Chapter Eighteen
Rhydek
I didn’t speak as we returned to Korvashan. I walked a half step ahead of Taryn, as was proper in public, my pace measured, my posture controlled.
But every instinct and thought within me was tangled.
The image of Taryn standing before Zharrek wouldn’t leave me. She’d been firm, unflinching, holding his gaze. Speaking to the varku as if he would understand her.
As if she belonged there.
My jaw tightened as we passed beneath the arch and into the tunnels. The shift from heat and wind to the dry stillness of stone should have grounded me, but it did nothing to settle the unease clawing beneath my skin.
She should have been afraid. Any reasonable being would have been when facing a predator larger than them, adapted to an environment that left the person at a disadvantage.
Zharrek was not a training beast. He wasn’t a kit. He was a failed weapon, unpredictable, unstable, and one misstep from tearing through anything within reach. Even experienced handlers avoided his enclosure.
But Taryn wanted to save him. She had held her ground against him. Not because she was ignorant, but with intent.
I exhaled through my nose, forcing my kethra to dim so I wasn’t lighting up the tunnel like a beacon.
Replaying the memory of Zharrek’s reactions, I studied what I’d seen. The varku had not attacked her. Not truly. He had tested her, as she’d stated.
My hands fisted at my side. It had seemed like a good idea to show her the varkuun, and everything had gone well up till she spotted Zharrek.
“Rhydek?”
Her voice broke through my thoughts, pulling me back to the present. I stopped without meaning to, and Taryn nearly walked into my back before halting, her brows pulled together as she looked up at me.
“Are you angry?”
The quiet words made me realize how my posture looked to others. Uncurling my hands, I relaxed my tail and rolled my neck to ease the muscles.
“I am thinking.”
One brow lifted and her lips quirked.
“That sounds dangerous.”
Her tone was light, teasing, but there was a thread of concern beneath it. Uncertainty. It unsettled me more than her defiance in the kennels.
“I took you somewhere I shouldn’t have.”
Her expression shifted to surprise. Dipping my chin, I kept my eyes locked on her.
“I thought you wanted to show me the varkuun.”
I couldn’t stop my grimace, and I pulled my gaze away to glance around us.
“I did.”
Taking a deep breath, I met her eyes again before continuing.
“And it was a mistake.”
Something flickered across her face. She hid it quickly, but it was unmistakable.
Disappointment.
Hurt.
My chest tightened but I hardened myself against the urge to reassure her.
“You don’t mean that.”
She tried to make it sound light but there was a plea in her voice. I couldn’t let myself give in when her safety was at risk.
“I do.”
Stiffening, she faced me the way any warrior would, without fear. If I hadn’t seen the emotion on her before I’d have thought she wasn’t capable of it, but she only seemed to be fearless when facing physical danger.
“I’m unharmed. I followed the rules. You saw Zharrek, he didn’t—”
“He lunged and attacked the bars.”
Her glare could have brought lesser males to their knees, and my respect for her grew even as the desire to take her over my knee and treat her like a petulant child grew as well.
“It was only a warning.”
Sighing, I ran a hand over my face.
“He could have killed you, Taryn. How would that look to the UEC?”
Her lips parted, but no words came. She had to understand the risks, not just to herself. She represented something more.
“He didn’t.”
The words were still firm, but they were quieter. I didn’t want the lost and lonely Taryn I’d found in a ravaged nest, but I couldn’t have her death on my hands either.
“That doesn’t matter.”
Silence followed. Long enough that I shifted from one foot to the other, unsure if the conversation was over, or if she was about to launch herself at me. Both seemed likely from the war on her face.
“It does to me.”
The words were harsher than they should have been. I could only stare at her until I was forced to look away and resume our walk. It was easier to focus on the path ahead than the pain in her eyes.
“I can not take you there again.”
She didn’t speak as another Morraki passed. They kept their gaze lowered, but they didn’t need to see us to know Taryn was unhappy. Her pheromones broadcast it to anything with a nose.
“Okay.”
Her lack of argument made me falter. It wasn’t the response I had expected. There was no challenge, no insistence, no trying to change my mind.
Just resignation.
Everything about it felt wrong. My tail twitched as agitation built. I didn’t want her to be miserable, but I couldn’t put her in danger.
