Shadow Wings (The Darkest Drae Book 2)(70)

Tyrrik had been watching my face, and he slowly raised his fingers toward the nape of my neck.

His scent made me dizzy; his eyes stared to the deepest recesses in me. My head and my heart were no longer in agreement of the certainty I’d known a few minutes ago. That’s what made me jerk my upper body away.

We were both panting hard with only an arm’s length between us. With wide eyes, we stared at each other.

“Tyrrik, I . . .” I started then cut off. How could I put my reaction into words? How did I explain to him my doubts regarding him shrank every day, no, every second, but my self-doubt only grew?

I felt him seal himself off. He pulled his energy back into himself, his expression smoothed, and his eyes hardened. He slid the mask he’d worn for a century back into place, and still I could not think of a word to say.

“It is no less than I expected,” he said, his voice rough.

I reached out a hand, and this time it was Tyrrik who lurched away, going so far as to stand.

“It’s not you—” I said, even though there were some reservations against him in my heart. “I need time. Mating seems so . . .” Final.

“For Drae, there is no between,” Tyrrik said, brusquely. “Mates feel too much to be slowed by petty human traditions of courtship. You either accept me, or you do not.” His eyes turned to slits, and he spun away. “I cannot woo you as you would like or expect.”

The comment slapped me across the face. “That’s too much to ask? To know you better?”

“Yes,” he said, striding for the edge of the shelter as blue-black scales covered his exposed skin.

Yes, it is, his final words echoed through our bond.



A part of me felt bad Dyter was stuck in the middle of the awkwardness between Tyrrik and me. Over the next two days, the cave was seriously uncomfortable and not because the only furniture it offered was rocks. More than once, I thought of offering an apology, but then what was I apologizing for? Binding was a serious decision, and I shouldn’t be guilted or manipulated into it. As for Dyter, he’d left me alone with the Drae, so maybe I shouldn’t feel bad about that either.

Tyrrik needed time to regain his strength, and I’d be lying if I said my body wasn’t craving the same.

The two days passed with hunting, drinking, sleeping, and Tyrrik’s sulking—or so I’d dubbed it. The Drae was back to his Lord Broody-Pants days, except without pants. He was sullen and withdrawn, only answering if he was asked a direct question, and then only with as few words as possible.

On the other hand, I had every reason to be in a bad mood, which was why I felt no guilt for my grumpiness.

I couldn’t understand his last comment. I’d assumed he wanted to mate with me; I still did, but if he wanted to be with me for life, which was a freakin’ long time judging by the emperor’s lifespan and the fact that Tyrrik had been alive for over a century, why didn’t he want to court me? The mate . . . thing didn’t seem like an option really, although I wasn’t fully Drae, so things could be different for me. If being each other’s mate wasn’t an option, why didn’t he want us to get to know each other?

I’d spent yesterday certain he only wanted me for my baby-making ovaries. Then, most of today, I was sure I was only an annoyance to him, which reinforced my previous point about making Drae babies. But, a part of me, a little bit of Ryn, kept telling me I had it completely wrong. Though that bit of Ryn was the part that felt warm when Tyrrik neared her and dizzy at his scent.

That Ryn seemed a little untrustworthy.

And now, I was talking about myself in third person. Maybe I was going crazy. I nodded as I came to the conclusion.

Everything was on the up and up.

“We need to leave for Gemond today,” Tyrrik said, interrupting the internal assessment of my sanity.

Dyter glanced at me, and I replied to him, “You need another few days to recover.”

Dyter’s gaze slid to Tyrrik, who answered, “It’s not safe for us to stay here.”

Dyter looked back at me.

“We haven’t seen the emperor at all in the last two days,” I said, my eyes narrowing. “Not since before entering Zivost.”

“You think that means he’s not here in some capacity? His Druman are a direct extension of the emperor himself,” Tyrrik replied, facing me now. “You think he won’t have guessed the Zivost was our first stop and Gemond our second?”

What I thought was that Tyrrik should still be using Dyter as a conversational middleman.

Crossing my arms, I turned to the Drae with a sniff. “You’re not strong enough yet. What if we come across the emperor on the way to Gemond? What then? You probably couldn’t fight off a Druman right now.”

Tyrrik’s eyes flooded with inky black.

“He’s right, my girl,” Dyter said, clearing his throat. “We’ve stayed too long in one place, and it makes us sitting prey.” Dyter stood and grabbed all of our possessions—his pack and the water skin. “I believe Kamini and Kamoi will take control of the Phaetyn in time, but we risk too much by lingering. The queen’s supporters may decide to come after us.”

“Fine, let’s go. Who cares if we encounter the freakin’ emperor? Or Druman?” I stood abruptly, and fear spiked my gut when I spoke of Jotun’s kind. The thought of encountering more like him made my heart race. Cheeks flushing, I strode for the edge of the rocky overhang.