Page 18 of Scorched by Fate (Drakarn Mates #3)

EIGHTEEN

VYNE

I scanned the path ahead, blinking only when the sting of sulfur forced it. Wind shifted around us in thin, sharp currents—too erratic for comfort, too quiet for complete safety. We had to keep moving.

Behind me, Selene murmured softly, voice calm and almost stern. “Just breathe through it, Reika. A few more steps. We’ll rest soon.”

Selene moved with no hint of hesitation, her focus so tightly woven into tending to the fallen woman it was as though the volcanic landscape didn’t even exist.

And, stars above, it wrecked me.

Selene should’ve been the one resting. Her temples glistened with sweat, smudged with streaks of soot she either hadn’t noticed or hadn’t cared to wipe away. Scratches scored her exposed skin in uneven patterns.

She deserved better than this journey. Better than this ridge.

Better than me.

She slowed, giving Reika another of those delicate touches—her fingers ghosting over the woman’s trembling wrist in a silent reassurance only she could make believable. I exhaled and turned my focus forward again.

It was safer to study the path. Safer not to let myself get dragged under whatever storm she stirred in me: longing, hunger, something deeper I couldn’t name without risking it breaking loose.

Selene’s tone turned teasing despite her heavy burden. “Eyes up. The rocks are more afraid of you than you are of them.”

Reika’s clipped response was little more than a broken grunt. Progress, of sorts—she wasn't screaming or cowering anymore. I’d lost count of how many times the woman had locked up mid-stride, her terror bracing through even the smallest glance in my direction.

Her gaze hadn’t met mine for longer than a heartbeat since Selene had convinced her to move. But she was moving, and that was what mattered.

But more than that … Selene wouldn’t let her break further. Her boundless, maddening kindness wouldn’t let her. And something in me knew better than to pretend I didn’t admire that.

Maddening. Beautiful. Mine .

Control coiled its leash tight through my ribs again, its strain aching. I rolled my shoulders briefly, peeling the tension out in careful movements as my claws flexed against my sides.

“We need to stop.” Selene’s attention lifted toward me. “I need to clean her cuts before they get worse.”

I fought to keep my voice steady. “Stopping too long is a risk. If the Ignarath come back over this?—”

“Don’t start with me.” Her tone cut sharply, then dipped lower when I turned. “We need fifteen minutes.”

I swallowed back a sharp retort, releasing a low growl instead. My wings snapped out for a brief stretch, and I winced at the ache. “We can spare five.”

Her jaw twitched, but she nodded.

The moment I stopped moving, the pain caught up like a rival who’d been waiting for their chance to strike. My wing burned in gnawing pulses I could feel down to the bone. It was the kind of pain you could bargain with—if you didn’t mind bleeding through every demand.

The tear wasn’t deep, but every shift turned the injury into a throbbing reminder of my limits. I flexed my shoulder experimentally, keeping my wings tight against my frame. No use letting Selene catch the tremble as my body betrayed me. Not that she’d miss it for long.

Behind me, her voice was soft and low, pulling some semblance of calm from Reika’s frantic breaths. Watching Selene ease the woman out of panic was almost worse than the pain—each word weaving that impossible warmth into this barren land, each steady hand doing what my claws never could.

I clenched my jaw and turned my focus forward, scanning past the darkening shadows of the ridges cutting against the hazy horizon. Volcaryth was unforgiving in its silence, but no fresh tremors rattled beneath us. No sulfur-drenched breeze tipped me off to Ignarath warriors cutting through the paths we’d left behind.

We’d crossed the edge of their claimed territory and were safe.

For now. But we had to keep moving.

Rest time was over.

We walked for over an hour before Selene’s voice drifted over. “Vyne.” One word, carrying the weight of so many unsaid.

I glanced over at her. There she was, crouched beside Reika, her hands steady.

Her tone turned firm, leaving no room for refusal. “She can't go much farther. We need to make camp.”

My claws flexed in resignation. “Soon.” The word came out clipped, more at myself than her. Her lips twitched in fleeting triumph, though her gaze stayed heavy.

“Good.”

I dropped to a crouch. The sharp pulse of pain still pounded steadily when I tucked them tighter, but nothing quieted the deeper pressure buzzing beneath it.

The outcropping up ahead wasn't much, but it was enough. Stone walls jutted between us and the open ridgeline, creating a half-shelter tucked against the mountain’s angry edges. No overhead cover to hide us from any Ignarath scouting aerial paths, but it kept the worst of the sulfurous winds at bay.

It would have to do.

Selene already had Reika settled near the base of one wall, propping her up with a pile of shredded fabric pushed under her head like a pillow. Her improvised med kit lay scattered across the ground.

Reika’s breaths came shallow and uneven, and her eyes fluttered closed against the world. Exhaustion had overtaken her panic for now. That alone did more for our chances of survival than any words I might have offered.

Selene’s head turned toward me, sharp and direct—an acknowledgment, not an invitation. Her hands stayed carefully busy, adjusting the thin strips of bandage around Reika’s bruised wrists. The movements were methodical, practiced.

“Selene.” Her name tasted unfamiliar on my tongue, drawing something gentler out of me. “Enough. She’s fine.”

For once, she didn’t argue. She breathed out, shoulders sinking. I wasn’t sure if it was exhaustion or agreement, but it didn’t matter.

Instead, she shifted subtly toward me, propping her back against the same slope of rough stone wall. Her hair fell loose over one shoulder. Without the distraction of motion, sharp exhaustion shadowed every inch of her.

“Let me see your wing.” Her tone was low but pointed.

