Page 26 of Zayrik (The Protectorate Warriors Alien Fated Mates #6)

Nyla

THE ROOM CAL GAVE US wasn’t much. Bare walls, stiff bedding, dim lighting that buzzed slightly when you looked at it too long.

But it had a door that locked and enough quiet to pretend the galaxy wasn’t burning for a few hours.

After so long running, even this felt like luxury. Like something I shouldn’t trust.

I dropped onto the edge of the bed, boots still on, mind still racing.

The mattress creaked beneath me, a sound that reminded me I wasn’t alone anymore.

Across the room, Zayrik was quiet. He hadn’t said much since Cal left to “find us a ship”—which we both knew meant “dig for intel.” But his presence filled the space in ways that made it hard to breathe. Hard to think.

Zep fluttered down from the top shelf and curled beside me. For once, he didn’t hiss or chirp. He just... settled. Like he knew we needed this moment of peace. This pretense of normal.

Zayrik crossed the room, handing me a sealed container. Proper food. Not rations. The simple act of him bringing me food loosened a knot I hadn’t noticed until it was gone.

How long had it been since anyone had taken care of me like this?

“Cal said it’s... stew?” he offered, like it might bite. His voice carried that dry humor I was starting to crave.

I popped the lid and blinked at the contents. “Smells like something that used to be alive.”

“High praise.”

We sat on the creaking floorboards, backs to the wall, balancing our bowls precariously on our knees as we ate.

It wasn’t comfortable, but it was something close to.

.. normal. Something I’d forgotten how to want until now.

Our shoulders barely touched, but each point of contact sent awareness dancing across my skin.

For a while, we didn’t talk.

Just existed in this moment of almost-peace.

Together.

Then, quiet, the words slipping out before I could stop them:

“You ever think about what you’d be doing if none of this happened?” I asked. If we hadn’t crashed into each other’s lives. If everything hadn’t changed.

Zayrik didn’t answer right away. When he did, his voice was low, thoughtful in a way that made me want to lean closer. To understand everything about him.

“I used to. Not lately.”

I nudged him with my foot, trying to lighten the moment before it got too real. Before I admitted how much I thought about him. About us. “Come on. No secret dream career if you’d never joined the Protectorate?”

He smirked, and the expression did things to my pulse I didn’t want to examine. “What, like a baker?”

“Sure. I can see it. Warrior-turned-pastry-chef.” The image made me smile unexpectedly. Like something uncoiled in me before I could stop it.

He chuckled softly. “Maybe.”

The sound wrapped around me like a caress. Like something I could get addicted to if I wasn’t careful.

There was a beat of silence. The kind that felt different from the ones before. The kind that made me want to confess things I’d never told anyone.

“I think about it,” I said, the words feeling vulnerable.

He looked at me. Waited. Patient in a way that undid me more than any pressure could have.

“I don’t know what I’d be doing,” I admitted, staring into my bowl to avoid his eyes. “But... sometimes I think I’d still be flying. Just without someone trying to kill me every other rotation.” Without having to look over my shoulder. Without being afraid to want things. To want this .

His expression shifted, so subtle most people would miss it. I didn’t. Couldn’t. Not when I’d memorized every micro-expression, every tell.

“You could still have that,” he said, voice rough with something that made my skin tingle.

I shook my head, fighting the hope his words tried to kindle. “You don’t believe that.”

“I do.”

“Even with a bounty on my head and Vask breathing down my neck?”

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away. “Especially then.”

I stared at him, heart thudding against my ribs. The way he looked at me like he saw possibility where I only saw survival, made it hard to breathe. “Why does it matter to you?”

HE SET HIS BOWL DOWN . Looked straight at me with those impossible eyes that saw too much. That made me want to hide and be seen all at once.

“Because you don’t give up,” he said, voice low and certain. “Even when it’s stupid. Even when you should. Even when everything tells you to run.” The words carried meaning beyond just survival.

“You say that like it’s a compliment.” Like stubbornness was something to admire. Like my inability to stop fighting wasn’t going to get us both killed.

“It is.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. To the way he made weakness sound like strength. To how he saw right through every wall I’d built. So, I said nothing.

After a minute, I stood and carried the empty bowls to the room’s makeshift wash station. Needed space. Needed to breathe. Needed to remember why getting closer was dangerous.

He followed. His shadow slid up beside mine on the wall. Closer than breath, without ever touching. The heat of him made every nerve ending spark with awareness.

“Don’t,” I said, not turning around. Not trusting myself to look at him.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t look at me like that.” Like I’m worth saving. Worth staying for.

“I’m not—”

“You are,” I snapped. Then softer, vulnerable in ways I hadn’t allowed myself to be in years, “Like you see something in me I don’t.”

I heard him exhale. Felt the heat of him behind me without him taking a step. The air between us charged with everything we weren’t saying.

“You’re wrong,” he said quietly. The words ghosted across my neck, making me shiver.

I turned, finally. Unable to resist anymore. “About what?”

“I don’t see something in you,” he said, and for a moment my heart stopped. “I see everything .”

The words hit too deep. Slammed into places I didn’t let anyone touch. I hated him for it, for peeling me open without asking. For making me want.

For seeing through every defense. For making me want things I couldn’t have. I wanted to kiss him again. Wanted to believe what I saw in his eyes. But I didn’t trust it. Not yet.

All I said was, “This is a bad idea.” My voice shook, betraying everything I tried to hide.

“I know.” He didn’t take a step, but the heat of him seemed to fill every corner of the small room.

“It’ll make everything harder.” Running. Fighting. Surviving. Living.

“I know.” Certainty shone in his eyes. He looked at me as if I was worth taking a chance on.

My gaze was fixed on him. I memorized the way he looked in this moment, when everything balanced on a knife’s edge. “Say something stupid and noble and make me walk away.” Please. Before I forget how to do the one thing that’s always kept me alive.

He didn’t.

Wouldn’t give me the excuse I needed.

Instead, he reached out slowly, and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers brushed my skin, and my breath hitched. Such a simple touch, but it felt like falling.

Like flying.

Like finding home in the middle of a war zone.

His voice was a murmur, rough with emotion that matched the storm inside me. “I’m not here to stop you from surviving, Nyla. I’m just here to survive with you.”

That was it.

That was the moment everything changed.

The moment I stopped running.

Not because I wasn’t scared anymore.

But because for the first time, being scared felt worth it.

The words hung between us, “I’m just here to survive with you,” changing everything and nothing all at once. Making promises neither of us had planned on keeping. Making futures neither of us had dared to want feel possible.

I didn’t run.

Didn’t move.

Just stood there, letting his words sink into places I’d kept locked for too long.

But even as something in me reached for him, old instincts died hard.

Old fears whispered louder.

And he saw it all.