Secret Claims
Chapter Twenty-Eight
SADIE
Ibarely have time to process the sight of Kyros’s mangled flesh when movement erupts from every direction.
Merpeople rush toward us in quick, fluid bursts, their tails flashing in a rainbow of colors. Voices rise around us in sharp chirps and clicks, the sounds overlapping so quickly that I can’t make sense of them.
Seraya looks Kyros over with quick, deliberate movements. He sways toward her, his eyelids heavy. He looks half-conscious at best.
I push toward them. “Kyros—”
A hand closes around my wrist, pulling me back.
I whip around.
Daros.
He’s broad even by Mer standards, and his scarred, cerulean tail flicks behind him with impatience. His expression is tight. Agitated. His nostrils flare as he looks me over, and something in his face shifts dangerously close to disbelief.
Then it transforms into rage. Pure, unfiltered rage.
My heart thuds against my chest. They’re going to kill me. I knew it. And Kyros is in no position to protect me. I doubt he even knows what’s happening.
“Come,” Daros says.
I yank against his grip. “No.”
He tightens his fingers around my wrist. Not enough to hurt, but enough to make it clear that I’m not going anywhere near Kyros. There’s not a single thank you to be found.
Whatever. I didn’t do it for the council. Fuck them. Seraya specifically.
I twist around to look at Kyros. He’s so out of it, his head swaying. Now that we’re no longer moving, I’m able to see just how badly he’s bleeding. Blood pools from his back in concerning amounts, saturating the water around him and Seraya.
He hid the extent of his injuries from me.
Seraya puts an arm around his waist, careful to avoid touching his injured back, then begins guiding him away.
“I’m not leaving him,” I say.
Daros’s jaw flexes. “You are.”
I try to wrench free again, but he catches my other arm and forces me away from the growing cluster of people surrounding Kyros. I fight him for all of half a second before realizing I’m not winning this.
“Daros—”
“Enough.”
I twist again, desperate for one more look at Kyros. Seraya and two others are already carrying him toward one of the spiraling towers, his tail hanging strangely limp behind him.
Blood flows.
He doesn’t look back.
Daros brings me to one of the small spirals in the heart of the pod. I fight him every step of the way, even as he pulls me inside the narrow building.
A female Mer with dark-green scales glances up as we enter, her eyes widening the second she takes in the blood on my hands and face. Her room is bright, circular, and lined with swaying strands of dried plant fiber.
Daros releases me, but he doesn’t move far.
“Eve is a healer,” he says to me. “Go.”
The healer says something sharp in their language, and Daros answers in clipped bursts of clicks. He sounds angry, but I’m too tired to focus on translating the words.
“Where is he?” I ask.
Daros ignores me.
The healer moves closer, gesturing for my hands. I pull them back instinctively.
“Don’t touch me.”
Her eyebrows raise. Daros mutters something that sounds suspiciously like a curse.
“Where is Kyros?” I repeat.
Daros stares at me for a long second before finally answering. “Being treated.”
His eyes dart over my face, then dip lower. I follow his gaze, frowning as I realize I look like I clawed my way out of hell. My hands are torn open, the skin ripped and shredded, and blood clings to my pajamas, staining them pink.
The healer clicks her tongue and reaches for me again. I let her take my right hand. Sharp pain shoots up my arm the second she touches my ring finger.
I hiss. “Shit.”
“It’s dislocated,” Daros says.
I glare at him. “Thank you, Doctor.”
He raises a brow but otherwise doesn’t react. His usual smugness is nowhere to be found. He looks…defeated?
The healer presses against my finger, and I yelp. Then there’s a sharp, sickening pop. Fucking hell. Blinding pain is followed up almost immediately by dizzying relief.
I sag, breathing hard.
The healer releases my hand and moves on to the other one. Daros is still staring.
“What?” I snap at him.
His nostrils flare. “You smell like Kyros.”
The healer freezes for half a second before recovering. Why did she react like that? She refuses to make eye contact with me, instead staring at my hand as if it is immensely fascinating. What am I missing?
I face Daros. “What does that mean?”
He looks away. My stomach knots.
“Daros?” I pull my hands away from the healer. “What does that mean?”
Daros’s tail flicks beneath him, unable to remain still. Why do I smell like Kyros, and why is that such an issue?
Daros drags a hand over his face. “It means he claimed you.”
“I don’t understand.”
The healer dabs something cool over my torn knuckles. I don’t react.
Daros continues. “Kyros has marked you as his.”
“Marked me…?”
Daros nods.
I frown. “Explain.”
Daros pointedly lowers his gaze to my pajama shorts. Well, to what remains of them. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to understand what he’s alluding to. The cave. Kyros touched me, and when he did, he marked me. Whatever that means.
My stomach flips hard enough to make me nauseous.
“What does that mean?” I ask.
The healer presses another salve into the torn skin of my palm. It stings.
Daros drifts backward. “I should—”
“What does it mean?” I repeat.
He looks like he wants to be anywhere but here. I don’t care.
“Kyros has claimed you as his mate.”
Mate. The title hangs in the water between us, strange and ugly. Not girlfriend or partner, but mate. The word feels heavy and permanent, and I have no idea what it means. I’m afraid to guess.
I stare at Daros. He stares back.
A sharp burst of clicks erupts from the doorway before I can decide whether to scream, throw something, or demand more answers. A young woman with pale-pink scales swims inside, her expression carefully blank as she looks between Daros and the healer.
Kyros asks for the hybrid.
Daros goes rigid.
My pulse stumbles.
I sure fucking hope he’s asking for me. I want answers.
Daros brings me to a chamber deep within Kyros’s estate. He has his own private healer? Makes sense. He’s a crown-wearing, pampered princess.
