She would wake. I wouldn't accept any other outcome.
I glanced around the outcropping. Firebird corpses littered the stone, their blood pooling in cracks and crevices. The one Lexa had killed lay closest, her knife still buried in its throat. Pride surged through me despite everything. She'd fought a firebird and won, and few experienced Drakarn warriors could say that.
Magnificent.
But we couldn’t stay here. The scent of blood would draw scavengers, and firebirds were territorial. The survivors mightreturn with reinforcements, driven by rage and the need to defend their nesting grounds.
I gathered her carefully, one arm beneath her knees, the other supporting her back. Her head lolled against my shoulder, blonde hair matted with blood and sand. My tail wrapped around her waist again, securing her against me.
Then I launched.
My wings caught air, each stroke sending pain radiating through muscles already exhausted from the fight. I ignored it. Discomfort meant nothing compared to getting her somewhere safe, somewhere I could treat her wounds properly.
The desert stretched beneath us, endless sand and rock formations that looked identical in the darkness. I flew northeast, away from firebird territory, scanning for shelter. A cave would be ideal. Somewhere defensible, protected from the elements, hidden from predators.
Her scent wrapped around me with each breath. Blood and smoke, and underneath it all, that sweetness that made my fangs ache. The mate-bond pulled at me, insistent and demanding. She was hurt. Vulnerable. Every instinct I possessed screamed at me to find safety, to tend her wounds, to guard her while she healed.
To claim her.
No.
Not yet. Of course not.
But gods, it was hard to resist. Her body fit against mine like it had been designed for this, soft curves pressed to hard scales, her warmth seeping into me despite the blood loss. My tail tightened fractionally, pulling her closer.
I forced myself to scan the terrain. Focus on the mission. Find shelter. Treat her wounds. Keep her alive.
Everything else could wait.
A rock formation rose from the desert floor ahead, taller than the others, its base riddled with shadows that suggested caves or overhangs. I adjusted my trajectory, descended in a controlled spiral.
The cave entrance was narrow but opened into a larger chamber beyond. I landed just inside, my feet hitting stone with barely a sound. The space smelled of dust and old stone, no recent evidence of predators.
Good enough.
I moved deeper into the cave, away from the entrance where wind could carry our scent. The floor was relatively smooth, worn down by years of wind and sand. I set Lexa down carefully, arranging her on her side to keep pressure off the wounds.
Her face was too pale. Sweat beaded on her forehead despite the cooling night air.
I shrugged off my pack, dug through the contents with hands that wanted to shake. Medical supplies were near the top, easily accessible. I'd packed for injury, knowing this journey would be dangerous.
I hadn't expected to be using them on her.
Water first. I dampened a cloth, began cleaning the blood from her skin. The gashes looked worse covered in blood. Once cleaned, they were manageable. Painful, yes. Requiring careful treatment, absolutely. But not life-threatening.
The tension in my chest eased fractionally.
She would be fine. Sore, angry when she woke, probably furious that she'd been injured. But fine.
I applied healing salve to the wounds; the Drakarn mixture was designed to prevent infection and speed recovery. The scent of it filled the cave, sharp herbs and something mineral. My hands moved with easy efficiency, spreading the salve evenly, making sure every inch of torn skin was covered.
My tail moved without conscious thought. The tip found her calf, traced the line of muscle there. Soothing. Comforting.
My tail continued its movement, stroking along her leg like it had a mind of its own. The gesture was intimate, possessive, the kind of touch reserved for mates and family. I shouldn't be doing this.
But I couldn't seem to make myself stop either.
The texture of her pants fascinated my tail, the way fabric moved over muscle, the warmth of her skin bleeding through. Up her calf, circling her knee, down again. A rhythm that matched my breathing, that helped settle the chaos still churning in my chest.
