Page 18 of Zayrik (The Protectorate Warriors Alien Fated Mates #6)

Nyla

WHAT THE HELL DID I just do?

It was a mistake.

A moment.

A kiss I couldn’t take back.

A decision that could get us both killed.

I shouldn’t have grabbed him. I shouldn’t have kissed him. My fingers still tingled from the feel of his jacket, the solid warmth of him beneath it. The memory made my stomach flip, made heat crawl up my neck.

And stars help me I shouldn’t have wanted it.

Shouldn’t still be wanting it.

The taste of him lingered, haunting me with every breath. Warm, wild, dizzying. Like something I wasn’t ready to need. Like freedom and danger wrapped in one addictive package.

He hadn’t kissed me back. Not really. He hadn’t needed to. Because the second I’d closed that space between us, the second my mouth had found his, I’d felt everything I’d been trying to pretend wasn’t there. Heat, need, connection. Something deeper that terrified me more than Vask ever had.

He didn’t stop me.

That was the worst part.

He let it happen, let me happen.

Let me crash into him like a meteor hitting atmosphere.

And now my pulse hadn’t stopped racing since, every heartbeat a reminder of what I’d done. What I couldn’t undo.

Zep chirped low from my shoulder, his body shifting as he sensed my distress. “Don’t say it,” I muttered, my voice rougher than I wanted it to be.

He said it anyway. A soft, scolding trill that sounded entirely too much like you’re in trouble now. Like he knew exactly how deep I’d fallen.

“I know,” I hissed, ducking into the supply room and slamming the door shut behind me. The metal rang with the impact, the sound echoing my fractured thoughts. The air was cooler in here, stale with the scent of old ration packs and sterilized storage units. Good. Better.

No midnight blue stare boring into my soul. No heat curling low in my belly like a living thing. No dangerous voice that made my skin remember every inch he touched; every place his hands had branded me.

Just me. And my very, very bad decisions.

And the crystal burning a hole in my jacket pocket, reminding me why I couldn’t afford distractions.

I slumped against the wall, letting my head fall back with a quiet thud. The cold metal seeped through my clothes, grounding me. Reminding me what was real.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

None of this was part of the plan.

He was a Protectorate warrior. Dangerous. Determined. Every look, every touch, every moment of understanding chipped away at walls I’d spent years building.

The kiss wasn’t about attraction. It wasn’t about lust. Not entirely.

It was panic. Desperation.

A crack in the armor I’d kept sealed for too long.

The moment when walking away became harder than staying.

But that didn’t change what it had felt like.

The press of his mouth, firm but gentle in a way that stirred emotions I wasn’t ready to confront.

The steady heat of his body, solid and real when everything else in my life felt like shifting sand.

The way I’d melted like I’d been holding my breath for years, and he was the only air left in the galaxy.

Like every defense I’d built meant nothing against the way he looked at me.

I dragged a hand over my face, feeling the heat in my cheeks, the tremor in my fingers.

There was no space for this. No space for him.

No room for the way my body still hummed with awareness, like it had been rewired to respond to his presence alone.

Not when Vask was still out there, probably already tracking us. Not with the crystal in my jacket holding the power to burn an empire to ash. Reminding me of everything I stood to lose. Of everyone I could get killed if I let myself be distracted.

I was already in too deep.

Too close to something I couldn’t have.

Too close to someone who made me want to stop running.

I pushed off the wall, standing straight. Forced my spine to stiffen, my shoulders to square. Tried to steel myself against the memory of his hands, his mouth, the way he’d looked at me like I was something worth keeping.

“Get it together, Nyla.”

I meant it as a command.

But my voice cracked.

Betraying every emotion I was trying to bury.

Because if Zayrik touched me again—

If he looked at me with those eyes that saw too much—

I didn’t know if I’d stop him.

And worse?

I didn’t want to.

The crystal served as a constant reminder of why I couldn’t afford to lose focus. Of why kissing Zayrik had been more than just a mistake.... it had been dangerous. For both of us.

Because Vask wouldn’t just kill me when he found me. He’d destroy anything.... Anyone I cared about, first. That’s who he was. What he did.

And now I’d given him another target.

I pressed my palm flat against the cold wall of the supply room, trying to ground myself. Trying not to remember how easily Zayrik had seen through my defenses. How he’d known about Vask before I’d told him, had been hunting him too.

That should have made it easier.

Should have made it safer.

Instead, it made everything more complicated.

Because now when I looked at him, I didn’t just see a Protectorate warrior who could either help me or turn me in. I saw someone who understood.

Someone I could get killed.

Zep chirped again, softer this time. Concerned.

“I’m fine,” I whispered, but the words felt hollow.

Because I wasn’t fine. I was terrified. Not of Vask, not entirely. But of the way Zayrik made me feel. Of how badly I wanted to trust him. To let him in.

My hand found the crystal in my jacket. A reminder of everything at stake. Of why I couldn’t afford to let anyone close enough to matter.

But it was too late for that.

Because Zayrik already mattered.

And that kiss had only proved what I’d been trying to deny.

I pushed away from the wall, squaring my shoulders. I had to focus. Had to remember why I was here. What I was fighting for.

The crystal could bring down Vask’s entire operation. Could stop him from destroying more lives, more families. More futures.

I couldn’t let one kiss—one moment of weakness—jeopardize that.

Even if part of me wanted nothing more than to go back to that cargo hold. To feel his hands on my skin again. To pretend, just for a moment, that I could have both: the mission and him.

But I couldn’t.

And the sooner I accepted that, the better.