Page 35 of Zayrik (The Protectorate Warriors Alien Fated Mates #6)

Nyla

VASK EXHALED, TAPPING the rod against his palm.

Waiting. Watching.

Like a predator savoring the moment before the kill.

Each tap echoing through my battered body.

He thought I’d break.

Thought I’d beg.

He had no idea why I was fighting.

Or who I was willing to bleed for.

I gritted my teeth, lifted my chin.

Through our bond, I felt Zayrik’s presence. Distant but burning bright. Coming closer.

And I spat blood onto Vask’s boots.

A final act of defiance.

A message in red.

It was quiet.

Like the moment before an explosion.

Vask stared down at the red splatter against the polished leather.

Then, with deliberate slowness, he raised his gaze.

Almost... impressed.

He smiled then, his sharp teeth flashing.

He swung the rod one last time.

Pain.

Electric fire ripping through every nerve, down to the marrow of my bones.

Like it wanted to burn me out from the inside.

Somewhere beneath the burn, I thought I felt him.

Zayrik. His fury pulsing through our bond like a war cry.

But maybe that was just the pain talking.

Maybe that was just hope refusing to die.

The sound of my own ragged breath, a broken thing.

Each inhale carrying copper and smoke and determination.

Each exhale a promise to survive.

To return.

To him.

Vask’s voice, was smooth and amused. Like this was entertainment. And my pain was just another form of profit. “Still holding on?”

I sucked in a breath, the metallic taste of copper filling my mouth.

Didn’t answer. Refused to beg. Unwilling to break. I Wouldn’t give Vask the satisfaction. Wouldn’t let Zayrik feel me give in.

Zep didn’t make a sound. I prayed that meant he was still breathing.

Not just lying there watching me break.

Watching me burn.

My brave, loyal friend.

Another reason to endure.

Vask studied me. Then he slowly turned away. Not leaving. Not done.

Just... changing tactics.

He acted like he had all the time in the galaxy.

Like he couldn’t feel death approaching.

I braced.

Not because I thought I could handle it. But because I knew I had no choice.

Because somewhere through our bond, I felt Zayrik coming.

His rage was brewing like a gathering storm.

The last thing I heard?

The hum of the shock rod.

Nightmares made real. A lullaby of violence.

Then came pain.

Blinding. Burning. Endless.

Breaking through every wall I’d built.

Tearing through our bond like lightning.

Next... Vask picked me up by the throat as my vision faded to nothing.

But in that nothing, just before consciousness fled:

A promise.

A presence.

A fury wrapped in midnight blue eyes.

Coming for me.

Coming to end this.