I was useless like this. Trapped, bound, unable to protect my mate or even determine if she needed protecting.
The worst possibilities cycled through my mind. Lexa captured, held somewhere else in this place. Lexa hurt, bleeding, calling for me while I sat here helpless. Lexa fighting her captors, outnumbered and alone.
Or worse.
What if she thought I'd abandoned her? What if she'd woken to find me gone, no explanation, no trace? What if she believed I'd left by choice?
The thought twisted like a blade between my ribs.
If she woke to find me missing, would she think everything we shared had all been a lie?
I pressed my forehead against my knees. Forced myself to breathe through the panic, the rage, the helplessness.
I had to focus.
These were humans. Had to be. The metal, the construction, the scents. But how?
And why capture me? Why separate us?
The door scraped open.
I lunged upright, ignoring the way my head grazed the ceiling. My wings tried to flare, hit the walls on either side, and folded back in on themselves.
A human stood in the doorway. Male, with dark hair and the kind of lean build that came from hard living. He wore clothing I didn't recognize, some kind of uniform in muted colors. A weapon hung at his hip, the design unfamiliar but clearly deadly.
He said something. The words were gibberish, sounds that held no meaning. His tone was measured, controlled. Not threatening but not friendly either.
I stared at him. Tried to parse meaning from the cadence, the inflection.
Nothing.
The humans in Scalvaris spoke Drakarn with the use of clever little translators. Communication had become easy over the months. But this human had no translator, no shared vocabulary.
He spoke again. Slower this time, like that would somehow make the words comprehensible. His eyes tracked over me, cataloging injuries, assessing threat level.
"Lexa." Her name came out rough, my throat dry from dehydration and sleep. "Where is Lexa?"
The human's expression shifted. Something flickered across his face. Recognition? Anger?
He spat at me.
The saliva hit my chest, warm and disgusting. An insult delivered with precision.
He said more words. Harsh this time, aggressive. His hand dropped to his weapon, fingers resting on the grip.
I held his gaze. Refused to look away, refused to show weakness even though I was bound and trapped and completely at his mercy.
"Lexa," I repeated. "I need to see Lexa."
More gibberish. He gestured sharply, the motion clearly negative. Denying my request. Telling me no.
My claws flexed against my palms. The cuffs prevented me from extending them fully, but the instinct was there, the need to tear into this human who stood between me and my mate.
He must have seen something in my expression. His hand tightened on his weapon, pulled it partially free of the holster.
A warning.
We stared at each other. The silence stretched, heavy with mutual incomprehension and barely restrained violence.
