She pushes harder. “Mapping stone. Now.”
I force my claws to uncurl. I let my arm drop.
She does not wait for me. She turns her back and strides toward the mapping alcove. “Justine! Jacqui! I need you at the table!”
Tharn and Rok’s mates scramble away from the fire pit, hurrying to follow her. All three disappear around the rough stone archway.
I stand frozen near the water chamber. My chest heaves. The spot where she was pressed against me feels cold. Her scent is already fading from my skin.
I can hear her voice echoing from the alcove. Sharp. Commanding. Ordering her females around my mapping stone.
“Dra-dam,” Sarven projects quietly.
The low, rumbling growl that vibrates out of my chest has nothing to do with war.
I stalk across the cavern and take my place at the head of the stone. I plant my claws on the scored rock, leaning over the map. Eh-ree-kah does not move away. She stays right at my elbow.
“Every warrior to the mapping stone,” I project. The command rolls like thunder through the cavern.
Warriors drop from the ledges. Sarven and Haroth slide into place around the stone. Every golden eye in the clan focuses on the map. And on the tiny female standing boldly at my side.
I look down at her.
We prepare for slaughter.
Chapter 12
I DID NOT RE-BRAID MY HAIR FOR WAR
ERIKA
My hands are shaking. I grip the edge of the mapping stone until my fingers hurt. A full hunting party of rival clan warriors is out there. Each one seven feet of muscle with claws that can shred bone. Marching across the blistering desert right now to kill us all.
I should be organizing a retreat. I should be looking for a deep tunnel to hide in.
Instead, I am standing in the center of the cavern, distributing sharpened lengths of bone to women who look like they’re about to throw up, and the only thing I can actually focus on is the heat still radiating off the side of my neck.
An entire day has burned away since Kol strode across the cavern floor, wrapped his arm around my waist, and buried his face in my neck. In front of every single warrior in this clan.
My skin still feels scorched where his mouth pressed against my pulse. My pulse still hasn’t dropped below a frantic, panicked sprint. Every time I accidentally glance toward thestone archway of the main armory where he’s currently briefing Sarven and Rok, my heart tries to batter its way out of my ribs.
I drag another hide strap through the sharpening block.
“Erika,” Mira says quietly, her voice trembling slightly in the cool cavern air. “Are you sure this is strong enough?”
I force my eyes to un-glaze and look at the woven fiber net she’s holding. It’s meant to drop from the ceiling in the narrow, sun-baked tunnel connecting the main cavern to a side passage.
“Double it,” I say, my voice coming out choked. I clear my throat and try again. “Double the weave, Mira. These guys are built like actual boulders. If they hit the net at full speed, single plies will snap. We need them to get tangled in it.”
Mira nods, her dark eyes huge and frightened, and hurries back over to where Pam and Lucy are frantically braiding stalks of dry fiber into strong ropes.
It is a terrible kind of chaos. The air in the cavern is stifling. The fire pit has been extinguished. Sunlight filters through the high fissures, illuminating the eerie stillness of the Drakav. They aren’t moving. They are ready. All of them are stationed at different lookouts along the cavern walls, just watching. Waiting.
The silence is the most terrifying part. The only sounds are the quiet scrape of bone weaponry being tested by us humans and our own high-pitched, strained breathing.
I grab the next bundle of bone spikes and turn to Amelia. Out of all of us, she’s the only one who actually asked one of the Drakav for a weapon. She’s currently testing the balance of a serrated bone knife that’s nearly the length of her forearm.
“You only use that to buy yourself a single second,” I tell her, my voice low. “If they get that close, you slash whatever you can reach, drop the knife, and run. Do not try to fight them.”
