Page 1 of Scorched by Fate (Drakarn Mates #3)

ONE

SELENE

Not all of the seven-foot-tall dragon men in Scalvaris were my type, especially not the one picking his nose with a wickedly sharp claw in the stall across the way.

The River Market stretched out ahead of me, loud and screaming with life—sometimes literally from the winged children running and flying wobbly around. Stalls packed with strange, deadly looking objects twisted along the stone paths, each one shouting for attention in ways that only reminded me how far from Earth we were.

Blades gleamed, crystals pulsed, and tangy-smelling smoke curled up from corners where food vendors flipped something that didn’t look remotely edible. But this was life on Volcaryth—a mess of fire and survival. You didn’t get to be picky.

I'd say we were the opposite of picky. Not a single one of us had picked this planet.

“Look at this!” Rachel Voss’s voice cut through the noise. She stopped at a little stall draped in faded woven fabric, pointing at a series of pendants strung from a beam. “Am I wrong, or would this one match Kaiya’s glasses perfectly ?”

Kaiya frowned at the pendant and then at Rachel. “They’re not a fashion statement. They’re prescribed lenses.”

Rachel laughed and rolled her eyes. She nudged me lightly with her elbow. “I don't remember anything in med school that prevented matching accessories."

Kaiya adjusted her thick glasses, clearly unimpressed. “What's the point? Now if you wanted to talk about the biodiversity of the materials and their potential similarities to?—”

“Nope,” Rachel interrupted before I could even open my mouth to weigh in. “There will be no science babble this early into the day. It’s against the law.”

“I must have missed that one,” I said dryly. "And I think we've broken enough laws over the last three months." The dust was still settling from Orla and Rath's rather explosive mating and the sickening show they'd had to put on to prove themselves.

This earned the start of a grin from Rachel and an unimpressed sigh from Kaiya. I wasn’t sure if I was proud or not for managing to keep the mood light. It wouldn’t last long anyway. Not with Vega here.

She didn’t have to say anything for me to know tension was brewing. With Vega, you could feel it first, like that second of silence after someone pulls a grenade pin. I clocked her pacing two stalls ahead of us, posture impossibly rigid. Still, I caught up to her. She'd made the effort to come out and be social.

“This is going to blow up in our faces,” Vega muttered darkly. She wasn’t looking at me as she spoke, but her voice had that razor-edge of judgment wrapped in thinly veiled exhaustion. “Those weird acolytes won't stop staring at us.” She used her head to gesture further up the path to where three Drakarn in yellowish robes were not-so-subtly watching us shop.

Kaiya exchanged a glance with Rachel before pushing her glasses up her nose again. “They can watch us all they like. We're not doing anything wrong."

“Last I checked, we don't get to decide what's right or wrong,” Vega said. She glanced warily at the yellow-robed acolytes. One of them—an older male with dark bronze scales—muttered something to his companion, and they both shifted, like they were debating whether to approach us. "They’re not just watching. They’re waiting."

Rachel scoffed. "Waiting for what?"

Vega scowled. "An excuse."

Rachel rolled her eyes and ignored her. “Say what you want,” she said to Kaiya and me, her tone dipping into a teasing smirk, “but Drakarn biology does seem to kind of be working for some of us. Do you think their wingspan?—”

“Seriously?” Vega hissed, spinning around to face Rachel like she’d just set fire to her common sense. “I’m over here worrying about execution orders, and you’re busy ogling their damn wings?”

Unflustered, Rachel crossed her arms and tilted her head, smirking lazily. "I hear it's not just their wings."

“You’re unbelievable,” Vega grumbled, rubbing at her temple and clearly weighing whether or not she could strangle Rachel before any Drakarn noticed. If they would even care.

“Enough.” This had to stop before they could land any more barbs. “We're not fighting in public.” There were only ten humans in all of Scalvaris, on all of Volcaryth as far as we knew. We had to be a united front, or they'd tear us to shreds.

Rachel smirked again but didn’t push it further. Vega, on the other hand, scowled harder before turning and stomping out of the market, her steps brisk and just shy of furious.

Kaiya fell in step beside me as we continued deeper into the rows of alien wares. Her fingers twitched, as if itching to grab a sketchpad or start dissecting every new sight. “For the record,” she said, her voice carefully neutral, “I’d still like to understand the biological implications.”

I laughed under my breath. “I’m sure you can add it to your growing list of scientific obsessions.”

Kaiya ducked her head, a hint of a blush creeping up her cheek. "I am a xenobiologist. I've spent my life studying alien life. This … well, I never expected so much hands-on experience."

