessel’s landing thrusters kicked up clouds of dust and dried grass as it settled onto the grasslands, the noise deafening after so many weeks of mountain silence.
Ember shielded her eyes against the swirling debris, her heart hammering against her ribs with a complicated mixture of anticipation and dread.
This is it. No more hiding. No more stolen time.
The vessel was larger than she’d expected—a sleek transport craft bearing the Duvain corporate insignia on its hull, the silver and blue emblem gleaming in the afternoon light.
It looked impossibly clean and modern against the wild backdrop of the foothills, a jarring reminder of just how far she’d traveled from her old life.
Beside her, Rykan stood utterly still, his golden eyes tracking the vessel’s movements intently.
She could feel the tension radiating from him, his muscles coiled and ready, his beast clearly alert to potential threats.
His hand brushed the small of her back—a small gesture, almost unconscious, but the possessive warmth of it steadied her.
The vessel’s side hatch hissed open.
A squad of guards emerged in formation, six men in the crisp black uniforms of Duvain security officers.
They quickly fanned out to secure the perimeter, their hands resting on the weapons at their hips.
She recognized the tactical formation from her father’s security briefings—standard protocol for retrieving high-value assets from potentially hostile territory.
High-value assets. Is that what I am now?
The squad leader approached first, a broad-shouldered man with a close-cropped beard and the hard eyes of a career soldier. His gaze swept over her, cataloguing her appearance—the practical mountain clothes, the windburned cheeks, the tangled hair escaping from her braid.
Then his attention shifted to Rykan, and his expression hardened.
“Miss Duvain.” The guard’s tone was professionally neutral, but Ember caught the flicker of distaste as he looked at the Vultor beside her. “We received your emergency beacon. Are you injured? Do you require medical attention?”
“I’m fine. Tired, but unharmed.”
“Excellent.” He reached for her arm, clearly intending to guide her towards the vessel. “If you will come with us, we have orders to return you to Port Cantor immediately. Your aunt has been—”
Rykan moved.
One moment he was standing beside her; the next, he was between them, his huge body blocking the guard’s approach. The movement was fluid, almost casual, but there was nothing casual about the warning in his stance.
“Do not touch her.”
The words came out low and rough, more growl than speech. The sound vibrated through her bones, and her mark pulsed with answering heat.
The guard’s hand dropped to his weapon. “Who are you to interfere, Vultor?”
The last word was spoken with undisguised contempt—a slur dressed up as an identifier. Rykan’s shoulders tensed, a faint glow beginning to kindle in his eyes.
Careful, she thought. Not here. Not yet.
But he didn’t need her warning. Instead of attacking, he simply held the guard’s gaze, and as she watched, his eyes shifted fully—the gold bleeding into something brighter, more feral. The beast rising just beneath the surface.
The guard went pale.
“He is my—” she began but Rykan interrupted.
“I am in charge of her security,” he said, each word precise and deliberate. “No one touches her without her explicit permission. Is that understood?”
She had been about to announce exactly who he was to her and establish his place at her side from the very first moment. But something in his tone, in the quick glance he shot her, made her hesitate.
Keep some cards hidden, his look seemed to say.
She understood. They were walking into unknown territory, facing enemies who had already tried to kill her once. Revealing everything immediately might not be wise.
“Stand down, Lieutenant.” She kept her voice calm and authoritative—the voice she’d learned at her father’s side during countless business meetings and contract negotiations.
“This male saved my life and kept me safe for weeks in the mountains. He has my complete trust, and I expect him to be treated with the same respect you would show any member of my personal staff.”
The guard’s jaw tightened, but he took a step back. “Of course, Miss Duvain. My apologies.”
Movement at the vessel’s hatch caught her attention. A familiar figure appeared in the opening, and her heart lifted.
“Tomas!”
The elderly man hurried down the ramp with surprising speed for his age, his weathered face creased with relief and joy. He was dressed immaculately as always—dark suit, white shirt, every silver hair in place—but there was nothing formal about the way he grasped her hands when he reached her.
“Miss Ember. Thank the stars.” His voice trembled slightly. “When we received the distress signal from your ship, and then nothing for so long… we feared the worst.”
“I’m all right, Tomas.” She squeezed his hands, blinking back the sudden sting of tears. “I’m sorry I worried you.”
“Worried.” He let out a sound that was half-laugh, half-sob. “I’ve aged ten years in the past month. But you’re here now. You’re safe.” His gaze flickered to Rykan, curious but not hostile. “And you have a story to tell, I suspect.”
“A long one.” She smiled at him, warmth spreading through her chest. Tomas had been part of her life for as long as she could remember—more a father figure than a servant, especially after her own father’s death. Seeing him again made the strangeness of her return feel almost bearable.
“Miss Duvain.”
The new voice was crisp and efficient, carrying an undertone of authority that she recognized instantly. She turned to see Helena, one of her aunt’s personal assistants, descending the ramp, her dark hair pulled back in a severe knot, her tablet already in hand.
“We need to get you back to Port Cantor immediately,” Helena continued, not bothering with pleasantries. “Your aunt has been managing company affairs in your absence, but there are numerous decisions that require your personal attention. I’ve prepared a briefing on the current state of—”
“Helena.” She cut her off gently but firmly. “I appreciate your dedication, but I’ve just spent weeks surviving in the wilderness. The briefing can wait until I’ve had a chance to rest and change.”
Helena’s expression tightened with barely concealed frustration. “Miss Duvain, with all due respect, the company’s situation is urgent. Your aunt specifically instructed me to—”
“I’m sure she did.” She calmly held the other woman’s gaze, refusing to back down. “But I will address company matters when I’m ready, not before. Is that clear?”
