Chapter 21
The corridors were eerily silent. Raaevik frowned as he hustled her through the empty passage. Daaynal must have ordered the route cleared to keep Emily from encountering anyone before reaching Prince Isan’s ship.
He shot her a sidelong glance, relieved. He’d seen the devastation on her face when she realized her touch had killed the medic.
He kept her close, claws half-extended, his body still coiled in combat mode. Standing down wasn’t an option, not until she was secure.
So every junction got a full scan before he let her step through it. Left. Right. Overhead. Clear each time. Still, he checked anyway. He wasn’t taking any chances with the little female at his side.
His mate.
He still couldn’t grasp it. He couldn’t believe he’d found her, that Daaynal had let him live, or that she’d agreed to bond with him after seeing the monster he’d become.
She walked quietly beside him. Her smaller hand rested warm in his, letting him do what he needed to do without trying to talk him out of it. Her acceptance eased the maelstrom inside him.
He should slow down, but every instinct screamed to get her out, to get her somewhere safe.
The airlock neared, and every moment in this outpost was another Daaynal might change his mind. Someone else could step into their path with orders he would have to disobey. He’d have to kill again, because he absolutely was not letting anyone take her from him.
They rounded the last corner, and he pulled up short. Emily’s hand tightened in his grip.
Thyaar waited by the airlock.
Of all the things Raaevik had braced for on the walk down here… a last-second challenge from the Emperor’s guards or Korrait’s warriors—this was the one that nearly knocked him off his feet.
The big redheaded warrior didn’t hold a guard stance. He lounged against the bulkhead, none of his trademark smirk visible, his jaw tight.
A sharp band clamped Raaevik’s ribs, stealing his breath. Draanth. He could carve through a dozen armed warriors right now without blinking. He knew how to face down a blade. But this? He had no clue how to handle this.
Emily squeezed his hand in silent support.
Raaevik stopped a few paces away. Neither of them spoke, just looked at each other in silence. There were years between them that couldn’t be compressed into a few neat words.
Years of training together and battling on ships that could have been their coffins. Years of brotherhood that neither of them had ever put a name to, because naming it meant acknowledging it could end.
And now it was ending, and they both knew it.
Thyaar broke first. He clenched his jaw, then shook his head.
“Typical,” Thyaar said, voice rough. “Can’t even leave without making a draanthing production. Always knew you were odd, brother. Figured it’d take the Emperor’s matched female to drag it out.”
Raaevik’s lips quirked. “You’re one to talk. I’ve read your reports. Your spelling alone should have gotten you exiled.”
Thyaar’s expression cracked. He smiled like he always did. But this time, it was raw and rough around the edges.
He gripped Raaevik’s forearm. Raaevik returned it, hand closing with enough force to leave bruises by morning.
Thyaar held the grip, his gaze locked with Raaevik’s.
“Miranda Evans has been stripped of everything,” Thyaar said. “Title, status, all of it. Gone.” His gaze flicked to Emily, then back to Raaevik. “She’s been shipped back to Earth with nothing. The Emperor’s order. Effective immediately.”
Raaevik glanced down at Emily.
Her dark eyes were steady. Her expression didn’t change. Not a flinch. Not a single flicker of guilt or grief.
Just… nothing.
She was through with Miranda Evans. Finished. Raaevik understood—he was done with a few things, too.
He looked back at Thyaar and nodded once.
Thyaar released his forearm and stepped back half a pace, shifting his attention fully to Emily.
His posture changed just a fraction… a slight inclination of his head, and a squaring of his shoulders.
A formal offering of respect to a human female he had absolutely no obligation to acknowledge now.
Not anymore. She wasn’t going to be his empress now.
“Is there anything I can do for you, my lady?” he asked, keeping his tone gentle.
Emily blinked and straightened up a little. “Actually, yes. I have a cat. His name is Barnaby. He’s at my apartment on Earth, and if someone could collect him and bring him to Parac’Norr…” She glanced at Raaevik. “Is that possible? Is it far?”
He inclined his head, trying to figure out how to tell her just how far it was.
“It’s possible,” Thyaar said, his voice low and rough. “I will make it happen. Personally.”
