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6

HAWK

Crack.

The sound ripped through the cavern. My fist. The dummy shuddered.

Sweat slicked my back; my muscles burned. I spun. I ducked low. Kicked—vicious, satisfying. The post groaned.

Again.

The word was a rasp in my throat. I circled back. My limbs trembled, overworked, but the movements stayed sharp. Precise. I needed this. Needed the ache, the sting blooming across my knuckles. Needed the proof my body could still obey, could still fight.

Not just wait. Not just be … kept.

Across the hall, Vega and Kira flowed through sparring forms, a blur of controlled violence. Lexa wrestled with a Drakarn guard twice her size, finding leverage. These sessions were small comforts. Brief moments where we were still a unit, not scattered pawns.

Not confined. Not watched.

Not dealing with the heat that flared in Khorlar’s eyes. That damned heat.

Another punch. Harder. A grunt tore loose. The leather was my frustration. The stone walls were my cage. Khorlar’s constant presence, his suffocating vigilance … the way my traitorous body hummed when he was near.

This. Was. Better. Pain I understood.

“Hitting like that, you’ll break something.” It was Selene. I hadn’t heard her approach. Her medic’s gaze was already cataloging the damage.

“I know what I’m doing.” I flexed my stinging fingers. They still worked. Good. The sharp throb grounded me.

An eyebrow lifted. She knew better than to push. Smart. “I'm heading back soon. Vyne’s sending guards.”

“Babysitters.” The word was spat out, bitter. Another punch jarred my arm to the shoulder. Drown it out. Drown him out.

Selene’s face softened. Was it pity? Understanding? I hated both. “Terra’s trying, Hawk. Trying to keep us safe without?—”

“Caging us? Treating us like property?” My words were too sharp. Shit. “Sorry. I know she is.”

She nodded. She got it. “Vyne says the Ignarath are still holed up in the diplomatic guest quarters. No sign of their ‘witnesses’ at the Temple.”

Lying bastards. They were stalling. Waiting. For what?

I straightened, wiping sweat from my brow. I felt gritty. Real. “Waiting for backup? Or an opportunity?”

“Vyne thinks so too,” she murmured, her voice low.

Vega’s whistle cut the air. Time was up. Figured. The others gathered their gear, reluctance in every line of their bodies. Back to stony cages.

The timekeeper pulsed—crystal water shifting behind carved stone. Twenty minutes. Twenty minutes until he arrived to escort me.

My escort. My guard. My … whatever he was.

Twenty minutes of my own.

“I’m cleaning up,” I called to Vega, nodding to the water channels flowing in a side alcove. “I'll be fine.”

Vega frowned, her warrior instincts screaming. “We should stick together.”

“Khorlar’s meeting me here anyway.”

She hesitated. Then gave a tight nod. “Don’t make me come looking.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

I watched them leave. Two young Drakarn flanked them. Faceless guards. The moment they turned the corner—blessed silence. A slow exhale.

Just me.

Cool water sluiced over my face, my arms, shockingly cold against my flushed skin. My reflection stared back—dark skin, damp hair clinging to my temples, eyes too bright, restless. Wild.

A predator pacing its cage. That’s what I saw.

I dried off and gathered my things. Ten minutes left. Too long. Too damn long to stand there waiting.

The thought sparked—hot, defiant. I could get back alone. I knew the way. Main corridor. Past the gathering space. Narrow passage. Siege quarters. His quarters. Where he’d put me.

Simple.

And if I ran into him? So what.

I needed this. Needed to walk my own path. Just once. To control something.

It had been days since our flight. Since that … whatever that was. Heaven in the skies. Then temptation when we landed. I'd woken up on a moan more than once, imagining what might happen if I invited the hulking granite alien into my bed.

His bed.

Whoever's bed.

It was fucking madness, and I needed to get a damned grip.

I slipped out. My footsteps were ghosts on the stone. Dim light came from the heat crystals. Warm. Secretive. A few Drakarn passed. Their eyes lingered—they saw a human, female, alone—but they moved on. We were novelties, not quite threats anymore. One day maybe they would look at us like we belonged.

I snorted out a laugh. Yeah, right.

I found the main corridor. It was wider there. Ceiling soaring, carved with ancient battles. I stayed near the wall. Moving fast, purposeful. Nothing to see. Just a human.

Halfway there.

The air shifted wrong. A pressure change. The scrape of scale on stone—too quiet, too deliberate. Not the usual rhythm.

My hand twitched for my knife. It should have been there. Wasn’t.

I slowed. Every nerve was singing. Scanning the shadows, the deep alcoves lining the passage. Too empty. Too quiet. The mountain was holding its breath.

And then—him.

He slid from a side passage I hadn’t seen. Poison-yellow scales. Gleaming sickly in the low light. Not Khorlar’s deep gray. He was smaller. Leaner. But still huge.

