Page 7 of Kazmyr: Molten for Her
He resumed pacing, fingers flexing at his sides. "Pirates have a dozen ways to corner unbound mates. They'll track our thermal signature, monitor communication channels, bribe station officials, even hack the system." His voice lowered to a furious mutter, as if speaking too loud would call our hunters closer. "The bounty on compatible pairs increases daily."
The marks along his forearms brightened, sending rippling shadows across the chamber walls. I couldn't tear my eyes from them, from the way they seemed to breathe with him, to speak a language of fire and heat.
"You said 'compatible.' What makes us compatible?" I asked, needing answers but afraid of them too. "Why me?"
"The Agency's algorithms identified genetic markers," he replied, running his palm along a wall panel that thrummed beneath his touch. "Rare ones. Worth..." His mouth twisted. "Worth more than either of us would earn in ten lifetimes."
My stomach lurched. "So I'm valuable because my DNA plays nice with yours? That's some eugenic bullshit right there."
A sound escaped him… not quite a laugh, but something close. "The compatibility runs deeper than genetics. The markers identify potential elemental harmony."
"Elemental—" I broke off, shaking my head. "You're speaking alien at me again."
His massive form hesitated, then moved toward a console embedded in the wall. The surface responded to his touch, lighting up with patterns that mimicked his marks.
"The IDA documents indicate you survived a warehouse fire that killed twelve others," he said, not looking at me. "That you've survived multiple structural collapses that should have been fatal."
My chest tightened. "I got lucky. That's all."
"No." His voice was absolute, brooking no argument. "You were chosen. Flame-born."
That term again, sliding under my skin like smoke, both choking and sweet. I pushed to my feet, ignoring the way the ship's floor seemed to pulse in response to my movement.
"I'm a fire inspector. I'm trained to navigate burning buildings."
"Did you notice the way the Voraxx circled the firestorm?" he asked suddenly, turning to face me fully. The ember lines across his chest pulsed, quickening. "Their attack pattern. Did you see it?"
I scoffed. "I'm not a soldier. I don't know battle formations."
But even as I said it, something nagged at me. A rhythm I'd observed during our escape, a pattern that had felt...wrong. Deliberate.
"They weren't random," I admitted haltingly. "The way they moved through the asteroid field. It was like..." I hesitated, not wanting him to think I imagined myself some tactical genius.
"Like what?" Kazmyr prompted, his golden eyes fixed on me with unsettling intensity.
"Like an accelerant spread pattern," I said finally. "Don’t look at me like I just invented fire. Humans already did that, thanks. It's the same way arsonists lay fuel trails to ensure a building collapses in a specific direction. The Voraxx ships weren't just chasing us… they were herding us."
His eyes blazed brighter, molten gold burning with something like reverence. Like I'd handed him a key instead of a scrap of guesswork.
"Flame-born," he said again, the word a rumbling prayer. "You see with fire-eyes."
"No, I don't. I just—" I shook my head, frustration bubbling up. "Look, gut feelings don't win battles. Observation isn't the same as knowledge."
"It is to my people." He moved closer, each step deliberate, as if afraid I'd bolt like a startled animal. Maybe I would. "The Vorthar trust heat-sense above all other perception."
The distance between us shrank until the heat of him rolled over me in palpable waves. Sweat beaded at my hairline and trickled down my spine. My stomach tied itself in knots… half fear, half something far more dangerous.
"And what does your heat-sense tell you about me?" I challenged, tilting my chin up to meet his gaze despite the difference in our heights.
His massive hand lifted, hovering near my shoulder without touching. "That you burn," he said simply. "That beneath your skin, embers wait."
Anger flared, hot and familiar. "I'm not like you. I don't have—" I gestured at the glowing patterns etched across his dark skin. "Whatever this is."
"No." His hand finally made contact, his palm pressing against my shoulder with startling gentleness. "Your fire is different. Hidden. But it calls to mine."
Where our skin met, his ember lines flared brighter, the heat intense but not painful. Something hummed between us, a resonance I couldn't name but recognized deep in my bones.
"Fire always finds me," I whispered before I could stop myself, the truth I'd spent years running from slipping out. "No matter where I go, no matter what I do. It follows."
