Page 4 of Kazmyr: Molten for Her (Consumed by the Alien Heat #2)

JENNA

The Heartforge's pulse settled into a low hum that seeped through the obsidian floor and up my legs, like the whole ship was breathing beneath me.

For the first time since the warehouse fire, the world wasn't collapsing around my ears.

I sat hunched on a bench carved into the wall, palms pressed to the warm stone, trying to remember how to breathe air that didn't taste of smoke.

My lungs expanded, contracted, each breath a reminder that somehow, impossibly, I was still alive.

Across the chamber, Kazmyr prowled like a caged predator, his massive form casting dancing shadows as the ember scars etched into his obsidian skin flickered in restless rhythms. They pulsed brighter whenever his molten gaze landed on me, as if my presence stoked whatever inferno burned inside him.

The sight sent an unwelcome heat spiraling through my core that had nothing to do with the ship's ambient temperature.

"The Voraxx never relinquish a pursuit once they've scented a prize," he growled, stalking from one end of the chamber to the other. His voice rumbled like distant thunder, too loud in the confined space. "Especially not for unbound mates."

That word again. Mates. Like we were animals paired for breeding. I swallowed hard, my throat dry despite the humidity that clung to my skin.

"That blue one," I said, my voice hoarser than I expected. "He called me an 'asset.' Not a person. An asset."

Kazmyr's massive shoulders tensed, the ember lines flaring bright orange. "Asset. A designation used by trafficking networks."

"Trafficking." The word fell like lead between us. "So I'm what… merchandise?"

"To them." His jaw clenched, molten eyes blazing. "To the IDA, a statistic. To those who hunt us, a commodity."

"And to you?" The question escaped before I could stop it.

Kazmyr stilled, his ember marks pulsing in slow, deliberate waves. "A match. A..." He hesitated, searching for words. "A possibility."

A possibility. Not a possession or a prize. The distinction shouldn't have mattered, but heat bloomed across my cheeks anyway.

He resumed pacing, fingers flexing at his sides.

"Pirates have a dozen ways to corner unbound mates.

They'll track our thermal signature, monitor communication channels, bribe station officials, even hack the system.

" His voice lowered to a furious mutter, as if speaking too loud would call our hunters closer.

"The bounty on compatible pairs increases daily. "

The marks along his forearms brightened, sending rippling shadows across the chamber walls. I couldn't tear my eyes from them, from the way they seemed to breathe with him, to speak a language of fire and heat.

"You said 'compatible.' What makes us compatible?" I asked, needing answers but afraid of them too. "Why me?"

"The Agency's algorithms identified genetic markers," he replied, running his palm along a wall panel that thrummed beneath his touch. "Rare ones. Worth..." His mouth twisted. "Worth more than either of us would earn in ten lifetimes."

My stomach lurched. "So I'm valuable because my DNA plays nice with yours? That's some eugenic bullshit right there."

A sound escaped him… not quite a laugh, but something close. "The compatibility runs deeper than genetics. The markers identify potential elemental harmony."

"Elemental—" I broke off, shaking my head. "You're speaking alien at me again."

His massive form hesitated, then moved toward a console embedded in the wall. The surface responded to his touch, lighting up with patterns that mimicked his marks.

"The IDA documents indicate you survived a warehouse fire that killed twelve others," he said, not looking at me. "That you've survived multiple structural collapses that should have been fatal."

My chest tightened. "I got lucky. That's all."

"No." His voice was absolute, brooking no argument. "You were chosen. Flame-born."

That term again, sliding under my skin like smoke, both choking and sweet. I pushed to my feet, ignoring the way the ship's floor seemed to pulse in response to my movement.

"I'm a fire inspector. I'm trained to navigate burning buildings."

"Did you notice the way the Voraxx circled the firestorm?" he asked suddenly, turning to face me fully. The ember lines across his chest pulsed, quickening. "Their attack pattern. Did you see it?"

I scoffed. "I'm not a soldier. I don't know battle formations."

But even as I said it, something nagged at me. A rhythm I'd observed during our escape, a pattern that had felt...wrong. Deliberate.

"They weren't random," I admitted haltingly. "The way they moved through the asteroid field. It was like..." I hesitated, not wanting him to think I imagined myself some tactical genius.

"Like what?" Kazmyr prompted, his golden eyes fixed on me with unsettling intensity.

"Like an accelerant spread pattern," I said finally. "Don’t look at me like I just invented fire. Humans already did that, thanks. It's the same way arsonists lay fuel trails to ensure a building collapses in a specific direction. The Voraxx ships weren't just chasing us… they were herding us."

His eyes blazed brighter, molten gold burning with something like reverence. Like I'd handed him a key instead of a scrap of guesswork.

