7. Darrokar

SEVEN

DARROKAR

Her scent hit me and everything else—the noise of the city, the heat of the air, the weight of duty—blurred into nothing but static.

Burning, intoxicating, mine .

The metallic tang of fear laced with the innate heat of her essence twisted through the corridor, jolting through my veins like a spark setting dry kindling ablaze. My claws flexed as I swooped down.

Every sense turned razor-sharp, every instinct narrowing down to a singular truth: someone had dared touch what was mine.

The crackle of my wings carried me forward, each beat concise, lethal. I didn’t need to hear the snarl of a rival or the scrape of claws against stone; the bond searing hot in my chest was enough. The scent of her fear pulling me deeper only hardened my resolve.

When I found him, whoever he was, I wouldn’t leave enough of him behind to even be recognized.

The corridor opened below me, narrow and dim, like the throat of a predator swallowing prey. There she was—my woman. My mate. Pinned, pressed beneath the hulking frame of a fool whose arrogance would cost him his life.

The world stilled. Terra's red hair flashed in the dull glow of the crystals above, her eyes burning with anger even as her frame strained against the brute’s grip. The torn fabric of her robe clung to her curves, a delicate temptation sharpened by the ferocious will radiating from her battered form. She wasn’t broken.

Even now, caught in a moment where lesser creatures would yield, she fought.

I was moving before thought could catch up. My claws raked across the warrior’s back as I descended. The satisfying crunch of impact and the guttural snarl torn from his throat barely registered—he flew forward and away from her like refuse cast aside. His body slammed into the opposite wall with a force that cracked the stone, but it wasn’t enough .

Not nearly enough.

I was on him before he hit the ground, talons biting into his chest as I drove him down. My tail lashed, the sharp end snapping against him like a whip. His hiss of pain fed the storm inside me, an ember igniting into an unquenchable blaze.

“You touch what is mine,” I growled, every word a vow of retribution. “You dare lay your filthy hands on her?”

The coward sputtered nonsense, claws scrambling at my grip, but he was drowning in the tide of my rage.

I struck him again—a clean, direct blow that shattered his jaw and muffled whatever plea he might’ve been foolish enough to voice. Blood spattered hot across the corridor floor, and still, he fought weakly against me, wings flapping once before falling limp.

More. The burning ran deeper than anger, deeper than instinct. This wasn’t just about the affront to me—it was the threat to her. My mate. The risk he'd dared to take, the harm she might've suffered, and worse, the damage he'd already dealt, all fueled the fire ravaging me.

The tip of my claw trailed the hollow of his throat, and for a fraction of a moment, I weighed the balance of his life. It would be so easy—just a flick of my wrist, a casual slice, and any insult he’d ever dared breathe would vanish in the pool of his own lifeblood.

“Darrokar.”

The steady voice was ice over flame.

I stiffened, my head snapping up. Rath stood at the end of the corridor, his ruby-red scales darkened by the dim light, his golden eyes steady and unfaltering in their appraisal.

“Enough,” he said, his voice low, firm. “You’re not a feral beast to fight over scraps.”

Scraps ?

I let out a snarl that vibrated through the floor beneath us. But behind the instinctual anger was the truth of his words cutting deep.

I shouldn’t be standing over this pathetic excuse for a warrior like an enraged adolescent. Every action, every blow, every breath I took had repercussions—ones that extended far beyond my own satisfaction. Rath was not just one of my trusted lieutenants; he was one of the few who dared speak sense to me when I needed it most.

Sucking in a breath, I reined in the fire still snarling at the edges of my control. My claws retracted slowly, the scent of blood cooling .

But it wasn’t over.

I snarled down at the crumpled pile beneath me. “You’ll answer for this.” The threat in my tone was marked not by an immediate promise of death, but by something colder—and far worse.

I straightened, chest heaving, and turned toward her.

Terra.

