Page 12 of Chained to the Champion
“Touch what’s mine again, and you’ll pay for it in blood, you dog.” I dragged Vega closer, hard, baring my fangs. “She’s not for pawing. Unless you want to test me, back off. I break things that don’t belong to me.”
He let go, making a show of carelessness, but I saw his eyes, a flicker of risk, of calculation. Not worth his time. He flicked Vega a final look, ugly with curiosity, then slunk back into the crowd.
But the city was awake now. Whispers swirled. Spectators leaned in, waiting for more.
I gave them what they craved. Yanked Vega up, made a spectacle of control as I barked, “So much as make a sound again, and I'll muzzle you, prey.” I squeezed her shoulder, enough for the lookers, not enough for a bruise. I hoped.
Bile rose in my throat at the look of absolute hatred in my—in Vega's eyes.
It shamed me. More than I’d admit. But survival here cost dignity. Vega hissed, fury grinding against necessity, but did not resist. Not now. Not with eyes on us.
I shoved her forward, forced open the guesthouse door. The crowd, denied their violence, drifted away, already sniffing for another feast. I kept close behind her, still scanning for threats.
Inside was a dank, cramped room. Shadows layered atop the rot of sweat and old oil. The proprietor, a Drakarn female scrubbed dull with years, appraised us with a glance. My scars. Vega’s bonds. Our exhaustion.
I gave her money we’d taken from the Drakarn who attacked us outside the city, and she slid keys across the desk without question. Up warped stairs we trudged, no words, to a room with one thin window and a door that stuck before admitting us. The single bed would barely be big enough for me.
Only when the bolt clicked shut did the world pause.
Vega whirled, cheeks burning, fists white against the leash. She yanked free and shoved me, hard enough to shake dust from the beams. “What the hell was that? I had it under control; he was nothing.”
I let my eyes close, counted out the weight of breaths, forced my heartbeat to slow. Her rage was a sandstorm, mine a desert, silent and abrasive, scraping everything raw.
“I sold the lie we both agreed to. If you moved against him and I didn't strike you down, we'd both be in a cage now. Or worse. With no hope of finding your precious humans.”
She glared, massaging her shoulder. “Next time, I break his fingers myself and deal with the mob.”
I shook my head. “This place doesn’t forgive mistakes.”
Vega turned her back, jaw tight, posture flickering between pride and pain. Light crawled in through slats, painting fresh lines over the dingy room.
The silence stretched, tension so thick I could bite it. Her anger filled the room, an electric storm itching to strike. My own pulse thudded heavy, echoing with everything I couldn’t afford to name.
I wanted to touch her. To pull her close. My fangs ached. So did my chest. This was the last thing either of us needed, but my entire being cried out to surrender to it.
I'd be a fool to try.
“I'm going to get us something to eat,” I said, searching for an excuse to leave her for just a moment, to give me space to breathe.
Vega's glare burned into my wings as the door clattered shut behind me.
6
VEGA
Okay.Deep breaths.
The door clattered shut behind him, the finality vibrating out into the heavy silence. Zarvash. Gone.
For now.
Relief punched through my chest, harsh enough to make my knees threaten to buckle. I took a shaky inhale, filling my lungs with the dirty, dusty air of Ignarath.
Nobody looming, nobody watching, nobody looking at me like they wanted to peel me open and eat my insides.
No Zarvash.
The reprieve was brief. Gone before I’d even finished my first shaky exhale.