A flicker of surprise crossed Helena’s face. The old Ember would have allowed herself to be managed and directed. The old Ember had been trained from childhood to defer to those who seemed more capable. But the old Ember had died in a burning ship and been reborn in mountain snow.
“Of course,” Helena said finally, her tone carefully neutral. “As you wish.”
“Good.” She turned back towards the vessel, reaching for Rykan’s hand without thinking. His fingers closed around hers, warm and solid. “Shall we?”
The interior of the transport was exactly what she remembered—polished surfaces, soft lighting, the faint hum of advanced technology. It felt foreign after weeks of rough-hewn wood and firelight, almost aggressively civilized.
Helena moved to intercept them as they walked down the main corridor. “Miss Duvain, I’ve prepared a seat for you in the main cabin. We can begin the briefing during transit—”
“We’ll be in the private cabin at the rear.” She didn’t slow her pace. “Please see that we’re not disturbed.”
“The private cabin?” Helena’s voice rose slightly. “Miss Duvain, that space is reserved for—”
“For the Duvain heir.” She glanced back over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow. “Which is me. Thank you, Helena.”
She didn’t wait for a response, simply continued down the corridor with Rykan at her side. Behind them, she heard Helena’s sharp intake of breath, followed by Tomas’s quiet murmur—something that sounded like reassurance, or perhaps a gentle rebuke.
The private cabin was small but well-appointed—a cushioned bench that could fold out into a bed, a compact refresher unit, and storage compartments built into the walls. She closed the door behind them and let out a long sigh.
“You frightened that guard.” She turned to face him, a smile tugging at her lips. “I thought he might actually faint when your eyes changed.”
His expression remained serious. “Good. He should be frightened.”
“Rykan—”
“He was going to put his hands on you.” The words came out rough, edged with something darker. “I would never allow that. No one touches you without your permission. No one.”
The possessiveness in his voice sent a shiver down her spine—not of fear, but of something warmer. Something that made her mark pulse with recognition.
She crossed to the storage compartments, rapidly surveying the available clothing.
The fabrics were fine and elegant, a far cry from the practical mountain garb she’d grown accustomed to.
She briefly considered a soft blue gown, the kind of attire she’d previously worn.
But instead she chose cream-colored blouse with delicate embroidery, dark trousers tailored to fit perfectly, and soft leather boots that had never seen mud.
Heiress clothes, but with a harder edge.
She began to change, unselfconscious about undressing in front of him—they’d shared far more intimate moments than this. But as she fastened the blouse and smoothed the fabric over her hips, she caught his expression in the polished surface of the wall panel.
Doubt. Uncertainty. Something almost like loss.
“What is it?” She turned to face him, her fingers pausing on the buttons of her sleeve.
He was silent for a long moment, his golden eyes traveling over her—taking in the fine clothes, the soft fabrics, everything that marked her as someone from a world he’d never known.
“You look different,” he said finally.
“Is that bad?”
“No. Just…” He shook his head, as if trying to clear away thoughts he didn’t want to examine. “You look like you belong in this world. This ship. These clothes. All of it.”
She closed the distance between them, taking his hands in hers. “I belong with you. Everything else is just… circumstance.”
He didn’t respond, but she could see the tension in his jaw and the wariness in his eyes. She thought about their descent from the mountain, about his whispered fears that her world would swallow her whole and leave no room for him.
“Why didn’t you let me tell them?” she asked softly. “When I was about to say you were my mate—you interrupted. Why?”
He exhaled slowly. “Because we don’t know what we’re walking into. Your aunt tried to kill you. We don’t know who else might be involved, or who we can trust. If they think I’m just a hired guard, they might underestimate me. Might reveal things they wouldn’t reveal if they knew the truth.”
It made sense. Strategic sense, the kind of calculation she might have made herself in a business negotiation.
“You’re right,” she admitted. “It’s smart to keep some cards hidden.”
“But?” He heard the hesitation in her voice.
“But I need you to know something.” She reached up to cup his face, forcing him to meet her eyes. “I will never deny you. Never. The moment you want me to tell them—to tell everyone—I will. You are my mate, Rykan. I’m not ashamed of that. I’m proud of it.”
Something shifted in his expression. The doubt softened, replaced by something warmer. His hands came up to cover hers, holding them against his cheeks.
“I know,” he said quietly.
“Do you?”
Instead of answering, he kissed her. It was gentle at first, almost reverent—lips brushing lips, breath mingling breath.
But heat kindled quickly between them, as it always did, and soon the kiss deepened into something more urgent.
His hands slid down to her waist, pulling her closer.
Her fingers tangled in his hair, holding on.
A chime sounded through the cabin from the ship’s announcement system.
“Approaching Port Cantor. All passengers please secure yourselves for landing.”
They broke apart reluctantly, both breathing harder than the brief kiss warranted. She brushed her hair and twisted it into an elegant knot and checked her reflection in the wall panel, making sure no trace of their embrace showed on her carefully composed features.
When she turned back to him, she found him watching her with an intensity that made her heart skip.
“Ready?” she asked.
He moved to stand beside her, his hand coming to rest at the small of her back—possessive, protective, exactly where it belonged.
“Together,” he said.
Through the cabin’s small viewport, she could see Port Cantor rising to meet them—the towers of glass and steel catching the afternoon light, the vast sprawl of the city spreading across the horizon like a glittering web.
Somewhere in that maze of streets and buildings, her aunt was waiting.
Her company was waiting. All the complications of her old life, ready to swallow her whole.
But she wasn’t the same woman who had fled that life weeks ago. She was stronger now. Fiercer. And she wasn’t alone.