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KHORLAR

The dim chill in the depths of Scalvaris seeped through stone, a pale imitation of true darkness, but instinct recognized the shift. My eyes snapped open. I was alert and ready.

And saw her .

Hawk. My mate.

The truth slammed through me, undeniable as bedrock, resonant as a war drum. She was curled against my side, her dark skin highlighted by the muted glow filtering from the heat crystals in the walls. One slender arm lay heavy across my chest, her fingers instinctively gripping the edge of a scale even in sleep. Her heat radiated against me—not the scorching fury of Volcaryth, but something softer, deeper, soaking past my scales to the cold stone core of me.

Mine.

Something low rumbled in my chest, a sound of pure ownership I barely contained. Evidence marked her—the faint bruising where my fangs had grazed her fragile skin, the shadow beneath where my claws had held her hips. It was proof. Possession. The air hung thick with the scent of our joining, her human musk interwoven with my own harsher tang. It was intoxicating.

She stirred, the rhythm of her breath snagging. Her muscles tensed beneath my arm. Consciousness returned like a snapped bowstring. Her eyes opened—dark pools reflecting the low light—and locked onto mine.

Vulnerability flashed there, raw and exposed. Gone in a heartbeat. Her shield slammed back into place, that wariness I recognized, honed sharp by survival. Yet beneath it, embers still glowed hot. The contradiction clawed at my control.

"Mine," I grated, the word rough-edged, torn from my throat. My hand moved, unbidden, tracing the line of her shoulder. Scales met skin. She shivered, a tremor that sparked fire low in my gut. "My mate."

Her body went rigid, a wire pulled taut. She didn't recoil. Not yet. The claim hung between us, heavy as unmined ore.

"A heavy word," she finally breathed, her voice thick with sleep but losing none of its edge. Always that edge.

I leaned closer, filling my lungs with her scent. Ours. "I know what matters." My voice dropped lower, scraping like stone on stone. "Enough."

Our faces hovered scant inches apart. Her breath feathered against my jaw. Her eyes searched mine—for lies? Weakness? She found neither. Only the unyielding certainty of my claim.

A shuddering exhale escaped her lips. Not surrender. Never surrender. But … something shifted. Her fingertips, tentative, brushed the half-healed ridge of the wound on my shoulder. It was where I bled defending her .

Ignition.

I captured her mouth, crushing any response. A choked gasp escaped against my lips, then she melted, resistance shattering like heat-shocked stone. Her arms snaked around my neck, fingers digging into the sensitive juncture where scale met flesh. It was a pressure point. She knew.

A possessive growl tore from me. I rolled her beneath me, pinning her with my weight, wings flaring instinctively, casting us in deeper shadow. She was mine to shelter. Mine to command. She arched upward, body remembering, yielding where her mind still fought. My claws, retracting just enough not to break skin, gathered her wrists. One hand pinned them above her head. The other traced fire down her side, mapping the curve of her hip.

"Tell me to stop," I challenged, the command guttural.

Defiance flared in her eyes, warring with the flush rising on her skin. "Don't …" she gasped, her legs parting, inviting the invasion. "command me." Then, softer, desperate. "Just … don't stop."

Her fight, even in surrender—it drove me toward a precipice. I released her wrists, seizing her hips instead, angling her. Ready. Slick heat met me. Her body, honest and urgent. I drove into her. One smooth, deep thrust. Her eyes flew wide, her back bowing sharply off the sleeping platform.

"Khorlar." My name, a broken sound. A plea. A brand.

I set a brutal pace. Each thrust was a staking of territory. Each withdrawal was a promise. Her nails raked my back, scoring paths near the vulnerable base of my wings. Pleasure sharpened, bordering pain. Our bodies moved, a frantic rhythm, two forces colliding, forged for this clash.

"What is this?" she demanded between ragged breaths, her eyes finding mine, refusing to break contact even as tremors shook her. Always the questions. Always pushing. "Mate? What does it mean? To you?"

My rhythm stuttered. A fraction of a second. The question hit harder than her nails. The answer thundered through me, stark and absolute.

