Page 14 of Echoes of Fire (Drakarn Mates #2)

THIRTEEN

ORLA

In Rath’s quarters again, the silence felt heavier than it should have. I sat on the edge of the bed, my hands curled into the fabric of my pants, twisting relentlessly as I tried to find the right words. They stayed lodged in my throat.

I’d spent hours in the baths, piecing together the fragments of whatever this was—the bond, the uncertainty, the unfamiliar intensity tying me to Rath. Selene had reminded me that none of it had to make perfect sense. But that didn’t mean I was any closer to understanding what I should do next.

What if I said the wrong thing? What if I couldn’t give him what he was asking for? What if I fucked this whole thing up?

The door opened, and I startled, my pulse jumping as Rath stepped into the room. His wings filled the entryway like they had every right to bend the space around them. He wasn’t wearing his formal armor, just a simple combat tunic that hung unbuttoned at the throat. The red of his scales seemed sharper against the black fabric, his markings glinting faintly.

His eyes snapped to mine instantly, narrowing slightly—not in anger but in that way he always had, like he was trying to gauge every nuance of what I wasn’t saying aloud. The door shut behind him, plunging us into an oppressive, expectant silence that made my chest tighten.

“You’re back.” His voice was low and rough, laced with something unreadable.

I nodded, swallowing hard. “I just needed to think.”

Rath inclined his head, though there was a faint edge of tension in his wings—tightened, folded close. “And?”

My hands clenched tighter. “I don’t know,” I admitted, my voice cracking faintly. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with … this.” I gestured vaguely at the space between us, the air thick enough to feel tangible. “With you. With … us.”

Rath’s jaw tightened, but he stayed eerily still, watching me the way a predator watches prey—not to intimidate, but to understand. To wait until my guard dropped enough for him to move.

“I—” I started and stopped, warring with the hurricane of words swirling in my chest. Finally, I just forced them out. “I don’t want to ruin this. Or hurt you. I don’t know what you expect?—”

“There is no expectation,” he said quietly, though the weight of his voice made it sound like a promise. “Not from me. Not from the bond. Only what we choose to give each other.”

I stared at him, caught off guard by his directness. When I didn’t respond right away, Rath stepped closer—not looming or pressing but moving into my orbit with deliberate care. His tail dragged faintly along the floor behind him, its slow sway at odds with the stillness of his shoulders and wings.

“I want to take you somewhere,” he said, his gaze holding mine. “Will you come with me?”

The abrupt shift threw me, but the steadiness in his voice left me with few options for protest. My body moved almost involuntarily, standing before my mind could catch up to what I was agreeing to.

“Where?” I managed, trying to shake off the lingering nerves tightening my spine.

“You’ll see,” Rath replied, a faint curve brushing the corners of his mouth. This wasn’t his usual sharp edge—it was something lighter, easier. The fleeting glimpse of it eased the tension in my chest just enough for me to exhale.

Without waiting for further hesitation, Rath extended his arm. I glanced at it, then back at him. His expression didn’t change, but there was something faint and vulnerable in the way he waited. Like stepping back might hurt him more than I realized.

I placed my hand lightly against his arm. Rath’s claws flexed against his side, his throat dipping with a slow swallow, and then he turned, leading me wordlessly to the chamber’s exit.

The walk was short, the corridors of Scalvaris familiar now, though they always seemed different when he was near—charged by his presence, by the awareness that I could always feel subtly pulling between us like gravity.

When we reached the shaft that led out toward the surface, I hesitated. It wasn’t dread or fear exactly—just the unfinished idea of stepping beyond my new normal into something entirely unknown, again.

Rath stopped with me, glancing back, his head tilting just enough to catch me in his unwavering gaze. “Do you trust me?” he asked, as blunt as ever.

The question caught me sideways, throwing me off balance before I managed a simple nod.

“Hold tight,” he said, and before I could ask what he meant, he swept me into his arms with effortless strength.

The air shifted sharply as his wings unfurled, the rush of volcanic wind cutting through the cavern’s stale heat. Rath crouched briefly, his tail curling behind him for balance, before leaping into the vertical shaft.

I locked my arms around his neck, reflexive fear sparking in my chest, but it evaporated almost immediately. There was no faltering in his movement, no hitch of uncertainty as his wings beat powerfully against the currents, carrying us upward.

We broke through to the surface in a rush of light and heat, twin suns blazing against the horizon, their fiery glow drenching everything in gold and crimson. My breath caught as Rath gained altitude, the molten-red deserts stretching endlessly below, interrupted only by jagged peaks that sparkled like captured lightning.

The view was staggering, beautiful in a way that felt almost violent. I couldn’t look away.

Rath angled his wings wide, leveling us into a smooth glide. The two suns cast long shadows against his scales, their reddish glow sharpening the dark tiger stripes that cut across his ruby red skin.

“You never see the sky like this underground, not even from the sky shafts,” I said softly, more to myself than to him.

Rath’s voice rumbled low, almost thoughtful. “The surface is harsher. Less forgiving. But even here, beauty survives.”

