Page 7 of Echoes of Fire (Drakarn Mates #2)

SIX

ORLA

My feet were lead.

My fight-or-flight reflex leaned toward panic in both directions, but escaping through the narrow passage the towering Drakarn now filled wasn’t an option.

If Krazath wanted me dead, running wouldn’t do me any good.

I couldn’t let him think I was weak. If the Drakarn were one thing, it was brazen. I couldn’t be a meek little human. My voice came low, steady enough—though too sharp-edged to be safe. “Nice burns. Someone cooking a little too close to the lava vents?”

His sneer widened, with fangs catching the faint light. “Foul human,” he rasped, his voice scraping like charred stones grinding against each other. His claws flexed as he crept forward, his tail dragging along the floor. “You crawl among us, stinking, frail … You should be extinguished like vermin.”

I squared myself, forcing calm into my stance even though I doubted it would last. “You’re wasting my time.” Stupid. Taunting a zealot was idiotic, reckless even.

But something hot inside me couldn’t be cautious. Not right now.

I think I really hate this guy.

Krazath’s eyes narrowed, his yellow pupils contracting into sharp slits. Heat radiated from him, thick and stifling. His tail struck the ground with a crack that rolled through the stone like thunder.

“You, and all your kind, pollute this place,” he spat. “Soft, brittle things who scavenge at the feet of real power. You stand here because one of us allows it. Because the warrior lord is too blind to see what filth he’s bathed himself in.”

“Funny,” I said, my voice steadier than I expected. “Considering you’re spending your time cornering one of us weakings , I’d say you’re the one dragging down the honor of your people. Picking on me doesn’t make you powerful. It makes you pathetic.”

Real smart, Orla. Poke the dragon some more.

Krazath’s lips curled into a snarl. “Watch your tongue, mokral ,” he said, his claws raking across the stone wall. My translator couldn’t handle that last word, but the tone was clear that it was an insult. “Rath’s protection won’t last forever. It’s made a mockery of everything. No Drakarn worthy of their name allows himself to—” His sneer deepened, the next word practically spat from his mouth. “ Mate with prey.”

The insult hit me harder than it should have. I clenched my fists at my sides, the urge to lash out bubbling in my chest. My rational mind screamed at me to shut my mouth, to stay quiet, to de-escalate. But another part of me, that deep-seated fire Rath had somehow stoked, refused to back down.

“He doesn’t seem ashamed to me,” I bit out. “But if you have such a problem with him, why not take it up with Rath directly? Oh, that’s right—you won’t, because you’d lose. Badly.”

The words left my mouth before I could weigh them, and the reaction was immediate. Krazath’s eyes flared with rage, his tail slamming against the wall with enough force to send tiny fractures racing across the surface. It was getting hotter with every passing second, like a freaking furnace.

“You frail, arrogant worm,” he hissed, taking a step forward. His wings flared slightly, casting long shadows down the passage. “You think you’re untouchable because he chose you? Tell me, human, what will you do when this bond proves false? When the council strips him of his honor for this shame he’s branded on himself?”

I gritted my teeth, taking an instinctive step back. The passage behind me was narrow, the walls rough against my fingertips, but there was no escape route. Krazath kept advancing, his hulking frame growing larger with every moment.

His tail lashed out again, brushing against the stone near my leg, close enough to send pebbles flying. My breath caught in my chest, panic dangerously close to winning out, but I refused to give him the satisfaction of showing it. My instincts screamed for help, but there was no one to hear me—not here. Not now.

The roar came like an eruption, not just loud but thick and guttural, shaking the air around us. The sound hit me in the chest, a physical force that reverberated down the passage.

Rath.

His shadow spread over us, massive, looming, impossibly huge. Krazath froze, his snarling confidence melting into something almost comically scared. Rath landed between us, wings unfurled, claws flexing at his sides with deliberate menace. His yellow eyes blazed, locking entirely on Krazath.

