Chapter 10 - Lexa
LEXA
The flight was torture.
Not the heat, though Volcaryth's suns were already turning the air into something that burned with each breath. Not the endless expanse of crimson desert below, hostile and alien and utterly indifferent to whether I lived or died.
No, the torture was being pressed against Nyx's body for hours, feeling every shift of muscle as his wings beat in steady rhythm, drowning in his scent with nowhere to escape.
I'd had the best sex of my life last night with a seven-foot-tall lizard-bird-man warrior, and now I couldn't stop replaying every moment. The stretch and burn of him inside me. The way his tail had coiled around my waist, possessive and perfect.
The sounds he'd made when I'd touched the base of his wings.
My thighs clenched involuntarily. Heat that had nothing to do with the suns pooled low in my belly.
Stop it.
I forced my mind back to practical considerations. Wind speed. Terrain features. Potential threats. Anything except the way his chest expanded against my side with each breath, or how his arm beneath my knees adjusted every few minutes to make sure I was secure.
It was a losing battle.
Good thing there were no human men in Scalvaris.
I was pretty sure I was ruined for my own species now.
Everything about human anatomy would feel wrong after this.
Too small, too smooth, missing that thick tail and those careful claws and that goddamned appendage at the tip of his cock that had found places inside me I didn't know existed.
Possibly ruined for everyone except Nyx.
I shut that thought down hard. Shoved it into a mental box, locked it, and threw away the key.
I was not going there. This was a temporary situation born of proximity and adrenaline and weeks of sexual frustration.
Once we found the missing humans and got back to Scalvaris, things would return to normal.
I'd stop having dreams about him. Stop noticing how his scales caught the light. Stop wanting to trace the white markings on his chest with my tongue.
Normal.
Right.
I focused on the mission, wearing my determination like armor.
Larissa was out there somewhere. Kira's sister, along with at least six other humans who'd survived the crash only to vanish into Ignarath's territory.
People who were counting on someone to give a damn when the Blade Council had voted to abandon them.
That was what mattered. Not the way Nyx's heartbeat thrummed against my ear, steady and strong. Not the memory of how he'd growled my name, or that word he kept using.
Kyvara.
I still didn't know what it meant. I didn’t want to know.
The heat intensified as morning stretched toward midday. Sweat soaked through my shirt, made my leathers stick to my skin. The air shimmered in the distance, distorting the horizon into something that looked like water but was just another cruel trick of this planet.
Nyx's wings adjusted, angling us toward a rocky outcropping that rose from the desert floor like a broken tooth. The formation was tall enough to cast shade, rare and precious in this landscape.
We descended in a controlled spiral. His landing was smooth despite my added weight, feet hitting stone with barely a sound. For something his size, he moved with unsettling grace.
He set me down carefully. Like I was something fragile that might break.
I stepped away immediately, putting distance between us. His tail had started to coil around my waist again, that unconscious claiming gesture. I couldn't deal with that right now.
The shade was a relief, dropping the temperature by at least twenty degrees. Not cool, not by any reasonable standard, but better than being directly under the suns. I shrugged off my pack, rolled my shoulders to work out the stiffness from hours of being carried.
My ribs protested. The wounds were healing fast, faster than they should, but the tissue was still tender. I ignored the discomfort and went for my water flask.
The liquid was warm, tasted faintly of the treated leather container, but I didn't care. I drank deeply, forcing myself to stop before I emptied the flask. Hydration was critical out here. Rationing was survival.
Nyx was watching me. I could feel his gaze tracking my movements as I pulled out rations, as I settled against the rock face, as I deliberately did not look at him.
The silence stretched between us. Heavy. Loaded with everything we weren't saying.
Nyx moved to his own pack. Pulled out his water, his rations. Settled against the opposite wall of our shelter, maybe ten feet away.
Too close. The space felt intimate despite the distance, like the rock walls were pressing in on us. I had to do something that wasn’t looking at him. Otherwise …
There was no otherwise.
I pulled out the map before the silence could get worse.
The parchment crinkled as I unfolded it, spreading it across the stone between us.
Detailed topography, territorial boundaries marked in different colors, cities indicated with symbols I'd learned to read during my months in Scalvaris.
I'd spent hours studying maps in their libraries, memorizing routes and landmarks.
This particular map I'd stolen three days ago.
Nyx went very still. That predator stillness that meant he was focused entirely on something. His eyes locked on the map, then flicked to me.
"Where did you get that?" His voice was flat. Dangerous.
"The restricted section of the archives." I traced a route with my finger, not looking up. "Second level, behind the historical texts."
"You stole from the Scalvaris libraries."
It was an accusation wrapped in disbelief.
"Borrowed," I corrected. "I'll return it when we get back."
"That section is restricted for a reason. Those maps contain strategic information about our defenses, our territories, our vulnerabilities."
"Good thing I'm on your side then." I met his gaze, kept my expression neutral. "I needed accurate data. You said yourself the Blade Council suspended active search operations. They weren't going to hand me a map and wish me luck. And it wasn’t like I was going to walk into this blind."
His jaw clenched. I could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his claws flexed against his thighs. Honor and duty warring with pragmatism.
"You had no right," he said.
My words came out sharper than intended. "I'm a human trying to find other humans that your people decided weren't worth the effort. If I have to bend some rules to do it, I'll bend them."
"There are protocols. Chains of command. You can't just—"
"Can't just what? Take initiative? Act without permission?" I leaned forward, anger sparking in my chest. "Your protocols left Larissa and the others out there to die. Your chain of command voted to abandon them. So yeah, I stole a map. Court martial me when we get back."
