“Then we have to assume they already know we’re here,” she tells Jus-teen. “Tell the dra-dam we need to change how the warriors patrol. Make the routes unpredictable.”
I lock my intense gaze with Tharn across the long table. His head inclines in sheer appreciation of her brilliant command.
For two solmarks, we carve a new defense directly into the dark rock. I know exactly where the dusty terrain is physically weak. She knows exactly where to build the brutal snares. Our utterly different minds run at the exact same pace. Two fierce leaders sharing one brutal war.
She is flawless. She is ruthless. The overwhelming instinct to grab her, drag her into the pitch dark, and scent-mark every single soft inch of her sweet skin is making my fangs profoundly ache.
My glow visibly brightens. The skin along my forearms burns with a steady, escalating heat. My body knows that she is mine.
“The dra-dam is undone by this female,” Sarven projects quietly to Tharn.
My frequency catches the unshielded thought. I slam a crushing mental wall extremely hard directly on Sarven’s frequency, severing him out of my mindspace as a harsh warning.
I force myself to focus on the rock map, deliberately ignoring how loudly mydra-kiris currently roaring in my chest.
I sit alonein the shadowed weapons alcove, my claws digging into my very own thighs.
Mydra-kiris actively starving in my chest. The need to finally drop my endless restraint and just put my hands around her is consuming.
But I remain exactly where I am. Physically paralyzed.
We Drakav do not have rituals for this. Before the fragile humans fell from Ain, we took no mates. There was only survival, then death. Returning to the Giving Stone to be remade again. There was no...this. This suffocating, absolute devotion to a creature so soft she might snap if I hold her too tightly.
I have watched Tharn, Sarven, and Rok. They have successfully claimed their humans. They havesomehowconvinced their tiny, terrified females to surrender to their imposing, lethal bodies. But I am terrified of making a mistake. She is half my size. What if I break her?
If I bring her the warmest predator hides, she will probably just log them as clan inventory. If I find her the sweetest roots in the deep caves, she will immediately carry them to the sick bay to feed the weakest humans. If I drag a rival male to her feet and snap his neck to prove my strength, she will definitely reprimand me for scaring the other females.
How do I make her understand that the dust is telling me she belongs to me?
Rok slides quietly into the alcove. His shadow blocks the dim light as he leans against the stone archway and crosses his arms.
“You stare at her,” Rok projects smoothly. He is deeply amused. “The entire cavern can feel your dra-kir thrashing. Do something about it, dra-dam.”
“Do what?” I project back. “She is soft. She is completely alien. If I bare my fangs to show her my intent, she will think I am attacking her. How is the claiming established on her world?”
Rok takes a slow, steady breath. He looks at me with a sympathy I would not have entertained before.
“Jus-teen explained it,” Rok projects. His frequency is utterly serious now. “They use... words. They do not show intent with hides or blood. They must explain how their body feels. Out loud. With their mouths.”
I stare at Rok. He has just calmly suggested I sever my own limbs.
“With their mouths...” The concept is deeply repulsive. Our vocal cords are rigid. They are built for roaring in battle. Shaping this raw mating instinct into clumsy words sounds agonizing.
“I am aware this is horrifying,” Rok projects. “But Jus-teen says it is what their females require. You must speak to her.”
I look down at my forearms.
The glow is pulsing. I refuse to rely on frail syllables. They are not for claiming a mate. I must perform a physical gesture so completely overwhelming, that it bypasses language. I will bring her a prize so magnificent she will have no choice but to understand she is mine.
Eh-ree-kah walks quietlytoward her sleeping alcove.
The deep dark cycle has settled. The cavern is quiet. She rubs her tired, beautiful eyes and misses my towering form camouflaged in the high tunnel above her path.
She reaches her sleeping mat and freezes.
Blocking the entire entrance to her small sleeping area is a tall, jagged barricade of sand serpent bone plates and sharpened spikes. I spent four highly dangerous solmarks gathering the bone from the dust. I dragged the giant pieces up through the tunnels and wedged them into the rock face.
The structure is impenetrable. It leaves only a gap small enough for her tiny frame to squeeze through, while ensuring nothing larger than a sand-runner can ever reach her sleeping mat again. It is the greatest defensive structure a Drakav male has ever built.
