Page 11 of Zayrik (The Protectorate Warriors Alien Fated Mates #6)

Nyla

FOLLOWING MY CONFESSION , an uneasy quiet settled. I didn’t wait to hear what he’d say. I’d turned and walked off like it didn’t cost me to admit it, like I wasn’t shaking just under the skin.

I felt him watching me as I walked away.

Nav’s voice followed me into the corridor. “That went well. For you, I mean.”

I ignored him, brushing past a bundle of exposed wires dangling from the ceiling. Every inch of this ship was bleeding or broken. I should’ve been worried. Probably would’ve been, if I didn’t feel like my head was full of static and stupid.

Zep chirped from the corner where he’d perched himself above the galley hatch, eyes glowing faintly violet in the dim lights. He flapped down and landed on my shoulder, light as ever. I leaned my head gently against him.

“I know,” I murmured. “I hate this too.”

He hissed softly. Sympathy, maybe. Or hunger. Honestly, could go either way.

Zayrik found me not long after. I heard his boots first. The kind of walk that didn’t need to rush because it already knew its power. When I turned, he was watching me with that unreadable expression again.

“We’ve got about eighteen hours of life support,” he said. Just like that. No preamble.

“Oh perfect,” I said. “Just when I was starting to feel emotionally stable.”

A corner of his mouth twitched. Not quite a smile. “We’ll need to make repairs. Shields, stabilizers, Navigation system, comms—take your pick. Everything’s broken.”

“Sounds like a dream job.” I pushed off the wall. “Point me toward something you don’t mind me screwing up.”

Nav piped in. “Might I suggest the rear stabilizers? The worst that could happen is a fiery death spiral. Nothing dramatic.”

Zayrik didn’t laugh, but I caught the subtle huff of amusement as he handed me a worn data pad. “You take stabilizers and navigation. I’ll work on the internal systems and comms. We’ll check in after four hours.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Check in? What, are we partners now?”

“No,” he said, walking away. “But I’d prefer you not electrocute yourself. I hate dragging corpses.”

I may have grinned as soon as he was out of sight.

The stabilizer access panel was under the aft crawlspace, which meant squeezing into a passage that smelled faintly of burnt circuits and bad decisions. I laid on my back, slid in, and immediately got Zep trying to follow me like he was helping.

“No, buddy, not this time,” I whispered, nudging him back. “Guard the tools.”

He hissed, deeply betrayed, and fluttered off in a sulk.

The crawlspace was narrow enough that I had to twist onto my side to reach the manual coupling valve. My arm was halfway inside the panel when I heard Zayrik’s voice behind me.

“You’re in the wrong compartment,” he said mildly. “That panel’s for heat regulation, not stabilization.”

“You wanna come in here and say that to my face?”

“I plan to.” A touch of humor colored his voice.

I froze as I felt the vibration of his boots against the floor panels. Then saw him appear at the opposite end of the tunnel, body filling the space like some kind of predatory ghost in tactical gear. He started to crawl in, broad shoulders brushing both walls as he came forward.

“You’re huge,” I muttered, shifting to make room. Barely. “This is a ridiculous ship design.”

He didn’t answer, just kept moving until we were nose to nose in a space barely wide enough to exhale.

The air between us felt warmer than it should. Not hot, exactly—just charged. Like the heat was coming from him. Like the space itself had gone breathless.

“Move your leg,” he said quietly.

“There’s nowhere to move.”

“Then you’ll have to climb over me.”

The way he said it wasn’t suggestive. It wasn’t flirty. It was worse. It was calm.

Like he wasn’t thinking about the way my thigh was pressed against his hip. Like he hadn’t just braced one hand on the floor beside my waist and the heat from his palm wasn’t burning through the metal.

I tried to twist sideways. Failed. My chest brushed his. My breath hitched.

“ Flutz ,” I muttered. “This is... fine. This is normal.”

He tilted his head, eyes dark. “You’re the one who crawled into the wrong panel.”

“I stand by my choices,” I quipped.

His mouth quirked. “So do I.”

For a second, neither of us moved. His breath touched my cheek. I could smell the faint metallic tang of heat and sweat. And him.

I shifted again, and this time my hand landed squarely on his chest. Solid. Warm. Rising slightly with every slow breath.

Zayrik’s voice was a murmur, so low I felt it more than heard it. “You keep touching me like that, and this ship’s going to need additional life support for another reason.”

I looked up. Our mouths were an inch apart.

Then Nav’s voice crackled over the speaker above us: “Am I interrupting something, or should I give you a privacy buffer and play sensual pan flute music?”

I jerked back. Or tried to. I knocked my head on the ceiling instead.

Zayrik caught my arm as I swore under my breath. His touch lingered a second longer than it needed to. Then he released me and began backing out of the crawlspace without another word.

Nav sighed dramatically. “Ah, young star-crossed lust. So clumsy. So doomed.”

HOURS PASSED. WE PATCHED what we could. Zayrik got the comms partially working. Just enough to ping an outpost three jumps away. If we could make the jumps. If the drives held.

I found him back at the cockpit, shirt damp with sweat, a streak of something dark smeared along one temple. He looked exhausted. Also... stupidly attractive. Which was not helpful.

“We’ve got a shot,” he said, without looking at me. “But it’s going to be rough.”

“Rough I can handle.” I crossed my arms, feeling the ache settle into my bones.

He glanced at me then, something softer in his eyes.

“You did good today.”

My throat dried up. To moisten it, I swallowed. “Don’t say that.”

His brow lifted, barely. “Why not?”

“Because I’ll start wanting you to mean it.”

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away. Just held my gaze like he was trying to read the spaces between my words.

I looked down first.

Because I didn’t know what I wanted him to say.

Didn’t know what it would mean if he did mean it.

The silence dragged out. Excessively long, it stretched thinly over a truth I didn’t mean to expose.

So, I walked away.

Not far. Just enough to breathe.

Just enough to pretend I hadn’t cracked wide open in front of someone I shouldn’t trust.

Nav cut in, deadpan and perfectly timed. “By all means, trust the navigation system that predates half the known galactic languages. What could possibly go wrong?”

I didn’t answer.

Didn’t have to.

Zep hissed from the console, all fangy disapproval.

I almost laughed.

Almost.