6. Terra

SIX

TERRA

After five freaking days of captivity that was unlike anything I'd ever encountered, I was going crazy. Darrokar kept me in his rooms. He fed me, sometimes by hand , and looked at me with desire clear enough to cross the galactic boundary of our species.

But he didn't try to touch me.

The bar was so low if I was thankful my alien captor wasn't a rapist.

I needed to get out of his rooms and do something . And, finally, the opportunity presented itself when Darrokar was called away by one of his men in a flurry of wings and weapons. It didn't look like he'd be back soon.

I’d been in plenty of hostile environments in my time. Cities brought to ruin by coordinated strikes. Desert strongholds besieged by the enemy. Forests turned death traps by insurgents who knew the terrain better than they knew their own names.

But Scalvaris? This place was something else entirely.

It wasn’t just the eerie beauty of it that unsettled me—or the fact that it was alien in every conceivable way. It was the pulse of the place, the way the underground river moved with purpose, the jagged obsidian towers looming like silent sentries, the faint vibration underfoot that hummed with a life of its own. The city wasn’t just alive; it was watching.

So was he.

Even with Darrokar gone, I felt him everywhere. In the heavy air, the flicker of heat crystals set into the walls, the faint scent of something smoky and dark that clung to my skin after we’d shared that damned bath days ago. Distraction was a luxury I couldn’t afford, and yet, there he was, burrowed under my skin.

I shook the thought loose, tightening the sash of the thin, draping garment Darrokar had left for me in the wardrobe. It felt too delicate on my skin, like I ought to be lounging in a palace and being hand fed grapes rather than skulking through this fortress of stone. The fabric shifted with every movement, whispering against my legs in infuriating contrast to the thick combat gear I was used to. But there wasn’t time to curse my outfit.

I had a team to find.

Slipping out of Darrokar’s private quarters had been easier than expected, though the tendrils of unease in the back of my mind warned me not to trust that. Doorways gave way to dark passageways, and I clung to those shadows like a thief, moving soundlessly as I’d been trained to do.

This wasn’t just about survival. This was about Hawk, Kira, and the rest of the women who had trusted me with their lives. I hadn’t heard from them since Darrokar dragged me into his world. Were they even alive?

I swallowed that thought before it could take root.

My boots—dry now, thankfully, after my stunt in the bath—muffled against the stone floor as I moved. Scalvaris unfolded around me, a labyrinth of volcanic beauty and alien architecture, no corner of it offering even the faintest illusion of safety.

The corridors opened onto a busy thoroughfare. Drakarn guards with pierced wings and painted claws stalked the perimeters while warriors sparred in open courtyards. Merchants bartered and bickered under glowing banners of some strange kind of fabric that shimmered like the skin of an oil slick. The air was thick—hot and metallic, tinged with the scent of scorched earth and something faintly sweet that might’ve been food.

I slipped into the crowd, keeping my head low and shoulders square, projecting an air of purpose. If you looked like you belonged somewhere, you could avoid most questions. It was a trick that worked for just about any Earth city. Alien strongholds, though? I had to hope it was a universal concept.

The Drakarn were taller than me—and broader—and their movements carried an innate predatory grace. I avoided their gazes as best I could, though I sensed the curiosity trailing me like a weighted cloak. No matter how I acted, I didn't look like I belonged.

Human female.

Alien.

I clenched my jaw against the wave of unease that followed.

Focus, Terra. Find your team.

I wasn't sure what we were going to do after that. It wasn't like we could repair our ship and go home, but I refused to remain a prisoner if there was anything I could do to fight back.

The buzz of voices around me rose and fell in smooth rhythmic tones, words trading quick ownership between merchants and customers, guards and warriors, but the meaning filtered into my understanding with startling clarity. It was almost scary how smoothly my translator worked.

“What's that thing?” a rough voice murmured nearby, low but sharp enough to cut through my thoughts.

I shifted subtly to glance at the source: two Drakarn warriors standing at a corner, their wings partially unfurled as though asserting dominance even in casual conversation. One of them tilted his head my way, just slightly, and I cursed silently.

“I've never seen anything like it,” his companion said. “Who captured her? She isn't marked.” There was an undertone of satisfaction that shot ice up my spine.

Just as the first warrior’s eyes met mine, I stepped behind a passing merchant cart loaded with cloths and tools. Remain calm. Keep moving.

I ducked down an adjoining path, the atmosphere darkening with every step. The path sloped downward, leading me into a narrower corridor lit only by faint, intermittent glows from embedded crystals high above.

The din of the thoroughfare softened into echoes, each step magnified in the enclosing walls. A mistake. I knew it almost immediately. I should’ve stayed in the open, however dangerous, rather than isolate myself in this predator’s tunnel where sound carried but there was no easy road to escape if I was cornered.

