Chapter 3

K axim jolted awake, his heart pounding in his chest, the remnants of the dream clinging to his mind like the morning mist.

The scent of jasmine lingered in the air—her perfume.

Liana .

The Katánian King’s First Armorer, the brooding Sky Ash, the legendary Krypós Gyrfalcon warrior, had never encountered a creature of such magnificence, a being so untamed and wild.

His jaw clenched, and he sat up, pushing a hand over his shorn silver hair.

Since meeting her, his world had upended itself.

The dreams were driving him insane.

They began weeks ago, always taking the same form.

He’d find her soaring the skies, her amber glint, deep copper and gold eyes filled with that knowing look, piercing straight into his soul.

He dove his wings toward her in the vision, but before he reached her, she’d vanish, leaving him needing, keening, longing.

Worse still, they always left him with a pulsating cock, his entire body humming, wanting to consummate the growing lust for a woman he’d met for a fleeting moment.

Kaxim threw himself out of his furs and bed with a growl of frustration.

He charged to the wash area, behind a tent flap of his k?lajan , and hurled a waiting pail of ice-cold water over his sinewed body.

He hissed as its frigid temperature sluiced over him. He gazed down at his throbbing member, choking it to stop it from erupting.

The silver chain hanging from his neck swayed as he did, and his eyes lit up at the unusual pendant.

A single scarlet and copper-burnished quill.

He ran his fingers across the silky feather, which was dry to the touch. Neither water nor dust took hold; it all streamed off.

On occasion, it flared, heating against his skin, in a wild reminder of her .

He cursed, for it did little to cool down his ardor; his erection remained, which only amped up his wrath.

Throwing on his armor, he nabbed his sāb?r sword, thrust it into his side scabbard, and pushed out of his tent into the light.

The camp was alive with metal clashing and orders being shouted, but Kaxim took no notice.

His mind was elsewhere, tangled up in the thoughts of the one woman who plagued him, fokkin’ strung up with need and exasperation.

Kaxim strode through the garrison with long, purposeful steps, his heavy boots kicking up dirt clouds.

His face was set in a deep scowl, his dark eyes brooding under the shadow of his brow, lodestone pulsing. Soldiers around him gave a safe berth, sensing the tension that radiated from their commander.

His broad shoulders hunched as if carrying the weight of the entire planet on them, and his cloak billowed behind him, snapping in the cold morning wind.

Fists flexed at his sides, itching for something to grip, fight, and channel the storm inside him.

The aroma of roasted meat and baked bread filled the air as he approached the kitchen tent, but it did nothing to ease his foul mood.

Within, the servers were bustling, dishing out food to the soldiers lined up for breakfast.

As Kaxim entered, the chatter in the marquee died down, a ripple of nervousness spreading among the attendants.

He had a reputation for a hot temper—especially when he hadn’t eaten.

The culinarian, a stout man with a greasy apron, glanced up from behind a cauldron of stew.

‘Commander,’ the cook greeted, his voice strained, ‘morning meal is ready.’

‘ Sante ,’ Kaxim growled, overcome with impatience.

The server ladled a portion of grain porridge into a wooden bowl. He added a plate of thick-cut bread and a selection of meats, eyes flicking to the General with concern.

Kaxim took the proffered tray without a word, scowling at the food as though it had offended him.

He moved to the farthest corner of the tent and sat down at a rough-hewn table, slamming the vessel onto the surface.

His every movement was sharp and abrupt, as if he was restraining himself from lashing out.

Grabbing a spoon, he stirred the oats absently, glaring at it with the same intensity he reserved for his enemies. His mind, however, wasn’t on the meal—it was still on the kríffin .

He couldn’t get her out of his head, no matter how hard he tried. Each time he closed his eyes, he recalled her face and voice.

This fokkin’ bond he sensed never left him, a constant reminder of their connection, like a chain he couldn’t break.

He cursed under his breath, his grip tightening on the spoon until his knuckles turned white.

Kaxim rubbed a hand over his face, trying to rein in the storm of emotions swirling inside him. He wasn’t used to this—feeling so out of control, so tangled in thoughts of someone else.

The flavor did not register as he shoveled a mouthful of porridge into his mouth.

