The third hesitated.
Smart.
"Come on," I said, my voice flat. "You wanted to train with me. Let's train."
He came at me anyway. They always did. Pride or stupidity or some combination of both that made them think they could take down a Vaktaire in close combat.
I put him down in under ten seconds.
Around the ring, the other fighters watched in silence. Some with respect. Some with fear. All wondering if I was too hurt to be lethal. All of them calculating whether I was worth challenging or worth avoiding.
I didn't care which.
All I cared about was staying sharp. Staying ready. Because when the moment came—when I finally got my hands on Declan Hewes—I needed to be fast enough, strong enough, brutal enough to end him before he could hurt anyone else.
Before he could hurt her.
Merrilee.
My mate.
The knowledge sat in my chest like a stone. Heavy. Inescapable. True.
Somewhere deep inside, I'd known it the moment I saw her in that cage. The moment our eyes met and something in my chest shifted—like a lock clicking into place.
Being with her last night had only cemented what my soul had already known.
The taste of her on my tongue. The sound of her gasps as I brought her pleasure. The way she'd trembled in my arms, trusting me completely.
The way she'd touched me back.
Her small fingers wrapped around me, her eyes dark with desire and determination. She'd wanted to give me the same pleasure I'd given her. Wanted to learn my body the way I'd learned hers.
And when she'd made me come apart, when I'd buried my face against her neck to muffle the sound of my release, feeling my heart stutter in my chest. Felt it reach for hers, trying to sync, trying to complete what we'd started.
The Vaktaire mating bond.
For centuries, we'd thought the bond would kill anyone who wasn't Vaktaire. The moment when hearts stop, then start again, beating in perfect synchronization with your mate's forevermore. We'd believed only our own females could survive it.
Then Chieftain Khaion—now Ambassador Khaion—had taken a human mate. And she'd survived. Thrived, even.
Since then, dozens of Vaktaire warriors had bonded with human females.
I knew Merrilee was meant to be mine in a way that went deeper than choice or circumstance or survival.
And I couldn't claim her.
Not here. Not like this. Not while I was a prisoner on Palaydium with no future beyond the next fight, the next day, the next breath.
I wouldn't tie her to that. Wouldn't chain her to a life of captivity and violence and slow death.
The cost of that choice was written into my body with every breath I took.
Even now, standing in the training ring with the stink of blood and sweat thick in the air, I felt her. The awareness hummed beneath my skin like a second pulse. The memory of her heartbeat echoed in my chest, a phantom percussion that didn't quite sync with my own. Close enough to recognize. Far enough to ache.
My heart wanted to match hers. Wanted it with a biological imperative that hadn't to do with choice or logic or survival.
Last night, lying beside her in that narrow bed, I'd felt my pulse stutter and skip, trying to find her rhythm. Trying to lock into the pattern that would complete us both. My chest had tightened with the effort of resisting—actual physical pressure, like a fist closing around my lungs.