"Hands-on experience?" Rachel asked, a mischievous sparkle in her eye. "If you want hands-on with one of Scalvaris’s finest, I’m sure I can arrange an introduction. I bet that guy over there has a tail for days. Very aerodynamic, I imagine."

“Why do I even try to have a serious conversation around any of you?" Kaiya muttered, her blush deepening as she adjusted her glasses for the third time. If she pressed them any harder against her nose, they'd probably fuse to her face.

I snorted, letting the banter run its course. Admittedly, it was nice to hear something other than discussions of survival plans and escape routes, even if the levity was probably doomed to be short-lived. Somewhere in the pit of my stomach, I could already feel the weight of Vega’s earlier words.

She wasn’t wrong. Execution orders or not, Scalvaris was a pressure cooker—and humans were just one more volatile ingredient thrown into the pot.

Before I could spiral too far, Rachel jerked her chin toward one of the stalls off to our left. “Check it out; that blade looks like some wizard shit.”

The weapon on display was stunning. Long and curved ever-so-slightly, its edge gleamed with a sharpness that whispered deadly promises. Intricate heat crystals glowed along the hilt, the golden light flickering like trapped embers. The craftsmanship was undeniable.

It wasn’t just a weapon; it was a masterpiece.

And it did look a little like something that could start shooting magic fireballs with the right words. But in my experience, aliens were real, magic? Not so much.

I stepped closer, letting my fingers hover just shy of the blade’s surface. I wasn’t stupid enough to touch it outright—some Drakarn got real tetchy about their goods being handled by strangers.

The vendor—an older Drakarn with scales the color of ash—leaned forward, his piercing orange gaze taking me in. “Admiring the fine work, human?” His voice rumbled low, carrying an edge of pride. Not threatening, which was refreshing for a change. Still, I straightened unconsciously, keeping my expression carefully neutral.

“It’s …” I faltered, searching for the right words. What could you even say about something this impressive? “It’s beautiful. Did you …”

The vendor’s narrow pupils flicked from me to the weapon, a satisfied smile pulling at his lips. “It is the work of Vyne,” he said, like that name alone should mean something to me. When I tilted my head, he chuckled. “One of our finest forge masters. His precision is unparalleled.”

Vyne. I rolled the name around in my head, my brain immediately conjuring up the image of a certain Drakarn warrior I’d crossed paths with a few times—once in the healing caverns when I’d been learning from Mysha and again when he’d silently stepped in to help unload supplies without a word.

Dark green scales, broad shoulders, a face that could stop a woman in her tracks … and hands as skilled as they were lethal.

Rachel’s elbow nudged me lightly. “Oh no. I know that look.”

I shot her a dry glance, shoving aside the very real mental image of Vyne, flickering forge light catching the sharp planes of his face. “I wasn’t thinking about anything,” I lied, struggling—and mostly failing—to sound convincing.

Rachel only smiled knowingly.

“Well, if you’re interested,” the vendor offered slyly, his scaled fingers drumming on the edge of his stall. “It's not often I have his blades to sell. He normally works on commission."

Words fizzled in my brain, refusing to form, which only fueled Rachel’s growing amusement. She was going to hold this over my head for weeks.

Kaiya, probably sensing my rising discomfort, leaned forward to ask the vendor something about the heat crystals—her tone dripping with scientific curiosity. I was grateful for the diversion, but my mind had already run off on its own tangent, fixating on the absurdity of it all.

Strong hands. Precise craftsmanship. Quiet strength.

Damn it, Selene. Snap out of it.

If Vyne could pour that much focus and care into something like a blade, what else might he be capable of? What would it feel like to have those claws not carving metal but pressed gently to my skin, not as a weapon but?—

Nope. Not going there.

I needed to get fucking laid. I'd joked about having a Drakarn of my very own to Orla not long ago, but jokes were one thing. Inviting one of the dragon-men to my bed? I wasn't so sure.

I tore my gaze from the weapon and cleared my throat, forcing my attention back to my surroundings. The noise of the market seemed sharper now, every sound a little too loud as I tried to wrest control of my spiraling thoughts.

“It's getting late,” I said briskly, cutting through Kaiya’s excited chatter about living crystals. Rachel raised an eyebrow at me, clearly biting back another comment, but thankfully, she let it go.

The back of my neck itched like someone was watching me. I glanced backwards, looking for … well, green scales if I was being honest. But if someone was watching me, they were doing it from the shadows.

Maybe this planet was getting to me after all.