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HAWK

"I swear to whatever gods this hellhole has, if one more oversized lizard tells me 'it's for our protection,' I'm going to start removing scales with my bare hands!"

Vega's voice slammed off the stone walls of our new "accommodations"—a glorified bunker carved deep into the heart of Scalvaris. Bigger, yes. Higher ceilings, multiple chambers. It still felt like a cage. The air, thick and recycled, pressed in.

Nobody was taking it well. The tension was a physical thing, a knot tightening low in my back, pulling my shoulders taut.

"I knew this would happen," Reika whispered, her voice thin and brittle. She paced the perimeter like a trapped animal, fingers ghosting over the rough stone, searching for an escape hatch that wasn’t there. Escaping Ignarath territory only to be confined again … it had scraped something bloody inside her. "They're going to kill us."

"We're not trapped," I said, forcing steadiness into my voice, fighting the tremor that wanted to betray the exhaustion clawing at me. "The door isn't locked. It's guarded. Against the Ignarath." My own words sounded hollow.

"Same difference," Vega snapped, her fist cracking against the wall. Boom. The sound ricocheted off the stone, up my legs, making my teeth ache. Frustration made tangible. "They're controlling us either way."

Kira stood near an air shaft, crystal-lined and narrow, her face a mask of calm that didn't fool me for a second. I knew that stillness. Knew the storm gathering beneath. "We need to stop just … going along," she said, her voice dangerously quiet. "What if my sister is with them? With the Ignarath?"

My stomach didn't just drop. It plummeted, a sickening lurch like hitting zero-G without warning. Cold dread blooming. "Kira?—"

"They mentioned other humans," she pressed, voice hardening into that detached planning mode that always preceded something drastic. "What if Larissa is there ? Held by them? And we're just sitting here? Waiting?"

Eden huddled near Kaiya, eyes wide, absorbing the rising panic. Reika kept pacing, offering nothing. Weeks there, and she still hadn't shared what she saw, what the Ignarath did to humans.

We were fracturing. I could feel the pressure building, hairline cracks spreading through our forced unity. The air felt charged, heavy with unspoken fear, a thing I could almost taste—metallic, like blood.

"Enough!" The word ripped from my throat, rougher than I intended, louder than I expected. Command presence, Academy training—all fraying at the edges.

Every head snapped toward me. Defiance, fear, desperate hope—reflected back, a weight pressing down, heavy as planetary gravity. Terra was gone, summoned by Darrokar. That meant that leadership defaulted to me.

I didn't ask for it. Didn't want it. But there we were.

"Look," I tried again, forcing my tone softer, gentler. "I get it. This sucks. More than sucks. But charging out half-cocked? That's chaos. Division. It's exactly what the Ignarath want." I met Vega's glare. "We have to be smarter."

"So we just sit here?" Vega challenged, though the fire in her voice had banked slightly, replaced by a weary frustration.

I shook my head, feeling the grit of Scalvaris dust in my hair. "We plan. We survive." My gaze found Kira's, desperate and intense. "And we don't give up on Larissa. Or anyone else. But we do this right ."

"And what's right?" Kira whispered, the question hanging, sharp and pointed.

Before I could even think to form an answer, the heavy stone door groaned open. Every muscle in the room went rigid. I moved automatically, stepping forward, putting myself between them and whatever was coming.

Khorlar was what was coming.

Filling the doorway like a living mountain carved from granite. His scales drank the dim light. Wings folded tight, but their sheer bulk dominated the space. His golden eyes swept the room in cold assessment before locking onto me.

An unwelcome jolt, sharp and electric, shot through me. Not just awareness. Something hotter. Something invasive that coiled low and tight in my belly, a sickening warmth I fought to ignore.

I hated it. Hated the feeling, hated the loss of control, hated that he could evoke it.

"Sarah Hawkins," he rumbled. That voice. Deep, graveled, bypassing my ears to vibrate somewhere deep in my bones.

"It's Hawk," I snapped. My pulse hammered against my ribs like something was trying to bash its way out. "What now?"