He had no appetite. Eating was routine, keeping his hands busy and his energy from flagging while his mind churned.

‘Damned khamana íkan ,’ he muttered under his breath, stabbing at the bowl with unnecessary force, cursing.

For some days, he’d wondered why he couldn’t shake her off and realized that his Kaldean magus-powered k?tu essence had somehow fused to the Crimson Phoenix’s own.

An unknown element of spellbinding enchantment was intertwining his and Liana’s souls with a potency that would make it impossible to unravel.

There was only one such name for the powerful, indescribable tethering magic.

Khamana .

That which could not be broken, for eternity.

In the rare circumstances in which it occurred, the soul link was meant to be a gift from the sky gods, but to Kaxim, it was a curse.

The thought darkened his mood even more, and his appetite vanished. He sat there, brooding over his unfinished breakfast, a heavy weight pressing on his chest.

He knew he needed to compose his fokkin’ ass and focus on the training schedules and mentoring his kízíndunas . As well as his responsibilities as Commander. Still, her presence loomed over him like a shadow he couldn’t escape.

He growled under his breath, pushing the bowl aside.

The khamana soul bond is going to be my death, Kaxim thought. It had tied them together in a way that defied reason and was maddening. He didn’t want this.

He didn’t want to want her.

At least, that’s what he kept telling himself, repeating the phrase as he rose to stomp through the drill grounds, still brooding.

His soldiers were already exercising in the camp’s central practice area, their swords clashing against each other in the crisp morning air.

Kaxim joined them, his moves jerky and out of rhythm, trying to immerse himself in the fight’s cadence.

But every time his blade clashed with another, he couldn’t stop imagining her face, how she’d looked at him when they’d first met, with wildfire in her eyes.

One that ignited him to the core, setting him ablaze, all the way to his perfidious cock.

His thoughts strayed, and he cursed when his trainee lunged and tapped his chest, whooping at his win against the Commander.

Kaxim jerked his chin and bowed out to his Klós cadet in concession.

‘Fokkin’ sluggish this morning, Sky Ash!’ a graveled voice called out behind him.

He turned to see a rugged, lean form swaggering toward him with an eagle-like menace.

He sported short silver hair with shorn sides and an unusual glowing jewel at the center of his forehead. His body was a warrior’s, with ropey muscled limbs under his tight, dark attire that fit him like a glove.

The gathered cadets parted, some bowing in acknowledgment as the King’s Second Armorer and Kaxim’s best friend and fellow commander strode over with a smirk. ‘You’re off your game, what gives?’

Kaxim narrowed his eyes. ‘I’m fine, dickcissel,’ he grunted, wiping the sweat from his brow.

He didn’t have time for Kione’s teasing, not today.

Kione, however, was not one to let things go so easily.

He leaned against the nearest post, crossing his arms. ‘You’ve been off for days now. And judging by those bags under your eyes, you’re not sleeping well. So what the fokk is wrong with you? It’s not like you to lose slumber over anything.’

Kaxim stiffened, glaring at his friend. ‘Drop it, man. It’s none of your concern.’

‘Come on, I know you too well.’ Kione raised an eyebrow and jerked his chin, his eyes glittering. ‘I’d bet good coin there’s a woman involved.’

Kaxim’s muscles tensed even further.

He turned with an abrupt curse, sheathing his sword with more force than necessary. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about.’

Kione snorted, amused. ‘Oh, but I do. I’ve seen that look before, brother. When we were in the wilds of Kisum fighting off a massive nether demon. Who is she? And why’s she keeping you up at night?’

Kaxim’s temper flared. ‘I said drop it,’ he growled, stepping closer to Kione, his eyes blazing with irritation. He couldn’t admit the truth, not to Kione or anyone.

Kione raised his hands in mock surrender, but his grin widened. ‘Fine, fokker. But the more you try to ignore your heartbreak, the worse it’ll get.’

Kaxim clenched his fists. ‘Hell and damnation, I’m not heartbroken.’

His eyes met his friend’s gaze and tagged the concern behind the teasing.

Kaxim simmered down. ‘It’s something else altogether, but it fokkin’ won’t go away.’

‘Aha, so tis a woman for sure.’

Kaxim cursed under his breath.

