Page 25 of Scorched by Fate (Drakarn Mates #3)
TWENTY-FIVE
VYNE
The forge roared and glowed. Familiar heat pressed against my lungs, each breath thick and laced with iron tang. The hammer in my hand rose and fell in a vicious rhythm, a metallic heartbeat echoing through the stone. Each strike against the battered blade on the anvil should have eased the discord growing inside me.
It didn't.
My arms burned from fatigue, sweat coursing over my scales, but I couldn’t stop. Every swing was a question I couldn’t answer, a frustration I couldn’t name. If I kept hammering, maybe I could outrun the regret that gnawed at the corners of my mind:
Selene.
She was everything I’d never asked for—fury, a spark, and a fragile softness all tangled in one. The memory of her lived in every breath, every flare of muscle. A storm I couldn’t calm and didn’t want to. But that storm had pulled away, and the fear of losing her forever lodged deep in me, more suffocating than the forge’s heat.
It was all my own damned fault. Some need had possessed me to claim her then and there, as if exhaustion hadn't weighed heavy on us, as if Selene hadn't spent the last several days, all edges frayed with worry for the healers.
I drove the hammer down harder, as though I could pound answers from the metal. Sparks ricocheted in orange bursts, scattering into the air. The steel warped beneath each blow, but no matter how many times I struck, the chaos in me only grew.
A heavy presence filled the doorway behind me before he spoke. I knew who it was by the slow scrape of his talons against stone, by the weight in the air that always announced him. Khorlar.
“You’ll ruin the blade,” he observed, his deep voice steady. “Or yourself.”
I scowled, not taking my eyes off the battered metal. “I can fix it.”
“Can you?”
Clenching my jaw, I lifted the hammer again. The strike was so forceful it jarred my shoulder. A rough growl tore from my chest. “Why are you here?”
Khorlar folded his massive arms across his dark-gray scales. “Because I’d rather not see you destroy good steel.”
I barked a short laugh. “Close your eyes, then.”
Silence thickened, punctuated only by the clang of metal. My wings twitched, restless, but I forced myself to keep going. I couldn’t stop, or I’d feel too much.
“Is this about the human?” Khorlar asked, finally.
My grip tightened around the hammer, claws scraping against the worn handle. “She has a name.”
He inclined his head, unruffled by my sharp tone. “Selene,” he corrected. “Another human mate?”
I slammed the hammer down, and the blade cracked under the impact. I tossed the hammer and the ruined blade aside.
“You don’t know a damned thing about it.”
He let out a low snort. “I haven't suggested that I do.”
Fury flared, but I caught myself. This wasn’t just anger—it was fear, an old enemy wearing a new face. “She made her desires, or lack thereof, very clear.”
"Do you think that sound doesn't carry in a canyon? Because what I heard wasn't a lack of desire."
He was lucky I'd dropped the hammer. Rage flared hot and fast. He had no right to hear what sounds my mate made when I gave her pleasure, no right to intrude or say a word about it.
My heart thumped in a ragged rhythm, answering a call deeper than logic. Selene was mine—even if she doubted it.
"Leave me." I didn't need his prying or his opinion. Khorlar had no love for the humans, and if he spoke one sour word about my mate, I'd be forced to test the ruined blade sitting in the discard pile.
He hesitated for a moment before doing as I asked.
I closed my eyes and swallowed hard. I was hitting the wrong target. No amount of metal would shape itself into glass. Thunder rumbled in me, a pulse of longing that tasted like desperation.
Sweat dripped from my brow, the forge’s heat melding with the searing temperature of my own blood. My temples pounded, but this time, I let the ache in, forced myself to feel it. If I was going to fight for Selene, I needed every ounce of pain, every shred of need. This bond was stupid, maddening, and the only thing that felt real.
My heart lurched as her scent tickled my nose. I thought it was a phantom at first, but she stood in the doorway, haloed by the forge's angry glow.