The smile she turned on him was so bright and blinding that if Raaevik hadn’t seen the love in her eyes as she’d bonded herself to him less than an hour ago, he might have had to kill Thyaar on the spot.
“Oh, thank you! I’ve been so worried about him!
Fair warning, though… He doesn’t do well with change. ”
Thyaar looked at Raaevik, and then back down at Emily, and offered a single short nod in the exact manner of a warrior accepting a vital tactical assignment.
“It will be done.”
Thyaar stepped back and saluted. Raaevik returned it. Then he turned, Emily at his side, and they walked through the airlock.
He didn’t look back.
* * *
The Izaean ship was a warship, pure and simple.
Bare metal corridors and high, sweeping ceilings... none of the beauty he was used to from Imperial vessels. That didn't surprise him. The Izaean were the empire's shock troops, dropped in hot to cause havoc and mayhem.
His shoulders eased as they moved away from the airlock.
No guards met them. Prince Isan must have warned them to stay away, for which he was grateful.
Emily was his, bonded and witnessed, but without mate marks on his wrists and nerves still frayed from the rescue, a wrong look would set his rage off again.
His rage… an Izaean's rage. Finally, after all these years, he had a name for it.
He wasn't insane. He was Izaean. Now it all made sense.
"Do you know where we're going?" Emily asked, her voice soft, and he realised that, no, he didn't.
Draanth, now he was going to look like a right idiot in front of his new mate.
There was a ping from his bracer comm before he could answer. He opened the message, and relief hit him, hard and fast.
"Prince Isan just sent the layout," he rumbled, angling the map toward her. The deck plan scrolled into focus, their route highlighted in green. "Our quarters are on the starboard side. Third deck."
She leaned in, her warmth seeping into his side, and a sharp bolt of possessiveness shot through him. Mine. The thought was pure male animal, and for the first time, he didn't try to push it down. He just let it sit there, hot and right.
Growling softly, he slid his hand from her shoulder down her back, settling it on the curve of her hip. "This way."
The corridors were empty, but he felt the crew. Not just saw or heard—he felt them, vibrations through the deck plating. Good senses were a warrior’s stock in trade, but this was something more, a press against his awareness.
He guided her through the corridors, his hand pressed lightly to the small of her back, his palm spreading against the warmth of her skin right through the fabric of her top.
Behind that bulkhead, a male moved… not a threat, just shifting weight. Two more were stationed down the corridor to their left, still as statues, their attention a low hum against his senses. They weren't hiding, not exactly. They were just… holding position and waiting for them to pass.
Was this part of being Izaean? This constant, low-level radar? It didn’t feel like madness. It felt like waking up.
He glanced at Emily, walking silently beside him. She didn’t seem to notice the crew around them. Her focus was on him, her hand tucked under his elbow, her expression filled with exhaustion.
“You’re quiet,” she said.
He grunted. “Thinking.”
“About?”
“The rage in my head. It’s… quiet now.” He stopped outside a door, the number matching the map. “But I can feel everything else instead.”
He keyed the panel, and the door slid open. Stepping back, he let her walk in before him. Watching her back, always.
Their quarters were small. There was a main room with a utility couch, a heavy metal table, and a viewport showing the dark expanse of space. A secondary door led to what had to be the sleeping quarters beyond.
The main door slid shut behind them, the heavy mechanical clunk locking them in.
He stood still.
Combat readiness thrummed, wired so deep that it was instinct. But beneath all that, the reality of the situation crashed into him.
She was small.
No, not small. Tiny.
She seemed larger because her personality was so strong, but when he actually looked at her, she was tiny.
He wondered how she could look so small, almost fragile, when just moments ago she seemed to fill the room.
Her dark curly hair was a mess, her clothes were badly creased, and there was a dark smudge high on her left cheek.
But she was the most beautiful thing he'd seen in all his life.
And she loved him. She'd said it out loud in front of the Emperor himself, in front of warriors who'd been prepared to kill her because of what that draanthic purist Korrait had done to her.
He'd kept the gauze Prince Isan had used to wrap their wrists during the bonding ceremony, carefully tucked it into his pocket.
