Page 75 of Zayrik

But of us.

Of how right it felt when everything in her life had taught her nothing good lasted.

And she didn’t run with her feet. She ran with her silence.

In the way she deflected.

The way she refused to meet my eyes.

With every small gesture that said she was preparing herself for loss.

For disappointment, and the moment everything fell apart.

I inhaled and exhaled slowly.

Another warrior might have let her go.

Might have respected the distance she was trying to create.

But I wasn’t letting her go.

Not this time.

Not when my marks itched with recognition.

Because everything in me knew she was worth fighting for.

Tomorrow, everything changed.

And after?

We weren’t going back to being strangers. To pretending this connection wasn’t real.

No more of the careful dance of almost-touching, almost-trusting, almost-falling we’d been performing since she first crashed into my life.

The mate bond sizzled between us as we stood in the small, temporary guest quarters. The air between us carried tension like static, like the moment before lightning strikes. Every movement, every breath, charged with possibility and fear and need.

She moved to the far side of the room.

Creating distance.

Not because she needed space, but because she didn’t know how to stay. Didn’t know how to let herself have this. Have us.

But her eyes kept finding mine, then darting away. Like she couldn’t help looking, even when it terrified her.

I let her have it. For now.

Let her process the way things were changing between us.

Of what hadalreadychanged.

Zep chirped from the shelf by the viewport, his tiny eyes flicking between us, wings puffed in what looked suspiciously like disapproval. Like he knew exactly what we were both fighting. What we both wanted.

“Your Laupin judges too much,” I muttered, shrugging off my jacket. The simple act felt intimate in a way it hadn’t been before.

Nyla’s lips twitched. “He’s not wrong most of the time.” Her voice carried an edge of vulnerability that made my mating marks burn hotter.

I sat on the edge of the narrow bed, watching as she checked and re-checked her weapons, adjusted straps that didn’t need adjusting, tapped her wrist console even though there were no alerts. Her hands trembled slightly, giving away what her face tried to hide.

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