Page 22 of Scorched by Fate (Drakarn Mates #3)

TWENTY-TWO

SELENE

Everything on Volcaryth was designed to kill. Knowing that didn't make breathing any easier.

Worse was the rhythm around me. Vyne’s wingbeats. Steady. Unyielding. With every stroke, the pressure of his body shifted. I was cradled against his chest, his scaled arms locked around me. My brain told me I was safe. My stupid human, survival-instinct brain disagreed.

And I was trying—desperately—to survive my own mind.

His warmth clung to me. I swore I could still smell him on me. And my body ached in all the places that reminded me just what we'd done together. Vyne was life and danger wrapped in one unbearable pull, and after last night …

Fuck.

The memory of his lips, his touch—of the way we’d fit together—made my heart kick against my ribs. Sparks of what we’d shared still crackled where the tips of his claws brushed my side. I wanted nothing more than to lie back down with him and stay lost in the pleasure.

But then the weight returned: what I should have been doing. The vyrathis. The healers. The hollow-eyed, rasping bodies in the healing caverns. I’d lost hours with Vyne. Hours we could have been flying back. And now, with the precious container of vyrathis tucked in my pack, every second screamed at me. Time we didn’t have.

It didn't matter that both Vyne and Khorlar had made it clear we couldn't fly at night, that they needed to rest their wings.

We could rest when the healers weren't dying.

The thought made my chest tighten, and I shifted. His arms locked firmer, claws coiling protectively under the curve of my back. “Don’t wriggle,” he growled, voice low against the wind. “Unless you want to test how good I am at catching humans mid-fall.”

I kept my tone dry. “I wasn’t planning on taking any dives. How much farther?”

Vyne’s eyes narrowed. “Not long,” he said. “We’ll be able to enter through one of the sky shafts from this approach. No need to climb through the tunnels.”

Ahead, Khorlar flew steadily, massive gray wings militaristic in their precision. They didn’t falter, even with the human shape clinging weakly to his broad chest.

Reika.

From my position, she looked impossibly small, a curled shadow cradled against Khorlar’s scaled arms. The pale streak of her skin was faint against the muted gray of his leathers. But even from a distance, I could see the shaking. Her wrists trembled, and her head slumped awkwardly. Exhaustion had her in a chokehold, and the rough lines of fever were unmistakable.

I should have done something for it before we left. The red streaks webbed around the cuts on her arms and shoulders—delicate but dangerous threads that coiled inward. Infection. Her breathing, too shallow, too labored, told me enough.

It wasn't the sickness plaguing the healers. This was simpler, caused by exhaustion and dirt. But it could be just as deadly.

One crisis at a time, Selene. Deal with the healers first.

A shift in the air cut through my thoughts. The wind grew sharper, warmer, as we descended through the narrow sky shaft that would take us into Scalvaris.

Vyne angled his wings, leaning into the wind as he adjusted our trajectory. My stomach flipped as the updrafts pushed against us. Every muscle in Vyne’s body tensed as we veered closer.

“It’s safe?” The edge in my voice was unavoidable.

Vyne’s lips twitched. “I’d hardly take you down here if it wasn’t.”

I hated that I liked the quiet authority in his voice.

Khorlar shifted positions, descending faster, his broad gray wings slicing through the heat. He landed heavily just ahead of us, raised claws creating a protective barrier as Reika shifted weakly.

A sick, horrible sound rasped from her throat.

The second I was on solid ground, I rushed to Khorlar.

“Get her straight to the healing caverns,” I snapped. Duty cleared my mind. “She’s burning up.”

Khorlar’s gaze was steady. He said nothing, simply turning toward the nearest corridor and carrying her away.

Vyne touched my arm. “Selene, I?—”

“No,” I couldn't do this now, whatever it was. “The vyrathis first.” Vyne and I … there was something there. Something real. I wanted it so bad it hurt. But I could deal with the delay. Delaying our mission meant death for the healers.

Emotions had to come later.

The passageways narrowed, the unbroken stone brushing against my arms as I ducked low into the heat of the city. But my pace didn’t falter, even as the familiar glow of heat crystals guided me. My mind stayed locked on the bodies waiting below.

Waiting. Fighting. Clinging to the edge of existence.

I couldn’t fail them.

When we reached the healing caverns, it felt like death. The thick, acrid scent of sickness pooled, mingling with the tang of sweaty bodies and burnt herbs. It was worse than I remembered.

Rachel and Kaiya were in the center, heads bent over one of the makeshift tables overflowing with vials and crushed plant matter. Smudged lines of exhaustion painted Rachel's features, dark shadows pooling beneath her eyes.

Kaiya’s hands flew between a mortar and pestle, crushing something with frantic energy, her curls plastered damp and flat against her temples. They were both close to collapsing—two women, stretched far beyond their limits, but still fighting.

A choked cough from a nearby bed drew my focus. One of the healers—a broad-shouldered Drakarn male—shook violently, his once-brilliant red scales dull and marred with dark, web-like veins. His breathing was shallow, punctuated by strained, wet gasps.

I looked to the other beds. The sight sent a sharp twist deep into my chest. The healers were crumbling. The same spread of bruises marred every weak body. Wings hung limp. Mysha’s bed was at the far end, her breathing low and weak, but, thank god, steady. She still had a chance.

