It should. Everything about last night should terrify me. The guardian, the possibility of more creatures, the violet glow in the sand. Yet what lingers in my chest is how he kept me warm. Kept me safe. How he protected the cave with his body like nothing else mattered. I swallow.
“No. I… didn’t even notice until I woke up.”
His gaze drops to where my hand rests on his tail. His breath hitches—barely, but I hear it. Feel it. The bond flickers like a spark jumping between us—something we keep pretending not to see.
Slowly, carefully, he withdraws his tail from around me. He does it gently, as if afraid the movement itself might hurt me. The tip drags lightly across my ankle, and my pulse stutters.
“You should not be cold,” he murmurs. “Humans lose heat too quickly.”
“I wasn’t cold,” I say, hesitating. “I… slept well.”
Something changes in his eyes—softer, warmer, and yet more lethal than any guardian.
“I am glad,” he says quietly.
Tomas groans loudly, stretching as he wakes. Travnyk mutters something in Urr’ki that sounds like a prayer—or maybe acomplaint. The morning wind whistles across the rocks. But Rakkh doesn’t look away from me until I break the moment, pushing upright and brushing sand off my arms.
“Did you sleep at all?” I ask.
“No.”
“You can’t do that forever.”
“I can,” he says simply.
I cock my head and raise an eyebrow at him.
He shrugs. “While you are in danger, I can.”
My breath catches. He says it flatly. Without question or reservation. A promise, like an inevitability. I pull my knees up and wrap my arms around them.
“You don’t have to protect me every second.”
“Yes,” he says softly. “I do.”
The words land in my chest like a stone dropped into water—heavy, rippling, unstoppable. And the most terrifying part? A piece of me wants him to always be there. Before I can respond, Travnyk steps into view, tusks catching the early light.
“The suns rise fast. We should move, now.”
Rakkh stands in one fluid motion, wings brushing the inside of the cavern roof. He offers me his hand. It’s clearly an offer too, not a command and definitely not an assumption. An invitation that I take, even as I question the swelling sense of rightness and joy it causes. His claws curl around my fingers, steady and certain, and for a second the world shrinks to just that point of contact.
“We continue where the trail leads,” he rumbles.
“And if more guardians find us?” Tomas croaks behind him.
Rakkh’s tail flicks—sharp, confident.
“Then we kill them.” His eyes slide to me, and my heart trips. “And we do not let her fall.”
Heat flares under my skin—fear mixing with desire and something dangerously close to something more. The way he says it… it isn’t just about survival. It’s about me. Us.
The suns rise fast. Blazing red discs climbing over the dunes. Heat rolls down the sand in shimmering sheets, though the night chill still clings to the shadows at our feet. We resume the journey, walking quietly at first, chewing on pieces of dried meat to break our fast.
Tomas hunches his shoulders like he can hide inside them. Travnyk moves with the slow, deliberate grace of someone listening to the ground as much as the air. And Rakkh… Rakkh walks beside me. Not ahead or behind. At my side.
Close enough that the soft brush of his arm against mine sends heat coiling low in my stomach. I try not to think about it. Or last night. The way his tail wrapped around my ankles like a promise I’m pretending not to feel.
We crest another dune, and more dying plants appear. An entire patch of hardy desert vines, each one streaked black, rotting from the inside. My breath catches.