Her name branded itself in my mind even before my eyes found hers. She was on her feet now, leaning slightly against the wall for balance, but her stance was still as strong as before. Despite the reddening mark on her wrist, the tear in her robe, the undeniable evidence of her struggle, she didn’t cower.

Her eyes blazed, filled with an emotion I couldn’t quite place—fear? Fury? Something else entirely?

I closed the distance between us in two strides, folding my wings tight to keep from brushing against the jagged walls. My shadow spilled across her as I approached, and some treacherous part of me … paused.

What would I find? Gratitude? Hatred?

The beast inside me wanted her caged against my chest, nestled beneath my wings, breathing my scent until she knew without doubt that I would annihilate anyone who dared come near her. The man within me—the leader, the lord—hesitated. The expression in her eyes didn’t have a hint of submission.

It never had, not from the moment we’d first locked gazes back on the surface.

“Are you hurt?” The question left my lips before I’d meant it to, edged with more anger than worry. Not at her—at myself, for failing to stop this. She was still grasping my language, but she was learning almost unnaturally quickly. Perhaps a quirk of her alien species.

Her chin lifted. “Sivanae.” I'm fine.

Spirit.

Heat roared to life beneath my scales once more, but this time, it wasn’t anger. My claws curled slightly, the urge to soothe her quieting the violent edge lingering in my veins. I studied her wrist and stepped closer, my fingers grazing the images already burned into my mind—scents, textures, the heat that pulsed just below the surface of her human skin.

She didn’t pull away. Didn’t flinch. If anything, the awareness crackling between us deepened.

If Rath wasn't still somewhere nearby, I'd be tempted to take her against the stone wall.

“You shouldn’t have left my quarters,” I said, my voice low, restrained .

She arched a brow and opened her mouth, sucking in a breath. But she closed her lips and let the breath out without saying a word.

The tension between us was a living thing. Her gaze didn’t waver, defiant even in the face of the heat building between us.

My fangs ached again, my wings radiated heat from unused energy, and most unsettling of all, I could feel her— truly feel her—in a way that went beyond the physical. It was as if her bravery, her fire, was threading itself into me, entwining with instincts I’d thought I could control.

She wasn’t just a flame; she was an inferno, and I wanted to be consumed.

But now was not the time.

“Rath,” I growled without turning away from her. My voice carried through the corridor, echoing with the sliver of authority I’d fought to recapture after my outburst. “Take care of him.”

Rath stepped forward, his heavy claws clicking against the stone. The glow of his pupils shifted toward the crumpled warrior still struggling to rise from the floor. Rath didn’t need to say anything. His gaze alone promised the kind of reckoning that would leave both scars and stories.

The injured male coughed, blood speckling his lips, and attempted to spit out a few words. Whatever pathetic excuse or plea he hoped to offer never left his mouth. Rath seized him by the arm, wrenching him upright with a strength that belied his calm demeanor.

“Your orders?” Rath asked me, his tone neutral, but his eyes glinted with the expectation of blood.

“Banishment,” I said, the words clipped, deliberate. I would have flayed the skin from his bones for what he tried, but Rath was right. We had rules here. Laws. And I had my duty. "If he sets foot here again, his life is forfeit."

Rath nodded once. He knew as well as I did that this couldn’t be about my personal vengeance or the insult to Terra—this had to be about Scalvaris, the council, the laws that bound us.

Still, the beast inside me seethed, unhappy to let the matter go so easily.

Rath dragged the warrior down the corridor, his claws digging into his captive’s shoulder with enough force to make him limp. The sounds of their retreat faded, leaving only the faint vibration of my breathing and the subtle crackle of heat crystals above.

I turned back to Terra.

She stood there, her shoulders squared, her chin tilted up in that infuriatingly stubborn way that made it impossible to look away. Her fire was undimmed, even after what she’d endured. Perhaps even because of it. The faint tear in her robe revealed a sliver of thigh, her skin marred by a scrape that sent a fresh wave of fury surging through me.

My claws flexed involuntarily at my sides, aching for something—someone—to shred, but there was no one left to punish.