“Do you value your life so little that you’d dare threaten her?” Rath growled, the words a rough snarl that carried more weight than any shout could. Each syllable carved itself into the air, vibrating with intensity.

Krazath’s wings twitched, retreating closer to his body. His composure cracked, though his own snarl remained, however dimmed. “I’ve done nothing to your human.” His voice carried an edge of defiance. “But I will not hold my tongue. She doesn’t belong here.”

Rath’s tail lashed sharply. He took a step closer, each movement deliberate, his wings brushing the walls as his presence swelled to fill the corridor. “She belongs where I say,” he rumbled. “You’ve overstepped.”

Under other circumstances I might have felt bad for Krazath.

Almost.

The tension between the two Drakarn was tangible. Rath’s fury was a living, breathing thing, so heavy in the air I felt it pressing against my skin.

But Krazath wasn’t done yet. He straightened, baring his fangs in a last-ditch show of bravado. “Your bond is a disgrace,” his voice rose dangerously. “You weaken yourself by clinging to a creature so far beneath us. The council will not let this stand forever. Even you cannot?—”

The motion was faster than I could track. In a blink, Rath’s claws were at Krazath’s throat, his tail coiled sharply around one of the other warrior’s legs to keep him pinned. The force of his movement sent heat crystals shuddering.

Krazath froze, his wings pinned awkwardly against the stone as Rath pressed him into the wall. The tips of Rath’s claws barely dented Krazath’s scales, but it was enough. The promise of what they could do lingered in the air.

“You forget yourself,” Rath snarled. “I have claimed her. The bond has been witnessed. Speak against it again, and you won’t walk away.”

Krazath stiffened, refusing to flinch despite the claws hovering near the vulnerable seam of his throat. “Kill me here, and you lose what little respect you still have.” He had to strain to speak.

Rath didn’t move, the menace radiating from him crackling in the air like charged embers. His claws flexed ever so slightly, enough to make Krazath’s neck strain even harder against the pressure. Every muscle in Rath’s body screamed restraint about to snap, held in place by a force of will barely tethered.

He wasn’t going to back down. I wasn’t sure he could . But I had a sinking suspicion Krazath was right.

“Rath.”

The single syllable breached the suffocating silence. He didn’t turn immediately, his wings still flared, chest rising and falling in bursts. But my voice had reached him. Slowly, his head shifted, eyes now more orange than yellow locking onto mine. They burned sharply, though beneath the fury ran something deeper—conflicted, something raw.

I took a cautious step closer, my pulse beating so fast and uneven it was dizzying. “Don’t,” I said, my voice quieter this time. “He’s not worth it.”

Rath’s tail remained coiled, his claws unmoving. Then, with a deliberate exhale, Rath shoved Krazath back against the wall and released him.

Krazath stumbled, quickly regaining his footing, though his entire body bristled with humiliation. He glared at Rath, his wings twitching, itching for retaliation. But he didn’t dare make a move.

“You forget yourself, Flame Heart,” Krazath muttered, voice dripping with venom. His gaze flicked to me, the disdain in his expression twisting my stomach. “This will not end well for you. Or her.”

Rath’s growl vibrated through the stone floor beneath me. “Leave. Now.”

Krazath’s eyes narrowed, but he held his tongue. Slowly, he retreated into the shadows, his claws scraping along the basalt wall until his shape dissolved into the distant gloom.

Silence filled the corridor again. The weight of everything hung around us, choking away the air as my pulse thudded in my ears. Rath still hadn’t moved. His wings remained half-spread, his shoulders locked and tense, even as Krazath’s form grew distant and then disappeared entirely.

All at once, my knees felt weak, and I leaned against the cooler wall for balance, dragging in sharp breaths. The corridor shrank around me—heat, emotions, fear, everything collapsing inward. But it wasn’t just fear. I looked at Rath, at every line of tension in his frame, and saw something more than rage.

I found my voice, barely a whisper. “He’s gone.”

