Chapter 9 Nyx
NYX
Dawn broke over Volcaryth with the kind of heat that promised suffering. I felt it seeping into the cave, chasing away the relative coolness of night, turning the air thick and hostile. The twin suns would be merciless today.
Lexa was already awake, already dressed, already moving like last night had never happened.
I watched her from where I lay against the cave wall, my pack beside me, my body still humming with the memory of her.
She'd pulled on her travel leathers, the fabric hugging curves I'd mapped with my hands just hours ago.
Her movements were careful but efficient as she tested her range of motion, rolling her shoulders, stretching her arms overhead, checking how much the wounds limited her.
Not much, apparently. The healing salve was potent, designed to accelerate recovery in warriors who couldn't afford downtime. On her human physiology, it seemed to be working even faster than expected.
She bent forward, touching her toes, and I had to look away before I did something stupid like cross the cave and put my hands on her again.
Mine.
The word pulsed through me with each heartbeat, an undeniable truth that had only grown stronger after claiming her body. She was my mate. Had been since the moment her scent hit me in that market tunnel. Last night had just confirmed what I'd known for months.
Except she had no idea.
I'd called her kyvara. The endearment had rolled off my tongue as naturally as breathing.
She hadn't reacted.
Not with recognition, not with understanding, not with the acknowledgment that should have come from a mate hearing her chosen name. She'd just looked at me with those blue eyes, curious maybe, but nothing more.
Did she truly not understand what it meant when a Drakarn warrior chose a name for his woman?
The question gnawed at me. Among my people, the naming was sacred. A declaration of intent, of permanence, of the bond that tied two souls together for life. To give your mate their name was to claim them before the gods and your clan, to announce that they were yours and you were theirs.
But Lexa was human. She didn't know our customs, didn't understand the significance of what I'd given her.
To her, it was probably just another foreign word in a language full of them.
The realization was a heavy weight on my heart. I'd been so certain of the bond, so consumed by it, that I'd forgotten she couldn't feel it the way I did. For me, the connection was visceral, undeniable, a hook lodged behind my sternum that pulled me toward her every moment.
For her, it was just good sex.
Amazing sex, actually.
She finished her stretches and moved to her pack, checking the contents quickly. Everything had its place, everything served a purpose. Including me, apparently.
I forced myself to stand, to move, to stop sitting here like some lovesick novice and act like the warrior I was supposed to be.
"Let me check your bandages before we go," I said.
She glanced up, and I saw the flicker of resistance cross her face. She wanted to refuse, wanted to insist she was fine and we could leave the bandages alone until tonight.
But she was also practical enough to know infection could kill her out here.
"Fine," she said. "But make it quick. We're losing time."
Losing time. As if every moment not spent flying toward Ignarath was a personal failure.
I crossed to her, my tail coiling and uncoiling behind me. The cave suddenly felt smaller with both of us standing, the space between us charged with everything we weren't saying.
She turned her back to me, started unlacing the front of her shirt. The movement was casual, impersonal, like undressing in front of me was no different than changing in a barracks. I supposed for her, it wasn't. Soldiers learned early that modesty was a luxury you couldn't always afford.
Still, watching her bare her back to me, seeing the pale expanse of skin marked by my bandages, sent possessiveness surging through my veins.
I stepped closer, my hands finding the edge of the wrappings. The fabric was clean, no blood seeping through. A good sign. I unwound it carefully, revealing the three parallel gashes the firebird's talons had left.
They looked better. Significantly better. The edges were already knitted together, the angry red reduced to pink. The salve had done its work overnight, accelerating healing that should have taken days into hours.
"The goop you put under there is working well," she said, her voice matter-of-fact. "What's in it?"
"Several herbs that grow near the lava flows, along with sacred ash and a ground heat crystal.
" I traced the edge of one wound with my claw, checking for heat that would indicate infection.
Her skin was cool, healthy. "The ash provides minerals.
The crystal accelerates cellular repair. The herbs prevent corruption."
"Huh. Effective."
That was it. Clinical observation, practical interest in the mechanics of healing. No acknowledgment of the intimacy of this moment, of my hands on her bare skin, of the fact that I'd tended these wounds after she'd been unconscious and vulnerable in my arms.
My tail moved without conscious thought, the tip finding her hip, stroking along the curve there. Soothing. Claiming.
She didn't react.
I applied fresh salve, my movements careful despite the frustration building in my chest. The texture was thick, slightly warm from the volcanic components. It smelled of sulfur and something green, herbs crushed and mixed with purpose.
My hands lingered longer than necessary. Tracing the line of her spine, feeling the small bumps of vertebrae beneath smooth skin. Mapping the dip of her waist, the flare of her ribs, the strong muscles of her back.
She was so small compared to me. Fragile in ways that made my protective instincts scream. But I'd seen her fight a firebird and win. Had felt her take me inside her body, accommodate my size through sheer determination and want.
