Page 12

11

HAWK

I couldn't stay still.

My body still hummed. The ghost of his touch was a brand, searing hot across my skin. A deep, radiating ache pulsed between my thighs, but I had to put it out of my mind.

The sheets beneath my restless hands still held his scent. Hot stone, the sharp tang of ozone after a lightning strike, something wilder, more primal. It was him.

He was mine.

The word ricocheted through my skull, his voice—rough-edged, absolute. It was not a request. A goddamn statement of fact carved into the air.

Then came the other word.

Mate.

My breath hitched. Terror, cold and sharp, pierced through the lingering heat. Partner? Lover? These were human concepts. Breakable. Temporary. But mate? That felt heavy. Permanent. Like chains forged in the planet's fire, binding me in ways that went bone-deep, soul-deep.

My fingers grazed the sensitive skin of my neck. Just below the jawline. This was where his fangs had pressed. They didn't break the skin—controlled, even then—but left a faint, damning pressure mark. Evidence. I’d seen the look Selene gave Vyne. Terra and Darrokar. Orla and Rath. That impossible mix—exasperation, fierce loyalty, and something else. Something elemental I couldn't name but felt crackling between them.

And now … it was me? Just like that?

I had to move. I dressed quickly, slamming my feet into my boots as if I had somewhere to go, as if I hadn't promised Khorlar—my mate!—that I would stay put.

Three steps, then a turn, sharp. Two steps, a halt before the sleeping platform where—no. I shouldn’t think about that. Five steps. Water basin. Cold water splashed, stinging my face and neck. It was useless. It couldn't touch the furnace roaring beneath my ribs.

I needed answers. Not from Khorlar. Every time I tried, his damn mouth ended up on mine, his heat overwhelming the questions, my body a traitor to caution. I needed clarity. Distance. Perspective.

Selene.

She was a soldier. A medic. Pragmatic. She'd understand this battlefield confusion. And bonded to Vyne … she'd navigated this impossible territory. Found her footing. Maybe she could show me the map.

With the decision made, a spark of purpose cut through the haze. I moved to the door and hesitated. Khorlar’s warning—his low growl about safety—hung thick in the air. But I wasn't prey to be caged, not even by him. Not even for my own good.

Besides, I wasn't going far.

The corridor pulsed with the low glow of heat crystals. Shadows stretched long and distorted. Guards. Drakarn warriors stood like stone sentinels at points where none had been before. This was Khorlar's doing. My jaw was tight as I pulled my hood lower, kept my head down. I wasn't sneaking, exactly. Just … avoiding notice. The faint bruising on my neck suddenly felt like a spotlight. No one tried to stop me.

I moved through the lower training quarters and past the medical caverns. The route snaked through quieter sections of Scalvaris, away from the main thoroughfares, away from the few other human faces who might see the flush I couldn’t scrub away, the slight tremor in my hands.

Selene's alcove in the medical caverns was small, carved raw from the rock. Shelves lined with bizarrely colored pastes and tightly wound bandages. It was clean. Efficient.

But it was empty.

Shit.

There was no Selene.

Vega, however, was only a bit farther down the corridor. The last person I needed to see right now.

She paced the small space like a caged sand-cat, sharp, contained energy vibrating off her. Her head snapped up, eyes narrowed as I entered.

"Hawk." Relief warred with immediate suspicion. "Where the hell have you been? I came to your quarters to talk to you, and the lizards wouldn't let me pass."

I froze, suddenly hyper-aware of how I must look—clothes rumpled despite my attempts to straighten them, hair probably a mess, the tension still thrumming through me like a plucked wire. "I'm here now," I managed. Vague. Useless. "Looking for Selene."

"She's with Vyne, as usual," Vega dismissed, waving a hand impatiently. "Council crap. Speaking of—" She closed the distance between us. Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial hiss despite the emptiness. "I've been thinking …"

My stomach plummeted at that look. It was fierce. Burning. The Vega-look that meant caution was already out the airlock. The same look I'd seen while she was scaling a cliff during training, sprained wrist be damned.

"Vega—"

"I overheard some of them talking," she barreled on, cutting me off, eyes glittering. "The Ignarath warriors, the ones with the delegation. They were talking about humans. Not us, Hawk. Others. Survivors."

The word hit like a physical blow. Survivors. The hope that fueled us. The reason we endured. But now … hearing it … a strange, hollow dread coiled in my gut. More humans. What would that mean for … this? For everything?

"I swear I heard one of them say Larissa," Vega pressed, leaning closer, her breath hot with urgency. "Specifically. That's Kira's sister, Hawk. We have to find out more."

"And they just said all of this conveniently by you?"

She rolled her eyes. "I was on training duty while some of their delegation was working out in the training yard. They stared at me, and I pretended not to understand them when they started spouting off some gross shit. They basically ignored me after that."

I swallowed, the metallic tang of adrenaline flooding my mouth. Forced focus. "And your plan is … what? A suicide stroll into Ignarath territory based on gossip?"

Her face hardened, jaw set. "I'm not asking permission."

"Clearly," I shot back, the word sharper than intended. Raw nerves frayed by sleeplessness and … everything else. "You never do."

She actually recoiled. Hurt flashed, quicksilver, then vanished behind anger. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you're about to run off half-cocked based on zero actionable intel," I countered, crossing my arms, needing the barrier. "Again."