Rath didn’t react immediately. His tail snapped behind him, short, tightly controlled arcs that betrayed his lingering agitation. It wasn’t until I took a hesitant step closer, this time letting my fingers hover inches from him, that his focus shifted. He looked at me, and the edges of that predator’s fire softened just a little.

“You’re shaking,” he said, his voice rough—hoarse, almost tender in its uneven delivery.

My whole body trembled, from adrenaline, from everything that had just happened. One hand clasped the fabric of my tunic. I was breathing too fast, too shallow. I was trying to ground myself, but the room still felt unsteady.

Without a word, Rath moved. Fluid. Deliberate.

In a single step, he closed the space between us, his massive hand landing softly against the small of my back while his tail wrapped securely around my legs. For a creature so imposing, his touch was shockingly careful, almost reverent. He pulled me toward him, the heat of his chest pressing into me like a shield against the world. His claws shifted, hesitant, before curving over the back of my head.

“You’re safe,” he murmured, his voice brittle, like the words were more for himself than for me. “No one will touch you. Not while I breathe.”

The dam inside me broke. Hot tears spilled over before I could push them down, frustration and relief colliding in a way that was too much to hold in.

My fingers gripped the loose fabric of his tunic as my forehead rested lightly against his chest. There was no fighting it—no pushing him away even though some part of me insisted I should. I hated the comfort I found in his presence, hated that it settled me better than anything else.

Hated that I didn’t pull away.

The tears came harder, and Rath didn’t try to stop me. He held me close, his tail tightening just slightly to anchor me. His thumb brushed gently over my shoulder.

“Let it go,” he said.

I shook my head weakly, voice muffled against the smooth scales of his chest. “I didn’t ask for this.”

“Neither did I.” He was quieter now, laced with a kind of rawness that caught me off guard. His words hung there, heavy and unshielded.

I tilted my head to meet his gaze, expecting deflection or annoyance, something calculated. Instead, I found that same flicker of vulnerability—the crack running under all the searing confidence he projected. It did something to me, tugged at threads in my chest I didn’t realize were tied so tightly.

“Why do you care so much?” The question escaped before I could stop it, more honest than I intended. I regretted it instantly. Surely, he wouldn’t?—

“You’re mine,” he said simply, like the answer was carved deep into his bones. His gaze burned, unrelenting in its certainty. “No one will touch you. Not Krazath. Not anyone.”

I blinked, the weight of his words pressing into the space between us. His voice carried no hesitation—just absolute conviction. It terrified me. Not because of the possessiveness, but because something in me wanted to believe him.

I snorted unsteadily, trying to mask the twisting warmth in my chest with something sarcastic. “Humans don’t exactly subscribe to this ‘fate-bonded forever’ thing, you know.”

Rath tilted his head. “Maybe that’s why you shatter so easily,” he said, not cruelly, but with a faint edge borne of an observation he couldn’t possibly have made. “You’re too quick to let go.”

It should’ve annoyed me. It didn’t. Instead, it settled somewhere deep, pulling at parts of myself I didn’t want to examine.

Finally, I sighed, wiping the last of my tears with the back of my hand. “This won’t stop them, you know,” I said quietly. “The zealots, the council, Karyseth. They’re not just going to let this slide.” My voice faltered slightly, gesturing toward the corridor where Krazath had disappeared.

Rath’s wings folded at last, his body slowly losing its tension. He stepped back half an inch—but only half. “Then let them come.” His voice crackled with the threatening promise.

I groaned, thumping my head against his chest. “That’s not an actual solution.”

His lips twitched—not quite a smirk but enough to send that sharp curve of a fang glinting faintly. “It’s the only one they’ll understand.”

I shook my head, torn between exasperation and something dangerously close to trust. “You’re impossible.”

His tail brushed briefly against my back before curling faintly near my feet again. “So are you.”

The faintest, reluctant smile tugged at my lips. Maybe impossible wasn’t so bad.