He'd never believed in anything sacred before. He did now.
She was his.
Not the Emperor’s. Not a commodity to be traded by a vicious mother.
His. Bonded and chosen.
And nobody… not the Purists, not the emperor himself… would ever take her from him again.
The breath punched out of him. It should have broken his control. Instead, it sank into him like a bone resetting after years out of joint. His jaw clenched hard. His hands uncurled at his sides, claws retracting. The war was over. His body knew it before he did.
He stood there, letting it settle. He didn't trust himself to speak, not yet.
She broke the silence first, watching him through the long lashes that framed her eyes.
"I'm so so sorry," she said, hands clasped tight in front of her, her fingers twisting together. "For running. I owe you the real reason."
He waited, watching her, and she took a slow breath.
"I knew I couldn't stay away from you," she said.
"I tried. God, I really tried. But every single time I was in the same room, every time you were close enough to touch, I knew that if I had stayed and gone through with it, if I became the Empress while I was completely and utterly in love with you, they would have eventually killed you. "
Her voice cracked hard on the last word. She pushed through it.
"They wouldn't have just exiled you… I knew that. Knew they'd execute you. And I couldn't..." She swallowed hard, and her chin came up. Her eyes were dark and fierce, the tears gathered at the corners threatening to spill over.
"I ran because loving you was a death sentence. For you… hell, both of us probably. And I would rather have lost you and known you were alive and breathing out there, than stayed and watched them… watched them—"
The words landed heavily in his chest, slotting right into the tight clench of his jaw.
She had run to save his life.
Not because she didn’t want him. She had done the math on what loving him would cost, and decided to pay it herself, not let him carry the risk.
This stupid, reckless, infuriating little… human. She had ripped her own heart out just to keep him breathing. She had done it without giving him a single choice in the matter, because that was exactly who she was. Draanth.
"It's okay." His voice came out rough, pitched far lower than usual. He closed the remaining distance between them in two long strides, stopping just short of crowding her space. If he touched her right now he wasn't sure he'd get the words out. "I understand why you did it."
Her breath stuttered, hope and relief in her eyes as she looked up at him.
"But you have to understand." He reached out for her slowly. His hands were so much larger than hers, his long fingers heavily scarred and carrying the thick calluses of a lifetime of service. Taking her tightly clasped hands, he gently folded them inside his own. "You can never run from me again."
She opened her mouth, ready to argue. He shook his head.
"No… I'm serious. Not because the emperor ordered us bonded.
" He brought her hands up, pressing her palms flat against his chest, right where his pulse jumped hard against his ribs.
"Because wherever you are, that's where I need to be.
Because wherever you are, that's my home.
You're my home. I love you, Emily. I have done since the moment I first saw you on Earth. "
The words scraped out of him like they'd been dragged over gravel. He didn't care. He was done holding it together.
"I will follow you," he stated, his tone leaving no room for doubt. "As long as I have breath in my body. To Parac’Norr, or whatever draanthing corner of the galaxy you decide to go. You don't have to run from anything. You just tell me where we're going, and I'm already there."
She stared up at him, her lips parted in shock. The glossy brightness in her eyes finally spilled over the edge. A single tear tracked down her cheek in silence.
"You asshole," she whispered, her lips quirking into a smile through her tears. "I had a whole speech prepared for this, and you just..."
He pulled her in. She went willingly, burying her face hard against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her.
He held her tighter than he'd ever held anything, aware of how small she was against him.
So fucking fragile. It made him want to protect her and devour her in equal measure.
He pressed his face down into the messy tangle of her hair.
She smelled right. Just right… like the mountain roses from where he'd spend his childhood and the softer, completely feminine smell that was Emily alone, the one that turned his brain to mush.
They stood in the middle of the quarters. Breathing the recycled air. Holding on.
Then he bent his knees and scooped her cleanly off the deck.
"What the hell are you doing?" she gasped, a surprised laugh catching in her throat as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Shifting her weight securely against his chest, he carried her straight through to the bedroom.
"I'm done talking," he grunted. "I have a mate to claim."