“Selene!” Rachel’s voice cut through the haze. Her relief was visible. “Tell me you have it.”

I swung the pack off my back, setting it on the table with a thud that made Kaiya jump, though her hands kept working. “Yes. Here.”

Rachel’s hands were on it instantly, pulling the container free with care, her fingers quick. For all her exhaustion, she moved with practiced precision.

“How much did you find?” Rachel asked. Her words were coated in cautious hope.

“I hope it's enough.”

Rachel nodded in sharp agreement, already moving to prepare the medicine. Another cough dragged my attention to the far side of the cavern, where a younger healer thrashed weakly.

My gut clenched.

Behind me, Vyne cleared his throat. Of course, always watching, always steady, always too near and too far. His presence loomed, an anchor I couldn't let drag me down. Not now.

“You need rest, Zhyvarin ,” Vyne said quietly. “Let’s go to our quarters.”

Our quarters?

What?

His words landed, and my brain stuttered. I snapped my gaze to him. “Our quarters?” My voice came out ragged. “What are you talking about?”

We'd slept together twice. Since when did that mean living together? Or was I jumping to conclusions? A week on the surface of Volcaryth had nearly knocked me out, and relief now was mixed with exhaustion. Whatever Vyne was saying, I was probably misunderstanding. We were just … hell, I didn’t know.

You know it's more than that.

I shoved the thought away.

His wings shifted. He spoke low but steady, each syllable careful. “You need rest. You’ve done enough. More than enough. Come home with me.”

A bitter laugh clawed up my throat. “Enough? You honestly think this is enough?” My hands jerked up, motioning toward the rows of beds. Drakarn lay on them, motionless or writhing, their breaths rasping. “In case you haven’t noticed, they’re still dying, Vyne. Until that stops, nothing is enough.”

The truth scraped my throat, but I didn’t care.

Tension rippled through him, though his voice remained calm. Too calm. “I’m not telling you to stop,” he replied slowly. Measured. “But even you know you can’t pour from an empty vessel. You need rest. You need time to?—”

“To what?” Anger flared, hot and sharp. “Rest? Recuperate? Learn to live with failure while I sit back and watch them die?” The words tumbled out, and I couldn't pull them back.

His gaze dropped, briefly, to my hands. The tremble betrayed me. I curled my fingers into fists.

“You’re my mate,” he said, softer now, but the word shook me to my core. “I won’t let you burn yourself out.”

Mate. Mate. Mate. It seemed to echo off the walls around us.

“Stop.” The word came fast, sharp, exploding from somewhere deep in me. My voice cracked. I didn’t mean it to come out that way—cold and rough—but it was the only thing I had. A shield. “Just stop. Please.”

The tension between us shifted. He stilled, expression hardening, his wings pulling close to his body. His eyes—so sharp, so unrelenting—found mine again. He didn’t falter.

“You’re mine." It was a declaration.

Those words—those two damn words—crushed me.

Shock surged up, tangling with everything else I’d shoved down—fear, exhaustion, anger, grief. How could he say that? How could he just … drop this on me now , here, surrounded by dying healers? How could he say mine as though it wasn’t going to rip me open?

“I—”

There was too much. Too much to feel, too much to think, and no space for anything in the middle of this crisis. My chest tightened, and I tore my gaze from his, desperate to focus on anything else.

This didn’t make sense.

But my body knew otherwise. Even as fear and doubt trembled through my limbs, I felt a steady beating in my chest. Something undeniable. And I hated it. I hated how it pulled.

“I can’t do this,” I bit out. My hands clenched, nails digging crescents into my palms. “Not now. I can’t?—”

Vyne stepped closer, his movements careful, as if I was something fragile. “You’re overwhelmed,” he said low, a hint of a growl threading his voice. “But I’m not wrong. I know you feel it.”

I shook my head, hard. I needed to stop this, stop him. "Don’t call me that—your mate. I can’t?—”

“You are .” His tone unraveled me further. “You’ve been mine from the moment I first saw you. This,” he gestured between us, “is too strong to ignore. I’ve tried.”

Every muscle tensed. Fight or flight screamed in tandem, and yet, I couldn’t do either.

Because he wasn’t backing down. He wasn’t walking away. And that terrified me more than anything.

But there was no room for this. Not now. Not here. Not when my responsibilities threatened to crush me.

Someone cleared their throat. Kaiya was standing a few paces behind us. Her face was pale, her shoulders tight. “Sorry to interrupt,” she said tightly, her eyes briefly flicking between me and Vyne. “Selene, I need your help. Rachel needs a second set of hands preparing the vyrathis extract so we can start administering it ASAP.”

She didn’t have to say more.

“Of course,” I replied, stepping toward her. My priorities were crystal clear. I shot Vyne a glance over my shoulder. “Go,” I told him. “I … We'll …”

I had no idea what I was supposed to say.

Vyne tensed, but he didn’t argue. And with one last lingering look that burned, he turned and left.

Kaiya seemed to shrink in on herself. “Thank god you’re here,” she muttered, already rushing back toward the central table.

I threw myself into the work. It was that or think of Vyne. And if I did that, I might actually go crazy.