I stilled, my own exhaustion heavy enough to blur the words before they sank in. “It’s nothing,” I countered too quickly. Vainly.

Her hand nudged toward my arm, not with force but with enough weight to slice through my half-hearted response. Her touch was light, but the slow trace of her fingertips across my wing struck deeper than her sharpest arguments ever had.

“I told you—” The words dissolved when her fingers pressed gently against the torn edge of skin along the membrane. My thoughts scattered in an instant, as though her lightest touch had broken them on purpose.

Her fingers withdrew in one swift, careful motion. "You'll live."

My own hand lingered just beside hers without thought—brushing lightly against the edge of her wrist.

It wasn’t enough.

It wasn’t ever going to be enough.

I settled against the rock, muscles tight despite the attempt to rest. Selene leaned into my side without hesitation.

Her breathing was steady now, slower than before but still weighed down by exhaustion. The tension in her frame hinted at an ache she refused to let show. Even now, when her body craved rest, her thoughts cut through the thick silence between us. I didn’t need to read her mind to know she was thinking of a dozen questions she wouldn’t voice, not yet.

She broke the haze of heat and silence with a pointed question. “How long will it take us to reach Scalvaris on foot?”

I turned my head. Her hair was still mussed, half sticking to her temple in damp streaks, but her eyes never wavered. Stubborn, focused, and entirely unyielding.

“A week.” The subtle twitch in my wing flared as if protesting. “Maybe more, depending on how far west we must go to avoid Ignarath patrols.”

Her lips parted to argue—or worse, suggest something reckless—so I cut her off. “Don’t even think about it.” My words came out in a low growl. “If you’re about to suggest I fly ahead to deliver the vyrathis, forget it. I’m not leaving you out here alone, in enemy territory, for days.”

Her brows furrowed, annoyance flickering bright for a heartbeat before she sighed. “I wasn’t going to say that.” Her tone remained low. “I figured out three hours ago that you'd say no."

I huffed a quiet laugh, shifting my weight to adjust the angle of my aching wing. “You're learning, Zhyvarin .”

That earned me a weak glare, but she let it drop. Instead, her eyes flicked briefly toward Reika, who lay asleep—or unconscious—on the uneven ground not far from us. The soft rise and fall of her chest barely betrayed she was still with us.

“I know the healers need the vyrathis, but we can’t abandon Reika. Not like this. What do you think they did to her?”

“I don’t know.” My attention flicked to the fragile human shape crumpled against the stone. “Ignarath aren’t kind to outsiders.”

The weight behind her silence was heavy. I didn’t look at her; I didn’t need to. Her emotions were loud, even when she buried them behind reason. “And Scalvaris is so friendly?” The bitter humor in her voice was muted but still sharp enough to hit.

I laughed. “Compared to the Ignarath? Yes.”

She blinked, as if genuinely startled by that response, and for a fleeting moment, her eyes shifted toward the landscape beyond the narrow ridge.

Her voice lowered. “Do you think she was on our ship? Is it possible there are more humans on Volcaryth? That they survived?”

She would know better than me. There were ancient stories of people from far away planets woven through our history, but I had never given them much thought until Selene and her fellow humans had crashed into the burning sands outside the city.

“You’ll have to ask her.”

Selene didn’t respond. I watched her in stillness, torn between wanting to do something—anything—to ease the weight she carried and the impossibility of action. Despite the razor edge of the situation, she still glowed. Stubborn as ever.

Mine, whether she knew it or not.

We were close now, both of us leaning against the walls that formed our makeshift camp. Her shoulder brushed mine—barely, but enough for my mind to fixate on it. Exhaustion should have dulled my senses, but no. The awareness of her warmth so near, the scent that clung to her as though even Volcaryth’s heat couldn’t burn it away.

I looked at her again, unable to help myself. Her profile was drawn in dimming light and shadow, and none of it was diminished by the grime and exhaustion streaked across her features. No, this was Selene at her rawest: worn but unbreaking.

And gods help me, I wanted her. Every stubborn, infuriating, breathtaking part of her.

I reached up and brushed a strand of her dark hair back, freeing it from where it clung to her temple. My knuckles grazed her skin—warm, impossibly soft against the sharp edges of this volcanic hellscape.

Her breathing hitched, just a bit, as her gaze darted to mine. She didn’t pull away.

“ Zhyvarin .” Her mating name settled rough and reverent on my tongue.

Slowly, carefully, I tilted her face toward mine, my clawed thumb brushing her jawline with cautious precision. Her skin was fire beneath my touch—fragile and fierce all at once.

I leaned down, the world narrowing to the maddening slice of space between us. When my lips brushed hers, it wasn’t with urgency. No battle raged in that moment, no ferocity vying for control. The kiss was slow, soft but consuming, a quiet clash of heat and restraint. Her lips trembled against mine before she leaned in, her entire frame pressing closer with painstaking grace.

I could have drowned in that.

Her hands found their way to my chest, resting lightly against the scales just above my heart. I felt her hesitation—not because she didn’t want this, but because she did. Just as much as I did, perhaps more. The truth lingered between us, fragile and undeniable: there was no turning back from this.

And gods, for a moment, I didn’t want to.

But then she pulled away, her forehead resting lightly against mine as her breaths came shallow and quick. The space between us lingered, crackling with unspoken intensity neither of us dared to tip farther toward.

“We can’t.” Her whisper broke the hush, voice heavy but steady.

My claws curled into my palms to keep my composure. “I know.” The admission tasted like ash. “You should rest. I’ll take first watch.”

It was going to be a long night.