This was the aftermath—all this strength, all this energy, all this heat, and all for nothing. The prize he’d been meant to claim was lost. The relief he’d been meant to receive had been snatched out of his grasp. And his body refused to relax, his blood refused to cool.
She’s not going to disappear again. I won’t accept it.
Drakkal snarled as he reached the workshop door. His instincts demanded he go back out there to continue the search for his terran, for his mate, but he knew that wasn’t the way to find her now. Any trail he could follow had again gone cold. But therewashope—he just couldn’t take advantage of it on his own.
That realization was a bitter one, further confusing the maelstrom of emotions whirling through him.
Tensing the muscles of his right arm, he pressed the access button on the wall.
The door slid open freely. He couldn’t deny his pang of disappointment for not having an excuse to break it down.
As Drakkal strode into the workshop, his nostrils flared with a heavy exhalation that did nothing to vent his frustration or ease the tightness in his chest.
Arcanthus was sitting at his desk, leaning back in his chair with his cybernetic legs propped on the desktop and his matching prosthetic hands folded over his abdomen. He turnedhis attention away from the holographic displays in front of him and met Drakkal’s gaze.
“Oh, no. You have that look again,” Arcanthus said with a sigh.
Drakkal strode across the room, ignoring his rogue urges to tear into the couches with his claws.
“So what is it this time, Drakkal?”
Drakkal walked past the desks and paced in the space behind them. His ears, already low, flattened against his head, and the claws of his right hand were dangerously close to piercing his palm. His lips peeled back, baring his teeth, but only a growl emerged.
“Cat’s got your tongue?” Arcanthus asked.
Limbs nearly trembling with a fresh swell of rage, Drakkal spun toward Arcanthus. “Kraasz ka’val, you don’t know when to quit, do you?”
For a few seconds, all he could think about was knocking that smirk off the sedhi’s face.
That smirk only grew as Arcanthus lowered his legs and turned his chair to face Drakkal. “I certainly don’t. And neither do you. You went looking for her again, didn’t you?”
“Found her this time.” The heat and pressure in Drakkal’s chest intensified as he recalled the feel of his fingertips brushing over the hood of the terran’s coat. He raised his right hand, holding his palm toward the ceiling with fingers partly curled. “Had her right here.”
Arcanthus hummed thoughtfully. “But you botched it, didn’t you?”
Drakkal growled and lunged forward, slamming his hand down onto Arc’s desk. His claws clacked against the desk’s metal surface. “I didn’t botch anything!”
Arcanthus didn’t so much as flinch. Hissmirk faded, but a tiny, mischievous glint lingered in his eyes. “And yet here you are, upset and alone.”
“I’mnotupset.”
“You don’t have to admit it. It’s clear in your every action, right down to your posture.”
“We’re not doing this right now, Arcanthus.”
Arcanthus tipped his head back and studied Drakkal from head to toe—and simultaneously from toe to head, as the third eye at the center of his forehead moved in the opposite direction of the other two. He reached up and delicately tucked a loose strand of hair behind one of his horns. “It’s all right to ask, Drakkal.”
Drakkal’s brow furrowed, and the fires of his frustration cooled ever so slightly beneath a mist of confusion. “Ask what?”
“For help.”
“I was already going to do that.”
“Of courseyou were,” Arcanthus replied, rolling his lower eyes. “You’ve never once asked for even the tiniest bit of help, Drakkal.”
With a grunt, Drakkal dragged his hand off the desk, claws scraping the polished metal with a brief, high-pitched whine. “Iwasgoing to ask you, you horned asshole. That’s why I’m here!”
Smirking again, Arcanthus shook his head. “I know you’re just trying to spare yourself the shame of not having the courage to ask before I prompted you. You azhera and your pride.”