Fragile. But fierce.
My kyvara.
I rewrapped the bandages, making sure they were secure but not too tight. She needed to be able to move, to fight if necessary. Restricting her range of motion could get her killed.
The moment I tied off the last knot, she pulled away. Not rudely, just quickly. Done with the necessary medical check, time to move on to the next task.
She relaced her shirt, shrugged into her weapons harness, checked the knives at her belt and thighs. All business.
The contrast between last night and this morning was sharp enough to draw blood.
Last night, she'd been all heat and need, her body opening for mine, her hands pulling me closer like she couldn't get enough. This morning, she might as well be preparing for a solo mission.
I gathered my own pack, checked my blades, tried to find some equilibrium in the familiar routine of preparation. My tail kept seeking her out, brushing against her leg when she moved close, coiling around her ankle when she bent to adjust her boot.
She stepped away each time, not acknowledging the contact.
Did she truly not feel it? The pull between us, the rightness of being near each other, the way my body oriented toward hers like a compass finding north?
Or was she just better at ignoring it?
She moved to the cave entrance, looking out at the desert that stretched endlessly in every direction. The heat was already building, turning the air into something that shimmered and distorted distance.
"How long until we reach Ignarath territory?" she asked.
Pure tactics. Mission planning. No mention of what had happened between us, no acknowledgment that we'd been tangled together just hours ago.
"Two more days of hard flying," I said, keeping my voice neutral despite the irritation crawling under my scales. "We'll need to find shelter during the hottest part of the day. The heat will be dangerous."
She nodded, processing the information. "And the firebirds? Are we likely to encounter more?"
"Possible. We're leaving their primary nesting grounds, but they range widely. Other predators are more likely. Sand serpents, lava drakes, scavenger packs."
"Great." She adjusted the strap of her pack. "Anything else I should know about?"
"The heat will be the biggest threat. Stay hydrated. If you start feeling dizzy or nauseous, tell me immediately."
"I know how to handle heat exposure."
Of course she did. She was a trained soldier, had probably operated in hostile environments on her home planet. She didn't need me explaining basic survival to her.
But I wanted to. Wanted to fuss over her, ensure her safety, eliminate every possible threat before it could touch her.
My mate.
Who was treating me like a mission asset.
I opened my mouth, the words forming before I could stop them. "About last night—"
"We should get moving." She cut me off smoothly, already turning away from the cave entrance. "Daylight's burning, and we have a lot of ground to cover."
The dismissal was clear. Impossible to ignore. She didn't want to talk about it, didn't want to examine what had happened, didn't want to acknowledge that anything had changed between us.
Fine.
I could be patient. I'd waited months already, forced myself to stay away from her, given her space she didn't even know she needed. I could wait a little longer.
But I was done restraining myself. Done pretending the bond didn't exist, that she wasn't mine, that what happened last night was just a convenient release of tension.
She moved past me, heading for the cave entrance where the desert waited. I caught her wrist, gentle but firm. She stopped, looked back at me with raised eyebrows.
"What?"
A thousand things I wanted to say crowded my throat.
That she was my mate. That last night meant everything.
That I'd chosen her name, and she needed to understand what that meant.
That I would court her properly, make her see what she was to me, convince her that this was fate and not just circumstance.
I said none of them.
"Be careful out there," I said instead.
She pulled her wrist free, not unkindly. "I always am."
Then she was gone, stepping out into the brutal heat of Volcaryth's morning.
I stood in the cave for a moment longer, gathering the threads of my control.
This journey would end one of two ways.
Either she would accept the bond, understand what she was to me, choose to be mine as completely as I was hers.
Or I would lose my mind trying to convince her.
The certainty settled in my chest, heavy and immovable as the mountain above us.
I'd spent months forcing myself to stay away, to give her space, to respect the boundaries I thought she needed.
I'd stood silent in the Council chamber while she was dismissed and threatened, chosen duty over defending her because I thought that was the honorable path.
I'd been wrong.
Honor didn't mean abandoning your mate to face the world alone. Duty didn't require sacrificing the bond for political convenience. I'd failed her in that chamber, failed her by staying silent, failed her by not claiming her properly when I'd had the chance.
I wouldn't fail her again.
We were heading into danger.
We could die out there. Probably would, if I was being honest about the odds. Two of us against an unknown enemy, in hostile territory, with limited supplies and no backup.
If we survived, she would be my mate. Properly claimed, fully aware of what that meant, accepting the bond that tied us together.
I would court her in the Drakarn way. Show her what it meant to be cherished by a warrior, protected and valued and desired beyond reason. I would give her my strength, my skill, my absolute devotion. I would prove that I was worthy of the fierce flame that burned in her chest.
And if we didn't survive, at least I would have had last night. The memory of her body against mine, her gasps in my ears, the way she'd taken me inside her like she was made for it.
It would never be enough.