Ignarath clan-bands were on his arms. Cold dread coiled low in my gut.

This was the wrong place. Far from the diplomatic suites. Terra said they were confined. He definitely wasn't supposed to be there.

“Human.” It was a hiss. His tongue flicked out. Tasting the air. Tasting me. Obscene. Predatory. My skin crawled. “Alone. How … convenient.”

My body locked into a combat stance before thought. Low center. Hands loose. Ready. “Exactly where I’m supposed to be.” Voice level. Calm. Liar. My eyes scrambled for escape routes. None good.

And this spot was secluded. No one would hear me scream.

A smile. Fangs. Sharper than Khorlar’s. Needle-thin. Vicious. “I think not.”

He moved. A blur. Faster than anything that big should be. Lunging. Claws reaching for my arm.

I sidestepped—barely. I felt the air stir where my flesh had been. I pivoted. Elbow strike—hard—into the softer scales under his ribs. I aimed to break.

A grunt. Surprise more than pain. It bought me a second. Back up. Assess.

Bad.

Oh, fuck, this was bad.

“It still fights,” he hissed. Was there appreciation in the sound? Twisted. It made my stomach clench. “Good. The claiming … sweeter. I get to show you your place.”

He lunged again. Feinted left, grabbed right. Too fast. His claws closed, a scorching steel trap around my upper arm. Pressure just shy of breaking skin. He yanked me off-balance. Toward him.

I fought back.

Everything I had. A kick to the knee that would cripple a human. A strike to the throat just grazed him as he jerked back. Years of training. Instinct.

Not enough.

He was bigger. Stronger. Hungry.

“Let go, shithead!” I snarled. Twisting, trying to break the hold.

Refuse the fear. Don’t show it.

“Unaccounted for,” he murmured, voice oily, vibrating against my skin. It made me want to retch. “Plaktish will reward this. A gift.”

I drove my knee upward. Groin? Something else? I didn’t care. I had to hurt him.

He twisted and avoided the worst. His grip loosened fractionally. But I managed to wrench free, my arm burning. I ducked low. Darted past. Back toward the training hall. I needed backup. Now.

His tail whipped out—a blur of scaled muscle. It caught my ankle and sent me sprawling. Stars exploded behind my eyes as my side slammed into unforgiving stone. Air punched from my lungs, leaving me gasping.

Before I could move, he was on me. His clawed hand clamped around my throat. Squeezing. Threatening. Dragging me toward the side passage.

“Struggle,” he whispered, breath hot, foul. Against my face. “I enjoy it.”

Terror. Fury. A boiling cauldron inside me. I fought like a cornered animal. My elbow smashed into his jaw. Hard. His head snapped back. I felt the bone connect. His grip loosened— yes! —and I twisted away.

He recovered too fast. Lunging again, his claws caught my shirt, and fabric ripped. He hauled me backward.

Kicking, I connected with his knee. I felt savage satisfaction as he let out a grunt of real pain. He didn’t let go. His other hand tangled in my hair. Pain flared across my scalp.

“Enough,” he snarled, enjoyment gone. Replaced by cold purpose. “You?—”

ROAR.

Thunder. Primal. It shook the stone, the air, my bones. Dust rained from the ceiling.

I knew that roar.

Khorlar.

He materialized from the shadows. A nightmare. Vengeance given form. Coiled muscle. Lethal grace. His wings flared—immense—filling the passage. A wall of dark membrane, scaled edges sharp as blades. His eyes—burning gold. Pure, undiluted fury. Blinding.

The Ignarath’s grip went slack. Shock. Just an instant. Enough.

I threw myself forward. Broke free and rolled, scrambling to my feet. Fight or run?

Too late. Khorlar moved in a blur. Unholy speed. Claws—wicked death—closed around the Ignarath’s throat. He lifted him. Lifted him off the ground. Effortlessly.

“You. Dare?” Khorlar’s voice—unrecognizable. A guttural snarl ripped from the mountain’s core. “Touch. What. Is. Mine?”

The Ignarath choked. Struggled. His claws scrabbled uselessly at Khorlar’s grip. Iron. Unbreakable. “Diplomatic … immunity …,” he gasped. “Law …”

“I am the law here.” It was a growl vibrating with killing intent. Khorlar slammed him against the wall. Stone cracked. Spiderwebbed. “And you defile sacred ground.”

I was frozen. My heart battered my ribs like a trapped bird. Relief. Terror. Adrenaline—a dizzying cocktail.

I should move. Help? I was useless. Transfixed by the violence. The sheer power.

Ignarath eyes bulged. Khorlar’s grip was tightening. Millimeter by millimeter. This was an execution. Right here. Right now.

Then—abruptly—release. The Ignarath crumpled. Gasping. His hand clawing at his bruised throat.

