Page 8 of Scorched by Fate (Drakarn Mates #3)

EIGHT

VYNE

Pre-dawn was quiet in Scalvaris. Time blurred under the rock, the suns just a hint through the skyshafts that pierced the ceiling of our city.

The air was heavy. Tense. And in that quiet stillness, I could feel the city bracing for the threat creeping ever closer to its borders. It was more than the sickness festering in the healers’ caverns. It was something larger—something clawing at the edges of Scalvaris, unseen and unspoken.

The weight pressing against my chest wasn’t the city's fear. It was something sharper.

Selene.

Krysfruit. Smoke.

It tickled my nose before I heard her footsteps.

She emerged from the edge of the quarter, her figure cutting a sharp line against the glow spilling over the stones. Her hair was tied back, though already some loose strands curled and stuck against her skin. The strength of her frame—the set of her shoulders, the weight in her step—didn’t waver, but something else clung to her.

Weariness. Hesitation. Quiet grief behind a mask of sharp focus.

My tongue—traitorous, damnable thing—tingled at the edges, a phantom sensation I couldn’t banish no matter how tightly I locked my jaw.

When our eyes finally locked, it hit harder than I anticipated. She stiffened for just a moment, a flicker of something unguarded before those dark eyes leveled me.

“Not too many early risers in Scalvaris?” Her voice was even, carefully controlled, though the faint humor threaded in it betrayed her efforts.

I forced a wry smirk, though the weight in my chest didn't loosen. “You’re late.”

“Am I?” I could see the ghost of a smile tugging the corner of her lips as she stepped closer. “You could have left without me.”

“You must be lucky.”

Her expression sobered, the humor retreating back into the quiet defenses she always carried. “Lucky’s not exactly what I’ve been lately.”

The words weren’t sharp enough to cut, but they landed heavier than a mere observation. They sat awkwardly in the space between us, refusing to be smoothed over or walked around.

I tuned my senses back to the mission, letting practicality sand down the edges of everything else. “We’ll make our way through the tunnels first, then out to the peaks.” My wings shifted, the scrape of my claws mimicking the restless twitch in my shoulders. “We’ll stop where we can find shelter come midday.”

Her chin dipped, a small, fractional motion that said enough. Her fingers fiddled with the straps of her pack as she adjusted its position with combat trained precision.

Her motions were steady and calm as I studied her. She'd been a soldier once, and it showed. I shouldn’t have cared beyond how it would help the mission. I shouldn’t have noticed. But every inch of her stole my focus anyway.

Her scent. The set of her jaw. The stubborn line of determination cutting through exhaustion in her eyes.

Gods above, she was— No. Stop.

I forced myself to glance away, my gaze sweeping over the morning glow of the river instead. “Ready?”

Selene huffed softly and adjusted her pack again. “Lead the way.”

Her voice might have been steady. Her steps resolute. But as we moved toward the tunnels carved into the cavern wall, that same weight coiled tighter with every step. It clung to the silence between us, unspoken but impossible to ignore, no matter how far we went.

I could hear her breathe. Too clear in the tunnels. Too close. The soft rhythm of it was steady, to her credit—controlled despite the strain of exhaustion I knew ate at her body and mind. Her pack jostled against her back, the sound blending with the quiet scrape of her boot against stone.

She brushed against me, her arm, her shoulder, maybe both, catching against the tough curve of my own as the path narrowed to little more than a cramped corridor. The contact was light, but the spark it sent through my nerves lingered. Heat prickled along the ridge of my spine. I forced my wings tighter along my back, trying to reclaim the space between us, but there wasn’t any.

Selene stepped back to compensate, muttering, “Bit tight in here, huh?”

Her voice was low in the winding echoes of the tunnel. But the way it cut through the silence between us was sharp enough to draw my attention.

“Only for those who aren’t paying attention.” My voice was as dry as I could make it. A reflex. A defense.

She gave me a narrow look, though the faintest twist of amusement tugged her lips upward. “Of course. Because your wings don’t seem to be taking up half the path.”

“They’re efficient. Unlike your stride.”

She let out a sharp breath just this side of laughter. Her pace didn’t falter, and when her shoulder brushed mine again, this time she didn’t pull back so quickly. I didn't think it was on purpose, but the contact lingered.

