Page 21 of Chained to the Champion
“It's complicated,” I bit out. Understatement of the damn millennium. “Scalvaris, it's … they're not these Ignarath scum. The gave us shelter. Protection.”
“For what price?” Eli challenged, face hardening into granite skepticism.
Terra and Darrokar. Orla and Rath. Selene and Vyne. Hawk and Khorlar. They all flashed through my head. The bonds. Unexpected. Unavoidable. The way we’d woven ourselves into their world or maybe got caught in their web.
ThatI couldn't say a word about. Working with the Drakarn was one thing. Fucking them? None of these humans could understand it. Hell, I didn't understand it.
Until I remembered the gentle feel of Zarvash's claws on my skin. The way his eyes I had lit with an inner fire when he looked at me, when he drew his hands up my arms while I broke out in goosebumps. While I silently wished he'd do more even as I dreaded it.
“Partnership,” I said finally. “We help them, they help us.”
Nobody looked convinced. Couldn't blame them. Their “partnership” involved cleaning blood off sand.
“This Scalvaris,” Kinsley said. “Tell us about it.”
So, I did. The underground city, the river. Training grounds. Healing caves. The crash and almost everything that came after it. I skipped the mate bonds. That was too much. Too unacceptable for people living this nightmare.
I watched their faces while I talked. Hope, quickly buried. Wariness. Disbelief. But behind it all, a desperate hunger foranythingbetter than that cell.
“How are you planning on getting out?” Nat asked when I finished, blunt and practical. “Unless your Drakarn friend brought an army, forget it.”
I hesitated. “He's entering the tournament. We, uh …” Fuck, they weren't going to believe this part. “They think I'm his slave. I'm collateral. Some guards caught me sneaking around.” And Zarvash had to be furious about me sneaking off.
He'll come.
“And you trust this guy?” Asif asked.
“Yes,” I snapped before hesitation could sell me out. I had to trust him. At least tonight.
Five pairs of eyes looked at me with something like pity. They'd learned over and over again that you couldn't trust Drakarn. And there I was, in a cell with them, telling them that I was letting one of the monsters pretend to own me in an impossible plot to break these people out.
I'd be giving me a pitying look too.
“Sleep,” Kinsley said finally, her voice flat. “They do rounds soon, and they'll come in and cause trouble if we're making noise. They don't like it when we speak English.”
They didn't have translators. Of course, how could they? That was another problem for the morning.
Sleep. Right. Like my brain would shut off. Like the images wouldn't play on repeat.
I found a spot against the wall, away from the bucket, and drew my knees up tight. Cold stone leeched heat through my clothes, a constant, draining chill.
The others found their corners. A practiced ritual of finding oblivion in misery. Their breathing soon evened out into shallow, wary rest, not real sleep.
Not me. My mind was racing. A hamster wheel of worst-case scenarios.
Zarvash in the arena. Injured wing painting a target on his back. Ignarath closing in. Blood. His death. Mine.
Or maybe he wouldn't show. He could calculate the odds. A strategic retreat. Cut his losses. It made sense. Logical. Smart.
But he’d sworn.By the Forge. And that look in his eyes when they grabbed me … Fury, yes. Raw, blistering fury. But something else underneath. Something that kicked my pulse into overdrive whenever I let myself think about it.
I closed my eyes and saw him. Bronze scales glinting. Those intense gold eyes. The way his tongue had flicked out, tasting my wrist, my fear, my pulse back in that room …
What thehellwas wrong with me?
Months spent fighting this. Watching my friends fall into these alien traps. Terra. Orla. Selene. Hawk. I'd warned them. Raged at them.
Nowme? Pulse jumping at the memory of his touch? Sick with worry about him fighting?Trustinghim to come?