I turned my head slightly against his chest, catching the faint shift in his profile as he adjusted for whatever destination we were headed toward. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” he said simply, the words so heavy with quiet finality they felt like a vow.

It wasn’t an answer. But I didn’t press him. I watched the alien landscape shift below us—the streams of lava glinting like veins beneath the crust and the peaks that caught fire in the suns’ light.

After what felt like an eternity wrapped in wind and alien light, Rath began to descend, his wings pulling inward as we spiraled toward a break in the terrain I hadn’t noticed before. Nestled between spires of heat-resistant flora, an oasis shimmered below—a natural spring enclosed by rock walls streaked with veins of crystal. The pool radiated faint steam, kissed by the twin suns but seemingly untouched by the harshness of Volcaryth.

The sight stole my breath. It was like stepping into a memory of Earth, somehow blooming alive on a world that should have crushed it.

Rath landed gracefully at the edge of the spring. As his feet touched the ground with a solid thud, his arms remained steady, still holding me securely against him. For a moment, I clung to him, my gaze caught between the shimmering spring and the sharp edges of the cliff walls framing it. The contrast of molten hues and soft greens was surreal. The terrain around us was harsh and jagged, yet this place seemed untouched, almost sacred.

“You can let go now,” Rath murmured, his voice low and impossibly soft near my ear, cutting through the reverent quiet around us.

I flushed, realizing how tightly I’d been holding onto him, and awkwardly pushed against his chest. He lowered me to the ground slowly, scanning my face for something I couldn’t name before finally stepping back. His absence left a sudden, oddly cool space at my side, though his heat still lingered faintly in the air.

I turned in a slow circle, taking in the spring. The water shimmered unnaturally, its surface tinted with soft, iridescent hues—brilliant greens, blues, and purples playing against the sunlight streaming through the crystal-lined walls. Heat seeped up from the stones beneath my feet, and strange flowering plants clung to the crevices, their petals pulsing faintly as though they were alive.

“It’s beautiful,” I breathed.

Rath’s gaze didn’t leave me, though he inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment. “Few from Scalvaris come here anymore. It lies far from the usual paths, difficult to find without knowing where to look.”

My chest tightened at his words. This was something special to him, something shared just with me. “So why bring me here?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he turned and gestured to one of the rock formations nearby. Nestled against the spring’s edge, partially hidden by heat-resistant foliage, was a small structure made of organic material—simply designed but clearly well maintained.

“It’s a resting place for travelers,” Rath said finally. “Warriors, scholars—any who dare to venture far from their clans, their worlds. I thought you might like to see it.”

Rath’s hands brushed over the markings carved into the stone near the spring, his claws gentle against the ancient etchings. “This was built long ago, after the fall of the old world but before we founded our cities.” His tone dipped slightly, tinged with something unreadable. “It was not meant for claiming territory or power. It was meant to be a place of peace.”

I stared at him, the magnitude of his words settling heavily in my chest. “Then why did you bring me here?” I asked again.

He turned to face me fully. His wings shifted behind him, a restless motion that betrayed the otherwise controlled expression on his face. He stood for a moment, saying nothing, and then reached into a pouch he had strapped to his side. When his hand reappeared, he held something small but unmistakable—a dagger.

He stepped closer, holding it out between us. “This,” he said, his voice low but powerful, “is for you.”

The weapon was stunning. The blade itself gleamed, infused with streaks of the heat crystals I’d seen all around Scalvaris. But its hilt was something else entirely, forged from curved fragments of metal that looked unmistakably human. It must have been recovered from the crashed ship. The two materials were woven together as though they had always belonged as one.

I hesitated to reach for it. “You … made this?”

“It was not an easy thing to create,” Rath admitted. “But for you, it felt … right.”

My mouth went dry. I glanced from the dagger to his face but found no mockery or humor there—only raw, steady emotion reflected in the sharpness of his features. He extended it closer, waiting, unbending in his patience until I reached forward and accepted the weapon.

The weight of it was perfect, the hilt cool beneath my fingers while the blade seemed to hum faintly with residual warmth. I traced a finger lightly along the carved grooves of the handle, my breath catching as I realized what it represented.

“You did this to—” I faltered, struggling to find words that could encompass the enormity of the gesture. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“I did.” Rath’s voice was a low rumble, his jaw tightening faintly. “We are … different, shyrarva . Orla. Of two worlds that should never have crossed. But for all our differences, the bond does not lie. You are mine, and I—” He faltered, his claws flexing at his sides before cutting through the hesitation. “I am yours. All that I have—all that I am.”

The intensity of his confession pulled at something deep within me, a knot of emotion I hadn’t allowed myself to untangle since this all began. I stared at him, my chest tight, the dagger trembling slightly in my grip.

He’d put everything on the table, flayed himself open before me without shame or regret.

I dropped the dagger gently onto the carved stone behind me and crossed the short space between us in two steps. Rath stiffened slightly, caught off guard, but I didn’t give him time to recover. I reached up, my hands finding the planes of his face.

And then I kissed him.