Page 12 of Echoes of Fire (Drakarn Mates #2)
ELEVEN
RATH
Orla’s breathing was soft against my chest. The air was thick with the scent of her—my scent now woven into hers, permanent and undeniable. I didn’t need my heightened senses to notice how perfectly it clung to her skin.
Even in sleep, her body carried the mark of our bond.
A low hum of satisfaction rumbled in my chest. She was there, pressed against me, her fragile human frame fitting perfectly against mine as if the stars themselves had shaped us for this. For each other. My tail tightened its lazy coil around her bare thigh, and the warmth of contact kept threats and doubts at bay for precious moments longer.
She shifted slightly, and I froze. Her face turned toward me, her lashes brushing her cheeks where the glow from the heat crystals danced faintly against her skin. Even now, grappling with the fragility humans wore so openly, I could feel it beneath the surface—the core of strength she didn’t see clearly in herself.
The sight of her like this—unguarded, peaceful—should have soothed me entirely. But as my claws brushed idly over her shoulder, tracing one of the curling tattooed designs etched into her skin, I felt the truth simmer deep inside. It threatened to unseat the quiet victory coiling in my chest.
She was fragile in ways a Drakarn would never be. Soft skin where scales should have grown, bones that lacked the tempered strength of volcanic rock. What would stop the world—the council, the zealots, Karyseth—from taking her away from me? What if …
I tensed, drawing in a slow breath, too measured to be casual, unwilling to let her feel my unease. Damn it. The thought still lingered, twisting cruelly under the protective satisfaction radiating through me.
It wasn’t that I doubted her strength. Quite the opposite—I’d seen it flash like lava-forged steel when she squared her shoulders despite fear, when she spoke truths I didn’t want to hear but needed nonetheless. I’d seen it in the fire of her defiance, in the way she’d bled and fought for survival in a world so utterly foreign to her.
No, it wasn’t her I doubted. It was the bond—or her perception of it. Did she understand what it meant to me? To us? Or did she still see it as temporary? A convenience? A circumstance she’d never intended to become entangled in?
The thought burned more than I cared to admit.
I rolled onto my side, careful not to disturb her, and propped myself up on one elbow. My gaze swept over her form, soft curves barely concealed by the remnants of the sheet tangled at her waist. Her arm stretched beside her head, bearing lines of ink I now recognized as part of her own fragmented mythology—a map of home, of hope, impossibly distant.
A human thing—this need to carry their past like scars and trophies.
I traced another constellation on her forearm, the faint texture of raised skin under my fingertips a startling contrast to my own hardened scales. Her tattoos spoke of stories written in stars long dead, far from the volcanic flames that forged Drakarn bodies and culture. Both beautiful, but worlds apart.
Possession stirred again, heavy and insistent in my chest. She was mine. The bond was everything, absolute, undeniable in its truths. She belonged in this place, with me, and yet …
Fear dug its claws in. What if it wasn’t enough? What if she didn’t want to stay?
I growled low under my breath, the sound rumbling more ferally than intended. Her eyelids fluttered slightly, and I forced myself to still, reigning in the breadth of emotion threatening to spill over.
She shifted against me, her head nuzzling faintly into my chest, lips parting with the softest sigh. One of her hands slipped upward, brushing the side of my rib cage. A simple movement, unconscious even, but it sent a warmth spreading through me sharp enough to drown out the darker thoughts lingering at the edges.
Her breathing shifted, soft sighs turning into faint murmurs as she began to stir. I watched the transition, the way her brows knit slightly before smoothing, how her lips parted in confusion or dream and then settled again as her body woke slowly. Each micro-expression felt like a revelation, a glimpse into the depths of her humanity that both fascinated and confounded me.
The rising heat in my chest softened into something gentle, tender. Adoration claimed me, an urge old as the volcanic rivers of Volcaryth—protect, cherish.
I leaned down, brushing the faintest kiss against her temple. A small shiver rippled through her, but she didn’t wake fully, so I pressed another kiss lower, to the delicate line of her jaw, the corner of her mouth. Her soft scent filled my senses, tinged now with the unmistakable marks of me—of us.
She sighed, her lips curling into something that was almost a smile, her eyes still closed as though resisting wakefulness. My tail tightened its coil faintly, holding her closer, savoring the way her warmth fit perfectly into mine. I trailed my claws lightly along her exposed side, careful not to nick or scratch, though my instincts stirred sharply at the sight of her bare skin.
“You’re awake,” I murmured, my voice softer than I’d intended, vibrating low against her ear.
She made a noise between a hum and a breathless laugh, her eyelids fluttering open as her eyes found mine. “Barely.”