"Everything," I snarled, driving deeper, harder. Watching the war on her face—fear, need, defiance. "You are … everything. Strength. Weakness. Honor."

Her eyes widened. Fear flickered. Real fear. "And to your people? Scalvaris?"

I caught her face between my hands, rough, forcing her gaze. Our bodies slammed together. Opposing tides. "Mine. To protect. To defend." Words failed me. How to explain the path ahead without shattering her fragile courage? "There are … challenges. Those who will not accept."

Her jaw locked beneath my grip. "I don't need protecting."

A harsh laugh escaped me. "And yet, you have it. Want it or not."

Something fractured in her gaze. Anger. Need. A reluctant yielding. Her inner muscles clenched, milking a groan from my depths. "Not a cage," she warned, her voice strained, even as her body pulled me closer, deeper. "Not yours. Not anyone's."

"Never," I ground out, my pace quickening, the edge rushing toward me. "A fortress."

She shook her head. Denial warring with imminent release. I felt it begin—the tightening, the sharp inhale. I thrust harder, pulling the sound from her, her cry echoing my name like a shattered vow.

My own release roared through me. Unstoppable. Consuming. I collapsed, bracing my weight, burying my face in the curve of her neck.

Her scent. Mine.

Silence pulsed afterward. Fragile. Tense. Her breathing slowed beneath me. Her hands, hesitant now, rested on my back, tracing scale patterns. Thinking. Always thinking.

Knock. Knock. Sharp. Intrusive.

"Councilor." A young guard's voice, tight with urgency, muffled by the stone door. "Darrokar requires you. The Ignarath demand audience."

A silent snarl peeled my lips back. Plaktish. Testing. Or perhaps Zarvash wasn’t as discreet as he said.

Beneath me, Hawk stiffened. An instantaneous shift. Soft yielding replaced by coiled alertness. The warrior surfaced. It called to the beast in me.

"Inform Darrokar I'll attend shortly," I called back, irritation roughening my voice.

"Councilor." Retreating footsteps echoed, swallowed by the stone.

She slid from beneath me. Moving with fluid grace, utterly unashamed of her nakedness. It was armor as much as vulnerability. The breach I'd made in her defenses was sealing itself, stone by silent stone.

"Trouble?" Her voice was carefully neutral. She was gathering torn cloth.

I rose, my eyes narrowed, tracking her every move. Precise. Efficient. It was a fighter's economy of motion. She would never be docile. Pride warred with a sharp stab of frustration.

I regretted nothing. Flat. Final. "He touched what is mine."

Annoyance? Uncertainty? It flickered across her face like heat lightning. "I'm not a thing , Khorlar."

"No." Three strides closed the distance. I pulled her against me, ignoring the brief stiffening. Her strength against mine. "Far more dangerous."

Before she could form a retort, I took her mouth again. Hard. A statement. Pulling back, I saw the conflict still raging in her wide eyes. Desire warring with defiance.

"I'll return when this is settled," I promised against her lips. "No one takes you from me. Understand?"

She didn't answer. Her gaze held mine, a silent challenge. "Plaktish," she said instead, her voice low. "He plots. Be careful."

Fierce pride swelled my chest. Even now, torn as she was, her mind worked, assessed threats. For me . Confirmation hammered home. My match. Whether she admitted it or not.

"Stay here," I commanded, turning toward the door. "The guards are posted."

Her expression tightened. "Cages, Khorlar."

"Necessity," I countered, pausing at the threshold. "They showed their hand. They will try again."

A muscle jumped in her jaw. She gave a sharp nod. Acknowledgment. Not agreement. It would suffice. For now.

I stepped into the corridor. The door hissed shut. My claws curled, digging into my palms. Her scent clung to me, a distraction, a purpose. Discipline. I would need it all. A suspicious Council. A rival seeking blood. A human mate.

And her. The one being who could unravel the control I’d spent a lifetime forging.

I strode toward the Council chambers, the stone cold beneath my feet. Let them come. Let Plaktish scheme. Let the Council whisper. One truth burned through the noise, echoing with each beat of my heart.

Human. Mate. Mine.

I would burn Volcaryth down before I let her go.