Chapter 5 Nyx
NYX
My quarters felt wrong.
The stone floor was smooth under my feet. Every surface was familiar. The sleeping platform carved from volcanic rock. The basin in the corner. The weapons rack where my blades rested.
And nothing was right.
The bond I needed to ignore pulled at me like a hook lodged behind my sternum.
Not painful, exactly. Insistent. A constant awareness of her location, her emotional state, her presence in the city.
For three weeks in Ignarath territory, I'd been able to push it down, bury it under exhaustion and duty.
Distance had muted the sensation to a dull ache.
Now I was back in Scalvaris, and the bond roared to life with a vengeance.
I could feel her. Angry. Frustrated. Moving through Scalvaris with purpose that made my scales itch.
My fangs ached. The familiar tingle spread across my tongue, that maddening sensation that meant my mate was close. Too close. Not close enough.
I stopped pacing and braced my hands against the edge of the basin. The stone was cool under my palms. I focused on that sensation, trying to ground myself in something other than the relentless pull.
It didn't work.
The Council session replayed in my mind. Lexa's face when Pyroth threatened her. The way she'd stood her ground despite being outmatched, outranked, utterly without power in that chamber. The betrayal in her eyes when she'd looked at me.
Why didn't you help me?
I had no answer. Nothing that would satisfy me.
Duty demanded I support the Council's decision. Honor required I respect the chain of command. I'd taken an oath to serve Scalvaris, to put the city's needs above my own desires.
But every instinct I possessed screamed that I'd failed her.
My claws scraped against stone. The sound was harsh in the silence of my quarters.
I should rest. The mission to Ignarath had been brutal. Three weeks of minimal sleep, constant vigilance, the stress of operating in hostile territory. My body needed recovery time.
But when I stopped, I felt like I might crawl out of my own skin.
Something was wrong.
I lifted my head, nostrils flaring. The ventilation system in Scalvaris was ingenious, carved channels that pulled air from the surface and distributed it throughout the city. Scents traveled on those currents, information carried on invisible streams.
Her scent hit me.
Sweet and sharp, steel wrapped in smoke. But it was moving. Not the usual pattern of her quarters or the training grounds or the communal areas. This was different. Purposeful. Heading toward the outer tunnels.
My heart kicked against my ribs.
No.
She wouldn't.
Except she absolutely would. I'd seen it in her face after the Council session three days ago. The determination. The fury. The desperate need to do something, anything, rather than wait for others to act.
I was moving before conscious thought caught up. Out of my quarters, into the corridor, following her scent like a lifeline. My wings stayed tucked tight, my footfalls silent despite my size. Old habits from years of scouting work.
The residential sections gave way to service tunnels. Narrower passages that most warriors avoided, used primarily by workers and maintenance crews. She was being smart about this, avoiding the main thoroughfares where she'd be noticed.
But she couldn't hide from me.
Her scent grew stronger. Recent. She'd passed through here within the last few minutes. I increased my pace, my tail coiling and uncoiling with each stride.
What was she thinking? The surface of Volcaryth was deadly, even for Drakarn. Heat that could kill in hours. Predators that hunted anything that moved. The vast distances between settlements, the lack of water, the volcanic activity that could erupt without warning.
For a human? Suicide.
The tunnels sloped upward. I was getting close to the outer edge of the city, where the mountain opened to the surface. We had several exits, heavily guarded points where warriors could launch for aerial patrols or trading parties could depart for other settlements.
But there were also smaller openings. Lesser used. Known primarily to scouts and those who preferred to come and go without notice.
I'd used them myself more times than I could count.
Her scent led me to one of those hidden exits. A crack in the mountain's face, wide enough for a Drakarn to slip through, opening onto a narrow ledge that overlooked the crimson desert below.
She stood silhouetted against the opening. The twin suns had set, but the heat from the day still radiated from the rocks. She wore traveling leathers, carried a pack across her shoulders, had weapons strapped to her thighs and waist.
My chest constricted.
She was really doing this.
I stepped out of the shadows. "Going somewhere?"
She spun, hand dropping to the knife at her belt. Recognition flashed across her face, followed by irritation. Not fear. She should be afraid. I was twice her size, blocking her only exit, and she was planning something monumentally stupid.
I saw no fear as she lifted her chin. "I left a note."
A note.
As if that made this acceptable. As if scribbling a few words absolved her of the insanity she was attempting.
Fury ignited in my chest, white-hot and devastating. Three weeks of watching humans die in my imagination. Three weeks of tracking ghosts through Ignarath. Three weeks of failure. And now she stood here, ready to throw herself into the same danger, as if her life meant nothing.
"Do you not understand how dangerous it is?" The words came out harsher than I intended, edged with the fear I couldn't quite suppress. "You will die out there, and no one will find your bones."
Her expression shifted. Something sharp and wounded crossed her face before hardening into defiance.
"Just like no one will find the bones of Larissa and the others?"
The words hit hard. True in ways that made my scales itch with shame.
"That's different," I said, even though it wasn't.
"How?" She took a step toward me. "How is it different? Because the Council voted? Because it's politically inconvenient? Because you decided their lives aren't worth the risk?"
"We had no leads. No intelligence. Sending more warriors into Ignarath territory without information would have been suicide."
She glared. "So you gave up."
"We made a tactical decision based on available resources and strategic priorities."