She looked exhausted—hair tousled, worry lines carved into her brow—but her gaze was steady on mine. She smelled like the healing caverns: herbs, sweat, and under it all was just her . Something I wanted to drown in.
Selene and I stood there, the forge sputtering sparks that died in the hush between us. When she finally spoke, her voice had the rough scrape of resolve and heartbreak. “I think we should talk.”
I forced a breath, setting my shoulders. “All right,” I managed.
Everything in me wanted to yank her close and demand she believe that she was mine, that I’d keep her safe. But I held back. I had to.
It was hell.
Her arms were wrapped around herself like a shield. The light highlighted the tired circles beneath her eyes. I hated knowing I was part of why they were there.
“Yesterday …,” she said softly, “Vyne, I—" she huffed out a breath. "We've known each other for a week, and you tried to take over my life like you owned it."
My immediate instinct was to argue. I dug my fangs into my tongue until I tasted copper. I wouldn't mess this up again. Not now. Not with her.
She swallowed hard. “My entire life flipped on its head the second I ended up here. And every time I think I’m adjusting, something else breaks under my feet. Everyone freaked the fuck out with Orla and Rath. And don't think I haven't heard what people whisper about Darrokar and Terra. You and I, it's …”
"It's real." I wasn't going to push, but I couldn't let this go. "I told myself to stay away. I tried. Gods below, I tried." I took half a step forward and forced myself to stop. "Do you think I want to bring trouble to you?"
I could almost taste the fear behind her anger, the vulnerability she tried so hard to hide. My claws twitched, itching to grab her and prove how real it was. But I’d come too close before, only to see her shut down from the weight of it.
I stepped forward until only a breath separated us. Softly, I cupped her chin, forcing her gaze up to mine. “I'm your mate, Zhyvarin ,” I said, letting every thread of truth coil in my voice. “It means someone in this gods-forsaken world will fight for you, bleed for you … die for you, if that’s what it takes.”
Her lip quivered, and for a moment, I was sure she’d bolt. But she stayed.
“The others need me,” she whispered, as if it were an apology. “I can’t allow myself to be distracted, not when people are dying, when?—”
“Selene,” her name was a vow. “I don’t want to strip you of your responsibilities. I just want to stand beside you while you fulfill them. Let me.”
Emotions flickered over her face: anger, hope … terror. One by one, they warred for dominance. Finally, she dropped her head, breath shuddering. “I’m not sure how,” she murmured. “And now, you’re telling me to open up … That you want me as what, exactly?”
“Everything,” I breathed. “I want everything.”
Before I could stop myself, I dropped to my knees, the motion swift and sure, every last shred of control leaving me as I knelt in front of her. My hands moved to frame her hips, steady but reverent, claws curling under against the soft fabric of her clothes without piercing—without risking breaking her.
She deserved better than my fire. But I couldn’t stop offering it to her.
"What will it take to make you mine?"
Her eyes widened. But she didn’t run. With a single exhale, it seemed like she let go of something heavy. “I think …” Her words came quietly, voice hitching. “I think I’ve been yours for a while now, whether I liked it or not.”
The heat in my chest flared brighter, roaring hot and unrelenting as though she’d poured molten steel into my ribs. Her confession settled deep in the raw places I’d been trying desperately to keep from fracturing further. It wasn’t an admission; it was a collision—a force slamming into me with the weight of all the words she hadn’t said before.
For the first time in weeks, the fire inside me didn’t feel like it was trying to hollow me out. It felt like fuel.
“Then stay,” I said softly, my voice hoarse but unwavering. The words cut low from the depths of my chest, layers of feeling I’d long buried spilling freely now. “Stay with me.”
Her lips trembled, a breathless exhale escaping before she dropped to her knees, her hands finally reaching for me. And gods help me, the way she touched me—light but certain, like she was still deciding if she should've claimed me sooner—ignited the only answer I had left.
Mine.
Always mine.
The forge roared hotter around us, and I embraced the burn.