“You sleep heavily,” I teased, shifting my head so our foreheads brushed, my horns curving enough to frame her face without touching.
Her lips quirked, though her voice was still heavy with lingering sleep. “Maybe I finally found the right pillow.”
I swallowed, my claws stilling against her skin as I searched her half-lidded gaze. I wanted to ask her why this moment, why me, but the weight of the sentiment filled the space between us louder than any words could.
Instead, I let action speak. I dipped my head and kissed her. Not the fire of the night before, but something slower, deeper, a language closer to worship. Her breath hitched in surprise, but she melted into it, her fingers sliding up my chest to rest against one of the ridges glowing faintly at my throat.
I let out a low sound of approval, my palm spreading over her lower back as I pulled her closer. Her body responded instinctively, arching slightly into mine, her warmth soaking into my scales. My tail flexed again, securing her in a loop of heat and pressure that felt more protective than possessive.
She was mine, and everything in me wanted her to know it without question.
Her hands slid higher, grazing the edge of one nipple piercing before meandering up to curve lightly over my shoulders. The fire began to rise again, building as my lips trailed lower, testing the length of her neck to indulge in her pulse there. Every small whimper, every hitch of her breath flared the bond between us tighter, hotter.
“Rath,” she said my name softly, her voice somewhere between a warning and an invitation.
I pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, my own breathing heavier now, a faint growl slipping loose before I could leash it. “You taste like sunlight,” I rumbled, echoing what I’d told her the night before. A lazy smile tugged at her lips, though it faltered slightly as I traced the side of her throat with my tongue, unwilling to break the connection entirely.
My claws flexed faintly against her waist as I forced my breathing to steady, the bond humming between us taut as a bowstring. She was there, and I would indulge in her forever if it were only up to me—but it wasn’t. Not entirely. The council’s whispers, the scrutiny of the zealots, Krazath’s venomous words—they all lingered like shadows, encroaching on the sanctuary of this moment.
I kissed her forehead softly, lingering just long enough to imprint the gesture into my memory, before pulling back. “There’s something we need to talk about.”
Her eyes narrowed a fraction, shifting from the sleepy warmth of moments ago to something sharper. “That sounds ominous,” she said carefully, her voice tinged with curiosity but underlined by caution.
I sat up slowly, shifting her against me so she remained within my reach, still curled in the protection of my tail. My claws tapped absently against my thigh, weighing words against the storm beginning to churn inside me. “The River’s Run Festival begins in four days.”
She blinked at the abrupt shift in tone, her brow furrowing faintly. “Okay … And?”
I met her gaze, letting the weight of my own seriousness seep into the air between us. “It’s one of the most crucial events in Scalvaris,” I began, my voice low and steady. “It’s not just a celebration; it’s tradition, culture, strength. It’s … everything.”
Her brows arched at my tone, but she said nothing yet, her full attention now locked on my face. I hadn’t lied—she was perceptive, almost frustratingly so. I pressed forward before doubt could creep in.
“There is a … challenge,” I said, the words feeling heavier as they formed. “The Mating Challenge. It’s a trial set to prove the strength, the harmony of bonded pairs. Any warrior who has claimed a mate can participate, and to succeed is to remove doubt and silence whispers.” The words hissed through my teeth. “Like the ones circling us now.”
Her silence stretched just a moment too long for comfort, her expression unreadable. She sat up more fully, drawing the frayed sheet higher against her chest as if the motion could shield her from what I was asking.
Finally, she spoke, each word precise. “You’re telling me you want us to compete? Publicly, in front of the entire city?”
I forced myself to stay still, to keep my claws from flexing too visibly. “Yes,” I said. “Not just for them. For us. To solidify what we have—to show everyone —what this bond means.” My voice softened slightly, though I knew my words still carried hard edges.
If this was the way to keep her, then I would do it. I could make sure she was safe. No one would doubt us again.
She exhaled sharply, pushing her wild hair out of her face with one hand. “Rath,” she began, her tongue catching her lower lip as it always did when she was preparing to say something uncomfortable. “Do you hear what you’re saying? This sounds … dangerous.”
“It is,” I admitted, not shying from the truth. “But you’re capable. And I would never let anything happen to you.”
Her head tilted slightly, her gaze sharpening to an almost surgical precision as she studied me. “This isn’t just about proving something to them, is it?” she asked quietly. “You’re trying to prove something to yourself.”
The words sliced through me. For a moment, I couldn’t speak, my throat tightening around the denial that refused to form. She didn’t give me the chance to find whatever honesty I could muster.
“Rath,” she said again, firmer this time. “I … I need to think.”
And before I could stop her, she slid out of the bed and walked away.