Shadow Wings (The Darkest Drae Book 2)(65)

Dyter looked at the trees and then pointed at a rocky overhang farther to our left. “Let’s go there. That way if it rains, or a Drae flies overhead . . .”

Crossing to the overhang didn’t take long; thank the moons for small mercies. I laid Tyrrik down on a dark rock under the overhang and groaned as my muscles were unburdened. We’d passed near a stream five minutes back. “I need to get some water to make him nectar.”

Dyter grimaced. “I’ll get water. You’d better deal with Tyrrik, Ryn. He started wheezing when we entered the mountains.”

I leaned over Tyrrik and listened. “I don’t hear any wheezing.”

Dyter tossed me the water skin. “Al’right. Your ears are better than mine any day. Just don’t be mad if you come back and he’s dead.”

Dead? Mistress moons. I was not okay with that. Not after dragging him everywhere for the last few days. At least, that’s what I told myself.

I propped Dyter’s cloak under Tyrrik’s head and ran my fingers through the limp strands of his hair. His breathing did seem shallow, but his skin had better color than in Zivost. Or was that just the way the moons were reflecting off his skin?

I tossed Dyter the water skin and waited until I heard him climbing down the rocks.

“You better not die on me,” I muttered. I traced Tyrrik’s mouth and sealed my lips to his. I gasped as pure heat flooded through my body, breaking the connection. “You’re not supposed to be enjoying this, Ryn,” I scolded myself. I closed the distance again, this time blocking out the feel of his mouth against mine.

Tyrrik’s darkness was like a cloudy night sky when the moons and stars were hidden and the warmth of the day was trapped beneath the haze of moisture. But spotting the black canvas were several droplets of pale gold, nothing like before, but still there, where it shouldn’t be. Now that I knew what I was looking for, it was easy to pick off the Phaetyn poison from within the Drae and even easier to burn it out.

I let myself sink into the darkness and saw deep within the Drae’s core a spark of blue dancing in the pitch. The lapis-colored flame reminded me of the blue that would pulse in Tyrrik’s scales sometimes. I pushed my energy into the flame, making it burn brighter, and together we obliterated every last speck of gold.

I broke the connection and took a deep breath, pulling my energy into my lungs. I listened for Dyter, and when I didn’t hear him, I leaned over the Drae and pressed my lips to his again. I exhaled, passing more of my vibrant blue energy to the Drae, and his pale flame surged briefly.

I grinned in triumph as I felt him shift on the ground, but I was careful not to break our connection.

One of his hands slid up my arm, and I squeaked in surprised. But Tyrrik’s touch was like fire, and as he cupped the back of my neck, his fingers threading into my hair, I melted into him. His other arm encircled my waist, tugging me down. I relaxed my body so my torso was flush with his, resting my hands on his smooth, warm chest.

His tongue brushed against mine, and tingles burst and skittered across my skin and through my chest. Desire rose, but Tyrrik shuddered, his body heaved, and I pulled back just in time to watch him roll to the side and throw up.

Ugh. I grimaced.

He coughed and sputtered, bringing up more clear fluid that smelled sour and rank. I remembered the crystal fluid the guards had been pouring into his mouth. What was that? I should’ve asked Kamoi before we left.

My anger flared at the Phaetyn once again, and I rested my hand on Tyrrik’s cheek. “Shh.”

His eyes fluttered open, and he mumbled incoherently before passing out again.

“That was so not how I thought kissing you would go,” I muttered. I ripped off one of the wispy panels from my skirt and dried Tyrrik’s mouth. “I finally contemplate forgiving you, and you throw up. That’s not allowed. You owe me a real kiss.”

I tensed at the sound of rocks scattering behind me.

“About time,” Dyter said from the entrance with a chuckle, swinging the water skin as he shifted farther into the large cave.

I glowered at him. “Time for what?”

“That you acknowledge what’s between you.”

My cheeks flushed. “What are you talking about?”

Dyter lifted a brow. “Come on, Ryn. You’re his mate”—he pointed back and forth between the two of us—“and he’s yours.”

I fell mute, my gaze fixed on Tyrrik. In my peripheral vision, I saw Dyter rest the water skin beside me, and then he circled around and sat on the other side of the Drae, opposite where I crouched. Dyter was staring at me, I could feel his gaze on my face, but I couldn’t meet his eyes. I swallowed hard and stammered, “Y-you don’t know that.”

“You think Tyrrik would’ve done the things he has for anything less? He’s been enslaved for one hundred years. According to you, he’s an expert manipulator, and he’d have to be to save his own skin for an entire century. Think of all he’s done for you—no one but the two of you know all of it—and tell me if there is any other explanation that makes sense.”

Several seconds passed, but I wasn’t racking my brain. There was another reason, and it had haunted me ever since I found out what I was. “I was the only other Drae in Verald.”

“No, you weren’t,” Dyter corrected. “He stood by while your mother sacrificed herself to let you get away. If it was a kinship thing, he wouldn’t have allowed that.”