Page 7 of Zayrik (The Protectorate Warriors Alien Fated Mates #6)

Zayrik

WHEN EVERYTHING WENT a little too quiet, I went looking for Nyla. I found her asleep on one of the bunks.

I knew exhaustion when I saw it.

Knew what it looked like when someone kept themselves upright through sheer force of will.

I ought to have counted that as a win. One less thing to argue about.

But something about it sat wrong.

Nyla wasn’t the type to let her guard down.

Yet there she was, curled up, her pet menace pressed against her chest.

Zep twitched his ears but didn’t move, watching me through half-lidded eyes. Like he was still deciding whether I was worth trusting.

I exhaled, leaning against the doorway for ages.

The ship’s logs were still running in the back of my mind.

Something was off. Not just about the ship, but about her .

And I had the feeling she wasn’t going to reveal what.

Zep was staring at me again.

Perched like some smug little sentinel next to Nyla, he hadn’t blinked in what felt like an hour. Every time I moved, his tail twitched like he was calculating the trajectory of his next face-clawing assault.

“You know I’m not the enemy, right?” I asked, voice low.

The creature blinked once. Twitched his ear. Did not look convinced.

I sighed and turned to go back to the cockpit to check the latest system diagnostics. The ship was still limping, but we weren’t actively dying. Yet.

Behind me, a soft sound, a sigh echoed from the bunk. I glanced back.

Nyla hadn’t moved much. She was curled on her side, one hand tangled in the folds of her jacket, breathing slow. Her pulse was steady, but her face was tight. Like even in sleep, she didn’t feel safe.

Zep made a low chuff, and nosed at her jacket. Then settled beside her again, wings folded tight, body tense.

“Yeah,” I muttered, “I know the feeling.”

I stood there longer than I meant to, just... watching her.

There was a faint bruise along her jaw I hadn’t noticed before. Her fingers twitched in her sleep. Dreams, maybe. Bad ones.

I didn’t mean to take a step closer. Didn’t mean to kneel beside the bunk or reach out.

But I did.

I didn’t touch her, just adjusted the blanket she’d kicked halfway off, tucking it back over her shoulders. My fingers hovered for a second near her arm, close enough to feel her warmth.

Something inside me eased. Just a little.

And that’s when I felt it.

A soft nudge against my wrist.

I looked down. Zep was watching me, head tilted, those glowing little eyes no longer suspicious, but curious.

His tail flicked once. Then, slowly.... so slowly, I felt him press his head against my hand.

Not attacking.

Not warning me off.

Just... accepting me. For now.

I froze, unsure what to do. Eventually, I moved my hand, carefully brushing it along the top of his head.

He made a low trill. Almost approving.

“I take it this means I’m not getting my face clawed off today,” I whispered.

Zep blinked at me. Then curled tighter against Nyla’s chest and closed his eyes.

I stood there for a long while, watching over them both. No orders. No mission. Just... a ship, a sleeping thief, and the tiniest guardian who’d just let me in.

It felt like a start.

I LET THE COCKPIT DOOR slide shut behind me, exhaling. Almost two days. That’s how long until we reached the nearest outpost.

That’s how long I had to figure out why the hell this female was lying to me.

She was good at it. Most people fumbled when they lied. Their hands twitched. Their gaze flicked too fast. Their voices betrayed them.

Not Nyla.

She was controlled. Every reaction carefully calculated.

Except for the moments she slipped.

And those?

Those were telling.

I rolled my shoulder, trying to ignore the persistent warmth of my markings spreading beneath my skin. The timing was impossible. Inconvenient.

Because my parents weren’t fated mates, I never learned about Alaran mating marks. I had a human mother, and my father never discussed the subtle etchings on his skin. Maybe he’d preferred my mother remained unaware.

My upbringing on an Alliance planet didn’t provide opportunities to learn about my Alaran heritage.

My time with the Protectorate brought stories of Alaran males finding their fated mates.

K’sha. The word echoed in my mind unbidden.

I pushed it away.

My hand carded through my hair.

I flexed my fingers against the console. Then pulled up the ship’s full directory , letting my eyes skim over the logs again.

None of this was sitting right. The human who lost the ship? He was scared. Not of me.

Not of losing a bet.

Of this ship .

I didn’t like how Nyla watched the time stamps on our course. I knew she’d probably run the second we hit the outpost.

I didn’t like how she barely reacted when I mentioned we were running on damaged engines.

And I really didn’t like how much I wanted to figure her out.

Or how her eyes had darkened when I stepped closer. How she hadn’t backed away.

I dragged a hand down my face. This wasn’t professional. This wasn’t even rational.

The corner of the holo screen flickered—subtle, almost imperceptible. But I knew that glow.

Nav.

Watching. Listening. Probably tracking my eye movements for statistical amusement.

“I think you like a challenge, Captain.”

I scowled. “I think you talk too much.”

“I merely observe patterns. The way your voice changes in Nyla’s presence suggests—”

“That’s enough,” I cut him off.

Nav didn’t reply. But the silence felt smug. Like he was grinning behind the code.

I tapped a sequence into the panel, pulling up the ship’s previous registrations.

My eyes narrowed. “Nav?”

“Yes, Captain?”

“Run a deep scan on this ship. I want to know every place it’s been flagged.”

“Ooh. Suspicious. I like it.”

“ Now , Nav.”

“Already on it.”

“Also, cross-reference with any data on major crime syndicates in this quadrant.”

There was a brief pause. “Looking for someone specific?”

I hesitated. “Maybe. Vask.”

“The crime lord? My, you do aim high.”

I ran a hand through my hair. My classified Protectorate mission had been to gather intel on Vask’s network. A mission I’d buried. Thought was done. Until now.

I exhaled, staring at the console.

“And one more thing,” I added. “See if there’s any record of a data crystal that could compromise his organization.”

“Now we’re getting interesting.”

I pushed away from the console, moving to the viewport. Stars streaked by, blurred and distant.

The marks on my arm pulsed. Low and steady, like a drumbeat I couldn’t shut out.

Two days.

Two days, and I’d have my answers.

I’d find out why a female who moved like a trained operative was running with nothing but a tattered jacket, a snippy AI, and a protective winged creature.

I’d discover why she looked at me with equal parts wariness and something else. Something that felt like recognition. Like she saw something in me that even I hadn’t faced yet.

The question was—

Would she still be here when I did?

And why did the thought of her leaving bother me more than it should?