Not here. Not now.

She stared up at me, unflinching. She was a strange, fragile-looking creature by Drakarn standards, but in that moment, she felt as indomitable as the crystal peaks of Volcaryth. My mate.

"Why?" I demanded, the single word cutting through the silence like the edge of my blade. My voice came out rough, still jagged with the remnants of my rage. I repeated one of the few words she had learned in my tongue. “Why?”

She folded her arms across her chest, her movements tight and deliberate, as if shielding herself from the weight of my anger. She didn’t answer, not in words.

Instead, she looked past me, her jaw tight, her throat working as she swallowed. Anger flared in me, unbidden and illogical. She wouldn’t even meet my eyes. After all I’d just done—after I’d torn apart that bastard for daring to touch her—she stood there, defiant and distant.

I stepped closer, the heat from my body radiating between us. I wanted her to look at me. Needed it. For all her fire, her courage, her maddening refusal to submit, there was something about her silence that was … unbearable.

I lifted my hand to her cheek, my claws careful not to hurt her delicate skin. She was warm beneath my touch, nothing like the rage simmering in me. She flinched, just barely, but didn’t pull away. That defiance of hers again—burning, stubborn, and maddeningly intoxicating. She hadn't submitted to the bastard who had dared to touch her, and she wouldn’t submit to me, either. Not without a fight.

Good.

“Why?” I repeated, softer this time, but no less demanding. My thumb traced the line of her jaw, brushing against the faint smudge of blood that wasn’t hers. The sight of it made my wings twitch.

My mate—my woman—had been hurt in my city, under my watch. The guilt clawed at me as fiercely as the rage had moments ago.

Her eyes finally snapped to mine, sharp and unrelenting as a blade's edge. She said nothing, but the tension in her posture spoke volumes. She was angry—at me, at this place, at the circumstances that had forced her into this position.

“Do you seek to test me, fierce one?” I asked, my voice low, a dangerous rumble that carried more than a hint of warning. “I’ve already had to restrain myself once today. Do not tempt me to lose control again.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, but I saw the spark in her eyes—the spark that told me she was on the verge of spitting something back at me. She didn’t, though. Instead, she tore her gaze from mine and yanked her arm free of my touch, turning her back to me in a deliberate act of rebellion.

The air between us crackled with tension, thick and suffocating. My claws twitched at my sides, and my wings unfurled slightly, the instinct to dominate, to claim, warring with the rationality that told me not now .

“You think you’re strong enough to walk these halls alone?” I growled, stepping around her to block her path. “You think your ferocity will protect you from men like him?”

Her eyebrows scrunched together, and she opened her mouth again, hesitating over the words. "Warrior. Me. Fight."

It took me a moment to understand, and everything within me rebelled at the thought. I didn't want a weak mate. I'd always assumed my heart would one day belong to another warrior.

But Terra had no claws to slash, no scales to protect her, no wings. She was more helpless than the lowliest servant.

And had a warrior's fire in her heart.

Could I really deny her this?

"You want to fight, luvae?" I let the word slip before I could stop myself. Luvae. Not just "woman." Not just "mine." Something far more intimate. A word reserved for a bond so deep it was carved into a Drakarn's very bones.

A mate. My mate.

Her eyes narrowed, the sharp green of them cutting through the dim light like a blade. She didn’t understand the word fully—she couldn’t. But she recognized the weight of it, the way it lingered between us like the heat hanging in the thick air of Scalvaris.

“I fight,” she said, her voice hard, clipped. She jabbed a finger against her chest, her meaning clear despite the fractured language. “Me. Warrior.”

My wings flared slightly, a reflexive response to her audacity. The fire in her words made my blood simmer, equal parts frustration and something darker, hotter. I stepped closer, towering over her, forcing her to tilt her chin up to meet my gaze.

“You think you understand what it means to be a warrior?” My voice rumbled low, the cavern amplifying the menace woven into my words.

“Training begins tomorrow."