"Flame-born," he said again, the word a rumbling prayer. "You see with fire-eyes."

"No, I don't. I just—" I shook my head, frustration bubbling up. "Look, gut feelings don't win battles. Observation isn't the same as knowledge."

"It is to my people." He moved closer, each step deliberate, as if afraid I'd bolt like a startled animal. Maybe I would. "The Vorthar trust heat-sense above all other perception."

The distance between us shrank until the heat of him rolled over me in palpable waves. Sweat beaded at my hairline and trickled down my spine. My stomach tied itself in knots… half fear, half something far more dangerous.

"And what does your heat-sense tell you about me?" I challenged, tilting my chin up to meet his gaze despite the difference in our heights.

His massive hand lifted, hovering near my shoulder without touching. "That you burn," he said simply. "That beneath your skin, embers wait."

Anger flared, hot and familiar. "I'm not like you. I don't have—" I gestured at the glowing patterns etched across his dark skin. "Whatever this is."

"No." His hand finally made contact, his palm pressing against my shoulder with startling gentleness. "Your fire is different. Hidden. But it calls to mine."

Where our skin met, his ember lines flared brighter, the heat intense but not painful. Something hummed between us, a resonance I couldn't name but recognized deep in my bones.

"Fire always finds me," I whispered before I could stop myself, the truth I'd spent years running from slipping out. "No matter where I go, no matter what I do. It follows."

His expression softened, the thunder gone from his voice. "Because it recognizes its own."

"I'm not—"

"This time," he interrupted, his thumb tracing a path along my collarbone that left fire in its wake, "the fire will burn for you, not against you. The flames that hunted you will become your shield."

I wanted to laugh at the absurdity, at the impossible promise. But the Heartforge pulsed beneath us, the ship's ember veins brightening in rhythm with my racing heart.

As if it heard.

As if it agreed.

"The ship..." I started, staring at the pulsing lines that ran through the obsidian walls.

"Responds to you," Kazmyr confirmed, his hand still burning against my skin. "It never has before. With anyone but me."

The implications hung between us, heavy as smoke. I'd felt it during our escape… the way the controls had steadied under my touch, the ship's systems calibrating to my presence. Like it knew me. Like it had been waiting.

"What does that mean?" I asked, voice barely audible over the humming of the ship.

His gaze held mine, molten gold swimming with emotions I couldn't name. "It means the Heartforge recognizes what the IDA algorithms detected. What I sensed the moment we met." His voice lowered. "Compatibility."

The word should have repulsed me. Should have sent me running for whatever passed for an escape pod on this living ship. Instead, it sank into me like heat into stone, warming places that had been cold for years.

"I'm no one's mate," I said, the protest weak even to my own ears. "I'm just...me."

"Yes," he agreed, surprising me. "Just you. Just Jenna. And that is enough."

His hand fell away from my shoulder, but the heat remained, a phantom brand that tingled against my skin. He stepped back, giving me space I wasn't sure I wanted.

"The Heartforge will shield us while we rest," he said, gesturing to a doorway that hadn't been there moments before, the ship reconfiguring itself in response to some unspoken command. "Your quarters await. We should arrive in twenty rotations."

Questions crowded my throat… about where we were going, about the hunters still pursuing us, about whatever the hell "unbound mates" meant and why anyone would pay for us. But exhaustion crashed over me, the adrenaline of our escape finally ebbing to leave bone-deep weariness in its wake.

"Safety," I repeated, tasting the unfamiliar concept. "Is anywhere actually safe for us?"

Kazmyr's expression darkened, the ember lines across his chest dimming momentarily. "Together, yes. Apart..." He left the sentence hanging, its implications clear enough.

I nodded, pushing to my feet. My legs shook, but I refused to show weakness. "Twenty rotations. Then what?"

"Then we decide." His gaze met mine, steady and sure. "Together."

Together. The word echoed through me, carried on the pulse of the ship that seemed increasingly in tune with my own heartbeat. I wanted to deny it, to run, but the walls were alive with flickering amber light, the heat inescapable, seeping into my very marrow.

As I followed Kazmyr toward the doorway that led to my quarters, the floor warmed beneath my feet, the ship guiding us with subtle pulses of light.

Kazmyr stopped at an open door, watching me go with those burning eyes that seemed to see straight through my defenses.

"Please tell me there’s a minibar and not just more lava-chic décor. "

"Better, moss. Rest well, flame-born," he said softly as I reached the threshold.

I paused, looking back at him over my shoulder. "Don't call me that."

The corner of his mouth lifted in what might have been a smile. "What should I call you, then?"

"Jenna," I said firmly. "Just Jenna."

His head inclined in acknowledgment, but the intensity in his gaze never dimmed. "Rest well, Jenna. The fire watches over you now."