A second footfall—definitely not mine—echoed faintly behind me.

I didn’t react, forcing my heartbeat to steady even as adrenaline spiked painfully through my veins. Years of training distilled into each step, light and deliberate, drawing him closer without betraying my awareness.

If you run, you’ll be prey.

The sound of claws scraping lightly against stone rippled down my spine. Guttural laughter followed, bouncing off the walls around me—a low, sinister chuckle that spoke of confidence, power, and the kind of cruelty that was clear despite the galactic distance.

I pivoted sharply, my fists already curling as I planted my feet. The Drakarn male—a hulking figure with slate-gray scales streaked in gold and crimson—saw my movement and paused just long enough to flash a smile that showed too many rows of jagged teeth.

“You shouldn’t roam alone, little one,” he said, his words rolling over me. The confidence in his tone made my skin prickle.

I straightened, letting my stance widen slightly. “I don't want trouble,” I said, as if this were home; as if he could understand me.

The amusement in his gaze deepened. He unfurled his wings slowly, the leathery expanse brushing faintly against the walls of the corridor. “It gibbers.” He stalked closer, each step deliberate. “You've strayed far, creature. Mine to take.”

Take. The word hung in the air between us.

He lunged.

I pivoted on instinct, the move fast and sharp enough to sidestep him as his claws sliced through empty air. My fist shot out—fast and unforgiving—and collided with the side of his jaw. His scales absorbed the blow with far less impact than I hoped, but it was enough to stagger him for half a second.

Damn, that hurt my hand.

I couldn’t hesitate. My heel slammed into the side of his knee, forcing his weight down, and I darted backward, aiming for distance.

He recovered too quickly. Wings moving like weapons in their own right, folding toward me as he surged upward in a flurry of movement. His claws caught the edge of my garment, tearing fabric as I twisted out of his grasp.

There was no way I could outmatch him in terms of strength. I had to be faster, smarter. My body moved on autopilot, muscle memory from years of training guiding me as I rolled beneath his second strike, the heat of his breath brushing my shoulder as I narrowly avoided his grip.

Pivot. Duck. Strike.

But his relentless speed sliced away any advantage I might have found. The narrow corridor funneled his larger frame directly toward me. He was built for this—pure, unyielding, ruthless. His claws slashed the air where I’d just been, close enough to stir the fine hairs on the back of my neck. I twisted away, only to have his tail snap outward, knocking my legs from under me. I hit the ground hard, air forced from my lungs in a sharp gasp.

Before I could recover, he was on me.

“So sweet, little morsel,” he snarled, his voice as heavy and cloying as the heat pressing down on us. His claws dug into the stone on either side of me, trapping me between him and the coarse ground. His wings arched wide, cutting off the faint light above, bathing us both in shadow. “And I’ll enjoy every?—”

I bucked upward, slamming my knee into his side. It wasn’t much, but it made him grunt and shift his weight just enough for me to twist free—almost. His claws snatched at my wrist, his grip unrelenting as I struggled to wrench myself loose. I lashed out with my free hand, drove the edge of my palm toward his jaw, but he dodged it, the motion fluid, snake-like.

“Clever,” he rumbled, flicking my arm aside with a calculated twist. He moved in a blur, pinning both of my wrists above my head in a vice grip that made my fingers go numb. With one hand, he immobilized me completely, his other trailing the torn edge of my garment. “But clever won’t save you.”

I thrashed against him, my breathing ragged as I pushed against his hold, but his strength was absolute, each attempt to get free like throwing myself against a wall of volcanic rock. Panic threatened to bubble to the surface, but I shoved it down, my mind racing for an opening.

He lowered his face toward mine, his fangs glinting faintly in the dim light. His breath was hot against my cheek, carrying the metallic tang of battle. “So fragile,” he murmured, as though the revelation mystified him. His claws flexed slightly around my wrists, his intent a dark, coiling promise. “And yet your fire … in toxicating.”

Every nerve in my body screamed for action—for escape—but I was out of options. My muscles strained against the weight of him, fury and desperation coursing through me like a fever. His golden eyes glimmered with cruel amusement, drunk with the power imbalance.

“You will yield,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper, low and insidious.

“No,” I spat, defiance laced into every fiber of my being. I didn’t care if I couldn’t win—I refused to let this bastard think he could break me. My teeth clenched in determination as I drove my knee into his stomach again. This time, he caught it with his own thigh, absorbing the impact fully. Shit.

He chuckled low, the sound vibrating through my bones. “Fight all you like, little one?—”

His words ended in a choked gasp as something massive collided with him from above—a blur of obsidian scales and crimson eyes.

Darrokar.