‘She must be quite out of this world if she’s beneath the legendary Commander’s skin. Tell me, who is she?’

Kaxim sucked his teeth. He wasn’t about to tell Kione anything, nor that he’d already tried everything—from meditation to distractions to eliminate Liana from his mind.

He’d even gone so far as to perform an ancient Kaldean íkan rite in private, hoping to sever the bond.

But the ritual had failed in spectacular fashion.

The magic had only intensified the freakin’ connection, deepening the attachment rather than breaking it.

The memory of that encounter made him bristle.

He’d stood in the forest’s heart, chanting the old words, the flames of the ceremonial fire casting eerie shadows around him. He’d drawn symbols in the dirt, emblems of severance and release, his growl echoing in the darkness.

But as the final utterance left his lips, a surge of power rushed through him, more potent than anything he’d anticipated.

His tie to Liana had flared to life at that moment, burning bright and undeniable. Kaxim had fallen to his knees in agony, realizing that he couldn’t escape it.

Kione’s voice broke through his pensive thoughts. ‘So, tell me about her.’

‘ Nada ,’ growled the First.

Kione gave him a long look. ‘I’ll find out soon enough. The thing is, what are you going to do about it? You can’t just keep brooding and losing your game in front of your cadets. You either need to release her or fokk her senseless. What’s it going to be?’

Kaxim snorted, shaking his head. ‘Fokker, aren’t you depriving a kíjí somewhere of its idiot? Get fokkin’ lost. Even if I wanted to let her go -.’

He stopped short, unwilling to confess his connection with Liana was inescapable.

Kione clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Then don’t let her go. Run after her, show her you want her, you imbecile. You don’t always have to use words. Do something. Be bold.’

Kaxim glared at him. ‘Easy for you to say.’

Kione laughed and, with a teasing wink, said, ‘Whoever she is, you’re twisted tighter than a bustard’s butthole for her. You’re falling for her. Admit it, soldier.’

Kaxim didn’t respond.

Still, the truth was, Kione had a point.

There was something wild and interminable between him and Liana—and it terrified him.

Before Kione could say more, Kaxim unfurled his gyrfalcon wings, leaped into the skies, and escaped his vexing friend.

He hovered, beckoning to a distant kujāa and shifting back into his training stance.

He needed to swing at a target to release his frustration.

‘Fine,’ the Second Armorer chuckled, backing away. ‘But when you’re ready to stop pretending, you know where to find me. I’ll be waiting to hear how this plays out.’

With a sharp nod, the King’s Second Armorer strode off.

Kaxim resumed his Sāb?r session with his Klós cadets, yet his thoughts swirled with rage and confusion.

Later that night, Kaxim paced in his tent.

The soul bond still pulsed between them, ever-present, like a tether he couldn’t break.

It was alive, humming under his skin, pulsing in his blood, pulling him toward her with a force that unsettled him.

Even from a distance, she was a soft aura at the edge of his consciousness.

He had to admit that her spirit essence had a quiet beauty, something luminous and warm that he couldn’t quite describe.

It wasn’t just her physical presence, though that alone was sufficient to make his heart pound. It was her spirit—fiery yet compassionate, and it thrummed through the bond they shared.

Kaxim clenched his jaw, his hands tightening into fists.

His mind wandered, unbidden, to the last time he had seen her face’s soft curve, her gleaming amber, copper, gold eyes, and sensual mouth.

She had smiled at him, just a tiny, quiet upturn of her lips, and it had been enough to jolt him.

Damn, he was fokked, drawn to her in ways that defied logic.

He sensed the heat of her spirit, the vigor in her soul, and every time, his chest tightened with something too close to longing.

It was maddening.

He couldn’t allow himself to fall for her, not like this.

He was a commander, a warrior.

His life was built on control, discipline, and strength. This bond with Liana threatened to undo all of that. She was a distraction, a beautiful, impossible allurement.

Yet even now, as he tried to push her from his thoughts, the connection stirred again, a soft hum deep in his spirit.

Frustration twisted through him.

He was losing his shit, bit by bit, and it terrified him.

But what frightened him most was the growing shocking cognizance that, no matter how hard he endeavored to fight it, he was, in part, forever bound to her.