“Run,” Khorlar commanded. The word was a low vibration. A deadly promise. “Run to Plaktish. Tell him what awaits those who touch my woman.”

The Ignarath scrambled up. Hatred blazing yellow. Spitting fury. “Not over,” he hissed, backing away. Vanishing into the shadows he came from. “We will collect. All of them.”

Gone.

Silence slammed back in. Khorlar stood rigid. Trembling. Barely contained fury radiating off him in waves. His wings still half-spread. Chest heaving. Rough, wild breaths. He didn't turn. Didn’t look at me.

Not for an eternity.

Then he turned. Slowly. The look on his face—rage, yes. But underneath … something raw. Exposed. Something that cracked my own defenses.

“Sarah.” My name. Rough. Unfamiliar on his tongue. Three strides. He closed the distance. His hands came up—huge, clawed—grasped my shoulders. Firm. Careful. Not the Ignarath’s violation. This was … different. Terrifyingly different. “Hurt?”

“It's Hawk,” I corrected. Automatic. Voice shaky. Damn it. “Fine.”

His nostrils flared. Scenting me? His gaze raked over me. Burning. Possessive. It made my skin flush hot, then cold. One hand moved. To my throat. Where the other had been. His touch was feather-light. Gentle. Examining.

“Bleeding.” It was a low growl. His fingers ghosted a scratch on my arm. I hadn’t felt it. “I will hunt him down.”

“Nothing,” I insisted. My heart was still trying to pound its way out of my chest. “I've had worse in training.”

His eyes narrowed. Pupils slitted. His predatory focus zeroed in. “Alone. You should not have been alone. Why leave without an escort? Without me?”

The accusation snapped me back. My spine stiffened. Defenses up. “I don’t need a babysitter, Khorlar. I can handle myself.” The defense felt weak given the bruises blooming on my throat.

“Clearly,” he snarled. He waved his hand toward the empty corridor. The ghost of the threat.

“I was handling it,” I shot back. Liar. Fool.

“He would have taken you.” His voice dropped. Low. Vibrating. Making me shiver in a way that was completely unrelated to fear. Not entirely. “To Ignarath. Do you know what they do? To females? To you?”

The raw terror in his voice. For me. It gutted me. Cut through the anger, the pride. Left me … adrift. Relief battling fury battling fear battling … this.

This thing that sparked between us. This unwanted, undeniable pull.

He was looking at me like I was … vital. Like losing me would break him.

My lips were dry. I was suddenly aware of how close he was. The heat pouring off him. The sheer size of him. “Sorry,” I managed. The word felt foreign. Thick. “I shouldn’t have left. I just needed … space.”

His expression shifted. Softened? It was hard to tell with the harsh planes of his face. “From me?”

“From everything,” I admitted, honesty tearing loose unexpectedly. “I was feeling trapped. Protected. From—” I cut off. Couldn’t say it.

From the fire you start just by looking.

I shook my head. Stepped back. Created distance. My legs wobbled. Ah, there it was. Adrenaline crash. It hit me like a physical blow. I stumbled as reality hit. What just happened. What almost happened.

Instantly, he caught me. His arm was like a steel band around my waist. Steadying. Solid. “Sarah?—”

“Hawk,” I whispered. No heat left. Just exhaustion.

“Hawk,” he amended. His voice was softer now. Gentler than I’d ever heard. Than I thought possible. “You're safe now. I have you.”

Something snapped. Some final defense crumbled. I didn’t think. Couldn’t. I leaned into him. My forehead pressed against the hard planes of his chest. Scaled, but warm. So warm.

He went utterly still. Tense. Like I might shatter.

Then, slowly, carefully, his arms came around me. Enfolded me. Strong. Secure. His wings followed—a living shield of dark leather and scale. Blocking out the passage, the fear, the world. Just him.

I should have pulled away. Rebuilt the walls. Insisted on distance.

Should.

Couldn’t. My heart racing—not just fear now. My body trembling—not just adrenaline. He held me fast.

Safe. Terribly, confusingly safe.

His heat soaked into me. Chased away the bone-deep chill. His scent—hot stone, wild spice, him—filled my lungs. Familiar now.

Comforting? God, help me.

“Sorry,” he murmured again. The vibration against my cheek. A physical thing. “I should have been here. Protected you.”

I shook my head. Mutely. My fingers curled into the rough scales of his chest. Clinging. Seeking an anchor in the storm.

“What do you need?” he asked. Simple. Loaded. Heavy with everything unspoken.

I didn’t think. Couldn’t process. Just … answered. The raw truth bubbling up from the chaos.

“Take me flying,” I whispered. My voice thin. Barely there. “Please.”

I felt his breath catch. His arms tightened. Fractionally. He pulled back just enough to see my face. His golden eyes—molten, intense—searched mine. Saw … what?

“Anything,” he said. The word absolute. A vow carved into the sudden stillness. Burning itself onto my soul.