Page 12 of Zayrik (The Protectorate Warriors Alien Fated Mates #6)

Nyla

THE GALLEY WAS DIM , the overhead light flickering just enough to set my nerves on edge. Each flash felt like a warning, reminding me of every shadowy corner I’d ever hidden in.

I grabbed a ration pack, tore it open with more force than necessary, and started picking at it. More for something to do than because I was hungry. The processed protein tasted like dust in my mouth, but it was better than dealing with the silence.

Zayrik leaned in the doorway, arms crossed, all coiled strength and careful observation. Watching me. Always watching me, like he could see straight through every wall I’d built.

I ignored him.

Mostly.

It wasn’t easy. Everything about him demanded attention, from the way he filled the doorframe to the intensity in his eyes.

“You’re twitchy,” he said, casual in a way that wasn’t casual at all.

I snorted, ignoring the way my pulse jumped at his voice. “You always this observant?”

He smirked, but there was something else behind it. Something that made my skin prickle with awareness. “When it’s interesting.”

I rolled my eyes and shoved a piece of dried protein in my mouth just to shut myself up. When he continued to watch me, I blurted. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. I was just thinking,” he muttered, and something in his tone made me still.

I frowned. “About?”

His lips quirked, but it wasn’t a smirk this time. It was something sadder, something that made me ache in ways I didn’t want to examine. “You trust your AI. And that little menace on your shoulder.”

I glanced at Zep, curled warm against my collarbone. He made a soft sound, shifted slightly, but didn’t wake. His presence grounded me. Reminding me of all the nights we’d spent together, just us against the galaxy.

“Yeah,” I said, my voice softer than I intended. “Because they’ve never given me a reason not to.”

The silence afterward was thick, burdened by unspoken things. The flickering light cast shadows across Zayrik’s face, highlighting the sharp angles of his features, the way his eyes had gone distant.

He stared at the floor like it held answers to questions I didn’t know he was asking. When he spoke, his voice was subdued and hushed, barely carrying across the space between us. “I understand.”

I stilled at the raw honesty in those two words. This wasn’t the confident, impossible Zayrik I’d come to expect. This was something else. Something stripped bare of pretense.

I set the ration pack down, the rustle of the wrapper too loud in the quiet space. Watched him. His shoulders were tense, drawn up like he was bracing for a blow. His jaw worked, muscles jumping beneath his skin. Like he was holding something back, something that wanted to break free.

I hesitated, knowing I should let it go, not press things. But I couldn’t stop myself from asking, “What do you mean?”

He let out a resigned sigh. Ran a hand through his hair, the gesture almost vulnerable in its unconsciousness.

Then let it slip.

“My father was a crook.”

I blinked, the words hitting me like a physical force. That... wasn’t what I was expecting. Not from him. Not from a Protectorate warrior who wore honor like armor.

Zayrik’s jaw was tight, his voice flat in a way that spoke of old pain. “Grew up watching him lie. Gamble. Steal. Take advantage of people. Get close enough to trouble to feel important, then run when it caught up.”

The words echoed in the dim galley, bouncing off metal walls that suddenly felt too close. Each confession like another crack in the perfect image I’d built of him.

He shook his head, disgust threading through his tone. “And he called that survival.”

Something cold settled in my chest. Not fear this time, but recognition. The kind that made me want to look away, to leave before I saw too much of myself reflected back.

He let out a humorless chuckle, the sound sharp enough to cut. “Guess I never got that gene.”

I swallowed past the knot in my throat. “Zayrik—”

He pushed off the wall, the movement abrupt, almost violent. “Forget it.”

I should’ve let it go, let him retreat behind his walls the way I always retreated behind mine. But I didn’t. Because for the first time since I’d met him, I realized something that shook me to my core. He understood. Not just the constant looking over your shoulder.

But the part where trusting the wrong person could break you. Where family could be the first to betray you.

The part where sometimes the scars that cut deepest were the ones no one could see.

And for the first time, I didn’t know if I wanted to run from that understanding. From him.

We didn’t talk about it.

Not for the next hour. Not for the next two.

But it sat with us like a living thing. His eyes still followed me when I moved. I still caught myself watching him when he wasn’t looking. A charged silence filled every room we shared.

The silence held something.

Not just a physical tension. But a connection I couldn’t pretend didn’t exist anymore.

I should’ve gone to bed.

Should’ve hidden in my quarters until this raw, exposed feeling passed.

I Didn’t.

Ended up in the cargo hold instead. Pacing between crates and containers, my footsteps echoing in the space. Each step matching the rhythm of thoughts I couldn’t quiet.

The dim emergency lighting cast everything in shades of blue, throwing strange shadows across the deck. Zep had abandoned me to sleep on my bunk, leaving me alone with the hollow sound of my boots on metal grating and the constant, low hum of the ship’s engines.

I didn’t even hear him come in.

Zayrik leaned against the bulkhead, his presence filling the space in a way that should have made me feel trapped. Instead, it felt like coming up for air.

“You following me now?”

He shrugged. “You look like you’re trying to figure out how fast you can disappear.”

I snorted. “And you look like you don’t sleep.”

He smirked. “Not much.”

We stared at each other.

Then, he pushed. “You said you don’t trust people.”

I shifted. “Yeah?”

He tilted his head. “That mean you learned the hard way?”

I froze.

Zayrik didn’t move. Didn’t press.

Just waited.

And maybe that’s why it happened.

I exhaled. “Once.”

He didn’t react. But he was listening. And somehow, I kept talking.

“I was sixteen,” I muttered. “Stupid. Thought I was in love.”

His hands curled at his sides.

“He was a trader. Said he’d take me with him. Said I was his.”

Zayrik’s jaw flexed.

I laughed, cutting and bitter. “What he meant was, he planned to sell me.”

The words landed like a slap.

Zayrik didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

A beat passed.

Then, softly, “That’s why you haven’t settled down.”

I didn’t answer. Didn’t have to.

He exhaled, dragged a hand through his hair.

Then, low. Dangerous.

“If I ever find him, I’ll kill him.”

I should’ve laughed.

Should’ve said it didn’t matter anymore.

But I didn’t. Because for once, I didn’t feel like lying.

Zayrik stepped forward. Not too close.

But close enough.

“I get it now,” he said, voice low. “Why you don’t trust anyone. Why you fight so damn hard.”

I swallowed.

His eyes searched my face. Waiting.

Then, deeper. “But you do trust me .”

My breath caught. I couldn’t answer.

Because he was right. And that terrified me more than anything.