17. Rath

The burning in my chest felt like I’d swallowed a piece of the lava that runs through this cursed planet. It wasn’t the ache of a battle wound, or the sharp stab of betrayal. No, this was different.

Fucked up, even by my standards.

It clawed, not at my flesh, but at the very core of me, a hollow ache that echoed, a desperate need that whispered, her .

I could still taste the subtle sweetness in the air, faint but undeniable. The scent I had caught in the battle against those damned kervash , now tinged with something else.

It wasn't just a scent. It was an invasion that was tearing through my carefully constructed wall of self-control. My internal fires seemed to burn hotter, threatening to set my ruby scales ablaze. I had left, stomped through protocol and practically begged information from healers like a fledgling but got nothing. Then I'd snarled and still got nothing, but she was there.

I knew it in my blood.

My claws scraped against the stone walls as I pushed open the oversized door of the healer’s cavern. It was always too bright in there, the heat crystals pulsating an irritating light that made my scales itch. The scent of crushed herbs and scented oils filled my nostrils, a sickly sweet smell that normally did nothing, but now, it was layered with something else, her scent that I had tracked through the air, even faint.

My wings twitched with an energy I couldn't place—part anticipation, part rage at the waiting.

“Rath!” The sharp voice of the Mysha cut through the thick air. Her golden scales flickered as she turned, her yellow slit pupils narrowed in annoyance. She was old, ancient even, her voice edged with an authority that only age and skill could grant. Most of my warriors flinched under her gaze.

Even I felt a prickle of unease.

“What in the twin suns do you think you’re doing? This is a place of healing, not the war council.” Her tone was clipped, practical. She never failed to remind me I was a walking, breathing inferno.

“I need to see the humans.” My tone was low, a rumble in my chest. My need to get closer to her burned so hot that I only managed to maintain a modicum of civility.

She huffed, a sound like pressurized steam venting. "For what purpose? They are all various levels of heat sick and need to recover."

“It's important. Council business.” I was on the war council. It was my business. A technical truth, but the words felt like lies. “One of them had purple in her hair.”

Mysha's head tilted back, amusement flickered inside her dark eyes, as though I had just told a rather poor joke. “They are half-dead from the heat and covered in enough dust and sand to choke a dranith .” She gestured with a clawed hand towards the rows of beds carved into the rock walls, each occupied by a listless human. “None of them is in any shape to speak to the council. They are being medically contained.”

My claws tightened. I wanted to roar my frustration, to demand she bring her forth now. But I held back. Her dismissal stoked the fires in my chest, a constant burning that threatened to burst out, not that she would care. "I shall decide whether she can speak."

"You will not. Leave, go back to the training grounds, and work your rage out." Her voice was firm, absolute. “You disturb the healing.” She waved her hand as if swatting away an insect.

I fought to contain the roaring in my ears. My wings pushed against the confines of the cavern walls, restless, itching for flight. It was there, faint but unmistakable. Mixed with the sickly herbs and oils, I caught a trace, her aroma. Like a desert flower, sweet, delicate, but with a hint of something wild underneath … mine .

It twisted inside me, an undeniable, visceral pull. It clawed at my throat and settled in my stomach, both painful and enticing, the promise of something more.

I took a step toward the beds, my gaze sweeping over figures hidden under white sheets and only the occasional limb visible, looking for a specific face and scent combination. The scent grew stronger as I moved closer, a magnetic pull. I wanted to touch, to inhale, to press my nose to her skin and confirm what my body told me was true. My fangs tingled, a sensation that ignited a deeper fire inside me, an urge I’d never truly expected to feel.

"Leave this place, Fire Heart.” Her yellow eyes could see my intentions, piercing through my attempts at discretion with a knowing sharpness that bordered on irritation. “I will not let you disturb these patients."

I balled my fist, claws digging into my palm. "You cannot deny me this, elder; I have a right ." The words hissed past my teeth.

“Your right ends where your tantrums begin.” She glared with a look that could burn an entire forest. “If you continue this nonsense, I will summon the guards to escort you out. Consider yourself warned.”

I knew from her tone the threat wasn't idle. She would make good on her word. And I still couldn't see. I took a deep breath. It was not worth an all-out battle. I had to be smart. Patient. She was my mate. If the bond was what I felt, then she was more important than anything. "Fine," I ground out, "but I'll be back."

Once in the open air, I finally felt the flames inside me simmering down. I needed to think. The sky was ablaze, Volcaryth’s twin suns a painful reminder of the heat that had nearly killed her . I couldn't stand the thought of that happening again.

Mate .

The word echoed in my mind. This wasn't some fleeting desire. This was a bond, a connection that defied logic and tradition. My heart thrummed in my chest as I let the weight of the situation settle upon me.

A human … How could I possibly …

Doubt twisted around my heart, a snake trying to kill my future. What if the connection was false? What if she found me repulsive? What if she didn't want me? Despite all my rage and power, the thought made me flinch.

I was Rath Flame Heart. I commanded legions; I had faced down the greatest warriors of our time; I was the fire in our clan, yet the possibility of her rejection was more terrifying than anything. The uncertainty made me want to roar, to shake the world until reality shifted.

I pushed past the fear, the self-doubt, the uncertainty. My scales glinted as my wings snapped open, and I took to the sky, ready and determined. The ground rushed away under me as my muscles worked, propelling me upward. A plan was forming.

I needed to see her, to touch her, to mark her as mine. And nothing—especially not a stubborn old healer—would stop me .

My roar echoed through the air, a promise written in flames.