My claws flexed against the rock for balance, the scrape unnervingly loud in the too-close air. Her scent was even stronger now, distinct and maddening. My tongue tingled again, that same cursed sensitivity pulling my focus where it didn’t belong.

We crossed a sudden dip in the floor—a pocket of uneven stone that split the path where magma had once scorched through centuries prior. It forced her step to falter, her footing catching awkwardly, though she masked it quickly and pressed forward. I caught her movement before my mind registered what I was doing, my wing shifting instinctively to steady her balance.

Her hand shot out, reflexive. It wasn’t enough to grab me—she didn’t—and instead her fingers caught the edge of the wall beside her.

“Careful,” I muttered before I could stop myself.

Her head tilted, sharp and questioning, though her pace didn’t falter again. “I've got it."

Her dark eyes cut toward me as much as the tunnel allowed, the shadows obscuring the finer details of her expression but not enough to dim the glint of teasing steel in her gaze.

“Is there a reason we're not flying? Or are those wings of yours just for show?"

I bristled, wings flaring, sharp taloned tips scraping against the narrow cave wall. "The path to the Harrovan Mountains would take us too close to a field of noxious gas given off by one of the volcanoes. If we leave by the entrance at the end of this path, we'll avoid it. And keep breathing."

"Breathing is the preferable option."

The tunnel opened after a sharp bend, giving us a bit more room to breathe. Selene exhaled low, like she’d been carrying the weight deep inside her and could finally draw a full breath.

I glanced over at her. A scar ran along her temple, thin but sharp enough to suggest violence, caught the light as she turned and something dangerously close to need clenched in my chest.

“That scar. Is it from fighting for them?” I asked quietly, the words slipping before I could rationalize the cost of asking.

Selene paused, her brow tightening in confusion. “Them?”

“The humans. Whatever you call them. Your warriors.”

She didn’t speak immediately. Her fingers brushed against her temple, tracing the old wound. Finally, she rolled one shoulder in a small shrug, though the motion looked heavier than it should have. “No, my scar didn't come from battle. A piece of glass hit me when I was fourteen. From a broken bottle. Wrong place, wrong time sort of thing. I joined the army for the usual reason: college."

My jaw tensed, muscles pulling tight in my throat though I wasn’t sure why. “I don't understand." What was college? She spoke Drakarn now, thanks to some little piece of Earth technology, but the word didn't translate.

"School," she said, and this time I knew the word. "I was supposed to serve out my contract and then they'd pay for my education. Then my superiors offered another option. I could leave early if I volunteered to go on the generation ship. They needed more medical professionals. I'm not a doctor or anything, but I was promised more education. More room for advancement. And it wasn't like there was a life I was missing out on at home. I'm not like Kira; I'm not missing a sister or anything like that. I thought this would be the opportunity of a lifetime."

"And instead you ended up here."

"This was definitely not what I was promised." She cast a sidelong glance my way. "But it's not all bad."

Her scent burned sharper against the compact air, and I swore the space had grown smaller again, closer. Too close.

When I spoke, my voice came quieter, rougher at the edges. “Good.”

“What about you?” she tossed the words out casually, probing but not prying. “How did you become a forge master?”

“I forged my first blade when I was eight,” I said. “It wasn’t sharp, but I liked the shape. My father liked the ambition. That was enough.”

Her expression flickered—soft, if only slightly. “Eight. Damn.”

Selene's steps faltered briefly, her boot snagging over an irregular break in the rock, and for a moment, her weight pitched forward. My arm shot out before my brain caught up, steadying her without finesse until she was flattened against my chest.

I let her go quickly, but it was useless. The tunnel narrowed again, forcing her step closer to mine. As her arm brushed mine for the second time, any rational thought left unraveled, fraying at the edges faster than I could hide it.

Her scent burned sharper now. It wrapped around me in the confines of the tunnel, teasing the fragile chain of control I’d forced around my instincts since the moment I’d first tasted the air near her.

For the forge's sake.

My gaze dropped briefly, catching the subtle shift of her shoulders—the sharp cut of bone against her skin, her frame wound just tightly enough that I could feel her bracing for something invisible but inescapable. She wore her strength like armor, too heavy in some places, but almost too worn near others. And it only made the ache inside me twist deeper.