I shot a glance at her, taking in the set of her shoulders and chin. She hadn’t curled into herself, her back was still straight as if she walked before all of Korvashan, but her face was bleak.
“You don’t agree that it’s too dangerous.”
One shoulder rose.
“No, it is dangerous.”
I glared at the tunnel ahead, baring my teeth in a silent snarl before trying to rein it into something less furious.
“Then why concede?”
The words still came out harsh, my voice echoing back to us. I had taken a different path than before, leading her toward a stairway farther along the ravine where the tunnels were less used, and it was a good thing with the way I felt.
But I didn’t expect her response.
“Because you’re scared.”
My head snapped toward her, fangs bared again as my tail whipped around.
“I am not—”
“Not scared for yourself,” she cut in. “Scared for me.”
I stared at her calm expression, muscles coiled and ready. She held my gaze without flinching, something alphas failed to do, and for the first time I allowed myself to truly examine how I felt.
I wasn’t angry that she connected with the varkuun. I couldn’t even be irritated that it was Zharrek who captured her focus.
She understood.
That realization was more dangerous than anything that had happened in the kennels, and I turned away before I revealed anything more.
“We are going to the River Caverns to bathe.”
She didn’t question the abrupt subject change, and that was the only reason I managed to keep control of myself. Cool air replaced the dry heat as we descended. Moisture clung to the stone, making it darker until it appeared almost black.
By the time we reached the river, the shift in environment was complete. Most wouldn’t believe the deep caverns could be so different than the surface, but the stone protected the precious water, and life flourished in the dim light of bioluminescence.
The cavern stretched wide, the sound of flowing water filling the space.
Pools along the river’s edge held other Morraki washing away the sand and grime of the day, but I didn’t stop at the public bathing areas near the entrance.
I continued along the wall, guiding Taryn toward a narrower passage partially concealed by hanging stone and bioluminescent vines.
Taryn followed without hesitation. The show of trust was soothing to the alpha part of me.
The path curved, opening into a smaller chamber where the river pooled into a quiet basin, shielded on three sides by rock.
The glow here was brighter since there were more plants growing from the walls, the air cooler, which was why most Morraki sought other locations to bathe, but it would be perfect for her.
Although I wasn’t choosing it for that reason.
The sounds of the main cavern were distant but reminded us that others were still nearby. This area was private, safe, and anyone approaching us had to come from a single direction. It was where I should have brought her the first time. For safety.
Taryn turned, taking it in, her eyes wide. The moss in this area of the cavern was blue, interspersed with drooping purple flowers and spikes of silver leaves, and their glow washed the redness of exertion from her skin, leaving it paler than usual. I found I didn’t like it.
“This is… nice.”
Grunting, I turned away from her. She could read too much, and I didn’t need her seeing how the comment made my chest lighter.
“It is not popular due to the temperature. This pool is a blend of a deep spring and river water, making it unpleasantly cool.”
Her brows twitched as if she struggled with how to feel about the information, and I cursed myself for telling her too much. Why else would I bathe in water too cold for my liking if not for her?
“We can use a different pool. I don’t mind warm water, it’s not as hot as the surface down here.”
My shoulders tensed. I hated the way she was so selfless when her comfort mattered more than mine. She was the omega.
But she hadn’t always been. She’d learned her strength and compassion before biology forced those things on her.
“Here is fine.”
I dropped my belt and shucked my korrvek, not bothering with the cubbies in the wall. I doubted anyone else would choose the pool while we were there, and a glare from me would send them away if they thought to.
Silence settled between us, making the rustle of clothing seem louder than it should have.
I didn’t need to turn and see her for my shaft to thicken and start throbbing, my kethra brightening at just the thought of her naked.
It wasn’t supposed to affect me so much, and I could only blame it on pheromones.
She was approaching her first heat, and my body was reacting to the subtle cues.
I focused on undressing, keeping each motion controlled. I tried to use the routine to keep my thoughts from drifting back to her, but failed each time a new sound reached my ears.
The soft swish of fabric hitting stone. Her bare footsteps. The ripple of water as she entered the pool.
The way she had stood before Zharrek, so sure of herself. The way she looked at him afterward.
The way she said, “You’re scared”, as if it was understandable and not a reason for shame.