The silence that followed was sharp enough to cut. Nyx stared at me, silver eyes intense, something shifting in his expression.
Then his shoulders dropped fractionally. The tension bled out of his posture.
I looked down at the map, trying to ignore how close he was now. Close enough that I could smell him, smoke and stone and male. Close enough that his tail could reach me if it wanted to.
It didn't move. He was keeping it carefully coiled behind him.
Professional. We could do professional.
"So what do you think happened to them?" I tapped the area marked as Ignarath territory. "Some other Drakarn captured them? Or did they somehow escape on their own?"
Nyx studied the map, his claw tracing boundaries and geographical features. When he spoke, his voice had shifted into the clipped efficiency of tactical briefing.
"Unlikely to be another city. Look at the natural defenses." His claw indicated a massive feature south of Ignarath. "The Great Lava Lake. Actual lava, miles across, constantly fed by underground volcanic activity. Impassable except by air, and even then, the thermals are treacherous."
I followed his gesture, noting the scale. The lake was enormous, a natural barrier that would make southern approach nearly impossible.
"And here." He pointed east. "The Harrovan Mountains. Sheer cliffs, unstable rock, frequent seismic activity. The passes are heavily defended because they're the only viable routes through for supply caravans. Any force trying to cross would be spotted days in advance."
"So Ignarath is a fortress," I said, processing the implications. "Natural defenses on two sides, easy to protect."
"Exactly. Which makes them overconfident." His claw tapped the northern approach. "They don't patrol as heavily as they should, outside of those passes. They assume the terrain does the work for them. That's why my team was able to get close enough to investigate without being detected."
"But it also means the humans couldn't have walked out." I traced potential escape routes, found them all blocked by impossible terrain or monitored chokepoints. "Even if they somehow got away from their captors, they'd be caught before they made it ten miles."
"Yes."
The word hung between us. Confirmation of what we both knew. The humans hadn't escaped. Someone had taken them. Moved them deliberately.
But who? And why?
I stared at the map, trying to see what we were missing.
Ignarath was marked clearly, a city symbol surrounded by territorial boundaries.
Scalvaris was far to the west, across the desert we'd been flying over.
Other cities dotted the map, each with their own territories, their own spheres of influence.
And between them, unmarked spaces. Areas that belonged to no one.
Nyx's claw moved to one of those spaces. Northeast of Ignarath, past the edge of the mountains, a region marked only by topographical features. Rough terrain, no roads, no indication of habitation.
"No city controls this area," he said. "No patrols, no monitoring. The terrain is too hostile for settlement, too remote to be worth claiming."
I leaned closer, studying the details. Steep valleys, narrow canyons, scattered rock formations. The kind of landscape that would be hell to traverse but perfect for hiding.
"Someone could hide there," I said slowly.
"Yes."
"For how long?"
"Indefinitely, if they had supplies and knew what they were doing."
My mind raced through possibilities. A third party with unknown agenda. Resources to move captives without being detected. Knowledge of the territory sufficient to navigate to an unclaimed region and establish a hidden base.
"That's where we're going," I said. Not a question. A decision.
Nyx nodded. "It's our best lead. But you need to understand how dangerous this is. That terrain is hostile even by Volcaryth standards. If we get caught in a canyon during a sandstorm, or if we encounter predators in confined spaces …"
"I know the risks."
"Do you?" His eyes locked on mine. "Because once we're in that region, we're on our own. No backup, no support, no way to call for help if things go wrong."
"We were on our own the second we left. This changes nothing."
The corner of his mouth twitched. Almost a smile. "That simple?"
"Yes."
He studied me for a long moment. I held his gaze, refusing to back down. I'd come this far. Made this choice. Committed to this insanity. I wasn't turning back now.
"We'll need to approach from the north," he said finally, turning back to the map. "Follow this ridge line, use it for cover. There's a canyon system here that should provide shelter and concealment. If anyone's hiding in that region, they'll have scouts. We need to see them before they see us."
I traced the route he indicated, memorizing landmarks. Better to approach unseen than to fly straight in and announce our presence.
"How long?" I asked.
"Another day and a half of hard flying. We'll reach the outer edge by tomorrow night, but we should wait for dawn to enter the canyon system. Better visibility, less chance of ambush."
Two more days. Two more days of being pressed against him during flight, of sharing shelter during the heat, of fighting the pull I felt every time he was near.
I could survive two days.
I'd survived worse.
The thought rang hollow even in my own mind.
"We should rest here until the worst of the heat passes," Nyx said. He was already moving, checking the perimeter of our shelter, scanning the sky for threats. "Conserve energy. We'll fly again in a few hours."
Rest. Right. Because lying here in close quarters with him, hyperaware of every sound he made, every shift of his body, was totally restful.
I settled against the rock wall, trying to find a position that didn't pull at my wounds. The stone was warm against my back, rough texture digging into my shoulders through my shirt. I closed my eyes, focused on slowing my breathing.
I tried to think about the mission. About routes and contingencies and what we'd do if we actually found the humans. Tried to think about supplies, estimate how many people we could rescue, what was the plan for resistance.
My mind kept drifting.
Back to last night. To the cave and the firebird blood and the way he'd looked at me when I'd told him to touch me like he meant it.
To the feel of him inside me, stretching me, filling me, that alien appendage finding places that made me see stars.
Heat flooded through me that had nothing to do with Volcaryth's climate.
This was bad.
I opened my eyes, stared at the rock ceiling above me. Counted the cracks and fissures, cataloged the geological features, did anything to distract myself from the fact that I wanted him again.
Already. After just one night.
I had to push it away, to ignore it. For my own good. For the good of the humans stranded out there somewhere.
I just wish I knew how.