"You gave up," she repeated, each word sharp as a blade. "You stood in that Council chamber while they voted to abandon them. Don't dress it up in practical language. You quit."
My claws flexed. The urge to defend myself, to explain the complexities she didn't understand, warred with the knowledge that she was right. We had given up. I had given up.
"And you," she continued, her voice rising, "you stood there silently while Pyroth threatened me. While they dismissed everything I said. You didn't say a word."
"I had no right to interfere with Council proceedings."
"You had every right as a member of that Council. But you chose duty over doing what was right."
"Duty is what keeps Scalvaris standing. Without it, we're nothing but chaos."
She laughed, bitter and sharp. "Duty. Honor. All your pretty Drakarn words for cowardice."
The accusation stung worse than any blade. My tail lashed once, hard enough to crack against the stone wall. "You know nothing of honor."
"I know enough to recognize when someone's hiding behind it."
We were closer now. I didn't remember moving, but somehow the distance between us had collapsed. I could see the pulse hammering in her throat, the flush on her cheeks, the way her pupils had dilated despite her anger.
"You think I wanted to stay silent?" The words tore out of me. "You think it didn't kill me to watch them dismiss you, threaten you, treat you like you were nothing?"
"Then why didn't you do something?"
"Because I have responsibilities. Obligations. I can't just act on impulse every time I disagree with a decision."
"Even when that decision is wrong?"
"Even then."
She stared at me, something like disgust flickering across her face. "Then you're exactly the kind of warrior I thought you were. All strength and no spine."
My control snapped.
I moved faster than thought, closing the remaining distance between us. My hands found the stone on either side of her head, caging her against the wall. My wings spread slightly, mantling around us, blocking out everything but this moment.
"You know nothing about me," I said, my voice dropping to a growl. "Nothing about the choices I've made or the things I've sacrificed for this city."
Her breathing had quickened. I could hear each inhale, see the rise and fall of her chest. Her scent surrounded me, invaded every breath. Sweet and sharp and laced with something that made my fangs ache worse.
Arousal.
She was angry, yes. Furious. But underneath that fury, her body was responding to my proximity the same way mine responded to hers.
"You're right," she said, her voice steadier than it should be with me looming over her. "I don't know you. I just know what I saw. A warrior who chose silence over speaking up. Who chose politics over people."
"And what would you have had me do? Challenge the entire Council? Undermine Darrokar's authority? Start a civil war over humans who may already be dead?"
"I'd have had you try."
The words hung between us. Simple. Devastating.
My gaze dropped to her mouth. I couldn't help it. Her lips were parted slightly, her breath coming fast. I wanted to taste her anger, swallow her accusations, make her understand through touch what words couldn't convey.
She was mine. The bond sang it through my veins, undeniable and absolute. Mine to protect. Mine to claim. Mine to keep safe even when she fought me every step of the way.
Her eyes dropped to my mouth.
The moment stretched. Suspended. Both of us frozen in the space between violence and something else entirely. The air felt thick, charged with want and fury and the weight of everything unsaid.
I could kiss her. Should kiss her. Claim her mouth the way I'd claimed her in my dreams every night since the Skalanth. Show her exactly what she was to me, make her feel the bond that had been tearing me apart for months.
Her hands came up, pressed against my chest. For a heartbeat, I thought she'd pull me closer.
Then she shoved.
Hard.
I stumbled back, more from surprise than force. She was strong for a human, but not strong enough to move me if I'd been braced for it.
Her knife appeared in her hand. The movement was smooth, practiced, the blade suddenly between us like it had materialized from air. Her stance shifted, weight balanced, ready to fight or flee.
I should be angry. Threatened. Instead, approval surged through me.
She was magnificent.
"Be careful, kyvara," I said, the endearment slipping out before I could stop it. "Or I could take that as a threat."
Her eyes narrowed. "What did you call me?"
I didn't answer. Couldn't. The word had escaped without permission, pulled from some deep part of me that recognized her as mine regardless of whether she knew it.
She kept the knife between us, her grip steady. "Answer me."
"It's nothing."
"Bullshit. What does it mean?" Confusion warred with suspicion. "Why would you call me that?"
Because you're my mate. Because I've been half-mad with wanting you since the moment I caught your scent. Because every instinct I possess is screaming at me to claim you, protect you, keep you safe even when you're determined to throw yourself into danger.
I said none of those things.
"Does it matter?"
She studied me, her gaze searching. Looking for answers I couldn't give. The knife didn't waver.
Silence stretched between us. The desert wind carried scents of heat and sand through the opening behind her. Somewhere in the distance, a night predator screamed. The sound echoed off the rocks, a reminder of everything waiting beyond the relative safety of Scalvaris.
"Are you going to stop me?" she asked finally.
The question hung in the air.
I could. Should. I was bigger, stronger, faster. I could disarm her, carry her back to her quarters, lock her in if necessary. It would be easy.
It would also destroy whatever fragile thing existed between us.
And it wouldn't change the fundamental problem. The missing humans were still out there. The Council had still voted to abandon them. Lexa was still desperate enough to risk her life trying to find them.
Stopping her now would only delay the inevitable. She'd try again. And again. Until she succeeded in getting herself killed or I ran out of ways to prevent it.
The bond wouldn't let me leave her unprotected. If she was going into danger, I would be there. Not to stop her. To ensure she survived it.
The decision crystallized with sudden clarity.
"I'm coming with you."