Page 43 of Zayrik

You’re not supposed to want this.

The words echoed in my head, a reminder of everything I was supposed to be. I was a Protectorate warrior. I followed orders. I wasn’t allowed to let feelings compromise a mission or cloud judgment.

But Nyla... she unraveled me with a look. A word. A kiss.

She made me question everything I thought I knew about duty and desire.

I exhaled, head tipping back against the seat, staring at the ceiling without seeing it. My marks pulsed harder, responding to even the thought of her.

I hadn’t even meant to win this ship. Just needed a card game and some quiet before heading back to duty.

I certainly hadn’t expected to find her bleeding on the deck. Or to feel this... pull. This bone-deep certainty that she was important. That she mattered.

My mating marks had been stirring from the moment I touched her. A warning I’d ignored. But now they’d activated beneath my skin, their colors darkening and shifting. Burning in a way I’d been trying to deny.

She kissed me like she wanted to forget everything.

Every hurt, every betrayal, every reason she had to run.

And I kissed her back like she was the only thing I wanted to remember.

Like memorizing the taste of her was more important than breathing.

The console chimed. Navigation update.

I tapped the screen, pretending I hadn’t flinched at the sudden noise. Pretending my thoughts weren’t still in that cargo hold with her.

She needed space.

So did I.

But the truth was closing in.

About her past.

About what these marks meant.

About what this was between us.

And we were running out of places to hide.

THE NAVIGATION SCREENblinked, coordinates shifting as we entered a new sector. Each number a reminder of how far we’d come. How far we still had to go.

My marks flared again, a sharp pulse that made me hiss through clenched teeth. They weren’t just active now, they were searching. Reaching. Like they could sense her presence on the ship, even through walls and distance.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Protectorate warriors didn’t get distracted. And we certainly didn’t develop mating bonds with criminals.

But every instinct I had, every fiber of my being, rebelled at the thought of turning her in. Of letting anyone else touch her. The mere idea of it made something dark and primitive rise in my chest. Made my marks burn hotter.

I scrubbed a hand over my face, trying to focus. The cockpit felt too small suddenly, too confined. The recycled air carrying traces of her scent that made it hard to think.

The ship’s systems hummed, a steady background noise that usually helped me think. Now it just reminded me of the way she’d trembled in my arms. Not from fear, but from letting go. From trusting, maybe for the first time.

“Approaching secondary jump point,” Nav announced, his voice carefully neutral. “Shall I maintain current course?”

I cleared my throat. “Yes.”

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