Damn it all.

I fixed my stare forward again, unwilling to crumble under the instinct clawing against sense. There wasn’t space here—not now, not in this tunnel, not anywhere between us for what my body sought so painfully.

The tunnel’s oppressive grip finally began to loosen as light from the end—faint and pale, but unmistakable—glimmered ahead. My steps slowed.

Selene caught my hesitation, her own movements faltering briefly before she drew up alongside me. Her breathing was quieter now, steadier, though her stance remained sharp-edged, like she was bracing for whatever lay just beyond our line of sight.

She stepped forward, her boot scratching against the stone as she moved closer to the growing glow. The dim warmth of the rising suns had started to bleed into the cool blue hue of the crystals, casting flickering shadows that danced along the rough walls. The air felt lighter here, cooler, though brimming with a strange tension that hummed beneath the surface like unseen currents.

I moved up beside her, wings rustling as they adjusted to the wider space. I took a moment to savor the more open space, but only for a moment. I didn't want her to think I was hesitating.

Selene looked out over the distant horizon. Quiet tension radiated off her. “It’s beautiful,” she said softly, almost as though the words weren’t meant for me to hear.

“It's beautiful, but it burns,” I responded. Even with my scales, the surface of Volcaryth was unkind.

She didn’t look at me. “I figured as much.”

The steep drop from the tunnel mouth to the terrain below yawned open just steps away. The winds swirled through the air, teasing the edges of my wings.

“You’re not afraid of heights,” I said, more statement than question. Her steady stance told me as much.

“No.” Her response was clipped, matter-of-fact. But she still glanced at the distance below with a narrowed gaze. “But that doesn't mean I'm not cautious. It's not like I have wings.”

“That’s why you have me.”

She blinked, finally turning toward me. Her lips curved, though the humor in her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Are you always this reassuring?”

“Only when it’s warranted.”

“Lucky me.” Her tone softened, faint amusement lacing her exhaustion.

I stepped closer. The rock beneath my feet shifted, but I ignored it, wings flaring as I gestured toward the open sky beyond the ledge.

“Get closer,” I said, my voice cool, though something in my chest twisted as her gaze flicked toward me with an oddly suspicious arch of her brow.

Her jaw tensed, but she didn’t argue. Instead, she inhaled sharply through her nose, muttering something under her breath that sounded like either a curse or a prayer. Then she stepped closer to the edge of the tunnel. Her frame was still as strong as ever, but I caught the flicker of hesitation in her stance as she glanced one last time at the drop awaiting her.

I opened my wings fully, the stretch of them casting shifting shadows that sliced across the rock at our feet. The motion forced her step closer, keeping her within reach. I extended an arm, my claws flexing briefly before curling tightly against the leather guard at my wrist.

“Don’t flinch.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What?—?”

Before she could finish, my arm circled firmly around her waist. It wasn’t rough—precisely measured, controlled, but undeniably close. I pulled her against me as my other arm moved to steady her back, claws grazing just briefly against the strap of her pack. My wings closed, angling around her frame without fully enveloping her. Not yet. I wrapped my tail around her legs to keep her as close as possible.

Selene stiffened, her breath catching at the contact. Her hands instinctively shot to the front of my armor, gripping the edges of the leather as her stance fought against faltering completely.

“This is practical,” I offered, though my voice was rougher than intended. She didn’t need to know how much it cost me to keep my control. “For both our sakes.”

She didn’t respond immediately. Her gaze flicked toward the open sky behind me, her hands still gripping the edge of my worn leathers like she was weighing every possible escape plan.

“Right,” she said finally, though the edge of her voice gave away her own internal battle. “Practical.”

Stars help me.

That close, every sense I had was on fire—her breath warm against my throat, the heat of her skin radiating through the armor and scales separating us. My claws itched for purchase they couldn’t take, my wings shifting instinctively to tighten around her, shielding her fully within their span as the wind curled tighter around us.

“Ready?” I asked, my voice softened by a restraint that grated against everything primal inside me.

She nodded once, her grip tightening. “Don’t drop me.”

The faintest twitch curled at the corner of my lips—a bitter, aching smile rising to fight the storm raging beneath the rest of me. "Not a chance."