His expression didn't change, but something flickered in those predator eyes—a flash of heat, instantly smothered. "You will come with me."

Dead silence. My own heartbeat roared in my ears.

"Like hell she will," Vega snarled, moving up beside me, hand dropping instinctively to her knife hilt.

Khorlar didn't glance her way. His gaze stayed pinned on me. Unwavering. Expectant. As if my agreement was inevitable.

As if I was already his.

Heat flared under my skin. Anger. It had to be anger. What else could it be? "Whatever you need to say, say it here." My voice was tight. "I'm not leaving them."

"This is not a request," he replied, each word carved from granite.

"And that's not an answer."

Something dangerous crossed his face then—not just anger, something older, more primal—gone as quickly as it appeared. "The Ignarath have taken a … particular interest in you. You require additional security measures."

Ice formed in my gut, twisting tighter. Plaktish. His oily stare sliding over me in the desert. The flick of his tongue tasting the air near my skin. My stomach churned at the memory.

But why me ?

"All the more reason to stay with my people," I argued, gesturing behind me. "Safety in numbers."

"Your presence endangers them," Khorlar stated, blunt as a hammer blow. "If the Ignarath target this location seeking you, they will harm anyone in their path."

The air punched from my lungs. I glanced back. Reika's pale face. Kira's clenched jaw. Eden's terrified eyes. Bringing danger down on them … the thought was a physical weight.

"Bullshit," Vega hissed. "We stick together. Always."

Everything in me screamed agreement. Stay. Keep us whole. But his logic, cold and sharp, cut through the sentiment. If I was the target …

"Hawk," Kira said softly, her analytical mind already there. "Maybe … maybe he's right."

"I just got them calm," I muttered, just loud enough so she could hear.

"And they'll unravel if you fight the dragon-guard," she countered, just as quiet. "If you are the target …"

I squeezed my eyes shut, hating the logic. Couldn't refute it. I opened my eyes to find Khorlar watching, nostrils flaring just a little, that unsettling intensity focused entirely on me. He was scenting me. Tasting the air between us like … like prey? No, something else. Something that made my own breath catch.

"Fine," I said finally, the word scraping like gravel from my throat. "But I want daily updates. Full reports."

A single, curt nod from Khorlar.

"You can't be serious." Vega grabbed my arm, fingers digging in, desperate. "We don't split up. Rule one."

I turned to her, forcing my voice to steady, locking my knees against a sudden tremble. "I need you here, Vega. They need you. Terra's gone, Orla and Selene are with their mates. I need someone strong watching their backs. Can you do that?" Cheap manipulation. Appealing to her fierce protectiveness. But I needed compliance, not approval. Her jaw worked, the internal battle visible. Finally, a sharp, jerky nod.

"You check in," she ordered. "Or I'm coming for you, scales be damned."

"Fair enough." I squeezed her shoulder, then faced the others. "Stay smart. Stay together. I'll be back." The fear in their eyes nearly broke me. Crash landing, survival, negotiation … we’d forged something strong in that fire. This felt like ripping off a limb.

But the decision was made. "Lead the way."

He turned without a word, filling the corridor. I followed, matching his long strides, refusing to scurry. Thighs burning, but pride wouldn't let me falter.

Was this how Terra felt all those months ago? Dragged away by Darrokar? Not that Khorlar was claiming me … but the echo was disturbing.

Deeper into the mountain city. Winding passages spiraling down. Cooler air, thick with mineral scents coating my tongue. There were fewer Drakarn here. The ones we passed nodded deferentially to Khorlar, eyes sliding to me, filled with open curiosity.

"Where exactly are we going?" My voice echoed strangely. Minutes of silence stretched thin.

"Siege quarters," he replied, not looking back.

"You think we're under siege already?"

"Preparation is not paranoia."

I rolled my eyes at his rigid back, the tightly folded wings. "Pretty sure paranoid people say that exact thing."

No verbal response, but tension tightened his shoulders. Wings shifted. A tiny ripple. It struck a nerve. Good.