"At least I'm doing something!" she snapped. "While you've been … what, exactly? Holed up in your gilded cage with your giant lizard bodyguard?"

The barb struck true, a sickening lurch in my stomach. I was focused on Khorlar. On this … thing between us. Had I forgotten? Pushed the search aside? Guilt twisted, sharp and cold.

"I've been trying to navigate this mess," I defended, the words tasting like ash. "Like the rest of us."

"The last time I 'ran off,' it was to save our people, or did you forget? This is exactly the same."

"It is not, and you know it. Last time you knew exactly where they were and had no reason to think the Drakarn would help. That was months ago; things are different now." My voice was getting louder. I needed to get control of this situation.

Vega's eyes narrowed. Her head tilted, studying me with a sudden, laser focus that made my skin crawl. "What's that?" Her gaze fixed on my neck where the hood had slipped.

My hand flew up. Too fast. A dead giveaway. I yanked the fabric higher, heart hammering against my ribs. But the damage was done. Understanding dawned on her face. Then disbelief. Shock.

"Oh my god," she breathed, barely audible. "You … and him? Seriously?"

Heat flooded my face, burning up my neck. Shame? Defiance? The emotions churned, inseparable. "It's complicated."

A harsh bark of laughter escaped her. Bitter. "It's fucking stupid, Hawk. That's what it is. Terra, Selene, Orla—fine. Whatever alien voodoo got them. But you? I thought you had better sense."

Anger flared, hot and immediate. A shield. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you're compromised!" she shot back, stepping into my space, voice laced with contempt. "You're sleeping with the enemy while our people could be out there freezing or starving or worse! While we're all trapped in this goddamn mountain!"

"They're not the enemy!" The words sprang out, automatic. Protective. When did that happen? "If they were, we'd be dead. Or worse."

Vega’s face twisted. "Listen to yourself! They got you defending them now? What's next? Trading your flight suit for scales?"

I bristled, sucking in a sharp breath. "That's not fair. I want what's best for all of us. I'm still me." Am I? The question echoed, insidious. Or am I being pulled apart?

"Are you?" she challenged, voice dangerously soft now. "Because the Hawk I knew would be halfway to Ignarath territory already. First boots on the ground. Not …" She waved a hand vaguely at me, at the tension, the mark I tried to hide. "Whatever this is."

The accusation landed like a fist. Uncomfortably true. Had I lost my edge? Had this … bond … this heat with Khorlar … blinded me? Distracted me from the mission? From them?

"Look," I tried, forcing calm I didn't feel into my voice, "rushing in is suicide. The Ignarath aren't like the Drakarn here in Scalvaris."

"And there it is," Vega pounced, eyes flashing triumphantly. "Terra might be moonstruck over her dragon, but at least she still fights for us! You're just … hiding."

Terra. Our leader. Still sharp, still focused, even with Darrokar at her side. Had I failed where she hadn't? The comparison stung, sharp and deep.

"I'm not hiding," I insisted, but the words felt thin, brittle.

"No?" Vega stepped back, arms crossed. Pity flickered in her eyes, and that was worse than the anger. "Then help me. Unless … unless your scale-daddy is more important than finding our people now."

The crude insult scraped raw nerves. "That's low, Vega."

"Is it?" She shook her head, the fire back in her eyes. "Nine women here. There were thousands of people on our ship. Where are the rest, Hawk? Don't you even care anymore?"

The question punched the air from my lungs. Of course I cared. I had to. They were my people. My responsibility. I took an oath to keep them safe. But tangled in this alien heat, this primal pull towards Khorlar … was that oath still unbroken? Untainted?

"We need a real plan," I said finally. The admission felt like defeat. Like waving a white flag. "To think this through. This is all … fast."

Vega's expression softened, just a fraction. Disappointment dulled the anger. "We don't have time, Hawk. If they're in Ignarath hands …"

She didn't need to finish. I remembered the cold hunger in that scout's eyes. The pure hatred. If our people were there …

"I'll talk to Khorlar," I offered, the words tasting bitter. It was a compromise that felt like betrayal. "Get real intel. Not rumors. If it checks out?—"

"You'll what?" Scorn dripped from her voice. "Ask your alien boyfriend for permission to save our people?"

Steel finally entered my voice. Enough. "I'll do what needs to be done," I bit out. "But I won't lead a rescue mission into a massacre based on a hunch."

She stared at me, a long, assessing moment. Betrayal hardened her gaze again. "You know what, Hawk? I think you have changed. And not for the better." She brushed past me, pausing at the alcove entrance, turning back just enough to meet my eyes. "Just remember who you are. They're not like us. No matter how much Terra or Selene or you want to pretend. They'll never be human."

She left. The silence she left behind was heavy, crushing. Her words echoed in the sudden emptiness.

Not like us.

I stood there, rooted to the spot, the weight of everything pressing down. What had I become? Who was I becoming?

And the question that clawed its way up from the deepest part of me, the one that truly terrified me: was I losing myself?

Mate.

The word pulsed with the heat still radiating from my core.

What did it mean? For me? For my duty? For the women I came here with?

No answers. Just the bone-deep certainty that the ground had shifted beneath my feet. Something fundamental had fractured inside me, in my world.

There was no going back to the soldier I was before Khorlar. Before this.

The real question, the one that made my breath catch in my throat …

Did I want to?