This section of the estate is quieter. Older-feeling. The stone walls curve inward slightly, and the algae here glows dimly, casting the room in muted, blue-green light.
Daros says nothing as he leads me inside.
Kyros is sprawled face-down across a bed made from layered kelp and woven plant fibers. For one awful second, all I can see is his back.
The healer cleaned the blood away, which only makes the damage look worse.
Jagged strips of flesh run across the broad plane of his back and shoulders, some deeper than others, but all of them raw.
A thick, gray-green paste has been smeared over the worst of them.
It glistens in the low light and smells distinctly medicinal.
My stomach churns.
Kyros lifts his head. His movements are unnervingly slow, and it takes several seconds for his eyes to find mine. His pupils are blown wide, and his expression is loose around the edges in a way I’ve never seen before. They’ve drugged him.
“S-S-Sadie.” He slurs my name.
I stop several feet from his bed and fold my arms tightly over my chest.
“Are you hurt?” he asks.
Under different circumstances, his concern might’ve softened me.
“I’m fine.” I briefly show him the salve on my palms. “Daros brought me to a healer.”
Kyros blinks at me, then nods once. “Good.” He licks his lips. “I’m glad.”
“Have you claimed me as your mate?”
I’ve never been one to beat around the bush.
Kyros stills, his fingers curling loosely. It’s several seconds before he responds. “Perhaps.”
My throat tightens. “What does that mean? And don’t tell me ‘I’ll explain later’ or ‘It’s complicated’ or any other bullshit version of not answering me, because I’m not in the mood.”
Kyros studies me through half-lidded eyes. He begins to shift, I suspect to sit up, but he doesn’t make it far. He winces as his movements pull at the wounds in his back, then collapses back onto the bed.
The sight of his pain nearly distracts me. Nearly.
“You were never supposed to know,” he admits.
The words are a slap to the face. I drift closer but keep my distance. “Excuse me?”
His gaze follows me, slower than usual. “I intended to bring you to the surface before anyone scented it.”
“Scented what?” I draw in a shaky breath. “What did you do to me, Kyros?”
His eyes drift shut, then open with visible effort. “My claim changes nothing,” he says. “I promise. I’ll still return you to the surface as planned.”
I look at my palms, at the healer’s ointment now tinted pink, and try to slow the pounding in my chest. I so desperately want to be angry with Kyros, but I’m struggling to find the emotion.
He was going to take me to the surface. He was going to let me go. Whatever he did to me, he never intended for me to find out. It was only for him.
I should be furious.
I’m not.
“Why did you do it?” I ask.
His eyelids droop lower. He’s listening. I can tell he is. He’s just doing a poor job at fighting whatever drugs they gave him.
He swallows. “Thought I could keep a piece of you.” Another slow blink. “Nobody would know.”
I finally close the distance between us, moving to his bedside. Kyros settles once I’m near, his upper body fully sinking into the kelp bed. He’s drugged out of his mind and bleeding through a layer of medicinal paste.
This means nothing.
I open my mouth to tell him exactly that when I spot movement at the doorway.
Seraya enters without hesitation, her pale-gold tail gleaming softly in the chamber’s dim light. Her expression is composed, but only if you don’t look too closely. Her eyes dart toward me first, taking in my position beside the bed, before shifting to Kyros.
Her lips tighten, and her movements stiffen just slightly.
She’s angry.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
I shrug. “Kyros asked for me.”
“Kyros is under the healer’s draft and should be sleeping. He’s not in a state of mind to be asking for anything.” She turns toward Daros, who is now lingering in the doorway. “You should know that better than anybody.”
I look back at Kyros, but his eyes are drifting shut again. The fight is leaving him by the second.
Seraya clasps her hands behind her back. Her posture is elegant, but she possesses the kind of stillness that means danger in every species I’ve ever met. She eyes my throat before dropping her gaze to my injured hands. When she looks back up, there’s a hint of joy behind her expression.
She enjoys seeing me in pain.
“Stay away from Kyros,” she warns.
I clench my jaw. “It’s Kyros who can’t stay away from me.”
It’s true, but I say it mainly because I know it’ll piss her off. Seraya makes my blood boil, and I’ve always been petty.
Seraya drifts closer. “Watch your tongue, hybrid.”
“I’m not insulted by that word.”
“You should be.”
“Why’s that?” I smirk. “Kyros sure doesn’t seem to mind my human parts.”
Seraya raises an eyebrow. “You understand nothing of our culture, do you? Kyros would never—”
Daros interrupts. “He’s marked her.”
That quiets Seraya. Her smile falls, and her nostrils flare. For the first time since meeting her, she looks shaken. She spins toward Daros, but it takes her several seconds to speak.
“Are you certain?”
Daros shrugs. “Smell her yourself.”
Seraya sucks her cheeks into her mouth, her expression pure ice. Then she resumes as if I’m not right here. She drifts to the opposite side of Kyros’s bed with a familiarity that makes something ugly turn over in my stomach.
She places a hand on his shoulder.
“Kyros,” she says, softer now. “Come.”
He blinks up at her, clearly trying to orient himself. His gaze lazily drifts toward me, then aimlessly slides away. He has no idea what the fuck is happening.
Seraya hooks an arm beneath him and helps him upright. He hisses through his teeth as the frayed skin on his back pulls, and every muscle in my body tenses.
“Careful,” I snap at her.
Another healer enters, and together, they lift Kyros from the bed. His tail drags once across the floor before he manages to gather himself enough to lift it.
I move to follow them out of the room when Daros blocks my path.
“Come with me,” he orders.
Like I have much of a choice.