An archway carved with battle scenes—Drakarn warriors, wings spread, claws tearing into enemies. Beyond it, a massive circular chamber, doorways radiating out. High ceiling, dotted with heat crystals casting a warm, intimate-yet-exposed glow.

He stopped at one door and revealed a spacious chamber. "This is where you will stay," he stated, gesturing me inside.

My steps were cautious as I gave the room a quick scan. Spartan was generous. A stone platform with silks—a bed. Bathing alcove. A simple table, two stone chairs.

Bare walls. Utilitarian. Cold.

But the air … warmer than the corridor. And carrying a faint musk. Not unpleasant. His scent. There was a jolt low in my stomach. He’d been there. Recently.

"Wow," I drawled, dropping my pack with a precise thud. Echoed loudly. "Love what you've done with the place. Really screams 'Khorlar.'"

His brow ridge furrowed. "These are not my personal quarters."

"You could've fooled me. The total lack of anything remotely welcoming? Definitely your style."

Irritation? Close. A muscle twitched in his jaw. His wings rustled like disturbed leather. "These are siege chambers. They are built for function, not comfort."

"And your actual quarters?" Curiosity, sharp and unwelcome, pricked at me.

"Council members maintain private chambers here during times of crisis."

Not an answer. Typical.

"Lucky me," I muttered, circling the room again. Boots scraped on stone. I turned to face him and planted my feet. "Are you going to tell me what's really going on? Why me? Why the sudden Ignarath obsession?"

There was that predatory stillness. Utterly alien despite the almost humanoid shape. His eyes tracked me, pupils narrowing. The weight of his gaze was physical, sliding over my skin, raising gooseflesh I fought to suppress.

"Plaktish identified you as a target," he said finally, a low rumble.

"I got that part. Why me ? Not Terra? Not Vega?" I crossed my arms. It was a defensive posture. Shielding myself from that stare as much as projecting defiance.

A flicker across his face. Too fast to read. Discomfort? Hesitation? His nostrils flared again. He was tasting the air. Tasting me . My skin prickled with heat that had nothing to do with the warm temperature.

"Terra is Darrokar's mate. Protected." His words were measured. Too careful. "You were observed. During the training exercise. Your skills …"

A harsh snort escaped me. Unladylike. I didn't care. "Bullshit. We all have skills. There's more."

His jaw tightened. That muscle worked again beneath the scales. Wings shifted, spreading slightly, then folding tight. Agitation. A tell. "It is … complicated."

"Uncomplicate it." My heart was hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. Could he hear it? "I'm isolated. Dragged down here. I deserve the whole truth."

His wings rippled again. A subtle shift of membrane catching low light. His gaze flickered around the room, then snapped back to me. Unnerving intensity. Prickling heat crawling over my skin.

"The Ignarath seek leverage," he stated, the words heavy. "They may believe you hold … value."

"To whom?" I pressed, stepping closer despite the warning bells screaming in my head. His scent intensified—hot stone, wild spice. It made my head spin. "To Terra? Darrokar? Scalvaris?"

His nostrils flared. Wide, then narrow, a slow inhalation. He was scenting me again. A shiver traced its way down my spine, involuntary and infuriating.

"To me," he said. The words dropped like stones into silence.

I blinked, thrown. Mouth dry. Then watering. "What are you talking about?"

"During the Council meeting. Plaktish …," Khorlar's voice deepened into something darker. "made insinuations. About you." He hesitated. "He suggested you might be … claimed."

Claimed. The word hung there. Heavy. Loaded with implications I didn't want to understand. My chest tightened, breath caught.

"Claimed," I repeated flatly. The word tasted like ash. "Like … property?"

A low growl rumbled from his chest, vibrating through the stone floor, up my legs, settling in my bones. A physical force. "No. Not property."

"Then what?" I demanded, frustration building, pressing behind my eyes. "Because this feels damn close! Moved around, isolated, 'protected' whether I want it or not!"

"It is not—" He cut himself off, visibly struggling. His claws flexed at his sides. They were deadly, beautiful. Alien. His voice was more controlled when he spoke again. Measured. "The Ignarath believe you hold significance to me. They would use that perception."

