He nodded, then pointed at me, and the floor of the hut. He licked his lips and tried again. “Merr-anda. Safe. Here.” His last word was a toneless rasp. I jerked upright and placed my hand over my throat. “Your words! Does it hurt to speak? You don’t have to. We did fine before.”
He swallowed and rolled his jaw. Then he gave me a sharp nod.
“Don’t push it,” I said. “If you want to talk, we can work on it. Practice every day. But not unless you’re up for it. Okay?”
He sat up and crossed his legs in front of him. He grabbed my hand and placed it on his throat. The scarred ridge rasped against my palm. He took a few deep breaths before saying, “Try.”
The light behind his aura shone determinedly, cutting through the thin layer of smoke.
“Okay, say your name.”
“Drak.”
“Say mine.”
“Merr-anda.”
“Say what you are.”
He didn’t answer, and his aura dimmed. He looked away from me, and the sadness in the downturn of his mouth made my heart skip.
“Drak, listen to me. You’re a Drixonian warrior.”
He blinked rapidly, his gaze still on the far wall.
“Say it,” I said.
Nothing.
This wasn’t okay. He didn’t need to speak for me, but he did need to stand up for himself, no, be proud of who he was. I refused to let him be ashamed of something he couldn’t even remember. I squeezed his throat and leaned closer. “Say it now, Drak. For me.”
Finally, his gaze swung to me. And though his aura trembled with anger and resentment, he opened his mouth and said in halting, broken syllables. “Drix—nian war—or.”
I rubbed my thumb along his scar. “Yes, you are. Remember that. Okay?”
“You,” he uttered as he tugged me into his lap. I straddled his hips as he nuzzled my cheek before resting his lips near my ear. “You … are … mah … light.”
I hugged him, loving the strength with which he held me in his arms. His tight embrace said more than words, but I had to admit it’d been damn nice to hear his words too. I was his light. No man in my life had ever said anything to me like that. I combed my fingers through his hair. “And you are mine.”
The door flung open and Drak stiffened, tossing me onto my back and throwing a fur up to my neck. I yelped with surprise. He rose out of the bed with a growl, machets out, unconcerned with his nakedness as a warrior filled the doorframe.
“Miranda!” Gar’s voice called from the outside. “Where are you?”
“I’m here!” I struggled to stand up and tripped over the fur wrapped around my body. I stumbled into Drak’s back and one of his bone blades nicked me in the hip. “Ouch!” I whimpered as the blade sliced through my skin like a sharpened knife.
I realized my mistake a second too late. Our only warning was a growl as bodies rushed into the room. Gar came at Drak with his fists out, but Drak was ready for him, clocking him in the jaw with a solid punch. Gar didn’t even flinch and slashed his claws across Drak’s chest. The scent of blood filled the air.
“Stop!” I screamed. The fur covering forgotten, I threw myself in front of Drak.
Gar pulled his punch at the last second, which was good because one of his blows would have caved in my face. He reared back with wide eyes and flared nostrils.
He stared at my nude body, gaze coming to rest on the cut marring my hip. “You’re injured.”
“I’m fine,” I barked at him. “When you guys ran in here without knocking, Drak rose to defend me on instinct. I jumped up and ran into one of his back spikes.”
Drak’s form at my back shifted, and his fingers ghosted over my hip. Retracting his machets quickly, he gathered me in his arms and sat on the pallet with me. He pressed a kiss to my cheek and vibrated his chest, seeking to soothe me. His expression was apologetic, and I patted his chest. “It’s fine. An accident. See? It’s already clotting.”
I turned a glare to Gar, who stood with Ward and Daz at his back. “Is it too much to ask to get in a quick turn with the cleanser and dressed first, and then you can barge in when we’re finished?”
“I’m sorry,” Gar began. “I—”
“You jumped to conclusions. Yes. I appreciate your concern for my well-being, but I promise Drak will not slice and dice me.”
Gar heaved a large breath and then turned and walked out the door. Ward followed him. Daz remained, a conflicted look on his face. “Knock when you’re dressed,” he said. “We have a lot to discuss today.”
“That we do, drexel,” I said.
His lips thinned when I used his title. It was honorific and respectful, but it also showed I meant business. With a nod, he turned on his heel and closed the door behind him.
Drak watched him go, his aura shimmering and thinning into a barely there mist. I touched his face, and his gaze shifted to me. His eyes looked haunted. He shook his head and handed me my clothes before pulling on his single pair of pants. It was the only possession he had, and that thought nearly killed me.
Today was going to be a battle.
Miranda
I felt like we were on a perp walk. I strode next to Drak, who held his head high as we were led by Daz, Ward, Gar, and Sax to the dining hall. Members of the clavas watched, keeping their distance like we were diseased. At least they hadn’t chained Drak.
The girls stood huddled together in front of the dining hall. Frankie looked absolutely livid as she glared daggers at Daz. I gave her a brave smile to let her know I was okay. My heart warred with my head. As a lawyer, I understood Daz’s need to sit down and hear the full story. As a woman in love, I hated every minute of it.
As we entered the dining hall and made our way back to the sacred meeting room of the head of the Night Kings, I wondered if it would be the last time I’d be welcome inside these walls.
We filed inside, where Xavy and Nero waited for us. Nero’s expression remained calm and impassive as always, while Xavy’s jaw was clenched and his leg bounced in agitation. He gave me a brief nod, and I saw the sympathy there. For such a joker and wicked warrior, he was a very empathetic guy. I knew he hated this almost as much as I did.
Drak and I sat at one end of the long table while Daz sat at the other. The rest of the males took their seats along the sides. Daz sat with his hands folded on the table, eyes on me. “I know you’re angry with me, Miranda. And I’m sorry.”
“I’m not angry with you,” I said. “I’m very frustrated over the situation. I get it, but that doesn’t change how I feel.”
His lips twitched into an almost smile. “Frankie is less understanding.”
“Frankie runs on pure emotion,” I said.
“And you don’t?”
“I do, but I also understand order, and your position as the leader here. So, let’s start talking. The sooner we do that, the closer Drak and I will be finding out where our future lies.”
Daz’s jaw clenched. “You will always be welcome here.”
I scoffed and held up my wrists, loks on display. “He’s my mate. Where I go, he goes.”
He sighed heavily and glanced at his brother before speaking again. “I need you to explain what happened the day you went hunting with Gar.”