The pieces slammed together in my head, sharp edges grinding. Leverage? Using me ? Heat flooded my face, stinging my cheeks. Anger, pure and sharp. "What. Did. You. Do?"

His expression remained stone, but his eyes … a flash of defiance? Regret? Something deeper that clenched my stomach with an emotion I refused to name.

"What was necessary," he said simply.

"Necessary?" The word echoed, bouncing off the stone, twisted. "Necessary for what ? To mark your territory? What the hell happened in that meeting?"

First Darrokar, now him. Was this some alien mating ritual bullshit again?

"There was no time for consultation." His tone hardened, wings spreading slightly. Unconscious display of dominance. Making himself bigger. "Plaktish intended to take you. To Ignarath."

"So you decided to 'claim' me instead," I stated, bitterness sharp on my tongue. "How is that any different?"

"I did not claim you," Khorlar growled, the sound vibrating through me. His wings flared wider, webbing flushing darker. Heat? Anger? Something else? "I prevented them from taking you."

"By saying I was yours," I shot back. Heart pounding, a frantic drumbeat—rage, confusion, and that other thing. That damn heat making my skin feel too tight.

"By stating you were under my protection," he corrected, eyes darkening, amber turning to burnished, terrifying gold.

Deep breath. Steady. Try to steady. This was … too much.

And one glaring issue remained. My eyes snagged on the sleeping platform, large enough for … two? A sudden, suffocating tightness gripped my chest. "One bed," I stated flatly, the words clipped. Don't look at it. "Was that part of your grand protection strategy?"

His gaze followed mine, then snapped back to my face. Pupils dilated, then contracted to slits. "Yes." A beat. He cleared his throat. "No. There was no time … for servants to rearrange."

That first syllable. Yes. Neutral, yet loaded. Sent fresh heat crawling over my skin. "Well, that's not happening," I stated firmly, eyes locked on his, refusing to glance back at the bed. "Ground rules. If I'm stuck here."

His brow ridge lifted. Silent. Waiting. The intensity of his focus was unnerving. A predator deciding.

"One," I began, ticking fingers off. Hands steady, thank god. Insides churning. Talking too fast, need to control this. "I'm not sharing that bed."

"Two, no touching. Not unless I'm literally about to be skewered. Three—" I stepped closer, invading his space, forcing him to look down at me. Close enough to see the gold flecks swirling in his irises. Close enough for his heat to radiate against my skin. "You tell me everything . No half-truths. No convenient omissions. I need the whole damn picture."

He regarded me silently. Long moments stretched. The air thickened, suddenly heavy, charged with static … or something else. Something I refused to name. His scent—that impossible mix of hot stone and wild spice—wrapped around me, coiling in my lungs. My head spun. And my mouth … my mouth watered. A bizarre, unnerving reaction that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the predator standing too close.

Finally, a slight inclination of his head. "Acceptable terms."

"Good." Some tension eased from my shoulders, immediately replaced by a new, prickling awareness. "Now. Where are you sleeping?"

"The floor will suffice." He paused, gaze sweeping the room, then returning to me. "If I am to protect you—and you do require protection," he added, cutting off my objection before it formed, "then I must remain. In this room. On this, I must insist."

"Perfect." No sympathy. He made this bed … or rather, this situation. I grabbed my pack, exhaustion hitting me like a physical blow. Emotional whiplash. Limbs heavy. Thoughts sluggish. "I'm resting. Long day."

Khorlar nodded once. Paused in the doorway, silhouetted. Light caught his scales, shifting gray to silver.

"Sarah," he said, using my name again. That careful tone tightening my chest.

"Hawk," I corrected, automatic, weary.

"Hawk," he acknowledged. "You are not claimed. You are not property. But you are protected." His eyes locked with mine, molten gold holding me captive. I felt the heat of his gaze like a physical touch, unwanted, unsettling. "Do not mistake one for the other."

The words hung there, a promise and a threat, stirring that damned treacherous warmth deep inside me all over again.